章节正文
some few got acquainted and overlooked the discom-
forts of the elements. There was five engagements to
be married announced at the flats the next morning.
About midnight I gets up and wrings the dew out
of my hair, and goes to the side of the driveway
and sits down. At one side of the park I could see
the lights in the streets and houses; and I was thinking
how happy them folks was who could chase the duck
and smoke their pipes at their windows, and keep cool
and pleasant like nature intended for 'em to.
Just then an automobile stops by me, and a fine-
looking, well-dressed man steps out.
'Me man,' says he, 'can you tell me why all these
people are lying around on the grass in the park?
I thought it was against the rules.'
"''Twas an ordinance,' says I, 'just passed by
the Polis Department and ratified by the Turf Cut-
ters' Association, providing that all persons not car-
rying a license number on their rear axles shall keep
in the public parks until further notice. Fortu-
nately, the orders comes this year during a spell of
fine weather, and the mortality, except on the borders
of the lake and along the automobile drives, will not
be any greater than usual.'
"'Who are these people on the side of the bill?'
asks the man.
"'Sure,' says I, 'none others than the tenants of
the Beersheba Flats -- a fine home for any man,
especially on hot nights. May daylight come soon!'
"'They come here be night,' says be, 'and breathe
in the pure air and the fragrance of the flowers and
trees. They do that,' says be, 'coming every night
from the burning beat of dwellings of brick and stone.'
"'And wood,' says I. 'And marble and plaster
and iron.'
"'The matter will be attended to at once,' says the
man, putting up his book.
"'Are ye the Park Commissioner?' I asks.
"'I own the Beersheba Flats,' says he. 'God
bless the grass and the trees that give extra benefits
to a man's tenants. The rents shall be raised fifteen
per cent. to-morrow. Good-night,' says he."
THE EASTER OF THE SOUL
It is hardly likely that a goddess may die. Then
Eastre, the old Saxon goddess of spring, must be
laughing in her muslinsleeve at people who believe
that Easter, her namesake, exists only along certain
strips of Fifth Avenue pavement after church service.
Aye! It belongs to the world. The ptarmigan in
Chilkoot Pass discards his winter white feathers for
brown; the Patagonian Beau Brummell oils his chi-
gnon and clubs him another sweetheart to drag to his
skull-strewn flat. And down in Chrystie Street --
Mr. "Tiger" McQuirk arose with a feeling of
disquiet that be did not understand. With a prac-
tised foot be rolled three of his younger brothers like
logs out of his way as they lay sleeping on the floor.
Before a foot-square looking glass hung by the win-
dow he stood and shaved himself. If that may seem to
you a task too slight to be thus impressively chron-
icled, I bear with you; you do not know of the areas
to be accomplished in traversing the cheek and chin
of Mr. McQuirk.
McQuirk, senior, had gone to work long before.
The big son of the house was idle. He was a marble-
cutter, and the marble-cutters were out on a strike.
"What ails ye?" asked his mother, looking at him
curiously; "are ye not feeling well the morning,
maybe now?"
"He's thinking along of Annie Maria Doyle, im-
pudently explained younger brother Tim, ten years
old."
"Tiger" reached over the hand of a champion and
swept the small McQuirk from his chair.
"I feel fine," said he, "beyond a touch of the
I-don't-know-wbat-you-call-its. I feel like there was
going to be earthquakes or music or a trifle of chills
and fever or maybe a picnic. I don't know how I
feel. I feel like knocking the face off a policeman,
or else maybe like playing Coney Island straight
across the board from pop-corn to the elephant
boudabs."
"It's the spring in yer bones," said Mrs. McQuirk.
"It's the sap risin'. Time was when I couldn't keep
me feet still nor me head cool when the earthworms
began to crawl out in the dew of the mornin'. 'Tis
a bit of tea will do ye good, made from pipsissewa
and gentian bark at the druggist's."
"Back up!" said Mr. McQuirk, impatiently.
"There's no spring in sight There's snow yet on
the shed in Donovan's backyard. And yesterday they
puts open cars on the Sixth Avenue lines, and the
janitors have quit ordering coal. And that means
six weeks more of winter, by all the signs that be."
