章节正文
Ain't it strange how innocent little creatures like
children like the blood-thirstiest stories?"
"Like my lad Davy at home," said Anne. "He wants
tales that reek with gore."
Captain Jim's tea proved to be nectar. He was pleased
as a child with Anne's compliments, but he affected a
fine indifference.
"The secret is I don't skimp the cream," he remarked
airily. Captain Jim had never heard of Oliver Wendell
Holmes, but he evidently agreed with that writer's
dictum that "big heart never liked little cream pot."
"We met an odd-looking personage coming out of your
lane," said Gilbert as they sipped. "Who was he?"
Captain Jim grinned.
"That's Marshall Elliott--a mighty fine man with jest
one streak of foolishness in him. I s'pose you
wondered what his object was in turning himself into a
sort of dime museum freak."
"Is he a modern Nazarite or a Hebrew prophet left over
from olden times?" asked Anne.
"Neither of them. It's politics that's at the bottom
of his freak. All those Elliotts and Crawfords and
MacAllisters are dyed-in-the-wool politicians. They're
born Grit or Tory, as the case may be, and they live
Grit or Tory, and they die Grit or Tory; and what
they're going to do in heaven, where there's probably
no politics, is more than I can fathom. This Marshall
Elliott was born a Grit. I'm a Grit myself in
moderation, but there's no moderation about Marshall.
Fifteen years ago there was a specially bitter general
election. Marshall fought for his party tooth and
nail. He was dead sure the Liberals would win--so
sure that he got up at a public meeting and vowed that
he wouldn't shave his face or cut his hair until the
Grits were in power. Well, they didn't go in--and
they've never got in yet--and you saw the result today
for yourselves. Marshall stuck to his word."
"What does his wife think of it?" asked Anne.
"He's a bachelor. But if he had a wife I reckon she
couldn't make him break that vow. That family of
Elliotts has always been more stubborn than natteral.
Marshall's brother Alexander had a dog he set great
store by, and when it died the man actilly wanted to
have it buried in the graveyard, `along with the other
Christians,' he said. Course, he wasn't allowed to; so
he buried it just outside the graveyard fence, and
never darkened the church door again. But Sundays he'd
drive his family to church and sit by that dog's grave
and read his Bible all the time service was going on.
They say when he was dying he asked his wife to bury
him beside the dog; she was a meek little soul but she
fired up at THAT. She said SHE wasn't going to be
buried beside no dog, and if he'd rather have his last
resting place beside the dog than beside her, jest to
say so. Alexander Elliott was a stubborn mule, but he
was fond of his wife, so he give in and said, `Well,
durn it, bury me where you please. But when Gabriel's
trump blows I expect my dog to rise with the rest of
us, for he had as much soul as any durned Elliott or
Crawford or MacAllister that ever strutted.' Them was
HIS parting words. As for Marshall, we're all used to
him, but he must strike strangers as right down
peculiar- looking. I've known him ever since he was
ten--he's about fifty now--and I like him. Him and me
was out cod-fishing today. That's about all I'm good
for now--catching trout and cod occasional. But
'tweren't always so--not by no manner of means. I used
to do other things, as you'd admit if you saw my
life-book."
Anne was just going to ask what his life-book was when
the First Mate created a diversion by springing upon
Captain Jim's knee. He was a gorgeous beastie, with a
face as round as a full moon, vivid green eyes, and
immense, white, double paws. Captain Jim stroked his
velvet back gently.
"I never fancied cats much till I found the First
Mate," he remarked, to the accompaniment of the Mate's
tremendous purrs. "I saved his life, and when you've
saved a creature's life you're bound to love it. It's
next thing to giving life. There's some turrible
thoughtless people in the world, Mistress Blythe. Some
of them city folks who have summer homes over the
harbor are so thoughtless that they're cruel. It's the
worst kind of cruelty--the thoughtless kind. You can't
cope with it. They keep cats there in the summer, and
feed and pet 'em, and doll 'em up with ribbons and
collars. And then in the fall they go off and leave
'em to starve or freeze. It makes my blood boil,
Mistress Blythe. One day last winter I found a poor
old mother cat dead on the shore, lying against the
skin-and-bone bodies of her three little kittens.
She'd died trying to shelter 'em. She had her poor
stiff paws around 'em. Master, I cried. Then I swore.
