章节正文
The barkeeper was wise. He knew that what Jimmy started would go
on with men who could pay, and he filled the order generously.
Jimmy picked up the pail. He dipped a small glass in the liquor,
and held near an ounce aloft.
"I wonder what the Vinters buy
One-half so precious as the stuff they sell?"
he quoted. "Down goes!" and he emptied the glass at a draft.
Then he walked to the group at the stove, and began dipping a
drink for each.
When Jimmy came to a gray-haired man, with a high forehead and an
intellectual face, he whispered: "Take your full time, Cap. Who's
the rhymin' inkybator?"
"Thread man, Boston," mouthed the Captain, as he reached for the
glass with trembling fingers. Jimmy held on. "Do you know that
stuff he's giving off?" The Captain nodded, and rose to his feet.
He always declared he could feel it farther if he drank standing.
"What's his name?" whispered Jimmy, releasing the glass.
"Rubaiyat, Omar Khayyam," panted the Captain, and was lost. Jimmy
finished the round of his friends, and then approached the bar.
His voice was softening. "Mister Ruben O'Khayam," he said, "it's
me private opinion that ye nade lace-trimmed pantalettes and a
sash to complate your costume, but barrin' clothes, I'm entangled
in the thrid of your discourse. Bein' a Boston man meself, it
appeals to me, that I detict the refinemint of the East in yer
voice. Now these, me frinds, that I've just been tratin', are men
of these parts; but we of the middle East don't set up to equal
the culture of the extreme East. So, Mr. O'Khayam, solely for the
benefit you might be to us, I'm askin' you to join me and me
frinds in the momenchous initiation of me new milk pail."
Jimmy lifted a brimming glass, and offered it to the Thread Man.
"Do you transmute?" he asked. Now if the Boston man had looked
Jimmy in the eye, and said "I do," this book would not have been
written. But he did not. He looked at the milk pail, and the
glass, which had passed through the hands of a dozen men in a
little country saloon away out in the wilds of Indiana, and said:
"I do not care to partake of further refreshment; if I can be of
intellectual benefit, I might remain for a time."
For a flash Jimmy lifted the five feet ten of his height to six;
but in another he shrank below normal. What appeared to the
Thread Man to be a humble, deferential seeker after wisdom, led
him to one of the chairs around the big coal base burner. But the
boys who knew Jimmy were watching the whites of his eyes, as they
drank the second round. At this stage Jimmy was on velvet. How
long he remained there depended on the depth of Melwood in the
milk pail between his knees. He smiled winningly on the Thread
Man.
"Ye know, Mister O'Khayam," he said, "at the present time you are
located in one of the wooliest parts of the wild East. I don't
suppose anything woolier could be found on the plains of Nebraska
where I am reliably informed they've stuck up a pole and labeled
it the cinter of the United States. Being a thousand miles closer
that pole than you are in Boston, naturally we come by that
distance closer to the great wool industry. Most of our wool here
grows on our tongues, and we shear it by this transmutin'
process, concerning which you have discoursed so beautiful. But
barrin' the shearin' of our wool, we are the mildest, most
sheepish fellows you could imagine. I don't reckon now there is a
man among us who could be induced to blat or to butt, under the
most tryin' circumstances. My Mary's got a little lamb, and all
the rist of the boys are lambs. But all the lambs are waned, and
clusterin' round the milk pail. Ain't that touchin'? Come on,
now, Ruben, ile up and edify us some more!"
"On what point do you seek enlightenment?" inquired the Thread
Man.
Jimmy stretched his long legs, and spat against the stove in pure
delight.
"Oh, you might loosen up on the work of a man," he suggested.
