the professor at the breakfast table- 第5部分

not　hurt　the　feelings　of　one　who　has　been　hardly　enough　treated　by

Nature　to　be　spared　by　his　fellows。　　Even　in　speaking　of　him　to

others；　I　could　wish　that　you　might　not　employ　a　term　which　implies

contempt　for　what　should　inspire　only　pity。



A　fellah　's　no　business　to　be　so　crooked；said　the　young　man　called

John。



Yes；　yes；I　said；　thoughtfully；the　strong　hate　the　weak。　　It's　all

right。　　The　arrangement　has　reference　to　the　race；　and　not　to　the

individual。　　Infirmity　must　be　kicked　out；　or　the　stock　run　down。

Wholesale　moral　arrangements　are　so　different　from　retail！　I

understand　the　instinct；　my　friend；it　is　cosmic；it　is　planetary；…

…it　is　a　conservative　principle　in　creation。



The　young　fellow's　face　gradually　lost　its　expression　as　I　was

speaking；　until　it　became　as　blank　of　vivid　significance　as　the

countenance　of　a　gingerbread　rabbit　with　two　currants　in　the　place　of

eyes。　　He　had　not　taken　my　meaning。



Presently　the　intelligence　came　back　with　a　snap　that　made　him　wink；

as　he　answered；Jest　so。　　All　right。　　A　1。　　Put　her　through。　　That's

the　way　to　talk。　　Did　you　speak　to　me；　Sir？Here　the　young　man

struck　up　that　well…known　song　which　I　think　they　used　to　sing　at

Masonic　festivals；　beginning；　〃Aldiborontiphoscophornio；　Where　left

you　Chrononhotonthologos？　〃



I　beg　your　pardon；I　said；all　I　meant　was；　that　men；　as　temporary

occupants　of　a　permanent　abode　called　human　life；　which　is　improved

or　injured　by　occupancy；　according　to　the　style　of　tenant；　have　a

natural　dislike　to　those　who；　if　they　live　the　life　of　the　race　as

well　as　of　the　individual；　will　leave　lasting　injurious　effects　upon

the　abode　spoken　of；　which　is　to　be　occupied　by　countless　future

generations。　　This　is　the　final　cause　of　the　underlying　brute

instinct　which　we　have　in　common　with　the　herds。



The　gingerbread…rabbit　expression　was　coming　on　so　fast；　that　I

thought　I　must　try　again。　It's　a　pity　that　families　are　kept　up；

where　there　are　such　hereditary　infirmities。　　Still；　let　us　treat

this　poor　man　fairly；　and　not　call　him　names。　　Do　you　know　what　his

name　is？



I　know　what　the　rest　of　'em　call　him；said　the　young　fellow。　They

call　him　Little　Boston。　　There's　no　harm　in　that；　is　there？



It　is　an　honorable　term；I　replied。　But　why　Little　Boston；　in　a

place　where　most　are　Bostonians？



Because　nobody　else　is　quite　so　Boston　all　over　as　he　is；said　the

young　fellow。



〃L。　B。　　Ob。　1692。〃Little　Boston　let　him　be；　when　we　talk　about　him。

The　ring　he　wears　labels　him　well　enough。　　There　is　stuff　in　the

little　man；　or　he　would　n't　stick　so　manfully　by　this　crooked；

crotchety　old　town。　　Give　him　a　chance。　You　will　drop　the　Sculpin；

won't　you？I　said　to　the　young　fellow。



Drop　him？he　answered；I　ha'n't　took　him　up　yet。



No；　no；the　term；I　said；the　term。　　Don't　call　him　so　any　more；

if　you　please。　　Call　him　Little　Boston；　if　you　like。



All　right；said　the　young　fellow。　I　would　n't　be　hard　on　the　poor

little…



The　word　he　used　was　objectionable　in　point　of　significance　and　of

grammar。　　It　was　a　frequent　termination　of　certain　adjectives　among

the　Romans；as　of　those　designating　a　person　following　the　sea；　or

given　to　rural　pursuits。　　It　is　classed　by　custom　among　the　profane

words；　why；　it　is　hard　to　say；but　it　is　largely　used　in　the　street

