a new england girlhood-第15部分

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Travels；〃　the　〃Arabian　Nights；〃　and　some　odd　volumes　of　Sir　Walter　Scott's　novels。

I　read　the　〃Scottish　Chiefs〃my　first　novel　when　I　was　about　five　years　old。　So　absorbed　was　I　in　the　sorrows　of　Lady　Helen　Mar　and　Sir　William　Wallace；　that　I　crept　into　a　corner　where　nobody　would　notice　me；　and　read　on　through　sunset　into　moonlight；　with　eyes　blurred　with　tears。　I　did　not　feel　that　I　was　doing　anything　wrong；　for　I　had　heard　my　father　say　he　was　willing　his　daughters　should　read　that　one　novel。　He　probably　did　not　intend　the　remark　for　the　ears　of　his　youngest；　however。

My　appetite　for　reading　was　omnivorous；　and　I　devoured　a　great　many　romances。　My　sisters　took　them　from　a　circulating　library；　many　more；　perhaps；　than　came　to　my　parents'　knowledge；　but　it　was　not　often　that　one　escaped　me；　wherever　it　was　hidden。　I　did　not　understand　what　I　was　reading；　to　be　sure；　and　that　was　one　of　the　best　and　worst　things　about　it。　The　sentimentalism　of　some　of　those　romances　was　altogether　unchildlike；　but　I　did　not　take　much　of　it　in。　It　was　the　habit　of　running　over　pages　and　pages　to　get　to　the　end　of　a　story；　the　habit　of　reading　without　caring　what　I　read；　that　I　know　to　have　been　bad　for　my　mind。　To　use　a　nautical　expression；　my　brain　was　in　danger　of　getting　〃water…　logged。〃　There　are　so　many　more　books　of　fiction　written　nowadays；　I　do　not　see　how　the　young　people　who　try　to　read　one　tenth　of　them　have　any　brains　left　for　every…day　use。

One　result　of　my　infantile　novel…reading　was　that　I　did　not　like　to　look　at　my　own　face　in　a　mirror；　because　it　was　so　unlike　that　of　heroines；　always　pictured　with　〃high　white　foreheads〃　and　〃cheeks　of　a　perfect　oval。〃　Mine　was　round；　ruddy；　and　laughing　with　health；　and；　though　I　practiced　at　the　glass　a　good　deal；　I　could　not　lengthen　it　by　puckering　down　my　lips。　I　quite　envied　the　little　girls　who　were　pale　and　pensive…looking；　as　that　was　the　only　ladyfied　standard　in　the　romances。　Of　course；　the　chief　pleasure　of　reading　them　was　that　of　identifying　myself　with　every　new　heroine。　They　began　to　call　me　a　〃bookworm〃　at　home。　I　did　not　at　all　relish　the　title。