Then I carried them poor little kittens home and fed
'em up and found good homes for 'em. I knew the woman
who left the cat and when she come back this summer I
jest went over the harbor and told her my opinion of
her. It was rank meddling, but I do love meddling in a
good cause."
"How did she take it?" asked Gilbert.
"Cried and said she `didn't think.' I says to her,
says I, `Do you s'pose that'll be held for a good
excuse in the day of Jedgment, when you'll have to
account for that poor old mother's life? The Lord'll
ask you what He give you your brains for if it wasn't
to think, I reckon.' I don't fancy she'll leave cats
to starve another time."
"Was the First Mate one of the forsaken?" asked Anne,
making advances to him which were responded to
graciously, if condescendingly.
"Yes. I found HIM one bitter cold day in winter,
caught in the branches of a tree by his durn-fool
ribbon collar. He was almost starving. If you could
have seen his eyes, Mistress Blythe! He was nothing
but a kitten, and he'd got his living somehow since
he'd been left until he got hung up. When I loosed him
he gave my hand a pitiful swipe with his little red
tongue. He wasn't the able seaman you see now. He was
meek as Moses. That was nine years ago. His life has
been long in the land for a cat. He's a good old pal,
the First Mate is."
"I should have expected you to have a dog," said
Gilbert.
Captain Jim shook his head.
"I had a dog once. I thought so much of him that when
he died I couldn't bear the thought of getting another
in his place. He was a FRIEND--you understand,
Mistress Blythe? Matey's only a pal. I'm fond of
Matey--all the fonder on account of the spice of
devilment that's in him--like there is in all cats.
But I LOVED my dog. I always had a sneaking sympathy
for Alexander Elliott about HIS dog. There isn't any
devil in a good dog. That's why they're more lovable
than cats, I reckon. But I'm darned if they're as
interesting. Here I am, talking too much. Why don't
you check me? When I do get a chance to talk to
anyone I run on turrible. If you've done your tea I've
a few little things you might like to look at--picked
'em up in the queer corners I used to be poking my nose
into."
Captain Jim's "few little things" turned out to be a
most interesting collection of curios, hideous, quaint
and beautiful. And almost every one had some striking
story attached to it.
Anne never forgot the delight with which she listened
to those old tales that moonlit evening by that
enchanted driftwood fire, while the silver sea called
to them through the open window and sobbed against the
rocks below them.
Captain Jim never said a boastful word, but it was
impossible to help seeing what a hero the man had
been--brave, true, resourceful, unselfish. He sat
there in his little room and made those things live
again for his hearers. By a lift of the eyebrow, a
twist of the lip, a gesture, a word, he painted a whole
scene or character so that they saw it as it was.
Some of Captain Jim's adventures had such a marvellous
edge that Anne and Gilbert secretly wondered if he were
not drawing a rather long bow at their credulous
expense. But in this, as they found later, they did
him injustice. His tales were all literally true.
Captain Jim had the gift of the born storyteller,
whereby "unhappy, far-off things" can be brought
vividly before the hearer in all their pristine
poignancy.
Anne and Gilbert laughed and shivered over his tales,
and once Anne found herself crying. Captain Jim
surveyed her tears with pleasure shining from his face.
"I like to see folks cry that way," he remarked.
"It's a compliment. But I can't do justice to the
things I've seen or helped to do. I've 'em all jotted
down in my life-book, but I haven't got the knack of
writing them out properly. If I could hit on jest the
right words and string 'em together proper on paper I
could make a great book. It would beat A Mad Love
holler, and I believe Joe'd like it as well as the
pirate yarns. Yes, I've had some adventures in my
time; and, do you know, Mistress Blythe, I still lust
after 'em. Yes, old and useless as I be, there's an
awful longing sweeps over me at times to sail
out--out--out there--forever and ever."
"Like Ulysses, you would
`Sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all
the western stars until you die,'"
said Anne dreamily.
"Ulysses? I've read of him. Yes, that's just how I
feel--jest how all us old sailors feel, I reckon. I'll
die on land after all, I s'pose. Well, what is to be
will be. There was old William Ford at the Glen who
never went on the water in his life, 'cause he was
afraid of being drowned. A fortune-teller had
predicted he would be. And one day he fainted and fell
with his face in the barn trough and was drowned. Must
you go? Well, come soon and come often. The doctor is
to do the talking next time. He knows a heap of things
I want to find out. I'm sorter lonesome here by times.