"These lambs of Casey's fold may larn things from you to help
thim in the striss of life. Now here's Jones, for instance, he's
holdin' togither a gang of sixty gibbering Atalyans; any wan of
thim would cut his throat and skip in the night for a dollar, but
he kapes the beast in thim under, and they're gettin' out gravel
for the bed of a railway. Bingham there is oil. He's punchin' the
earth full of wan thousand foot holes, and sendin' off two
hundred quarts of nitroglycerine at the bottom of them, and
pumpin' the accumulation across continents to furnish folks light
and hate. York here is runnin' a field railway between Bluffton
and Celina, so that I can get to the river and the resurvoir to
fish without walkin'. Haines is bossin' a crew of forty Canadians
and he's takin' the timber from the woods hereabouts, and sending
it to be made into boats to carry stuff across sea. Meself, and
me partner, Dannie Micnoun, are the lady-likest lambs in the
bunch. We grow grub to feed folks in summer and trap for skins to
cover 'em in winter. Corn is our great commodity. Plowin' and
hoein' it in summer, and huskin' it in the fall is sich lamb-like
work. But don't mintion it in the same brith with tendin' our
four dozen fur traps on a twenty-below-zero day. Freezing hands
and fate, and fallin' into air bubbles, and building fires to
thaw out our frozen grub. Now here among us poor little,
transmutin', lambs you come, a raging lion, ripresentin' the
cultour and rayfinement of the far East. By the pleats on your
breast you show us the style. By the thrid case in your hand you
furnish us material so that our women can tuck their petticoats
so fancy, and by the book in your head you teach us your
sooperiority. By the same token, I wish I had that book in me
head, for I could just squelch Dannie and Mary with it complate.
Say, Mister O'Khayam, next time you come this way bring me a
copy. I'm wantin' it bad. I got what you gave off all secure, but
I take it there's more. No man goin' at that clip could shut off
with thim few lines. Do you know the rist?"
The Thread Man knew the most of it, and although he was very
uncomfortable, he did not know just how to get away, so he
recited it. The milk pail was empty now, and Jimmy had almost
forgotten that it was a milk pail, and seemed inclined to resent
the fact that it had gone empty. He beat time on the bottom of
it, and frequently interrupted the Thread Man to repeat a couplet
which particularly suited him. By and by he got to his feet and
began stepping off a slow dance to a sing-song repetition of
lines that sounded musical to him, all the time marking the
measures vigorously on the pail. When he tired of a couplet, he
pounded the pail over the bar, stove, or chairs in encore, until
the Thread Man could think up another to which he could dance.
"Wine! Wine! Wine! Red Wine!
The Nightingale cried to the rose,"
chanted Jimmy, thumping the pail in time, and stepping off the
measures with feet that scarcely seemed to touch the floor. He
flung his hat to the barkeeper, and his coat on a chair, ruffled
his fingers through his thick auburn hair, and holding the pail
under one arm, he paused, panting for breath and begging for
more. The Thread Man sat on the edge of his chair, and the eyes
he fastened on Jimmy were beginning to fill with interest.
"Come fill the Cup and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-Garment of Repentance fling.
The bird of time has but a little way to flutter
And the bird is on the wing."
Smash came the milk pail across the bar. "Hooray!" shouted
Jimmy. "Besht yet!" Bang! Bang! He was off." Bird ish on the
wing," he chanted, and his feet flew. "Come fill the cup, and in
the firesh of spring--Firesh of Spring, Bird ish on the Wing!"
Between the music of the milk pail, the brogue of the panted
verses, and the grace of Jimmy's flying feet, the Thread Man was
almost prostrate. It suddenly came to him that here might be a
chance to have a great time.
"More!" gasped Jimmy. "Me some more!" The Thread Man wiped his
eyes.
"Wether the cup with sweet or bitter run,
The wine of life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The leaves of life keep falling one by one."
Away went Jimmy.
"Swate or bitter run,
Laves of life kape falling one by one."
Bang! Bang! sounded a new improvision on the sadly battered
pail, and to a new step Jimmy flashed back and forth the length
of the saloon. At last he paused to rest a second. "One more!
Just one more!" he begged.
"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A jug of wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness.
Oh, wilderness were Paradise enough!"
Jimmy's head dropped an instant. His feet slowly shuffled in
improvising a new step, and then he moved away, thumping the milk
pail and chanting:
"A couple of fish poles underneath a tree,
A bottle of Rye and Dannie beside me
A fishing in the Wabash.
