章节正文
The bill was crisp and new. Even fingers that were
clumsy and trembling found little difficulty in making
a spill of it and inserting it (this with less ease) into the
muzzle of the rifle.
"Now I reckon you kin be goin' along," said the robber.
The Justice lingered not on his way.
The next day came the little red bull, drawing the cart
to the office door. Justice Benaja Widdup had his shoes
on, for he was expecting the visit. In his presence Ransie
Bilbro handed to his wife a five-dollar bill. The official's
eye sharply viewed it. It seemed to curl up as though it
had been rolled and inserted into the end of a gun-barrel.
But the Justice refrained from comment. It is true that
other bills might be inclined to curl. He handed each
one a decree of divorce. Each stood awkwardly silent,
slowly folding the guarantee of freedom. The woman
cast a shy glance full of constraint at Ransie.
"I reckon you'll be goin' back up to the cabin," she said,
along 'ith the bull-cart. There's bread in the tin box
settin' on the shelf. I put the bacon in the b'ilin'-pot
to keep the hounds from gittin' it. Don't forget to wind
the clock to-night."
"You air a-goin' to your brother Ed's?" asked Ransie,
with fine unconcern.
"I was 'lowin' to get along up thar afore night. I
ain't sayin' as they'll pester theyselves any to make me
welcome, but I hain't nowhar else fur to go. It's a right
smart ways, and I reckon I better be goin'. I'll be a-sayin'
good-bye, Ranse - that is, if you keer fur to say so."
"I don't know as anybody's a hound dog," said Ransie,
in a martyr's voice, "fur to not want to say good-bye --
'less you air so anxious to git away that you don't want
me to say it."
Ariela was silent. She folded the five-dollar bill and
her decree carefully, and placed them in the bosom of
her dress. Benaja Widdup watched the money disappear
with mournful eyes behind his spectacles.
And then with his next words he achieved rank (as
his thoughts ran) with either the great crowd of the world's
sympathizers or the little crowd of its great financiers.
"Be kind o' lonesome in the old cabin to-night, Ranse,"
he said.
Ransie Bilbro stared out at the Cumberlands, clear
blue now in the sunlight. He did not look at Ariela.
"I 'low it might be lonesome," he said; "but when
folks gits mad and wants a divo'ce, you can't make folks
stay."
"There's others wanted a divo'ce," said Ariela, speaking
to the wooden stool. "Besides, nobody don't want no-
body to stay."
"Nobody never said they didn't."
"Nobody never said they did. I reckon I better
start on now to brother Ed's."
"Nobody can't wind that old clock."
"Want me to go back along 'ith you in the cart and
wind it fur you, Ranse?"
The mountaineer's countenance was proof against
emotion. But he reached out a big hand and enclosed
Ariela's thin brown one. Her soul peeped out once
through her impassive face, hallowing it.
"Them hounds shan't pester you no more," said
Ransie. "I reckon I been mean and low down. You
wind that clock, Ariela."
"My heart hit's in that cabin, Ranse," she whispered,
"along 'ith you. I ai'nt a-goin' to git mad no more. Le's
be startin', Ranse, so's we kin git home by sundown."
Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup interposed as they
started for the door, forgetting his presence.
"In the name of the State of Tennessee," he said, "I
forbid you-all to be a-defyin' of its laws and statutes.
This co't is mo' than willin' and full of joy to see the
clouds of discord and misunderstandin' rollin' away
from two lovin' hearts, but it air the duty of the co't to
p'eserve the morals and integrity of the State. The co't
reminds you that you air no longer man and wife, but air
divo'ced by regular decree, and as such air not entitled
to the benefits and 'purtenances of the mattermonal
estate."
Ariela caught Ransie's arm. Did those words mean
that she must lose him now when they had just learned
the lesson of life?
"But the co't air prepared," went on the Justice, "fur
to remove the disabilities set up by the decree of divo'ce.
The co't air on hand to perform the solemnceremony
of marri'ge, thus fixin' things up and enablin' the parties
in the case to resume the honour'ble and elevatin' state
of mattermony which they desires. The fee fur per-
formin' said ceremony will be, in this case, to wit, five
dollars."
Aricla caught the gleam of promise in his words.
Swiftly her hand went to her bosom. Freely as an
alighting dove the bill fluttered to the Justice's table.
Her sallow cheek coloured as she stood hand in hand
with Ransie and listened to the reuniting words.