It　was　fortunate　for　me　that　I　liked　to　be　out　of　doors　a　great　deal；　and　that　I　had　a　brother；　John；　who　was　willing　to　have　me　for　an　occasional　companion。　Sometimes　he　would　take　me　with　him　when　be　went　huckleberrying；　up　the　rural　Montserrat　Road；　through　Cat　Swamp；　to　the　edge　of　Burnt　Hills　and　Beaver　Pond。　He　had　a　boy's　pride　in　explaining　these　localities　to　me；　making　me　understand　that　I　had　a　guide　who　was　familiar　with　every　inch　of　the　way。　Then；　charging　me　not　to　move　until　he　came　back；　he　would　leave　me　sitting　alone　on　a　great　craggy　rock；　while　he　went　off　and　filled　his　basket　out　of　sight　among　the　bushes。　Indeed；　I　did　not　want　to　move；　it　was　all　so　new　and　fascinating。　The　tall　pine…trees　whispering　to　each　other　across　the　sky…openings　above　me；　the　graceful　ferns；　the　velvet　mosses　dotted　with　scarlet　fairy…cups；　as　if　the　elves　had　just　spread　their　table　for　tea；　the　unspeakable　charm　of　the　spice…breathing　air；　all　wove　a　web　of　enchantment　about　me；　from　which　I　had　no　wish　to　disentangle　myself。　　The　silent　spell　of　the　woods　held　me　with　a　power　stronger　even　than　that　of　the　solemn…voiced　sea。　Sometimes　this　same　brother　would　get　permission　to　take　me　on　a　longer　excursion；to　visit　the　old　homestead　at　〃The　Farms。〃　Three　or　four　miles　was　not　thought　too　long　a　walk　for　a　healthy　child　of　five　years；　and　that　road；　in　the　old　time；　led　through　a　rural　Paradise；　beautiful　at　every　season；whether　it　were　the　time　of　song…sparrows　and　violets；　of　wild　roses；　of　coral…hung　barberry…bushes；　or　of　fallen　leaves　and　snow…drifts。　The　wildness　of　the　road；　now　exchanged　for　elegant　modern　cultivation；　was　its　great　charm　to　us。　We　stopped　at　the　Cove　Brook　to　hear　the　cat…birds　sing；　and　at　Mingo's　Beach　to　revel　in　the　sudden　surprise　of　the　open　sea；　and　to　listen　to　the　chant　of　the　waves；　always　stronger　and　grander　there　than　anywhere　along　the　shore。　We　passed　under　dark　wooded　cliffs　out　into　sunny　openings；　the　last　of　which　held　under　its　skirting　pines　the　secret　of　the　prettiest　woodpath　to　us　in　all　the　world；　the　path　to　the　ancestral　farmhouse。

We　found　children　enough　to　play　with　there；as　numerous　a　family　as　our　own。　We　were　sometimes；　I　fancy；　the　added　drop　too　much　of　already　overflowing　juvenility。　Farther　down　the　road；　where　the　cousins　were　all　grown…up　men　and　women；　Aunt　Betsey's　cordial；　old…fashioned　hospitality　sometimes　detained　us　a　day　or　two。　We　watched　the　milking；　and　fed　the　chickens；　and　fared　gloriously。　Aunt　Betsey　could　not　have　done　more　to　entertain　us；　had　we　been　the　President's　children。

I　have　always　cherished　the　memory　of　a　certain　pair　of　large…　bowed　spectacles　that　she　wore；　and　of　the　green　calash；　held　by　a　ribbon　bridle；　that　sheltered　her　head；　when　she　walked　up　from　the　shore　to　see　us；　as　she　often　did。　They　announced　to　us　the　approach　of　inexhaustible　kindliness　and　good　cheer。　We　took　in　a　home…feeling　with　the　words　〃Aunt　Betsey〃　then　and　always。　She　had　just　the　husband　that　belonged　to　her　in　my　Uncle　David；　an　upright　man；　frank…faced；　large…hearted；　and　spiritually　minded。　He　was　my　father's　favorite　brother；　and　to　our　branch　of　the　family　〃The　Farms〃　meant　〃Uncle　David　and　Aunt　Betsey。〃

My　brother　John's　plans　for　my　entertainment　did　not　always　harmonize　entirely　with　my　own　ideas。　He　had　an　inventive　mind；　and　wanted　me　to　share　his　boyish　sports。　But　I　did　not　like　to　ride　in　a　wheelbarrow；　nor　to　walk　on　stilts；　nor　even　to　coast　down　the　hill　on　his　sled　and　I　always　got　a　tumble；　if　I　tried；　for　I　was　rather　a　clumsy　child；　besides；　I　much　preferred　girls'　quieter　games。

We　were　seldom　permitted　to　play　with　any　boys　except　our　brothers。　I　drew　the　inference　that　our　boys　must　be　a　great　deal　better　than　〃the　other　boys。〃　My　brother　John　had　some　fine　play…　fellows；　but　he　seemed　to　consider　me　in　the　way　when　they　were　his　guests。　Occasionally　we　would　forget　that　the　neighbor…boys　were　not　girls；　and　would　find　ourselves　all　playing　together　in　delightful　unconsciousness；　although　possibly　a　thought；　like　that　of　the　〃Ettrick　Shepherd；〃　may　now　and　then　have　flitted　through　the　mind　of　some　masculine　juvenile：

