eben holden-第16部分

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them　out　of　bed。　It　was　growing　light　and　they　made　us　comfortable　around　a　big　stove；　and　gave　us　breakfast。　The　good　man　of　the　house　took　us　home　in　a　big　sleigh　after　the　chores　were　done。　We　met　David　Brower　coming　after　us；　and　if　we'd　been　gone　a　year　we　couldn't　have　received　a　warmer　welcome。

Chapter　8

Of　all　that　long　season　of　snow；　I　remember　most　pleasantly　the　days　that　were　sweetened　with　the　sugar…making。　When　the　sun　was　lifting　his　course　in　the　clearing　sky；　and　March　had　got　the　temper　of　the　lamb；　and　the　frozen　pulses　of　the　forest　had　begun　to　stir；　the　great　kettle　was　mounted　in　the　yard　and　all　gave　a　hand　to　the　washing　of　spouts　and　buckets。　Then　came　tapping　time；　in　which　I　helped　carry　the　buckets　and　tasted　the　sweet　flow　that　followed　the　auger's　wound。　The　woods　were　merry　with　our　shouts；　and；　shortly；　one　could　hear　the　heart…beat　of　the　maples　in　the　sounding　bucket。　It　was　the　reveille　of　spring。　Towering　trees　shook　down　the　gathered　storms　of　snow　and　felt　for　the　sunlight。　The　arch　and　shanty　were　repaired；　the　great　iron　kettle　was　scoured　and　lifted　to　its　place；　and　then　came　the　boiling。　It　was　a　great；　an　inestimable　privilege　to　sit　on　the　robes　of　faded　fur；　in　the　shanty；　and　hear　the　fire　roaring　under　the　kettle　and　smell　the　sweet　odour　of　the　boiling　sap。　Uncle　Eb　minded　the　shanty　and　the　fire　and　the　woods　rang　with　his　merry　songs。　When　I　think　of　that　phase　of　the　sugaring；　lam　face　to　face　with　one　of　the　greatest　perils　of　my　life。　My　foster　father　had　consented　to　let　me　spend　a　night　with　Uncle　Eb　in　the　shanty；　and　I　was　to　sleep　on　the　robes；　where　he　would　be　beside　me　when　he　was　not　tending　the　fire。　It　had　been　a　mild；　bright　day；　and　David　came　up　with　our　supper　at　sunset。　He　sat　talking　with　Uncle　Eb　for　an　hour　or　so；　and　the　woods　were　darkling　when　he　went　away。

When　he　started　on　the　dark　trail　that　led　to　the　clearing；　I　wondered　at　his　courage　…　it　was　so　black　beyond　the　firelight。　While　we　sat　alone　I　plead　for　a　story；　but　the　thoughts　of　Uncle　Eb　had　gone　to　roost　early　in　a　sort　of　gloomy　meditation。

'Be　still；　my　boy；'　said　he；　'an'　go　t'　sleep。　I　ain't　agoin'　t'　tell　no　yams　an；　git　ye　all　stirred　up。　Ye　go　t'　sleep。　Come　mornin'　we'll　go　down　t'　the　brook　an'　see　if　we　can't　find　a　mink　or　tew　'n　the　traps。'

I　remember　hearing　a　great　crackling　of　twigs　in　the　dark　wood　before　I　slept。　As　I　lifted　my　head；　Uncle　Eb　whispered；　'Hark！'　and　we　both　listened。　A　bent　and　aged　figure　came　stalking　into　the　firelight　His　long　white　hair　mingled　with　his　beard　and　covered　his　coat　collar　behind。

'Don't　be　scairt；'　said　Uncle　Eb。　''Tain'　no　bear。　It's　nuthin'　but　a　poet。；

I　knew　him　for　a　man　who　wandered　much　and　had　a　rhyme　for　everyone　…　a　kindly　man　with　a　reputation　for　laziness　and　without　any　home。

'Bilin'；　eh？'　said　the　poet

'Bilin'；'　said　Uncle　Eb。

'I'm　bilin'　over　'n　the　next　bush；'　said　the　poet；　sitting　down。

'How's　everything　in　Jingleville？'　Uncle　Eb　enquired。

Then　the　newcomer　answered：

'Well；　neighbour　dear；　in　Jingleville　We　live　by　faith　but　we　eat　our　fill；　An'　what　w'u'd　we　do　if　it　wa'n't　fer　prayer？　Fer　we　can't　raise　a　thing　but　whiskers　an'　hair。'

'Cur'us　how　you　can'talk　po'try；'　said　Uncle　Eb。　'The　only　thing　I've　got　agin　you　is　them　whiskers　an'　thet　hair。　'Tain't　Christian。'

''Tain't　what's　on　the　head；　but　what's　in　it　…　thet's　the　important　thing；'　said　the　poet。　'Did　I　ever　tell　ye　what　I　wrote　about　the　birds？'

'Don'　know's　ye　ever　did；'　said　Uncle　Eb；　stirring　his　fire。

'The　boy'll　like　it；　mebbe；'　said　he；　taking　a　dirty　piece　of　paper　out　of　his　pocket　and　holding　it　to　the　light。