After breakfast Mr. McQuirk spent fifteen minutes
before the corrugated mirror, subjugating his hair
and arranging his green-and-purple ascot with its
amethyst tombstone pin-eloquent of his chosen
calling.
Since the strike had been called it was this par-
ticular striker's habit to hie himself each morning
to the corner saloon of Flaherty Brothers, and there
establish himself upon the sidewalk, with one foot
resting on the bootblack's stand, observing the
panorama of the street until the pace of time brought
twelve o'clock and the dinner hour. And Mr.
"Tiger" McQuirk, with his athletic seventy inches,
well trained in sport and battle; his smooth, pale,
solid, amiable face -- blue where the razor had trav-
elled; his carefully considered clothes and air of capa-
bility, was himself a spectacle not displeasing to the
eye.
But on this morning Mr. McQuirk did not hasten
immediately to his post of leisure and observation.
Something unusual that he could not quite grasp was
in the air. Something disturbed his thoughts, ruffled
his senses, made him at once languid, irritable, elated,
dissastisfied and sportive. He was no diagnostician,
and he did not know that Lent was breaking up
physiologically in his system.
Mrs. McQuirk had spoken of spring. Sceptically
Tiger looked about him for signs. Few they
were. The organ-grinders were at work; but they
were always precocious harbingers. It was near
enough spring for them to go penny-hunting when the
skating ball dropped at the park. In the milliners'
windows Easter hats, grave, gay and jubilant, blos-
somed. There were green patches among the side-
walk debris of the grocers. On a third-story window-
sill the first elbow cushion of the season -- old gold
stripes on a crimson ground -- supported the kimo-
noed arms of a pensive brunette. The wind blew
cold from the East River, but the sparrows were fly-
ing to the eaves with straws. A second-hand store,
combining foresight with faith, had set out an ice-
chest and baseball goods.
And then "Tiger's" eye, discrediting these signs,
fell upon one that bore a bud of promise. From a
bright, new lithograph the head of Capricornus con-
fronted him, betokening the forward and heady brew.
Mr. McQuirk entered the saloon and called for his
glass of bock. He threw his nickel on the bar, raised
the glass, set it down without tasting it and strolled
toward the door.
"Wot's the matter, Lord Bolinbroke?" inquired
the sarcastic bartender; want a chiny vase or a
gold-lined epergne to drink it out of -- hey?"
"Say," said Mr. McQuirk, wheeling and shooting
out a horizontal hand and a forty-five-degree chin,
"you know your place only when it comes for givin'
titles. I've changed me mind about drinkin -- see?
You got your money, ain't you? Wait till you get
stung before you get the droop to your lip, will
you?"
Thus Mr. Quirk added mutability of desires to the
strange humors that had taken possession of him.
Leaving the saloon, he walked away twenty steps
and leaned in the open doorway of Lutz, the barber.
He and Lutz were friends, masking their sentiments
behind abuse and bludgeons of repartee.
"Irish loafer," roared Lutz, "how do you do?
So, not yet haf der bolicemans or der catcher of
dogs done deir duty!"
"Hello, Dutch," said Mr. McQuirk. "Can't get
your mind off of frankfurters, can you?"
"Bah!" exclaimed the German, coming and lean-
ing in the door. "I haf a soul above frankfurters
to-day. Dere is springtime in der air. I can feel it
coming in ofer der mud of der streets and das ice
in der river. Soon will dere be bienics in der islands,
mit kegs of beer under der trees."
"Say," said Mr. McQuirk, setting his bat on one
side, "is everybody kiddin' me about gentle Spring?
There ain't any more spring in the air than there is
in a horsehair sofa in a Second Avenue furnished
room. For me the winter underwear yet and the
buckwheat cakes."
"You haf no boetry," said Lutz. True, it is
yedt cold, und in der city we haf not many of der
signs; but dere are dree kinds of beoble dot should
always feel der'approach of spring first -- dey are
boets, lovers and poor vidows."
Mr. McQuirk went on his way, still possessed by
the strange perturbation that he did not understand.
Something was lacking to his comfort, and it made
him half angry because be did not know what it was.
Two blocks away he came upon a foe, one Conover,
whom he was bound in honor to engage in combat.