Ransie helped her into the cart, and climbed in beside
her. The little red bull turned once more, and they
set out, hand-clasped, for the mountains.
Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup sat in his door
and took off his shoes. Once again he fingered the bill
tucked down in his vest pocket. Once again he smoked
his elder-stem pipe. Once again the speck-led hen swag-
gered down the main street of the "settlement," cackling
foolishly.
A SACRIFICE HIT
The editor of the Hearthstone Magazine his own
ideas about the selection of manuscript for his publication.
His theory is no secret; in fact, he will expound it to you
willingly sitting at his mahogany desk, smiling benignantly
and tapping his knee gently with his gold-rimmed eye-
glasses.
"The Hearthstone," he will say, "does not employ a
staff of readers. We obtain opinions of the manuscripts
submitted to us directly from types of the various classes
of our readers."
That is the editor's theory; and this is the way he carries
it out:
When a batch of MSS. is received the editor stuffs
every one of his pockets full of them and distributes
them as he goes about during the day. The office
employees, the hall porter, the janitor, the elevator man,
messenger boys, the waiters at the caf?where the editor
has luncheon, the man at the news-stand where he buys
his evening paper, the grocer and milkman, the guard
on the 5.30 uptown elevated train, the ticket-chopper at
Sixty --th street, the cook and maid at his home --
these are the readers who pass upon MSS. sent in to the
Hearthstone Magazine. If his pockets are not entirely
emptied by the time he reaches the bosom of his family
the remaining ones are handed over to his wife to read
after the baby goes to sleep. A few days later the editor
gathers in the MSS. during his regular rounds and con-
siders the verdict of his assorted readers.
This system of making up a magazine has been very
successful; and the circulation, paced by the advertising
rates, is making a wonderful record of speed.
The Hearthstone Company also publishes books, and
its imprint is to be found on several successful works
-- all recommended, says the editor, by the Hearthstone'8
army of volunteer readers. Now and then (according to
talkative members of the editorial staff) the Hearthstone
has allowed manuscripts to slip through its fingers on the
advice of its heterogeneous readers, that afterward proved
to be famous sellers when brought out by other houses.
For instance (the gossips say), "The Rise and Fall
of Silas Latham" was unfavourably passed upon by the
elevator-man; the office-boy unanimously rejected "The
Boss"; "In the Bishop's Carriage" was contemptuously
looked upon by the street-car conductor; "The Deliver-
ance" was turned down by a clerk in the subscription
department whose wife's mother had just begun a two-
months' visit at his home; "The Queen's Quair" came
back from the janitor with the comment: "So is the book."
But nevertheless the Hearthstone adheres to its theory
and system, and it will never lack volunteer readers;
for each one of the widely scattered staff, from the young
lady stenographer in the editorial office to the man who
shovels in coal (whose adverse decision lost to the Hearth-
stone Company the manuscript of "The Under World"),
has expectations of becoming editor of the magazine some
day.
This method of the Hearthstone was well known to
Allen Slayton when he wrote his novelette entitled "Love
Is All." Slayton had hung about the editorial offices
of all the magazines so persistently that he was acquainted
with the inner workings of every one in Gotham.
He knew not only that the editor of the Hearthstone
handed his MSS. around among different types of people
for reading, but that the stories of sentimental love-
interest went to Miss Puffkin, the editor's stenographer.
Another of the editor's peculiar customs was to conceal
invariably the name of the writer from his readers of
MSS. so that a glittering name might not influence the
sincerity of their reports.
Slayton made "Love Is All" the effort of his life. He
gave it six months of the best work of his heart and
brain. It was a pure love-story, fine, elevated, romantic,
passionate -- a prose poem that set the divine blessing
of love (I am transposing from the manuscript) high
above all earthly gifts and honours, and listed it in the
catalogue of heaven's choicest rewards. Slayton's literary
ambition was intense. He would have sacrificed all
other worldly possessions to have gained fame in his
chosen art. He would almost have cut off his right
hand, or have offered himself to the knife of the appendi-
citis fancier to have realized his dream of seeing one of
his efforts published in the Hearthstone.
Slayton finished "Love Is All," and took it to thy
Hearthstone in person. The office of the magazine was
in a large, conglomerate building, presided under by a
janitor.
As the writer stepped inside the door on his way to
the elevator a potato masher flew through the hall, wreck-
ing, Slayton's hat, and smashing the glass of the door.