Were the Wabash Paradise? HULLY GEE!
"Tired out, he dropped across a chair facing the back and folded
his arms. He regained breath to ask the Thread Man: "Did you iver
have a frind?"
He had reached the confidential stage.
The Boston man was struggling to regain his dignity. He retained
the impression that at the wildest of the dance he had yelled and
patted time for Jimmy.
"I hope I have a host of friends," he said, settling his pleated
coat.
"Damn hosht!" said Jimmy. "Jisht in way. Now I got one frind,
hosht all by himself. Be here pretty soon now. Alwaysh comesh
nights like thish."
"Comes here?" inquired the Thread Man. "Am I to meet another
interesting character?"
"Yesh, comesh here. Comesh after me. Comesh like the clock
sthriking twelve. Don't he, boys?" inquired Jimmy. "But he ain't
no interesting character. Jisht common man, Dannie is. Honest
man. Never told a lie in his life. Yesh, he did, too. I forgot.
He liesh for me. Jish liesh and liesh. Liesh to Mary. Tells her
any old liesh to keep me out of schrape. You ever have frind hish
up and drive ten milesh for you night like thish, and liesh to
get you out of schrape?"
"I never needed any one to lie and get me out of a scrape,"
answered the Thread Man.
Jimmy sat straight and solemnly batted his eyes. "Gee! You musht
misshed mosht the fun!" he said. "Me, I ain't ever misshed any.
Always in schrape. But Dannie getsh me out. Good old Dannie. Jish
like dog. Take care me all me life. See? Old folks come on same
boat. Women get thick. Shettle beside. Build cabinsh together.
Work together, and domn if they didn't get shmall pox and die
together. Left me and Dannie. So we work together jish shame, and
we fallsh in love with the shame girl. Dannie too slow. I got
her." Jimmy wiped away great tears.
"How did you get her, Jimmy?" asked a man who remembered a story.
"How the nation did I get her?" Jimmy scratched his head, and
appealed to the Thread Man. "Dannie besht man. Milesh besht man!
Never lie--'cept for me. Never drink--'cept for me. Alwaysh save
his money--'cept for me. Milesh besht man! Isn't he besht man,
Spooley?"
"Ain't it true that you served Dannie a mean little trick?" asked
the man who remembered.
Jimmy wasn't quite drunk enough, and the violent exercise of the
dance somewhat sobered him. He glared at the man. "Whatsh you
talkin' about?" he demanded.
"I'm just asking you," said the man, "why, if you played straight
on with men who could pay, and he filled the order generously.
Jimmy picked up the pail. He dipped a small glass in the liquor,
and held near an ounce aloft.
"I wonder what the Vinters buy
One-half so precious as the stuff they sell?"
he quoted. "Down goes!" and he emptied the glass at a draft.
Then he walked to the group at the stove, and began dipping a
drink for each.
When Jimmy came to a gray-haired man, with a high forehead and an
intellectual face, he whispered: "Take your full time, Cap. Who's
the rhymin' inkybator?"
"Thread man, Boston," mouthed the Captain, as he reached for the
glass with trembling fingers. Jimmy held on. "Do you know that
stuff he's giving off?" The Captain nodded, and rose to his feet.
He always declared he could feel it farther if he drank standing.
"What's his name?" whispered Jimmy, releasing the glass.
"Rubaiyat, Omar Khayyam," panted the Captain, and was lost. Jimmy
finished the round of his friends, and then approached the bar.
His voice was softening. "Mister Ruben O'Khayam," he said, "it's
me private opinion that ye nade lace-trimmed pantalettes and a
sash to complate your costume, but barrin' clothes, I'm entangled
in the thrid of your discourse. Bein' a Boston man meself, it
appeals to me, that I detict the refinemint of the East in yer
voice. Now these, me frinds, that I've just been tratin', are men
of these parts; but we of the middle East don't set up to equal
the culture of the extreme East. So, Mr. O'Khayam, solely for the
benefit you might be to us, I'm askin' you to join me and me
frinds in the momenchous initiation of me new milk pail."