It's been worse since Elizabeth Russell died. Her and
me was such cronies."
Captain Jim spoke with the pathos of the aged, who see
their old friends slipping from them one by
one--friends whose place can never be quite filled by
children like the blood-thirstiest stories?"
"Like my lad Davy at home," said Anne. "He wants
tales that reek with gore."
Captain Jim's tea proved to be nectar. He was pleased
as a child with Anne's compliments, but he affected a
fine indifference.
"The secret is I don't skimp the cream," he remarked
airily. Captain Jim had never heard of Oliver Wendell
Holmes, but he evidently agreed with that writer's
dictum that "big heart never liked little cream pot."
"We met an odd-looking personage coming out of your
lane," said Gilbert as they sipped. "Who was he?"
Captain Jim grinned.
"That's Marshall Elliott--a mighty fine man with jest
one streak of foolishness in him. I s'pose you
wondered what his object was in turning himself into a
sort of dime museum freak."
"Is he a modern Nazarite or a Hebrew prophet left over
from olden times?" asked Anne.
"Neither of them. It's politics that's at the bottom
of his freak. All those Elliotts and Crawfords and
MacAllisters are dyed-in-the-wool politicians. They're
born Grit or Tory, as the case may be, and they live
Grit or Tory, and they die Grit or Tory; and what
they're going to do in heaven, where there's probably
no politics, is more than I can fathom. This Marshall
Elliott was born a Grit. I'm a Grit myself in
moderation, but there's no moderation about Marshall.
Fifteen years ago there was a specially bitter general
election. Marshall fought for his party tooth and
nail. He was dead sure the Liberals would win--so
sure that he got up at a public meeting and vowed that
he wouldn't shave his face or cut his hair until the
Grits were in power. Well, they didn't go in--and
they've never got in yet--and you saw the result today
for yourselves. Marshall stuck to his word."
"What does his wife think of it?" asked Anne.
"He's a bachelor. But if he had a wife I reckon she
couldn't make him break that vow. That family of
Elliotts has always been more stubborn than natteral.
Marshall's brother Alexander had a dog he set great
store by, and when it died the man actilly wanted to
have it buried in the graveyard, `along with the other
Christians,' he said. Course, he wasn't allowed to; so
he buried it just outside the graveyard fence, and
never darkened the church door again. But Sundays he'd
drive his family to church and sit by that dog's grave
and read his Bible all the time service was going on.
They say when he was dying he asked his wife to bury
him beside the dog; she was a meek little soul but she
fired up at THAT. She said SHE wasn't going to be
buried beside no dog, and if he'd rather have his last
resting place beside the dog than beside her, jest to
say so. Alexander Elliott was a stubborn mule, but he
was fond of his wife, so he give in and said, `Well,
durn it, bury me where you please. But when Gabriel's
trump blows I expect my dog to rise with the rest of
us, for he had as much soul as any durned Elliott or
Crawford or MacAllister that ever strutted.' Them was
HIS parting words. As for Marshall, we're all used to
him, but he must strike strangers as right down
peculiar- looking. I've known him ever since he was
ten--he's about fifty now--and I like him. Him and me
was out cod-fishing today. That's about all I'm good
for now--catching trout and cod occasional. But
'tweren't always so--not by no manner of means. I used
to do other things, as you'd admit if you saw my
life-book."
Anne was just going to ask what his life-book was when
the First Mate created a diversion by springing upon
Captain Jim's knee. He was a gorgeous beastie, with a
face as round as a full moon, vivid green eyes, and
immense, white, double paws. Captain Jim stroked his
velvet back gently.
"I never fancied cats much till I found the First
Mate," he remarked, to the accompaniment of the Mate's
tremendous purrs. "I saved his life, and when you've
saved a creature's life you're bound to love it. It's
next thing to giving life. There's some turrible
thoughtless people in the world, Mistress Blythe. Some
of them city folks who have summer homes over the
harbor are so thoughtless that they're cruel. It's the
worst kind of cruelty--the thoughtless kind. You can't
cope with it. They keep cats there in the summer, and
feed and pet 'em, and doll 'em up with ribbons and
collars. And then in the fall they go off and leave
'em to starve or freeze. It makes my blood boil,
Mistress Blythe. One day last winter I found a poor
old mother cat dead on the shore, lying against the
skin-and-bone bodies of her three little kittens.
