章节正文
before long, when life would wear a less sunny aspect.
CHAPTER XXV
PHIL FINDS A FRIEND
It was the evening before Christmas. Until to-day the winter had
been an open one, but about one o'clock in the afternoon the snow
began to fall. The flakes came thicker and faster, and it soon
became evident that an old-fashionedsnowstorm had set in. By
seven o'clock the snow lay a foot deep on the level, but in some
places considerably deeper, for a brisk wind had piled it up in
places.
In a handsome house, some rods back from the village street,
lived Dr. Drayton, a physician, whose skill was so well
appreciated that he had already, though still in the prime of
life, accumulated a handsome competence.
He sat this evening in his library, in dressing-gown and
slippers, his wife nearby engaged in some needlework.
"I hope you won't be called out this evening, Joseph," said Mrs.
Drayton, as a gust of wind tattled the window panes.
"I echo that wish, my dear," said the doctor, looking up from the
last number of the Atlantic Monthly. "I find it much more
comfortable here, reading Dr. Holmes' last article."
"The snow must be quite deep."
"It is. I found my ride from the north village this afternoon
bleak enough. You know how the wind sweeps across the road near
the Pond schoolhouse. I believe there is to be a Christmas-eve
celebration in the Town Hall this evening, is there not?"
"No; it has been postponed till to-morrow evening."
"That will be better. The weather and walking will both be
better. Shall we go, Mary?"
"If you wish it," she said, hesitatingly.
Her husband understood her hesitation. Christmas day was a sad
anniversary for them. Four years before, their only son, Walter,
a boy of eight, had died just as the Christmas church bells were
ringing out a summons to church. Since then the house had been a
silent one, the quiet unbroken by childish noise and merriment.
Much as the doctor and his wife were to each other, both felt the
void which Walter's death had created, and especially as the
anniversary came around which called to mind their great loss.
"I think we had better go," said the doctor; "though God has
bereft us of our own child, it will be pleasant for us to watch
the happy faces of others."
"Perhaps you are right, Joseph."
Half an hour passed. The doctor continued reading the Atlantic,
while his wife, occupied with thoughts which the conversation had
called up, kept on with her work.
Just then the bell was heard to ring.
"I hope it is not for you, Joseph," said his wife,
apprehensively.
"I am afraid it is," said the doctor, with a look of resignation.
"I thought it would be too good luck for me to have the whole
evening to myself."
"I wish you were not a doctor," said Mrs. Drayton.
"It is rather too late to change my profession, my dear," said
her husband, good-humoredly. "I shall be fifty next birthday.
To be sure, Ellen Jones tells me that in her class at the Normal
School there is a maiden lady of sixty-two, who has just begun to
prepare herself for the profession of a teacher. I am not quite
so old as that."
Here the servant opened the door, ushering in a farm laborer.
"Good-evening, Abner," said the doctor, recognizing him, as,
indeed, he knew every face within half a dozen miles. "Anything
amiss at home?"
"Mrs. Felton is took with spasms," said Abner. "Can you come
right over?"
"What have you done for her?"
"Put her feet in warm water, and put her to bed. Can you come
right over?"
"Yes," said the doctor, rising and exchanging his dressing-gown
for a coat, and drawing on his boots. "I will go as soon as my
horse is ready."
Orders were sent out to put the horse to the sleigh. This was
quickly done, and the doctor, fully accoutered, walked to the
door.
"I shall be back as soon as I can, Mary," he said.
"That won't be very soon. It is a good two-miles' ride."
"I shan't loiter on the way, you may be sure of that. Abner, I
am ready."
The snow was still falling, but not quite so fast as early in the
afternoon. The wind, however, blew quite as hard, and the doctor
found all his wrappings needful.
At intervals on the road he came to deep drifts of snow through
which the horse had some difficulty in drawing the sleigh, but at
length he arrived at the door of his patient. He found that the
violence of her attack was over, and, satisfied of this, left a
few simple directions, which he considered sufficient. Nature
would do the rest.
"Now for home!" he said to himself. "I hope this will be my
last professional call this evening. Mary will be impatient for
my return."
He gave the reins to his horse, who appeared to feel that he was
bound homeward, and traveled with more alacrity than he had come.
He, too, no doubt shared the doctor's hope that this was the last
service required of him before the morrow.
