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the professor at the breakfast table-第7部分
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where there are such hereditary infirmities。 Still; let us treat
this poor man fairly; and not call him names。 Do you know what his
name is?
I know what the rest of 'em call him;said the young fellow。 They
call him Little Boston。 There's no harm in that; is there?
It is an honorable term;I replied。 But why Little Boston; in a
place where most are Bostonians?
Because nobody else is quite so Boston all over as he is;said the
young fellow。
〃L。 B。 Ob。 1692。〃Little Boston let him be; when we talk about him。
The ring he wears labels him well enough。 There is stuff in the
little man; or he would n't stick so manfully by this crooked;
crotchety old town。 Give him a chance。 You will drop the Sculpin;
won't you?I said to the young fellow。
Drop him?he answered;I ha'n't took him up yet。
No; no;the term;I said;the term。 Don't call him so any more;
if you please。 Call him Little Boston; if you like。
All right;said the young fellow。 I would n't be hard on the poor
little…
The word he used was objectionable in point of significance and of
grammar。 It was a frequent termination of certain adjectives among
the Romans;as of those designating a person following the sea; or
given to rural pursuits。 It is classed by custom among the profane
words; why; it is hard to say;but it is largely used in the street
by those who speak of their fellows in pity or in wrath。
I never heard the young fellow apply the name of the odious pretended
fish to the little man from that day forward。
Here we are; then; at our boardinghouse。 First; myself; the
Professor; a little way from the head of the table; on the right;
looking down; where the 〃Autocrat〃 used to sit。 At the further end
sits the Landlady。 At the head of the table; just now; the Koh…i…
noor; or the gentleman with the diamond。 Opposite me is a Venerable
Gentleman with a bland countenance; who as yet has spoken little。
The Divinity Student is my neighbor on the right;and further down;
that Young Fellow of whom I have repeatedly spoken。 The Landlady's
Daughter sits near the Koh…i…noor; as I said。 The Poor Relation near
the Landlady。 At the right upper corner is a fresh…looking youth of
whose name and history I have as yet learned nothing。 Next the
further left…hand corner; near the lower end of the table; sits the
deformed person。 The chair at his side; occupying that corner; is
empty。 I need not specially mention the other boarders; with the
exception of Benjamin Franklin; the landlady's son; who sits near his
mother。 We are a tolerably assorted set;difference enough and
likeness enough; but still it seems to me there is something wanting。
The Landlady's Daughter is the prima donna in the way of feminine
attractions。 I am not quite satisfied with this young lady。 She
wears more 〃jewelry;〃 as certain young ladies call their trinkets;
than I care to see on a person in her position。 Her voice is
strident; her laugh too much like a giggle; and she has that foolish
way of dancing and bobbing like a quill…float with a 〃minnum〃 biting
the hook below it; which one sees and weeps over sometimes in persons
of more pretensions。 I can't help hoping we shall put something into
that empty chair yet which will add the missing string to our social
harp。 I hear talk of a rare Miss who is expected。 Something in the
schoolgirl way; I believe。 We shall see。
My friend who calls himself The Autocrat has given me a caution
which I am going to repeat; with my comment upon it; for the benefit
of all concerned。
Professor;said he; one day;don't you think your brain will run
dry before a year's out; if you don't get the pump to help the cow?
Let me tell you what happened to me once。 I put a little money into
a bank; and bought a check…book; so that I might draw it as I wanted;
in sums to suit。 Things went on nicely for a time; scratching with a
pen was as easy as rubbing Aladdin's Lamp; and my blank check…book
seemed to be a dictionary of possibilities; in which I could find all
the synonymes of happiness; and realize any one of them on the spot。
A check came back to me at last with these two words on it;NO
FUNDS。 My check…book was a volume of waste…paper。
Now; Professor;said he;I have drawn something out of your bank;
you know; and just so sure as you keep drawing out your soul's
currency without making new deposits; the next thing will be; NO
FUNDS;and then where will you be; my boy? These little bits of
paper mean your gold and your silver and your copper; Professor; and
you will certainly break up and go to pieces; if you don't hold on to
your metallic basis。
There is something in that;said I。 Only I rather think life can
coin thought somewhat faster than I can count it off in words。 What
if one shall go round and dry up with soft napkins all the dew that
falls of a June evening on the leaves of his garden? Shall there be
no more dew on those leaves thereafter? Marry; yea;many drops;
large and round and full of moonlight as those thou shalt have
absterged!
Here am I; the Professor;a man who has lived long enough to have
plucked the flowers of life and come to the berries;which are not
always sad…colored; but sometimes golden…hued as the crocus of April;
or rosy…cheeked as the damask of June; a man who staggered against
books as a baby; and will totter against them; if he lives to
decrepitude; with a brain full of tingling thoughts; such as they
are; as a limb which we call 〃asleep;〃 because it is so particuly
awake; is of pricking points; presenting a key…board of nerve…pulps;
not as yet tanned or ossified; to finger…touch of all outward
agencies; knowing nothing of the filmy threads of this web of life in
which we insects buzz awhile; waiting for the gray old spider to come
along; contented enough with daily realities; but twirling on his
finger the key of a private Bedlam of ideals; in knowledge feeding
with the fox oftener than with the stork;loving better the breadth
of a fertilizing inundation than the depth of narrow artesian well;
finding nothing too small for his contemplation in the markings of
the grammatophora subtilissima; and nothing too large in the movement
of the solar system towards the star Lambda of the constellation
Hercules;and the question is; whether there is anything left for
me; the Professor; to suck out of creation; after my lively friend
has had his straw in the bung…hole of the Universe!
A man's mental reactions with the atmosphere of life must go on;
whether he will or no; as between his blood and the air he breathes。
As to catching the residuum of the process; or what we call thought;…
…the gaseous ashes of burned…out thinking;the excretion of mental
respiration;that will depend on many things; as; on having a
favorable intellectual temperature about one; and a fitting
receptacle。 I sow more thought…seeds in twenty…four hours' travel
over the desert…sand along which my lonely consci
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