by　those　who　speak　of　their　fellows　in　pity　or　in　wrath。



I　never　heard　the　young　fellow　apply　the　name　of　the　odious　pretended

fish　to　the　little　man　from　that　day　forward。



Here　we　are；　then；　at　our　boardinghouse。　　First；　myself；　the

Professor；　a　little　way　from　the　head　of　the　table；　on　the　right；

looking　down；　where　the　〃Autocrat〃　used　to　sit。　　At　the　further　end

sits　the　Landlady。　　At　the　head　of　the　table；　just　now；　the　Koh…i…

noor；　or　the　gentleman　with　the　diamond。　　Opposite　me　is　a　Venerable

Gentleman　with　a　bland　countenance；　who　as　yet　has　spoken　little。

The　Divinity　Student　is　my　neighbor　on　the　right；and　further　down；

that　Young　Fellow　of　whom　I　have　repeatedly　spoken。　　The　Landlady's

Daughter　sits　near　the　Koh…i…noor；　as　I　said。　　The　Poor　Relation　near

the　Landlady。　　At　the　right　upper　corner　is　a　fresh…looking　youth　of

whose　name　and　history　I　have　as　yet　learned　nothing。　　Next　the

further　left…hand　corner；　near　the　lower　end　of　the　table；　sits　the

deformed　person。　　The　chair　at　his　side；　occupying　that　corner；　is

empty。　　I　need　not　specially　mention　the　other　boarders；　with　the

exception　of　Benjamin　Franklin；　the　landlady's　son；　who　sits　near　his

mother。　　We　are　a　tolerably　assorted　set；difference　enough　and

likeness　enough；　but　still　it　seems　to　me　there　is　something　wanting。

The　Landlady's　Daughter　is　the　prima　donna　in　the　way　of　feminine

attractions。　　I　am　not　quite　satisfied　with　this　young　lady。　　She

wears　more　〃jewelry；〃　as　certain　young　ladies　call　their　trinkets；

than　I　care　to　see　on　a　person　in　her　position。　　Her　voice　is

strident；　her　laugh　too　much　like　a　giggle；　and　she　has　that　foolish

way　of　dancing　and　bobbing　like　a　quill…float　with　a　〃minnum〃　biting

the　hook　below　it；　which　one　sees　and　weeps　over　sometimes　in　persons

of　more　pretensions。　　I　can't　help　hoping　we　shall　put　something　into

that　empty　chair　yet　which　will　add　the　missing　string　to　our　social

harp。　　I　hear　talk　of　a　rare　Miss　who　is　expected。　　Something　in　the

schoolgirl　way；　I　believe。　　We　shall　see。



My　friend　who　calls　himself　The　Autocrat　has　given　me　a　caution

which　I　am　going　to　repeat；　with　my　comment　upon　it；　for　the　benefit

of　all　concerned。



Professor；said　he；　one　day；don't　you　think　your　brain　will　run

dry　before　a　year's　out；　if　you　don't　get　the　pump　to　help　the　cow？

Let　me　tell　you　what　happened　to　me　once。　　I　put　a　little　money　into

a　bank；　and　bought　a　check…book；　so　that　I　might　draw　it　as　I　wanted；

in　sums　to　suit。　　Things　went　on　nicely　for　a　time；　scratching　with　a

pen　was　as　easy　as　rubbing　Aladdin's　Lamp；　and　my　blank　check…book

seemed　to　be　a　dictionary　of　possibilities；　in　which　I　could　find　all

the　synonymes　of　happiness；　and　realize　any　one　of　them　on　the　spot。

A　check　came　back　to　me　at　last　with　these　two　words　on　it；NO

FUNDS。　　My　check…book　was　a　volume　of　waste…paper。



Now；　Professor；said　he；I　have　drawn　something　out　of　your　bank；

you　know；　and　just　so　sure　as　you　keep　drawing　out　your　soul's

currency　without　making　new　deposits；　the　next　thing　will　be；　NO

FUNDS；and　then　where　will　you　be；　my　boy？　　These　little　bits　of

paper　mean　your　gold　and　your　silver　and　your　copper；　Professor；　and

you　will　certainly　break　up　and　go　to　pieces；　if　you　don't　hold　on　to

your　metallic　basis。