Doctor Drayton had completed rather more than half his journey,
when, looking to the right, his attention was drawn to a small,
dark object, nearly covered with snow.
Instinctively he reined up his horse.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "it must be a boy. God grant he
is not frozen!"
He leaped from his sleigh, and lifted the insensible body.
"It is an Italian boy, and here is his violin. The poor child
may be dead," he said to himself in a startled tone. "I must
carry him home, and see what I can do for him."
So he took up tenderly our young hero--for our readers will have
guessed that it was Phil--and put both him and his violin into
the sleigh. Then he drove home with a speed which astonished
even his horse, who, though anxious to reach his comfortable
stable, would not voluntarily have put forth so great an exertion
as was now required of him.
I must explain that Phil had for the last ten days been traveling
about the country, getting on comfortably while the ground was
bare of snow. To-day, however, had proved very uncomfortable.
In the city the snow would have been cleared off, and would not
have interfered so much with traveling.
He had bought some supper at a grocery store, and, after spending
an hour there, had set out again on his wanderings. He found the
walking so bad that he made up his mind to apply for a lodging at
a house not far back; but a fierce dog, by his barking, had
deterred him from the application. The road was lonely, and he
had seen no other house since. Finally, exhausted by the effort
of dragging himself through the deep snow, and, stiff with cold,
he sank down by the side of the road, and would doubtless have
frozen had not the doctor made his appearance opportunely.
Mrs. Drayton was alarmed when her husband entered the
sitting-room, bearing Phil's insensible form.
She jumped to her feet in alarm.
"Who is it, Joseph?" she asked.
"A poor Italian boy, whom I found by the side of the road."
"Is he dead?" asked the doctor's wife, quickly.
"I think not. I will restore him if there is any life left in
him."
It was fortunate for Phil that he had been discovered by a
skillful physician, who knew the most effectual means of bringing
him to. The flame of life was burning low, and a little longer
exposure would have closed the earthlycareer of our young hero.
But he was spared, as we hope, for a happy and useful career.
By the application of powerful restoratives Phil was at length
brought round. His chilled limbs grew warm, and his heart began
to beat more steadily and strongly. A bed was brought down to
the sitting-room, and he was placed in it.
"Where am I?" he asked faintly, when he opened his eyes.
"You are with friends, my boy. Don't ask questions now. In the
morning, you may ask as many as you like."
Phil closed his eyes languidly, and soon fell into a sound sleep.
Nature was doing her work well and rapidly.
In the morning Phil woke up almost whollyrestored.
As he opened his eyes, he met the kind glances of the doctor and
his wife.
"How do you feel this morning?" asked the doctor.
"I feel well," said Phil, looking around him with curiosity.
"Do you think you could eat some breakfast?" asked Dr. Drayton,
with a smile.
"Yes, sir," said Phil.
"Then, my lad, I think I can promise you some as soon as you are
dressed. But I see from your looks you want to know where you
are and how you came here. Don't you remember the snow-storm
yesterday?"
Phil shuddered. He remembered it only too well.
"I found you lying by the side of the road about half-past eight
in the evening. I suppose you don't remember my picking you up?"
"No, sir."
"You were insensible. I was afraid at first you were frozen.
But I brought you home, and, thanks to Providence, you are all
right again."
"Where is my fiddle?" asked Phil, anxiously.
"It is safe. There it is on the piano."
Phil was relieved to see that his faithfulcompanion was safe.
He looked upon it as his stock in trade, for without it he would
not have known how to make his livelihood.
He dressed quickly, and was soon seated at the doctor's
well-spread table. He soon showed that, in spite of his exposure
and narrow escape from death, he had a heartyappetite. Mrs.
Drayton saw him eat with true motherly pleasure, and her natural
love of children drew her toward our young hero, and would have
done so even had he been less attractive.
"Joseph," she said, addressing her husband, "I want to speak to
you a moment."
He followed her out of the room.
"Well, my dear?" he said.
"I want to ask a favor."
"It is granted in advance."
"Perhaps you will not say so when you know what it is."
"I can guess it. You want to keep this boy."
"Are you willing?"
"I would have proposed it, if you had not. He is without friends
and poor. We have enough and to spare. We will adopt him in
place of our lost Walter."
"Thank you, Joseph. It will make me happy. Whatever I do for
him, I will do for my lost darling."
They went back into the room. They found Phil with his cap on
and his fiddle under his arm.