Closely following in the wake of the utensil flew the
janitor, a bulky, unwholesome man, suspenderless and
sordid, panic-stricken and breathless. A frowsy, tall
woman with flying hair followed the missile. The
janitor's foot slipped on the tiled floor, he fell in a heap
with an exclamation of despair. The woman pounced upon
him and seized his hair. The man bellowed lustily.
Her vengeance wreaked, the virago rose and stalked
clumsy and trembling found little difficulty in making
a spill of it and inserting it (this with less ease) into the
muzzle of the rifle.
"Now I reckon you kin be goin' along," said the robber.
The Justice lingered not on his way.
The next day came the little red bull, drawing the cart
to the office door. Justice Benaja Widdup had his shoes
on, for he was expecting the visit. In his presence Ransie
Bilbro handed to his wife a five-dollar bill. The official's
eye sharply viewed it. It seemed to curl up as though it
had been rolled and inserted into the end of a gun-barrel.
But the Justice refrained from comment. It is true that
other bills might be inclined to curl. He handed each
one a decree of divorce. Each stood awkwardly silent,
slowly folding the guarantee of freedom. The woman
cast a shy glance full of constraint at Ransie.
"I reckon you'll be goin' back up to the cabin," she said,
along 'ith the bull-cart. There's bread in the tin box
settin' on the shelf. I put the bacon in the b'ilin'-pot
to keep the hounds from gittin' it. Don't forget to wind
the clock to-night."
"You air a-goin' to your brother Ed's?" asked Ransie,
with fine unconcern.
"I was 'lowin' to get along up thar afore night. I
ain't sayin' as they'll pester theyselves any to make me
welcome, but I hain't nowhar else fur to go. It's a right
smart ways, and I reckon I better be goin'. I'll be a-sayin'
good-bye, Ranse - that is, if you keer fur to say so."
"I don't know as anybody's a hound dog," said Ransie,
in a martyr's voice, "fur to not want to say good-bye --
'less you air so anxious to git away that you don't want
me to say it."
Ariela was silent. She folded the five-dollar bill and
her decree carefully, and placed them in the bosom of
her dress. Benaja Widdup watched the money disappear
with mournful eyes behind his spectacles.
And then with his next words he achieved rank (as
his thoughts ran) with either the great crowd of the world's
sympathizers or the little crowd of its great financiers.
"Be kind o' lonesome in the old cabin to-night, Ranse,"
he said.
Ransie Bilbro stared out at the Cumberlands, clear
blue now in the sunlight. He did not look at Ariela.
"I 'low it might be lonesome," he said; "but when
folks gits mad and wants a divo'ce, you can't make folks
stay."
"There's others wanted a divo'ce," said Ariela, speaking
to the wooden stool. "Besides, nobody don't want no-
body to stay."
"Nobody never said they didn't."
"Nobody never said they did. I reckon I better
start on now to brother Ed's."
"Nobody can't wind that old clock."
"Want me to go back along 'ith you in the cart and
wind it fur you, Ranse?"
The mountaineer's countenance was proof against
emotion. But he reached out a big hand and enclosed
Ariela's thin brown one. Her soul peeped out once
through her impassive face, hallowing it.
"Them hounds shan't pester you no more," said
Ransie. "I reckon I been mean and low down. You
wind that clock, Ariela."
"My heart hit's in that cabin, Ranse," she whispered,
"along 'ith you. I ai'nt a-goin' to git mad no more. Le's
be startin', Ranse, so's we kin git home by sundown."
Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup interposed as they
started for the door, forgetting his presence.
"In the name of the State of Tennessee," he said, "I
forbid you-all to be a-defyin' of its laws and statutes.
This co't is mo' than willin' and full of joy to see the
clouds of discord and misunderstandin' rollin' away
from two lovin' hearts, but it air the duty of the co't to
p'eserve the morals and integrity of the State. The co't
reminds you that you air no longer man and wife, but air
divo'ced by regular decree, and as such air not entitled
to the benefits and 'purtenances of the mattermonal
estate."
Ariela caught Ransie's arm. Did those words mean
that she must lose him now when they had just learned
the lesson of life?
"But the co't air prepared," went on the Justice, "fur
to remove the disabilities set up by the decree of divo'ce.
The co't air on hand to perform the solemnceremony
of marri'ge, thus fixin' things up and enablin' the parties
in the case to resume the honour'ble and elevatin' state
of mattermony which they desires. The fee fur per-
formin' said ceremony will be, in this case, to wit, five
dollars."