Jimmy lifted a brimming glass, and offered it to the Thread Man.
"Do you transmute?" he asked. Now if the Boston man had looked
Jimmy in the eye, and said "I do," this book would not have been
written. But he did not. He looked at the milk pail, and the
glass, which had passed through the hands of a dozen men in a
little country saloon away out in the wilds of Indiana, and said:
"I do not care to partake of further refreshment; if I can be of
intellectual benefit, I might remain for a time."
For a flash Jimmy lifted the five feet ten of his height to six;
but in another he shrank below normal. What appeared to the
Thread Man to be a humble, deferential seeker after wisdom, led
him to one of the chairs around the big coal base burner. But the
boys who knew Jimmy were watching the whites of his eyes, as they
drank the second round. At this stage Jimmy was on velvet. How
long he remained there depended on the depth of Melwood in the
milk pail between his knees. He smiled winningly on the Thread
Man.
"Ye know, Mister O'Khayam," he said, "at the present time you are
located in one of the wooliest parts of the wild East. I don't
suppose anything woolier could be found on the plains of Nebraska
where I am reliably informed they've stuck up a pole and labeled
it the cinter of the United States. Being a thousand miles closer
that pole than you are in Boston, naturally we come by that
distance closer to the great wool industry. Most of our wool here
grows on our tongues, and we shear it by this transmutin'
process, concerning which you have discoursed so beautiful. But
barrin' the shearin' of our wool, we are the mildest, most
sheepish fellows you could imagine. I don't reckon now there is a
man among us who could be induced to blat or to butt, under the
most tryin' circumstances. My Mary's got a little lamb, and all
the rist of the boys are lambs. But all the lambs are waned, and
clusterin' round the milk pail. Ain't that touchin'? Come on,
now, Ruben, ile up and edify us some more!"
"On what point do you seek enlightenment?" inquired the Thread
Man.
Jimmy stretched his long legs, and spat against the stove in pure
delight.
"Oh, you might loosen up on the work of a man," he suggested.
"These lambs of Casey's fold may larn things from you to help
thim in the striss of life. Now here's Jones, for instance, he's
holdin' togither a gang of sixty gibbering Atalyans; any wan of
thim would cut his throat and skip in the night for a dollar, but
he kapes the beast in thim under, and they're gettin' out gravel
for the bed of a railway. Bingham there is oil. He's punchin' the
earth full of wan thousand foot holes, and sendin' off two
hundred quarts of nitroglycerine at the bottom of them, and
pumpin' the accumulation across continents to furnish folks light
and hate. York here is runnin' a field railway between Bluffton
and Celina, so that I can get to the river and the resurvoir to
fish without walkin'. Haines is bossin' a crew of forty Canadians
and he's takin' the timber from the woods hereabouts, and sending
it to be made into boats to carry stuff across sea. Meself, and
me partner, Dannie Micnoun, are the lady-likest lambs in the
bunch. We grow grub to feed folks in summer and trap for skins to
cover 'em in winter. Corn is our great commodity. Plowin' and
hoein' it in summer, and huskin' it in the fall is sich lamb-like
work. But don't mintion it in the same brith with tendin' our
four dozen fur traps on a twenty-below-zero day. Freezing hands
and fate, and fallin' into air bubbles, and building fires to
thaw out our frozen grub. Now here among us poor little,
transmutin', lambs you come, a raging lion, ripresentin' the
cultour and rayfinement of the far East. By the pleats on your
breast you show us the style. By the thrid case in your hand you
furnish us material so that our women can tuck their petticoats
so fancy, and by the book in your head you teach us your
sooperiority. By the same token, I wish I had that book in me
head, for I could just squelch Dannie and Mary with it complate.
Say, Mister O'Khayam, next time you come this way bring me a
copy. I'm wantin' it bad. I got what you gave off all secure, but
I take it there's more. No man goin' at that clip could shut off
with thim few lines. Do you know the rist?"