"Where are you going, Philip?" asked the doctor.
"I am going into the street. I thank you for your kindness."
"Would you not rather stay with us?"
Phil looked up, uncertain of his meaning.
"We had a boy once, but he is dead. Will you stay with us and be
our boy?"
Phil looked in the kind faces of the doctor and his wife, and his
face lighted up with joy at the unexpectedprospect of such a
home, with people who would be kind to him.
"I will stay," he said. "You are very kind to me."
CHAPTER XXV
PHIL FINDS A FRIEND
It was the evening before Christmas. Until to-day the winter had
been an open one, but about one o'clock in the afternoon the snow
began to fall. The flakes came thicker and faster, and it soon
became evident that an old-fashionedsnowstorm had set in. By
seven o'clock the snow lay a foot deep on the level, but in some
places considerably deeper, for a brisk wind had piled it up in
places.
In a handsome house, some rods back from the village street,
lived Dr. Drayton, a physician, whose skill was so well
appreciated that he had already, though still in the prime of
life, accumulated a handsome competence.
He sat this evening in his library, in dressing-gown and
slippers, his wife nearby engaged in some needlework.
"I hope you won't be called out this evening, Joseph," said Mrs.
Drayton, as a gust of wind tattled the window panes.
"I echo that wish, my dear," said the doctor, looking up from the
last number of the Atlantic Monthly. "I find it much more
comfortable here, reading Dr. Holmes' last article."
"The snow must be quite deep."
"It is. I found my ride from the north village this afternoon
bleak enough. You know how the wind sweeps across the road near
the Pond schoolhouse. I believe there is to be a Christmas-eve
celebration in the Town Hall this evening, is there not?"
"No; it has been postponed till to-morrow evening."
"That will be better. The weather and walking will both be
better. Shall we go, Mary?"
"If you wish it," she said, hesitatingly.
Her husband understood her hesitation. Christmas day was a sad
anniversary for them. Four years before, their only son, Walter,
a boy of eight, had died just as the Christmas church bells were
ringing out a summons to church. Since then the house had been a
silent one, the quiet unbroken by childish noise and merriment.
Much as the doctor and his wife were to each other, both felt the
void which Walter's death had created, and especially as the
anniversary came around which called to mind their great loss.
"I think we had better go," said the doctor; "though God has
bereft us of our own child, it will be pleasant for us to watch
the happy faces of others."
"Perhaps you are right, Joseph."
Half an hour passed. The doctor continued reading the Atlantic,
while his wife, occupied with thoughts which the conversation had
called up, kept on with her work.
Just then the bell was heard to ring.
"I hope it is not for you, Joseph," said his wife,
apprehensively.
"I am afraid it is," said the doctor, with a look of resignation.
"I thought it would be too good luck for me to have the whole
evening to myself."
"I wish you were not a doctor," said Mrs. Drayton.
"It is rather too late to change my profession, my dear," said
her husband, good-humoredly. "I shall be fifty next birthday.
To be sure, Ellen Jones tells me that in her class at the Normal
School there is a maiden lady of sixty-two, who has just begun to
prepare herself for the profession of a teacher. I am not quite
so old as that."
Here the servant opened the door, ushering in a farm laborer.
"Good-evening, Abner," said the doctor, recognizing him, as,
indeed, he knew every face within half a dozen miles. "Anything
amiss at home?"
"Mrs. Felton is took with spasms," said Abner. "Can you come
right over?"
"What have you done for her?"
"Put her feet in warm water, and put her to bed. Can you come
right over?"
"Yes," said the doctor, rising and exchanging his dressing-gown
for a coat, and drawing on his boots. "I will go as soon as my
horse is ready."
Orders were sent out to put the horse to the sleigh. This was
quickly done, and the doctor, fully accoutered, walked to the
door.
"I shall be back as soon as I can, Mary," he said.
"That won't be very soon. It is a good two-miles' ride."
"I shan't loiter on the way, you may be sure of that. Abner, I
am ready."
The snow was still falling, but not quite so fast as early in the
afternoon. The wind, however, blew quite as hard, and the doctor
found all his wrappings needful.
At intervals on the road he came to deep drifts of snow through
which the horse had some difficulty in drawing the sleigh, but at
length he arrived at the door of his patient. He found that the
violence of her attack was over, and, satisfied of this, left a
few simple directions, which he considered sufficient. Nature
would do the rest.