She'd died trying to shelter 'em. She had her poor
stiff paws around 'em. Master, I cried. Then I swore.
Then I carried them poor little kittens home and fed
'em up and found good homes for 'em. I knew the woman
who left the cat and when she come back this summer I
jest went over the harbor and told her my opinion of
her. It was rank meddling, but I do love meddling in a
good cause."
"How did she take it?" asked Gilbert.
"Cried and said she `didn't think.' I says to her,
says I, `Do you s'pose that'll be held for a good
excuse in the day of Jedgment, when you'll have to
account for that poor old mother's life? The Lord'll
ask you what He give you your brains for if it wasn't
to think, I reckon.' I don't fancy she'll leave cats
to starve another time."
"Was the First Mate one of the forsaken?" asked Anne,
making advances to him which were responded to
graciously, if condescendingly.
"Yes. I found HIM one bitter cold day in winter,
caught in the branches of a tree by his durn-fool
ribbon collar. He was almost starving. If you could
have seen his eyes, Mistress Blythe! He was nothing
but a kitten, and he'd got his living somehow since
he'd been left until he got hung up. When I loosed him
he gave my hand a pitiful swipe with his little red
tongue. He wasn't the able seaman you see now. He was
meek as Moses. That was nine years ago. His life has
been long in the land for a cat. He's a good old pal,
the First Mate is."
"I should have expected you to have a dog," said
Gilbert.
Captain Jim shook his head.
"I had a dog once. I thought so much of him that when
he died I couldn't bear the thought of getting another
in his place. He was a FRIEND--you understand,
Mistress Blythe? Matey's only a pal. I'm fond of
Matey--all the fonder on account of the spice of
devilment that's in him--like there is in all cats.
But I LOVED my dog. I always had a sneaking sympathy
for Alexander Elliott about HIS dog. There isn't any
devil in a good dog. That's why they're more lovable
than cats, I reckon. But I'm darned if they're as
interesting. Here I am, talking too much. Why don't
you check me? When I do get a chance to talk to
anyone I run on turrible. If you've done your tea I've
a few little things you might like to look at--picked
'em up in the queer corners I used to be poking my nose
into."
Captain Jim's "few little things" turned out to be a
most interesting collection of curios, hideous, quaint
and beautiful. And almost every one had some striking
story attached to it.
Anne never forgot the delight with which she listened
to those old tales that moonlit evening by that
enchanted driftwood fire, while the silver sea called
to them through the open window and sobbed against the
rocks below them.
Captain Jim never said a boastful word, but it was
impossible to help seeing what a hero the man had
been--brave, true, resourceful, unselfish. He sat
there in his little room and made those things live
again for his hearers. By a lift of the eyebrow, a
twist of the lip, a gesture, a word, he painted a whole
scene or character so that they saw it as it was.
Some of Captain Jim's adventures had such a marvellous
edge that Anne and Gilbert secretly wondered if he were
not drawing a rather long bow at their credulous
expense. But in this, as they found later, they did
him injustice. His tales were all literally true.
Captain Jim had the gift of the born storyteller,
whereby "unhappy, far-off things" can be brought
vividly before the hearer in all their pristine
poignancy.
Anne and Gilbert laughed and shivered over his tales,
and once Anne found herself crying. Captain Jim
surveyed her tears with pleasure shining from his face.
"I like to see folks cry that way," he remarked.
"It's a compliment. But I can't do justice to the
things I've seen or helped to do. I've 'em all jotted
down in my life-book, but I haven't got the knack of
writing them out properly. If I could hit on jest the
right words and string 'em together proper on paper I
could make a great book. It would beat A Mad Love
holler, and I believe Joe'd like it as well as the
pirate yarns. Yes, I've had some adventures in my
time; and, do you know, Mistress Blythe, I still lust
after 'em. Yes, old and useless as I be, there's an
awful longing sweeps over me at times to sail
out--out--out there--forever and ever."
"Like Ulysses, you would
`Sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all
the western stars until you die,'"
said Anne dreamily.