The Thread Man knew the most of it, and although he was very
uncomfortable, he did not know just how to get away, so he
recited it. The milk pail was empty now, and Jimmy had almost
forgotten that it was a milk pail, and seemed inclined to resent
the fact that it had gone empty. He beat time on the bottom of
it, and frequently interrupted the Thread Man to repeat a couplet
which particularly suited him. By and by he got to his feet and
began stepping off a slow dance to a sing-song repetition of
lines that sounded musical to him, all the time marking the
measures vigorously on the pail. When he tired of a couplet, he
pounded the pail over the bar, stove, or chairs in encore, until
the Thread Man could think up another to which he could dance.
"Wine! Wine! Wine! Red Wine!
The Nightingale cried to the rose,"
chanted Jimmy, thumping the pail in time, and stepping off the
measures with feet that scarcely seemed to touch the floor. He
flung his hat to the barkeeper, and his coat on a chair, ruffled
his fingers through his thick auburn hair, and holding the pail
under one arm, he paused, panting for breath and begging for
more. The Thread Man sat on the edge of his chair, and the eyes
he fastened on Jimmy were beginning to fill with interest.
"Come fill the Cup and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-Garment of Repentance fling.
The bird of time has but a little way to flutter
And the bird is on the wing."
Smash came the milk pail across the bar. "Hooray!" shouted
Jimmy. "Besht yet!" Bang! Bang! He was off." Bird ish on the
wing," he chanted, and his feet flew. "Come fill the cup, and in
the firesh of spring--Firesh of Spring, Bird ish on the Wing!"
Between the music of the milk pail, the brogue of the panted
verses, and the grace of Jimmy's flying feet, the Thread Man was
almost prostrate. It suddenly came to him that here might be a
chance to have a great time.
"More!" gasped Jimmy. "Me some more!" The Thread Man wiped his
eyes.
"Wether the cup with sweet or bitter run,
The wine of life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The leaves of life keep falling one by one."
Away went Jimmy.
"Swate or bitter run,
Laves of life kape falling one by one."
Bang! Bang! sounded a new improvision on the sadly battered
pail, and to a new step Jimmy flashed back and forth the length
of the saloon. At last he paused to rest a second. "One more!
Just one more!" he begged.
"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A jug of wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness.
Oh, wilderness were Paradise enough!"
Jimmy's head dropped an instant. His feet slowly shuffled in
improvising a new step, and then he moved away, thumping the milk
pail and chanting:
"A couple of fish poles underneath a tree,
A bottle of Rye and Dannie beside me
A fishing in the Wabash.
Were the Wabash Paradise? HULLY GEE!
"Tired out, he dropped across a chair facing the back and folded
his arms. He regained breath to ask the Thread Man: "Did you iver
have a frind?"
He had reached the confidential stage.
The Boston man was struggling to regain his dignity. He retained
the impression that at the wildest of the dance he had yelled and
patted time for Jimmy.
"I hope I have a host of friends," he said, settling his pleated
coat.
"Damn hosht!" said Jimmy. "Jisht in way. Now I got one frind,
hosht all by himself. Be here pretty soon now. Alwaysh comesh
nights like thish."
"Comes here?" inquired the Thread Man. "Am I to meet another
interesting character?"
"Yesh, comesh here. Comesh after me. Comesh like the clock
sthriking twelve. Don't he, boys?" inquired Jimmy. "But he ain't
no interesting character. Jisht common man, Dannie is. Honest
man. Never told a lie in his life. Yesh, he did, too. I forgot.
He liesh for me. Jish liesh and liesh. Liesh to Mary. Tells her
any old liesh to keep me out of schrape. You ever have frind hish
up and drive ten milesh for you night like thish, and liesh to
get you out of schrape?"
"I never needed any one to lie and get me out of a scrape,"
answered the Thread Man.
Jimmy sat straight and solemnly batted his eyes. "Gee! You musht
misshed mosht the fun!" he said. "Me, I ain't ever misshed any.
Always in schrape. But Dannie getsh me out. Good old Dannie. Jish
like dog. Take care me all me life. See? Old folks come on same
boat. Women get thick. Shettle beside. Build cabinsh together.