"Now for home!" he said to himself. "I hope this will be my
last professional call this evening. Mary will be impatient for
my return."
He gave the reins to his horse, who appeared to feel that he was
bound homeward, and traveled with more alacrity than he had come.
He, too, no doubt shared the doctor's hope that this was the last
service required of him before the morrow.
Doctor Drayton had completed rather more than half his journey,
when, looking to the right, his attention was drawn to a small,
dark object, nearly covered with snow.
Instinctively he reined up his horse.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "it must be a boy. God grant he
is not frozen!"
He leaped from his sleigh, and lifted the insensible body.
"It is an Italian boy, and here is his violin. The poor child
may be dead," he said to himself in a startled tone. "I must
carry him home, and see what I can do for him."
So he took up tenderly our young hero--for our readers will have
guessed that it was Phil--and put both him and his violin into
the sleigh. Then he drove home with a speed which astonished
even his horse, who, though anxious to reach his comfortable
stable, would not voluntarily have put forth so great an exertion
as was now required of him.
I must explain that Phil had for the last ten days been traveling
about the country, getting on comfortably while the ground was
bare of snow. To-day, however, had proved very uncomfortable.
In the city the snow would have been cleared off, and would not
have interfered so much with traveling.
He had bought some supper at a grocery store, and, after spending
an hour there, had set out again on his wanderings. He found the
walking so bad that he made up his mind to apply for a lodging at
a house not far back; but a fierce dog, by his barking, had
deterred him from the application. The road was lonely, and he
had seen no other house since. Finally, exhausted by the effort
of dragging himself through the deep snow, and, stiff with cold,
he sank down by the side of the road, and would doubtless have
frozen had not the doctor made his appearance opportunely.
Mrs. Drayton was alarmed when her husband entered the
sitting-room, bearing Phil's insensible form.
She jumped to her feet in alarm.
"Who is it, Joseph?" she asked.
"A poor Italian boy, whom I found by the side of the road."
"Is he dead?" asked the doctor's wife, quickly.
"I think not. I will restore him if there is any life left in
him."
It was fortunate for Phil that he had been discovered by a
skillful physician, who knew the most effectual means of bringing
him to. The flame of life was burning low, and a little longer
exposure would have closed the earthlycareer of our young hero.
But he was spared, as we hope, for a happy and useful career.
By the application of powerful restoratives Phil was at length
brought round. His chilled limbs grew warm, and his heart began
to beat more steadily and strongly. A bed was brought down to
the sitting-room, and he was placed in it.
"Where am I?" he asked faintly, when he opened his eyes.
"You are with friends, my boy. Don't ask questions now. In the
morning, you may ask as many as you like."
Phil closed his eyes languidly, and soon fell into a sound sleep.
Nature was doing her work well and rapidly.
In the morning Phil woke up almost whollyrestored.
As he opened his eyes, he met the kind glances of the doctor and
his wife.
"How do you feel this morning?" asked the doctor.
"I feel well," said Phil, looking around him with curiosity.
"Do you think you could eat some breakfast?" asked Dr. Drayton,
with a smile.
"Yes, sir," said Phil.
"Then, my lad, I think I can promise you some as soon as you are
dressed. But I see from your looks you want to know where you
are and how you came here. Don't you remember the snow-storm
yesterday?"
Phil shuddered. He remembered it only too well.
"I found you lying by the side of the road about half-past eight
in the evening. I suppose you don't remember my picking you up?"
"No, sir."
"You were insensible. I was afraid at first you were frozen.
But I brought you home, and, thanks to Providence, you are all
right again."
"Where is my fiddle?" asked Phil, anxiously.
"It is safe. There it is on the piano."
Phil was relieved to see that his faithfulcompanion was safe.
He looked upon it as his stock in trade, for without it he would
not have known how to make his livelihood.
He dressed quickly, and was soon seated at the doctor's
well-spread table. He soon showed that, in spite of his exposure
and narrow escape from death, he had a heartyappetite. Mrs.
Drayton saw him eat with true motherly pleasure, and her natural
love of children drew her toward our young hero, and would have
done so even had he been less attractive.
"Joseph," she said, addressing her husband, "I want to speak to
you a moment."
He followed her out of the room.
"Well, my dear?" he said.
"I want to ask a favor."
"It is granted in advance."
"Perhaps you will not say so when you know what it is."