Aricla caught the gleam of promise in his words.
Swiftly her hand went to her bosom. Freely as an
alighting dove the bill fluttered to the Justice's table.
Her sallow cheek coloured as she stood hand in hand
with Ransie and listened to the reuniting words.
Ransie helped her into the cart, and climbed in beside
her. The little red bull turned once more, and they
set out, hand-clasped, for the mountains.
Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup sat in his door
and took off his shoes. Once again he fingered the bill
tucked down in his vest pocket. Once again he smoked
his elder-stem pipe. Once again the speck-led hen swag-
gered down the main street of the "settlement," cackling
foolishly.
A SACRIFICE HIT
The editor of the Hearthstone Magazine his own
ideas about the selection of manuscript for his publication.
His theory is no secret; in fact, he will expound it to you
willingly sitting at his mahogany desk, smiling benignantly
and tapping his knee gently with his gold-rimmed eye-
glasses.
"The Hearthstone," he will say, "does not employ a
staff of readers. We obtain opinions of the manuscripts
submitted to us directly from types of the various classes
of our readers."
That is the editor's theory; and this is the way he carries
it out:
When a batch of MSS. is received the editor stuffs
every one of his pockets full of them and distributes
them as he goes about during the day. The office
employees, the hall porter, the janitor, the elevator man,
messenger boys, the waiters at the caf?where the editor
has luncheon, the man at the news-stand where he buys
his evening paper, the grocer and milkman, the guard
on the 5.30 uptown elevated train, the ticket-chopper at
Sixty --th street, the cook and maid at his home --
these are the readers who pass upon MSS. sent in to the
Hearthstone Magazine. If his pockets are not entirely
emptied by the time he reaches the bosom of his family
the remaining ones are handed over to his wife to read
after the baby goes to sleep. A few days later the editor
gathers in the MSS. during his regular rounds and con-
siders the verdict of his assorted readers.
This system of making up a magazine has been very
successful; and the circulation, paced by the advertising
rates, is making a wonderful record of speed.
The Hearthstone Company also publishes books, and
its imprint is to be found on several successful works
-- all recommended, says the editor, by the Hearthstone'8
army of volunteer readers. Now and then (according to
talkative members of the editorial staff) the Hearthstone
has allowed manuscripts to slip through its fingers on the
advice of its heterogeneous readers, that afterward proved
to be famous sellers when brought out by other houses.
For instance (the gossips say), "The Rise and Fall
of Silas Latham" was unfavourably passed upon by the
elevator-man; the office-boy unanimously rejected "The
Boss"; "In the Bishop's Carriage" was contemptuously
looked upon by the street-car conductor; "The Deliver-
ance" was turned down by a clerk in the subscription
department whose wife's mother had just begun a two-
months' visit at his home; "The Queen's Quair" came
back from the janitor with the comment: "So is the book."
But nevertheless the Hearthstone adheres to its theory
and system, and it will never lack volunteer readers;
for each one of the widely scattered staff, from the young
lady stenographer in the editorial office to the man who
shovels in coal (whose adverse decision lost to the Hearth-
stone Company the manuscript of "The Under World"),
has expectations of becoming editor of the magazine some
day.
This method of the Hearthstone was well known to
Allen Slayton when he wrote his novelette entitled "Love
Is All." Slayton had hung about the editorial offices
of all the magazines so persistently that he was acquainted
with the inner workings of every one in Gotham.
He knew not only that the editor of the Hearthstone
handed his MSS. around among different types of people
for reading, but that the stories of sentimental love-
interest went to Miss Puffkin, the editor's stenographer.
Another of the editor's peculiar customs was to conceal
invariably the name of the writer from his readers of
MSS. so that a glittering name might not influence the
sincerity of their reports.
Slayton made "Love Is All" the effort of his life. He
gave it six months of the best work of his heart and
brain. It was a pure love-story, fine, elevated, romantic,
passionate -- a prose poem that set the divine blessing
of love (I am transposing from the manuscript) high
above all earthly gifts and honours, and listed it in the
catalogue of heaven's choicest rewards. Slayton's literary
ambition was intense. He would have sacrificed all
other worldly possessions to have gained fame in his
chosen art. He would almost have cut off his right
hand, or have offered himself to the knife of the appendi-
citis fancier to have realized his dream of seeing one of
his efforts published in the Hearthstone.
