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the poet at the breakfast table-第17章

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by any means; and they will often pick out your weak points with a
malignant sagacity; as a pettifogging lawyer will frequently find a
real flaw in trying to get at everything he can quibble about。  But
is there nobody who will praise you generously when you do well;
nobody that will lend you a hand now while you want it;or must they
all wait until you have made yourself a name among strangers; and
then all at once find out that you have something in you?
Oh;said the girl; and the bright film gathered too fast for her
young eyes to hold much longer;I ought not to be ungrateful!  I
have found the kindest friend in the world。  Have you ever heard the
Ladythe one that I sit next to at the tablesay anything about me?

I have not really made her acquaintance; I said。  She seems to me a
little distant in her manners and I have respected her pretty evident
liking for keeping mostly to herself。

Oh; but when you once do know her!  I don't believe I could write
stories all the time as I do; if she didn't ask me up to her chamber;
and let me read them to her。  Do you know; I can make her laugh and
cry; reading my poor stories?  And sometimes; when I feel as if I had
written out all there is in me; and want to lie down and go to sleep
and never wake up except in a world where there are no weekly
papers;when everything goes wrong; like a car off the track;she
takes hold and sets me on the rails again all right。

How does she go to work to help you?

Why; she listens to my stories; to begin with; as if she really
liked to hear them。  And then you know I am dreadfully troubled now
and then with some of my characters; and can't think how to get rid
of them。  And she'll say; perhaps; Don't shoot your villain this
time; you've shot three or four already in the last six weeks; let
his mare stumble and throw him and break his neck。  Or she'll give me
a hint about some new way for my lover to make a declaration。  She
must have had a good many offers; it's my belief; for she has told me
a dozen different ways for me to use in my stories。  And whenever I
read a story to her; she always laughs and cries in the right places;
and that's such a comfort; for there are some people that think
everything pitiable is so funny; and will burst out laughing when
poor Rip Van Winkleyou've seen Mr。 Jefferson; haven't you?is
breaking your heart for you if you have one。  Sometimes she takes a
poem I have written and reads it to me so beautifully; that I fall in
love with it; and sometimes she sets my verses to music and sings
them to me。

You have a laugh together sometimes; do you?

Indeed we do。  I write for what they call the 〃Comic Department〃 of
the paper now and then。  If I did not get so tired of story…telling;
I suppose I should be gayer than I am; but as it is; we two get a

little fun out of my comic pieces。  I begin them half…crying
sometimes; but after they are done they amuse me。  I don't suppose my
comic pieces are very laughable; at any rate the man who makes a
business of writing me down says the last one I wrote is very
melancholy reading; and that if it was only a little better perhaps
some bereaved person might pick out a line or two that would do to
put on a gravestone。

Well; that is hard; I must confess。  Do let me see those lines
which excite such sad emotions。

Will you read them very good…naturedly?  If you will; I will get
the paper that has 〃Aunt Tabitha。〃  That is the one the fault…finder
said produced such deep depression of feeling。  It was written for
the 〃Comic Department。〃  Perhaps it will make you cry; but it was n't
meant to。

I will finish my report this time with our Scheherezade's poem;
hoping thatany critic who deals with it will treat it with the
courtesy due to all a young lady's literary efforts。


          AUNT TABITHA。

Whatever I do; and whatever I say;
Aunt Tabitha tells me that isn't the way;
When she was a girl (forty summers ago)
Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so。

Dear aunt!  If I only would take her advice!
But I like my own way; and I find it so nice!
And besides; I forget half the things I am told;
But they all will come back to mewhen I am old。

If a youth passes by; it may happen; no doubt;
He may chance to look in as I chance to look out;
She would never endure an impertinent stare;
It is horrid; she says; and I mustn't sit there。

A walk in the moonlight has pleasures; I own;
But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone;
So I take a lad's arm;just for safety; you know;
But Aunt Tabitha tells me they didn't do so。

How wicked we are; and how good they were then!
They kept at arm's length those detestable men;
What an era of virtue she lived in!But stay
Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?

If the men were so wicked; I'll ask my papa
How he dared to propose to my darling mamma;
Was he like the rest of them?  Goodness!  Who knows
And what shall I say if a wretch should propose ?

I am thinking if aunt knew so little of sin;
What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been!
And her grand…auntit scares mehow shockingly sad。
That we girls of to…day are so frightfully bad!

A martyr will save us; and nothing else can;
Let me perishto rescue some wretched young man!
Though when to the altar a victim I go;
Aunt Tabitha'll tell me she never did so!




IV

The old Master has developed one quality of late for which I am
afraid I hardly gave him credit。  He has turned out to be an
excellent listener。

I love to talk;he said;as a goose loves to swim。  Sometimes I
think it is because I am a goose。  For I never talked much at any one
time in my life without saying something or other I was sorry for。

You too!said INow that is very odd; for it is an experience I
have habitually。  I thought you were rather too much of a philosopher
to trouble yourself about such small matters as to whether you had
said just what you meant to or not; especially as you know that the
person you talk to does not remember a word of what you said the next
morning; but is thinking; it is much more likely; of what she said;
or how her new dress looked; or some other body's new dress which
madehers look as if it had been patched together from the leaves of
last November。  That's what she's probably thinking about。

She!said the Master; with a look which it would take at least
half a page to explain to the entire satisfaction of thoughtful
readers of both sexes。

I paid the respect due to that most significant monosyllable;
which; as the old Rabbi spoke it; with its targum of tone and
expression; was not to be answered flippantly; but soberly;
advisedly; and after a pause long enough for it to unfold its meaning
in the listener's mind。  For there are short single words (all the
world remembers Rachel's Helas!) which are like those Japanese toys
that look like nothing of any significance as you throw them on the
water; but which after a little time open out into various strange
and unexpected figures; and then you find that each little shred had
a complicated story to tell of itself。

…Yes;said I; at the close of this silent interval; during which the
monosyllable had been opening out its meanings;She。  When I think
of talking; it is of course with a woman。  For talking at its best
being an inspiration; it wants a corresponding divine quality of
receptiveness; and where will you find this but in woman?

The Master laughed a pleasant little laugh;not a harsh; sarcastic
one; but playful; and tempered by so kind a look that it seemed as if
every wrinkled line about his old eyes repeated; 〃God bless you;〃 as
the tracings on the walls of the Alhambra repeat a sentence of the
Koran。

I said nothing; but looked the question; What are you laughing at?

Why; I laughed because I couldn't help saying to myself that a
woman whose mind was taken up with thinking how she looked; and how
her pretty neighbor looked; wouldn't have a great deal of thought to
spare for all your fine discourse。

Come; now;said I;a man who contradicts himself in the course of
two minutes must have a screw loose in his mental machinery。  I never
feel afraid that such a thing can happen to me; though it happens
often enough when I turn a thought over suddenly; as you did that
five…cent piece the other day; that it reads differently on its two
sides。  What I meant to say is something like this。  A woman;
notwithstanding she is the best of listeners; knows her business; and
it is a woman's business to please。  I don't say that it is not her
business to vote; but I do say that a woman who does not please is a
false note in the harmonies of nature。  She may not have youth; or
beauty; or even manner; but she must have something in her voice or
expression; or both; which it makes you feel better disposed towards
your race to look at or listen to。  She knows that as well as we do;
and her first question after you have been talking your soul into her
consciousness is; Did I please?  A woman never forgets her sex。  She
would rather talk with a man than an angel; any day。

This frightful speech of mine reached the ear of our Scheherezade;
who said that it was perfectly shocking and that I deserved to be
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