"I can guess it. You want to keep this boy."
"Are you willing?"
"I would have proposed it, if you had not. He is without friends
and poor. We have enough and to spare. We will adopt him in
place of our lost Walter."
"Thank you, Joseph. It will make me happy. Whatever I do for
him, I will do for my lost darling."
They went back into the room. They found Phil with his cap on
and his fiddle under his arm.
"Where are you going, Philip?" asked the doctor.
"I am going into the street. I thank you for your kindness."
"Would you not rather stay with us?"
Phil looked up, uncertain of his meaning.
"We had a boy once, but he is dead. Will you stay with us and be
our boy?"
Phil looked in the kind faces of the doctor and his wife, and his
face lighted up with joy at the unexpectedprospect of such a
home, with people who would be kind to him.
"I will stay," he said. "You are very kind to me."
- evident [´evidənt]
a.明显的，明白的 (初中英语单词) - old-fashioned [´əuld´feʃənd] a.老式的；过时的 (初中英语单词)
- physician [fi´ziʃən] n.(内科)医生 (初中英语单词)
- reading [´ri:diŋ] n.(阅)读；朗读；读物 (初中英语单词)
- schoolhouse [´sku:lhaus] n.校舍 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- profession [prə´feʃən] n.职业；声明；表白 (初中英语单词)
- maiden [´meidn] n.少女 a.未婚的 (初中英语单词)
- professional [prə´feʃənəl] a.职业的 n.自由职业 (初中英语单词)
- italian [i´tæliən] a.意大利 n.意大利人 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- fierce [fiəs] a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词)
- application [,æpli´keiʃən] n.申请；申请书；应用 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- doubtless [´dautlis] ad.无疑地；大概，多半 (初中英语单词)
- restore [ri´stɔ:] vt.(使)恢复；修复 (初中英语单词)
- fortunate [´fɔ:tʃənət] a.幸运的，侥幸的 (初中英语单词)
- career [kə´riə] n.经历；生涯；职业 (初中英语单词)
- steadily [´stedili] ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- strongly [´strɔŋli] ad.强烈地；强有力地 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- faithful [´feiθfəl] a.忠实的；可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- appetite [´æpitait] n.欲望；食欲 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- uncertain [ʌn´sə:tn] a.不定的；不可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- prospect [´prɔspekt, prəs´pekt] n.景色；境界 v.勘察 (初中英语单词)
- considerably [kən´sidərəbli] ad.显著地；十分 (高中英语单词)
- monthly [´mʌnθli] a.每月(的) n.月刊 (高中英语单词)
- hesitation [,hezi´teiʃən] n.犹豫，踌躇 (高中英语单词)
- impatient [im´peiʃənt] a.不耐烦的，急躁的 (高中英语单词)
- homeward [´həumwəd] ad.&a.回家(的) (高中英语单词)
- tenderly [´tendəli] ad.娇嫩地；柔和地 (高中英语单词)
- comfortably [´kʌmfətəbli] ad.舒适地 (高中英语单词)
- grocery [´grəusəri] n.食品杂货店 (高中英语单词)
- lodging [´lɔdʒiŋ] n.寄宿，住宿 (高中英语单词)
- bearing [´beəriŋ] n.举止；忍耐；关系 (高中英语单词)
- earthly [´ə:θli] a.地球的；世俗的 (高中英语单词)
- faintly [´feintli] ad.微弱地，软弱无力的 (高中英语单词)
- hearty [´hɑ:ti] a.热忱的；强健的 (高中英语单词)
- unexpected [ʌniks´pektid] a.突然的；意外的 (高中英语单词)
- unbroken [ʌn´brəukən] a.未破的；不间断的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- sleigh [slei] n.雪橇 vi.坐雪橇 (英语四级单词)
- traveled [´trævəld] a.见面广的；旅客多的 (英语四级单词)
- violin [,vaiə´lin] n.(小)提琴 (英语四级单词)
- providence [´prɔvidəns] n.天意，天命，上帝 (英语四级单词)
- fiddle [´fidl] n.小提琴 v.拉提琴 (英语四级单词)
- snowstorm [´snəustɔ:m] n.暴风雪；雪暴 (英语六级单词)
- loiter [´lɔitə] v.闲逛，消磨时间 (英语六级单词)
- insensible [in´sensəbəl] a.麻木的；冷淡的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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