Work together, and domn if they didn't get shmall pox and die
together. Left me and Dannie. So we work together jish shame, and
we fallsh in love with the shame girl. Dannie too slow. I got
her." Jimmy wiped away great tears.
"How did you get her, Jimmy?" asked a man who remembered a story.
"How the nation did I get her?" Jimmy scratched his head, and
appealed to the Thread Man. "Dannie besht man. Milesh besht man!
Never lie--'cept for me. Never drink--'cept for me. Alwaysh save
his money--'cept for me. Milesh besht man! Isn't he besht man,
Spooley?"
"Ain't it true that you served Dannie a mean little trick?" asked
the man who remembered.
Jimmy wasn't quite drunk enough, and the violent exercise of the
dance somewhat sobered him. He glared at the man. "Whatsh you
talkin' about?" he demanded.
"I'm just asking you," said the man, "why, if you played straight
- forehead [´fɔrid]
n.额，前部 (初中英语单词) - costume [´kɔstju:m] n.服装(试样)；女装 (初中英语单词)
- culture [´kʌltʃə] n.修养；文化；饲养 (初中英语单词)
- extreme [ik´stri:m] a.尽头的 n.极端 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- normal [´nɔ:məl] a.正规的 n.正常状态 (初中英语单词)
- humble [´hʌmbəl] a.谦卑的 vt.贬抑 (初中英语单词)
- wisdom [´wizdəm] n.智慧，聪明，才智 (初中英语单词)
- velvet [´velvit] n.&a.天鹅绒(般的) (初中英语单词)
- reckon [´rekən] v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- timber [´timbə] n.木材；木料；横梁 (初中英语单词)
- partner [´pɑ:tnə] n.伙伴 v.同....合作 (初中英语单词)
- frozen [´frəuzn] freeze 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- musical [´mju:zikəl] a.音乐的；悦耳的 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- underneath [,ʌndə´ni:θ] ad.&prep.在底下 (初中英语单词)
- wilderness [´wildənis] n.荒地，荒野 (初中英语单词)
- paradise [´pærədais] n.天堂；乐园 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- dignity [´digniti] n.尊严，尊贵；高官显贵 (初中英语单词)
- impression [im´preʃən] n.印刷；印象；效果 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- discourse [´diskɔ:s] n.论文；演说；说教 (高中英语单词)
- solely [´səulli] ad.唯一；单独；完全 (高中英语单词)
- saloon [sə´lu:n] n.大厅；餐车 (高中英语单词)
- indiana [,indi´ænə] n.印第安纳(州) (高中英语单词)
- refreshment [ri´freʃmənt] n.精神爽快 (高中英语单词)
- concerning [kən´sə:niŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- loosen [´lu:sən] v.放松；松弛 (高中英语单词)
- commodity [kə´mɔditi] n.日用品；商品 (高中英语单词)
- repetition [,repi´tiʃən] n.重复；背诵；复制品 (高中英语单词)
- regain [ri´gein] vt.收回；恢复 (高中英语单词)
- solemnly [´sɔləmli] ad.严肃地，庄严地 (高中英语单词)
- partake [pɑ:´teik] v.参与；分享；同吃 (英语四级单词)
- burner [´bə:nə] n.烧制...的人；灯光 (英语四级单词)
- mister [´mistə] n.先生 vt.称...先生 (英语四级单词)
- vigorously [´vigərəsli] ad.精力旺盛地；健壮地 (英语四级单词)
- nightingale [´naitiŋgeil] n.夜莺 (英语四级单词)
- prostrate [´prɔstreit, prɔ´streit] a.俯伏的 vt.弄倒 (英语四级单词)
- fishing [´fiʃiŋ] n.钓鱼；捕鱼；渔业 (英语四级单词)
- confidential [,kɔnfi´denʃəl] a.极受信任的；心腹的 (英语四级单词)
- shrank [ʃræŋk] shrink的过去式 (英语六级单词)
- auburn [´ɔ:bən] n.&a.赭色(的) (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- repentance [ri´pentəns] n.悔悟，悔改；忏悔 (英语六级单词)
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