Mr. McQuirk made the attack with the charac-
teristic suddenness and fierceness that had gained for
him the endearing sobriquet of "Tiger." The de-
fence of Mr. Conover was so prompt and admirable
that the conflict was protracted until the onlookers un-
selfishly gave the warning cry of "Cheese it -- the
cop!" The principals escaped easily by running
through the nearest open doors into the communi-
cating backyards at the rear of the houses.
Mr. McQuirk emerged into another street. He
stood by a lamp-post for a few minutes engaged in
thought and then he turned and plunged into a small
notion and news shop. A red-haired young woman,
forts of the elements. There was five engagements to
be married announced at the flats the next morning.
About midnight I gets up and wrings the dew out
of my hair, and goes to the side of the driveway
and sits down. At one side of the park I could see
the lights in the streets and houses; and I was thinking
how happy them folks was who could chase the duck
and smoke their pipes at their windows, and keep cool
and pleasant like nature intended for 'em to.
Just then an automobile stops by me, and a fine-
looking, well-dressed man steps out.
'Me man,' says he, 'can you tell me why all these
people are lying around on the grass in the park?
I thought it was against the rules.'
"''Twas an ordinance,' says I, 'just passed by
the Polis Department and ratified by the Turf Cut-
ters' Association, providing that all persons not car-
rying a license number on their rear axles shall keep
in the public parks until further notice. Fortu-
nately, the orders comes this year during a spell of
fine weather, and the mortality, except on the borders
of the lake and along the automobile drives, will not
be any greater than usual.'
"'Who are these people on the side of the bill?'
asks the man.
"'Sure,' says I, 'none others than the tenants of
the Beersheba Flats -- a fine home for any man,
especially on hot nights. May daylight come soon!'
"'They come here be night,' says be, 'and breathe
in the pure air and the fragrance of the flowers and
trees. They do that,' says be, 'coming every night
from the burning beat of dwellings of brick and stone.'
"'And wood,' says I. 'And marble and plaster
and iron.'
"'The matter will be attended to at once,' says the
man, putting up his book.
"'Are ye the Park Commissioner?' I asks.
"'I own the Beersheba Flats,' says he. 'God
bless the grass and the trees that give extra benefits
to a man's tenants. The rents shall be raised fifteen
per cent. to-morrow. Good-night,' says he."
THE EASTER OF THE SOUL
It is hardly likely that a goddess may die. Then
Eastre, the old Saxon goddess of spring, must be
laughing in her muslinsleeve at people who believe
that Easter, her namesake, exists only along certain
strips of Fifth Avenue pavement after church service.
Aye! It belongs to the world. The ptarmigan in
Chilkoot Pass discards his winter white feathers for
brown; the Patagonian Beau Brummell oils his chi-
gnon and clubs him another sweetheart to drag to his
skull-strewn flat. And down in Chrystie Street --
Mr. "Tiger" McQuirk arose with a feeling of
disquiet that be did not understand. With a prac-
tised foot be rolled three of his younger brothers like
logs out of his way as they lay sleeping on the floor.
Before a foot-square looking glass hung by the win-
dow he stood and shaved himself. If that may seem to
you a task too slight to be thus impressively chron-
icled, I bear with you; you do not know of the areas
to be accomplished in traversing the cheek and chin
of Mr. McQuirk.
McQuirk, senior, had gone to work long before.
The big son of the house was idle. He was a marble-
cutter, and the marble-cutters were out on a strike.
"What ails ye?" asked his mother, looking at him
curiously; "are ye not feeling well the morning,
maybe now?"
"He's thinking along of Annie Maria Doyle, im-
pudently explained younger brother Tim, ten years
old."
"Tiger" reached over the hand of a champion and
swept the small McQuirk from his chair.
"I feel fine," said he, "beyond a touch of the
I-don't-know-wbat-you-call-its. I feel like there was
going to be earthquakes or music or a trifle of chills
and fever or maybe a picnic. I don't know how I
feel. I feel like knocking the face off a policeman,
or else maybe like playing Coney Island straight
across the board from pop-corn to the elephant
boudabs."
"It's the spring in yer bones," said Mrs. McQuirk.
"It's the sap risin'. Time was when I couldn't keep
me feet still nor me head cool when the earthworms
began to crawl out in the dew of the mornin'. 'Tis
a bit of tea will do ye good, made from pipsissewa
and gentian bark at the druggist's."
