the professor at the breakfast table-第13章

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general　melee；　which　make　our　native　fistic　encounters　so　different

from　such　admirably…ordered　contests　as　that　which　I　once　saw　at　an

English　fair；　where　everything　was　done　decently　and　in　order；　and

the　fight　began　and　ended　with　such　grave　propriety；　that　a　sporting

parson　need　hardly　have　hesitated　to　open　it　with　a　devout　petition；

and；　after　it　was　over；　dismiss　the　ring　with　a　benediction。



I　can't　help　telling　one　more　story　about　this　great　field…day；

though　it　is　the　most　wanton　and　irrelevant　digression。　　But　all　of

us　have　a　little　speck　of　fight　underneath　our　peace　and　good…will　to

men；　just　a　speck；　for　revolutions　and　great　emergencies；　you　know；

so　that　we　should　not　submit　to　be　trodden　quite　flat　by　the　first

heavy…heeled　aggressor　that　came　along。　　You　can　tell　a　portrait　from

an　ideal　head；　I　suppose；　and　a　true　story　from　one　spun　out　of　the

writer's　invention。　　See　whether　this　sounds　true　or　not。



Admiral　Sir　Isaac　Coffin　sent　out　two　fine　blood…horses；　Barefoot　and

Serab　by　name；　to　Massachusetts；　something　before　the　time　I　am

talking　of。　　With　them　came　a　Yorkshire　groom；　a　stocky　little

fellow；　in　velvet　breeches；　who　made　that　mysterious　hissing　noise；

traditionary　in　English　stables；　when　he　rubbed　down　the　silken…

skinned　racers；　in　great　perfection。　　After　the　soldiers　had　come

from　the　muster…field；　and　some　of　the　companies　were　on　the　village…

common；　there　was　still　some　skirmishing　between　a　few　individuals

who　had　not　had　the　fight　taken　out　of　them。　　The　little　Yorkshire

groom　thought　he　must　serve　out　somebody。　　So　he　threw　himself　into

an　approved　scientific　attitude；　and；　in　brief；　emphatic　language；

expressed　his　urgent　anxiety　to　accommodate　any　classical　young

gentleman　who　chose　to　consider　himself　a　candidate　for　his

attentions。　　I　don't　suppose　there　were　many　of　the　college　boys　that

would　have　been　a　match　for　him　in　the　art　which　Englishmen　know　so

much　more　of　than　Americans；　for　the　most　part。　　However；　one　of　the

Sophomores；　a　very　quiet；　peaceable　fellow；　just　stepped　out　of　the

crowd；　and；　running　straight　at　the　groom；　as　he　stood　there；

sparring　away；　struck　him　with　the　sole　of　his　foot；　a　straight　blow；

as　if　it　had　been　with　his　fist；　and　knocked　him　heels　over　head　and

senseless；　so　that　he　had　to　be　carried　off　from　the　field。　　This

ugly　way　of　hitting　is　the　great　trick　of　the　French　gavate；　which　is

not　commonly　thought　able　to　stand　its　ground　against　English

pugilistic　science。　　These　are　old　recollections；　with　not　much　to

recommend　them；　except；　perhaps；　a　dash　of　life；　which　may　be　worth　a

little　something。



The　young　Marylander　brought　them　all　up；　you　may　remember。　　He

recalled　to　my　mind　those　two　splendid　pieces　of　vitality　I　told　you

of。　　Both　have　been　long　dead。　How　often　we　see　these　great　red…

flaring　flambeaux　of　life　blown　out；　as　it　were；　by　a　puff　of　wind；

and　the　little；　single…wicked　night…lamp　of　being；　which　some

white…faced　and　attenuated　invalid　shades　with　trembling　fingers；

flickering　on　while　they　go　out　one　after　another；　until　its　glimmer

is　all　that　is　left　to　us　of　the　generation　to　which　it　belonged！



I　told　you　that　I　was　perfectly　sure；　beforehand；　we　should　find　some

pleasing　girlish　or　womanly　shape　to　fill　the　blank　at　our　table　and

match　the　dark…haired　youth　at　the　upper　corner。



There　she　sits；　at　the　very　opposite　corner；　just　as　far　off　as

accident　could　put　her　from　this　handsome　fellow；　by　whose　side　she

ought；　of　course；　to　be　sitting。　　One　of　the　〃positive〃　blondes；　as

my　friend；　you　may　remember；　used　to　call　them。　　Tawny…haired；

amber…eyed；　full…throated；　skin　as　white　as　a　blanched　almond。　　Looks

dreamy　to　me；　not　self…conscious；　though　a　black　ribbon　round　her

neck　sets　it　off　as　a　Marie…Antoinette's　diamond…necklace　could　not

do。　　So　in　her　dress；　there　is　a　harmony　of　tints　that　looks　as　if　an