The　poem　interested　me；　young　as　I　was；　not　less　than　the　strange　figure　of　the　old　poet　who　lived　unknown　in　the　backwoods；　and　who　died；　I　dare　say；　with　many　a　finer　song　in　his　heart。　I　remember　how　he　stood　in　the　firelight　and　chanted　the　words　in　a　sing…song　tone。　He　gave　us　that　rude　copy　of　the　poem；　and　here　it　is：

THE　ROBIN'S　WEDDING

Young　robin　red　breast　hed　a　beautiful　nest　an'　he　says　to　his　love　says　he：　It's　ready　now　on　a　rocking　bough　　In　the　top　of　a　maple　tree。　I've　lined　it　with　down　an'　the　velvet　brown　on　the　waist　of　a　bumble…bee。

They　were　married　next　day；　in　the　land　o'　the　hay；　the　lady　bird　an'　he。　The　bobolink　came　an'　the　wife　o'　the　same　　An'　the　lark　an'　the　fiddle　de　dee。　An'　the　crow　came　down　in　a　minister　gown　…　there　was　nothing　that　he　didn't　see。

He　fluttered　his　wing　as　they　ast　him　to　sing　an'　he　tried　fer　t'　clear　out　his　throat；　He　hemmed　an'　he　hawed　an'　be　hawked　an'　he　cawed　　But　he　couldn't　deliver　a　note。　The　swallow　was　there　an'　he　ushered　each　pair　with　his　linsey　an'　claw　hammer　coat。

The　bobolink　tried　fer　t'　flirt　with　the　bride　in　a　way　thet　was　sassy　an'　bold。　An'　the　notes　that　he　took　as　he　shivered　an'　shook　　Hed　a　sound　like　the　jingle　of　gold。　He　sat　on　a　briar　an'　laughed　at　the　choir　an'　said　thet　the　music　was　old。

The　sexton　he　came　…　Mr　Spider　by　name　…　a　citizen　hairy　and　grey。　His　rope　in　a　steeple；　he　called　the　good　people　　That　live　in　the　land　o'　the　hay。　The　ants　an'　the　squgs　an'　the　crickets　an'　bugs　…　came　out　in　a　mighty　array。

Some　came　down　from　Barleytown　an'　the　neighbouring　city　o'　Rye。　An'　the　little　black　people　they　climbed　every　steeple　An'　sat　looking　up　at　the　sky。　They　came　fer　t'　see　what　a　wedding　might　be　an'　they　furnished　the　cake　an；　the　pie。

I　remember　he　turned　to　me　when　he　had　finished　and　took　one　of　my　small　hands　and　held　it　in　his　hard　palm　and　looked　at　it　and　then　into　my　face。

'Ah；　boy！'　he　said；　'your　way　shall　lead　you　far　from　here；　and　you　shall　get　learning　and　wealth　and　win　　…　victories。'

'What　nonsense　are　you　talking；　Jed　Ferry？'　said　Uncle　Eb。　　　　　　　　　　　　'O；　you　all　think　I'm　a　fool　an'　a　humbug；　'cos　I　look　it。　Why；　Eben　Holden；　if　you　was　what　ye　looked；　ye'd　be　in　the　presidential　chair。　Folks　here　'n　the　valley　think　o'　nuthin'　but　hard　work　…　most　uv　'em；　an'　I　tell　ye　now　this　boy　ain't　a　goin'　t'　be　wuth　putty　on　a　farm。　Look　a'　them　slender　hands。

'There　was　a　man　come　to　me　the　other　day　an'　wanted　t'　hev　a　poem　'bout　his　wife　that　hed　jes'　died。　I　ast　him　t'　tell　me　all　'bout　her。

'〃Wall；〃　said　he；　after　he　had　scratched　his　head　an'　thought　a　minute；　〃she　was　a　dretful　good　woman　t'　work。〃

'〃Anything　else？〃　I　asked。

'He　thought　agin　fer　a　minute。

'〃Broke　her　leg　once；〃　he　said；　〃an'　was　laid　up　fer　more'n　a　year。〃

〃Must　o'　suffered；〃　said　I。

'〃Not　then；〃　he　answered。　〃Ruther　enjoyed　it　layin'　abed　an'　readin'　an'　bein'　rubbed；　but　'twas　hard　on　the　children。〃

'〃S'pose　ye　loved　her；〃　I　said。

'Then　the　tears　come　into　his　eyes　an'　he　couldn't　speak　fer　a　minute。　Putty　soon　he　whispered　〃Yes〃　kind　o'　confidential。　'Course　he　loved　her；　but　these　Yankees　are　ashamed　o'　their　feelin's。　They　hev　tender　thoughts；　but　they　hide　'em　as　careful　as　the　wild　goose　hides　her　eggs。　I　wrote　a　poem　t'　please　him；　an'　goin'　home　I　made　up　one　fer　myself；　an　'it　run　'bout　like　this：

O　give　me　more　than　a　life；　I　beg；　That　finds　real　joy　in　a　broken　leg。　Whose　only　thought　is　t'　work　an'　save　An'　whose　only　rest　is　in　the　gra