"Back up!" said Mr. McQuirk, impatiently.
"There's no spring in sight There's snow yet on
the shed in Donovan's backyard. And yesterday they
puts open cars on the Sixth Avenue lines, and the
janitors have quit ordering coal. And that means
six weeks more of winter, by all the signs that be."
After breakfast Mr. McQuirk spent fifteen minutes
before the corrugated mirror, subjugating his hair
and arranging his green-and-purple ascot with its
amethyst tombstone pin-eloquent of his chosen
calling.
Since the strike had been called it was this par-
ticular striker's habit to hie himself each morning
to the corner saloon of Flaherty Brothers, and there
establish himself upon the sidewalk, with one foot
resting on the bootblack's stand, observing the
panorama of the street until the pace of time brought
twelve o'clock and the dinner hour. And Mr.
"Tiger" McQuirk, with his athletic seventy inches,
well trained in sport and battle; his smooth, pale,
solid, amiable face -- blue where the razor had trav-
elled; his carefully considered clothes and air of capa-
bility, was himself a spectacle not displeasing to the
eye.
But on this morning Mr. McQuirk did not hasten
immediately to his post of leisure and observation.
Something unusual that he could not quite grasp was
in the air. Something disturbed his thoughts, ruffled
his senses, made him at once languid, irritable, elated,
dissastisfied and sportive. He was no diagnostician,
and he did not know that Lent was breaking up
physiologically in his system.
Mrs. McQuirk had spoken of spring. Sceptically
Tiger looked about him for signs. Few they
were. The organ-grinders were at work; but they
were always precocious harbingers. It was near
enough spring for them to go penny-hunting when the
skating ball dropped at the park. In the milliners'
windows Easter hats, grave, gay and jubilant, blos-
somed. There were green patches among the side-
walk debris of the grocers. On a third-story window-
sill the first elbow cushion of the season -- old gold
stripes on a crimson ground -- supported the kimo-
noed arms of a pensive brunette. The wind blew
cold from the East River, but the sparrows were fly-
ing to the eaves with straws. A second-hand store,
combining foresight with faith, had set out an ice-
chest and baseball goods.
And then "Tiger's" eye, discrediting these signs,
fell upon one that bore a bud of promise. From a
bright, new lithograph the head of Capricornus con-
fronted him, betokening the forward and heady brew.
Mr. McQuirk entered the saloon and called for his
glass of bock. He threw his nickel on the bar, raised
the glass, set it down without tasting it and strolled
toward the door.
"Wot's the matter, Lord Bolinbroke?" inquired
the sarcastic bartender; want a chiny vase or a
gold-lined epergne to drink it out of -- hey?"
"Say," said Mr. McQuirk, wheeling and shooting
out a horizontal hand and a forty-five-degree chin,
"you know your place only when it comes for givin'
titles. I've changed me mind about drinkin -- see?
You got your money, ain't you? Wait till you get
stung before you get the droop to your lip, will
you?"
Thus Mr. Quirk added mutability of desires to the
strange humors that had taken possession of him.
Leaving the saloon, he walked away twenty steps
and leaned in the open doorway of Lutz, the barber.
He and Lutz were friends, masking their sentiments
behind abuse and bludgeons of repartee.
"Irish loafer," roared Lutz, "how do you do?
So, not yet haf der bolicemans or der catcher of
dogs done deir duty!"
"Hello, Dutch," said Mr. McQuirk. "Can't get
your mind off of frankfurters, can you?"
"Bah!" exclaimed the German, coming and lean-
ing in the door. "I haf a soul above frankfurters
to-day. Dere is springtime in der air. I can feel it
coming in ofer der mud of der streets and das ice
in der river. Soon will dere be bienics in der islands,
mit kegs of beer under der trees."
"Say," said Mr. McQuirk, setting his bat on one
side, "is everybody kiddin' me about gentle Spring?
There ain't any more spring in the air than there is
in a horsehair sofa in a Second Avenue furnished
room. For me the winter underwear yet and the
buckwheat cakes."