artist　had　run　his　eye　over　her　and　given　a　hint　or　two　like　the

finishing　touch　to　a　picture。　　I　can't　help　being　struck　with　her；

for　she　is　at　once　rounded　and　fine　in　feature；　looks　calm；　as

blondes　are　apt　to；　and　as　if　she　might　run　wild；　if　she　were　trifled

with。　　It　is　just　as　I　knew　it　would　be；and　anybody　can　see　that

our　young　Marylander　will　be　dead　in　love　with　her　in　a　week。



Then　if　that　little　man　would　only　turn　out　immensely　rich　and　have

the　good…nature　to　die　and　leave　them　all　his　money；　it　would　be　as

nice　as　a　three…volume　novel。



The　Little　Gentleman　is　in　a　flurry；　I　suspect；　with　the　excitement

of　having　such　a　charming　neighbor　next　him。　　I　judge　so　mainly　by

his　silence　and　by　a　certain　rapt　and　serious　look　on　his　face；　as　if

he　were　thinking　of　something　that　had　happened；　or　that　might

happen；　or　that　ought　to　happen；or　how　beautiful　her　young　life

looked；　or　how　hardly　Nature　had　dealt　with　him；　or　something　which

struck　him　silent；　at　any　rate。　　I　made　several　conversational

openings　for　him；　but　he　did　not　fire　up　as　he　often　does。　　I　even

went　so　far　as　to　indulge　in；　a　fling　at　the　State　House；　which；　as

we　all　know；　is　in　truth　a　very　imposing　structure；　covering　less

ground　than　St。　Peter's；　but　of　similar　general　effect。　　The　little

man　looked　up；　but　did　not　reply　to　my　taunt。　　He　said　to　the　young

lady；　however；　that　the　State　House　was　the　Parthenon　of　our

Acropolis；　which　seemed　to　please　her；　for　she　smiled；　and　he

reddened　a　little；so　I　thought。　　I　don't　think　it　right　to　watch

persons　who　are　the　subjects　of　special　infirmity；but　we　all　do　it。



I　see　that　they　have　crowded　the　chairs　a　little　at　that　end　of　the

table；　to　make　room　for　another　newcomer　of　the　lady　sort。　　A　well…

mounted；　middle…aged　preparation；　wearing　her　hair　without　a　cap；

pretty　wide　in　the　parting；　though；contours　vaguely　hinted；

features　very　quiet；says　little　as　yet；　but　seems　to　keep　her　eye

on　the　young　lady；　as　if　having　some　responsibility　for　her

My　record　is　a　blank　for　some　days　after　this。　　In　the　mean　time　I

have　contrived　to　make　out　the　person　and　the　story　of　our　young

lady；　who；　according　to　appearances；　ought　to　furnish　us　a　heroine

for　a　boarding…house　romance　before　a　year　is　out。　　It　is　very

curious　that　she　should　prove　connected　with　a　person　many　of　us　have

heard　of。　　Yet；　curious　as　it　is；　I　have　been　a　hundred　times　struck

with　the　circumstance　that　the　most　remote　facts　are　constantly

striking　each　other；　just　as　vessels　starting　from　ports　thousands　of

miles　apart　pass　close　to　each　other　in　the　naked　breadth　of　the

ocean；　nay；　sometimes　even　touch；　in　the　dark；　with　a　crack　of

timbers；　a　gurgling　of　water；　a　cry　of　startled　sleepers；a　cry

mysteriously　echoed　in　warning　dreams；　as　the　wife　of　some　Gloucester

fisherman；　some　coasting　skipper；　wakes　with　a　shriek；　calls　the　name

of　her　husband；　and　sinks　back　to　uneasy　slumbers　upon　her　lonely

pillow；a　widow。



Oh；　these　mysterious　meetings！　　Leaving　all　the　vague；　waste；　endless

spaces　of　the　washing　desert；　the　ocean…steamer　and　the　fishing…smack

sail　straight　towards　each　other　as　if　they　ran　in　grooves　ploughed

for　them　in　the　waters　from　the　beginning　of　creation！　　Not　only

things　and　events；　but　our　own　thoughts；　are　so　full　of　these

surprises；　that；　if　there　were　a　reader　in　my　parish　who　did　not

recognize　the　familiar　occurrence　of　what　I　am　now　going　to　mention；

I　should　think　it　a　case　for　the　missionaries　of　the　Society　for　the

Propagation　of　Intelligence　among　the　Comfortable　Classes。

There　are　about　as　many　twins　in　the　births　of　thought　as　of

children。　　For　the　first　time　in　your　lives　you　learn　some　fact　or

come　across　some　idea。　　Within　an　hour；　a　day；　a　week；　that　same　fact

or　idea　strikes　you　from　another　quarter。　　It　seems　as　if　it　had

passed　into　space　and　bounded　back　upon　you　as　an　echo　from　the　blank

wall　that　shuts　in　the　world　of　thought。　　Yet　no　possible　connection

exists　between　the　two　channels　by　which　the　thought　or　the　fact