"Ulysses? I've read of him. Yes, that's just how I
feel--jest how all us old sailors feel, I reckon. I'll
die on land after all, I s'pose. Well, what is to be
will be. There was old William Ford at the Glen who
never went on the water in his life, 'cause he was
afraid of being drowned. A fortune-teller had
predicted he would be. And one day he fainted and fell
with his face in the barn trough and was drowned. Must
you go? Well, come soon and come often. The doctor is
to do the talking next time. He knows a heap of things
I want to find out. I'm sorter lonesome here by times.
It's been worse since Elizabeth Russell died. Her and
me was such cronies."
Captain Jim spoke with the pathos of the aged, who see
their old friends slipping from them one by
one--friends whose place can never be quite filled by
- innocent [´inəsənt]
a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词) - evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- prophet [´prɔfit] n.预言家；先知；提倡者 (初中英语单词)
- politics [´pɔlitiks] n.政治(学)；政治活动 (初中英语单词)
- reckon [´rekən] v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词)
- occasional [ə´keiʒənəl] a.偶然的；临时的 (初中英语单词)
- mistress [´mistris] n.女主人；情妇；女能手 (初中英语单词)
- starve [stɑ:v] v.(使)饥饿 (初中英语单词)
- freeze [fri:z] v.结冰；凝固；冷淡 (初中英语单词)
- collar [´kɔlə] n.衣领；(狗等的)项圈 (初中英语单词)
- kitten [´kitn] n.小猫 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- collection [kə´lekʃən] n.收集；征收；募捐 (初中英语单词)
- gesture [´dʒestʃə] n.手势 v.打手势 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- properly [´prɔpəli] ad.适当地；严格地 (初中英语单词)
- useless [´ju:sləs] a.无用的，无价值的 (初中英语单词)
- sunset [´sʌnset] n.日落；晚霞 (初中英语单词)
- western [´westən] a.西的；西方的 (初中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- streak [stri:k] n.纹理 v.用线条(条纹) (高中英语单词)
- specially [´speʃəli] ad.专门地；特别地 (高中英语单词)
- bachelor [´bætʃələ] n.未婚男子；学士 (高中英语单词)
- stubborn [´stʌbən] a.顽固的；坚持的 (高中英语单词)
- gorgeous [´gɔ:dʒəs] a.华丽的；宜人的 (高中英语单词)
- pitiful [´pitifəl] a.可怜的；慈悲的 (高中英语单词)
- hideous [´hidiəs] a.丑陋的，可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- eyebrow [´aibrau] n.眉 (高中英语单词)
- secretly [´si:kritli] ad.秘密地；隐蔽地 (高中英语单词)
- injustice [in´dʒʌstis] n.不公正，不公平 (高中英语单词)
- literally [´litərəli] ad.逐字地；实际上 (高中英语单词)
- compliment [´kɔmplimənt] n.敬意 vt.赞美；祝贺 (高中英语单词)
- longing [´lɔŋiŋ] n.&a.渴望(的) (高中英语单词)
- lonesome [´ləunsəm] a.孤独的；冷清清的 (高中英语单词)
- personage [´pə:sənidʒ] n.名流；人物，角色 (英语四级单词)
- fathom [´fæðəm] n.英寻 vt.推测，揣摩 (英语四级单词)
- moderation [,mɔdə´reiʃən] n.适度；温和；节制 (英语四级单词)
- parting [´pɑ:tiŋ] a.&n.分离(的) (英语四级单词)
- diversion [dai´və:ʃən] n.转移；消遣 (英语四级单词)
- accompaniment [ə´kʌmpənimənt] n.伴随物；伴奏(唱) (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- far-off [´fɑ:rɔ:f] a.远方的，遥远的 (英语四级单词)
- trough [trɔf] n.槽；水槽；饲料槽 (英语四级单词)
- affected [ə´fektid] a.做作的；假装的 (英语六级单词)
- foolishness [´fu:liʃnis] n.愚蠢 (英语六级单词)
- thoughtless [´θɔ:tləs] a.粗心的，轻率的 (英语六级单词)
- seaman [´si:mən] n.海员，水手 (英语六级单词)
- moonlit [´mu:n,lit] a.月光普照的 (英语六级单词)
- hearer [´hiərə] n.听者 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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