There　is　something　in　that；said　I。　Only　I　rather　think　life　can

coin　thought　somewhat　faster　than　I　can　count　it　off　in　words。　　What

if　one　shall　go　round　and　dry　up　with　soft　napkins　all　the　dew　that

falls　of　a　June　evening　on　the　leaves　of　his　garden？　　Shall　there　be

no　more　dew　on　those　leaves　thereafter？　　Marry；　yea；many　drops；

large　and　round　and　full　of　moonlight　as　those　thou　shalt　have

absterged！



Here　am　I；　the　Professor；a　man　who　has　lived　long　enough　to　have

plucked　the　flowers　of　life　and　come　to　the　berries；which　are　not

always　sad…colored；　but　sometimes　golden…hued　as　the　crocus　of　April；

or　rosy…cheeked　as　the　damask　of　June；　a　man　who　staggered　against

books　as　a　baby；　and　will　totter　against　them；　if　he　lives　to

decrepitude；　with　a　brain　full　of　tingling　thoughts；　such　as　they

are；　as　a　limb　which　we　call　〃asleep；〃　because　it　is　so　particuly

awake；　is　of　pricking　points；　presenting　a　key…board　of　nerve…pulps；

not　as　yet　tanned　or　ossified；　to　finger…touch　of　all　outward

agencies；　knowing　nothing　of　the　filmy　threads　of　this　web　of　life　in

which　we　insects　buzz　awhile；　waiting　for　the　gray　old　spider　to　come

along；　contented　enough　with　daily　realities；　but　twirling　on　his

finger　the　key　of　a　private　Bedlam　of　ideals；　in　knowledge　feeding

with　the　fox　oftener　than　with　the　stork；loving　better　the　breadth

of　a　fertilizing　inundation　than　the　depth　of　narrow　artesian　well；

finding　nothing　too　small　for　his　contemplation　in　the　markings　of

the　grammatophora　subtilissima；　and　nothing　too　large　in　the　movement

of　the　solar　system　towards　the　star　Lambda　of　the　constellation

Hercules；and　the　question　is；　whether　there　is　anything　left　for

me；　the　Professor；　to　suck　out　of　creation；　after　my　lively　friend

has　had　his　straw　in　the　bung…hole　of　the　Universe！



A　man's　mental　reactions　with　the　atmosphere　of　life　must　go　on；

whether　he　will　or　no；　as　between　his　blood　and　the　air　he　breathes。

As　to　catching　the　residuum　of　the　process；　or　what　we　call　thought；…

…the　gaseous　ashes　of　burned…out　thinking；the　excretion　of　mental

respiration；that　will　depend　on　many　things；　as；　on　having　a

favorable　intellectual　temperature　about　one；　and　a　fitting

receptacle。　I　sow　more　thought…seeds　in　twenty…four　hours'　travel

over　the　desert…sand　along　which　my　lonely　consciousness　paces　day

and　night；　than　I　shall　throw　into　soil　where　it　will　germinate；　in　a

year。　　All　sorts　of　bodily　and　mental　perturbations　come　between　us

and　the　due　projection　of　our　thought。　　The　pulse…like　〃fits　of　easy

and　difficult　transmission〃　seem　to　reach　even　the　transparent　medium

through　which　our　souls　are　seen。　　We　know　our　humanity　by　its　often

intercepted　rays；　as　we　tell　a　revolving　light　from　a　star　or　meteor

by　its　constantly　recurring　obscuration。



An　illustrious　scholar　once　told　me；　that；　in　the　first　lecture　he

ever　delivered；　he　spoke　but　half　his　allotted　time；　and　felt　as　if

he　had　told　all　he　knew。　　Braham　came　forward　once　to　sing　one　of　his

most　famous　and　familiar　songs；　and　for　his　life　could　not　recall　the

first　line　of　it；he　told　his　mishap　to　the　audience；　and　they

screamed　it　at　him　in　a　chorus　of　a　thousand　voices。　　Milton　could

not　write　to　suit　himself；　except　from　the　autumnal　to　the　vernal

equinox。　　One　in　the　clothing…busines