Slayton finished "Love Is All," and took it to thy
Hearthstone in person. The office of the magazine was
in a large, conglomerate building, presided under by a
janitor.
As the writer stepped inside the door on his way to
the elevator a potato masher flew through the hall, wreck-
ing, Slayton's hat, and smashing the glass of the door.
Closely following in the wake of the utensil flew the
janitor, a bulky, unwholesome man, suspenderless and
sordid, panic-stricken and breathless. A frowsy, tall
woman with flying hair followed the missile. The
janitor's foot slipped on the tiled floor, he fell in a heap
with an exclamation of despair. The woman pounced upon
him and seized his hair. The man bellowed lustily.
Her vengeance wreaked, the virago rose and stalked
- reckon [´rekən]
v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词) - sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- comment [´kɔment] n.&v.评论；评注；注意 (初中英语单词)
- decree [di´kri:] n.法令；公告；天命 (初中英语单词)
- divorce [di´vɔ:s] n.离婚 vt.同....离婚 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- sunlight [´sʌnlait] n.日光 (初中英语单词)
- wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- countenance [´kauntinəns] n.面部表情；脸色；面容 (初中英语单词)
- solemn [´sɔləm] a.严肃的；隆重的 (初中英语单词)
- ceremony [´seriməni] n.典礼；礼仪；客气 (初中英语单词)
- freely [´fri:li] ad.自由地；慷慨地 (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- obtain [əb´tein] v.获得；买到；得到承认 (初中英语单词)
- luncheon [´lʌntʃ(ə)n] n.午餐，午宴 (初中英语单词)
- system [´sistəm] n.系统，体系，制度 (初中英语单词)
- editorial [,edi´tɔ:riəl] a.编辑的 n.社论 (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- conductor [kən´dʌktə] n.指导者；向导者 (初中英语单词)
- nevertheless [,nevəðə´les] conj.&ad.然而；不过 (初中英语单词)
- reading [´ri:diŋ] n.(阅)读；朗读；读物 (初中英语单词)
- peculiar [pi´kju:liə] a.特有的；奇异的 (初中英语单词)
- writer [´raitə] n.作者；作家 (初中英语单词)
- divine [di´vain] a.神圣的 v.预言 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- guarantee [,gærən´ti:] n.保证；担保 vt.允诺 (高中英语单词)
- lonesome [´ləunsəm] a.孤独的；冷清清的 (高中英语单词)
- selection [si´lekʃən] n.选择；选拔；精选物 (高中英语单词)
- manuscript [´mænjuskript] a.手抄的 n.手稿 (高中英语单词)
- porter [´pɔ:tə] n.守门人；勤杂工人 (高中英语单词)
- elevator [´eliveitə] n.电梯；升降机 (高中英语单词)
- grocer [´grəusə] n.食品商，杂货商 (高中英语单词)
- circulation [,sə:kju´leiʃən] n.循环；流传；发行(量) (高中英语单词)
- volunteer [,vɔlən´tiə] n.志愿者 v.自愿做 (高中英语单词)
- earthly [´ə:θli] a.地球的；世俗的 (高中英语单词)
- intense [in´tens] a.强烈的；紧张的 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- breathless [´breθlis] a.屏息的 (高中英语单词)
- vengeance [´vendʒəns] n.报复，复仇 (高中英语单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- awkwardly [´ɔ:kwədli] a.笨拙地；棘手地 (英语四级单词)
- mournful [´mɔ:nful] a.令人沮丧的 (英语四级单词)
- integrity [in´tegriti] n.完整；完善；正直 (英语四级单词)
- mahogany [mə´hɔgəni] n.红木；桃花心木 (英语四级单词)
- verdict [´və:dikt] n.裁决，判决；判定 (英语四级单词)
- stenographer [stə´nɔgrəfə] n.速记员 (英语四级单词)
- adverse [´ædvə:s] a.不利的；反对的 (英语四级单词)
- sentimental [,senti´mentl] a.感伤的；多愁善感的 (英语四级单词)
- worldly [´wə:ldli] a.现世的；世俗的 (英语四级单词)
- utensil [ju:´tensəl] n.家用器皿，用具 (英语四级单词)
- exclamation [,eksklə´meiʃən] n.喊(惊)叫；感叹词 (英语四级单词)
- discord [´diskɔ:d] n.不一致；不和谐 (英语六级单词)
- unanimously [ju:´næniməsli] ad.一致同意的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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