"You haf no boetry," said Lutz. True, it is
yedt cold, und in der city we haf not many of der
signs; but dere are dree kinds of beoble dot should
always feel der'approach of spring first -- dey are
boets, lovers and poor vidows."
Mr. McQuirk went on his way, still possessed by
the strange perturbation that he did not understand.
Something was lacking to his comfort, and it made
him half angry because be did not know what it was.
Two blocks away he came upon a foe, one Conover,
whom he was bound in honor to engage in combat.
Mr. McQuirk made the attack with the charac-
teristic suddenness and fierceness that had gained for
him the endearing sobriquet of "Tiger." The de-
fence of Mr. Conover was so prompt and admirable
that the conflict was protracted until the onlookers un-
selfishly gave the warning cry of "Cheese it -- the
cop!" The principals escaped easily by running
through the nearest open doors into the communi-
cating backyards at the rear of the houses.
Mr. McQuirk emerged into another street. He
stood by a lamp-post for a few minutes engaged in
thought and then he turned and plunged into a small
notion and news shop. A red-haired young woman,
- midnight [´midnait]
n.午夜；漆黑 (初中英语单词) - daylight [´deilait] n.日光；黎明 (初中英语单词)
- marble [´mɑ:bəl] n.大理石 a.大理石的 (初中英语单词)
- goddess [´gɔdis] n.女神 (初中英语单词)
- sleeve [sli:v] n.袖子；袖套 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- champion [´tʃæmpiən] n.冠军 vt.拥护 (初中英语单词)
- trifle [´traifəl] n.琐事，小事；少量 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- spectacle [´spektəkəl] n.展览；表演；景象 (初中英语单词)
- unusual [ʌn´ju:ʒuəl] a.不平常的；异常的 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- cushion [´kuʃən] n.垫子，坐褥 (初中英语单词)
- second-hand [,sekənd´hænd] a.用过的；间接的 (初中英语单词)
- doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
- conflict [´kɔnflikt, kən´flikt] n.&vi.战斗；抵触 (初中英语单词)
- fragrance [´freigrəns] n.芬芳，芳香 (高中英语单词)
- easter [´i:stə] n.(耶稣)复活节 (高中英语单词)
- pavement [´peivmənt] n.路面；铺筑材料 (高中英语单词)
- sweetheart [´swi:thɑ:t] n.爱人；情人 (高中英语单词)
- senior [´si:niə] a.年长的 n.前辈 (高中英语单词)
- picnic [´piknik] n.郊游 vi.(去)野餐 (高中英语单词)
- saloon [sə´lu:n] n.大厅；餐车 (高中英语单词)
- sidewalk [´saidwɔ:k] n.人行道 (高中英语单词)
- athletic [æθ´letik] a.运动的；强壮的 (高中英语单词)
- leisure [´leʒə] n.空闲；悠闲；安定 (高中英语单词)
- crimson [´krimzən] a.&n.深(紫)红(的) (高中英语单词)
- baseball [´beisbɔ:l] n.棒球运动 (高中英语单词)
- nickel [´nikəl] n.镍 vt.把...镀镍 (高中英语单词)
- prompt [prɔmpt] a.敏捷的 vt.促使 (高中英语单词)
- mortality [mɔ:´tæliti] n.致命性；死亡率 (英语四级单词)
- muslin [´mʌzlin] n.平纹细布，薄纱织物 (英语四级单词)
- accomplished [ə´kʌmpliʃt] a.完成了的；熟练的 (英语四级单词)
- amiable [´eimiəbəl] a.亲切的，温和的 (英语四级单词)
- foresight [´fɔ:sait] n.先见，深谋远虑 (英语四级单词)
- horizontal [,hɔri´zɔntl] a.水平的，横的 (英语四级单词)
- springtime [´spriŋtaim] n.春季；青春期 (英语四级单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- languid [´læŋgwid] a.精神不振的 (英语六级单词)
- irritable [´iritəbəl] a.急躁的；过敏的 (英语六级单词)
- pensive [´pensiv] a.沉思的；忧郁的 (英语六级单词)
- underwear [´ʌndəweə] n.内衣；衬衣 (英语六级单词)
- lacking [´lækiŋ] a.缺少的，没有的 (英语六级单词)
- fierceness [´fiəsnis] n.凶恶，残忍 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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