〃Why　the　boys　should　drive　away　Little　sweet　maidens　from　the　play；　Or　love　to　banter　and　fight　so　well；　That　Is　the　thing　I　never　could　tell。〃

One；　day　I　thoughtlessly　accepted　an　invitation　to　get　through　a　gap　in　the　garden…fence；　to　where　the　doctor's　two　boys　were　preparing　to　take　an　imaginary　sleigh…ride　in　midsummer。　The　sleigh　was　stranded　among　tall　weeds　an　cornstalks；　but　I　was　politely　handed　in　by　the　elder　boy；　who　sat　down　by　my　side　and　tucked　his　little　brother　in　front　at　our　feet；　informing　me　that　we　were　father　and　mother　and　little　son；　going　to　take　a　ride　to　Newburyport。　　He　had　found　an　old　pair　of　reins　and　tied　them　to　a　saw…horse；　that　he　switched　and　〃Gee…up〃…ed　vigorously。　The　journey　was　as　brief　as　delightful。　I　ran　home　feeling　like　the　heroine　of　an　elopement；　asking　myself　meanwhile；　〃What　would　my　brother　John　say　if　he　knew　I　had　been　playing　with　boys？〃　He　was　very　particular　about　his　sisters'　behavior。　But　I　incautiously　said　to　one　sister　in　whom　I　did　not　usually　confide；　that　I　thought　James　was　the　nicest　boy　in　the　lane；　and　that　I　liked　his　little　brother　Charles；　too。　She　laughed　at　me　so　unmercifully　for　making　the　remark；　that　I　never　dared　look　towards　the　gap　in　the　fence　again；　beyond　which　I　could　hear　the　boys'　voices　around　the　old　sleigh　where　they　were　playing；　entirely　forgetful　of　their　former　traveling　companion。　Still；　I　continued　to　think　that　my　courteous　cavalier；　James；　was　the　nicest　boy　in　the　lane。

My　brother's　vigilant　care　of　his　two　youngest　sisters　was　once　the　occasion　to　them　of　a　serious　fright。　My　grandfatherthe　sextonsometimes　trusted　him　to　toll　the　bell　for　a　funeral。　In　those　days　the　bell　was　tolled　for　everybody　who　died。　John　was　social；　and　did　not　like　to　go　up　into　the　belfry　and　stay　an　hour　or　so　alone；　and　as　my　grandfather　positively　forbade　him　to　take　any　other　boy　up　there；　he　one　day　got　permission　for　us　two　little　girls　to　go　with　him；　for　company。　We　had　to　climb　up　a　great　many　stairs；　and　the　last　flight　was　inclosed　by　a　rough　door　with　a　lock　inside；　which　he　was　charged　to　fasten；　so　that　no　mischievous　boys　should　follow。

It　was　strange　to　be　standing　up　there　in　the　air；　gazing　over　the　balcony…railing　down　into　the　street；　where　the　men　and　women　looked　so　small；　and　across　to　the　water　and　the　ships　in　the　east；　and　the　clouds　and　hills　in　the　west！　But　when　he　struck　the　tongue　against　the　great　bell；　close　to　our　ears；　it　was　more　than　we　were　prepared　for。　The　little　sister；　scarcely　three　years　old；　screamed　and　shrieked；

〃I　shall　be　stunned…ded！　I　shall　be　stunned…ded！〃　I　do　not　know　where　she　had　picked　up　that　final　syllable；　but　it　made　her　terror　much　more　emphatic。　Still　the　great　waves　of　solem

sound　went　eddying　on；　over　the　hills　and　over　the　sea；　and　we　had　to　hear　it　all；　though　we　stopped　our　ears　with　our　fingers。　It　was　an　immense　relief　to　us　when　the　last　stroke　of　the　passin