sunshine sketches of a little town-第2部分

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speak　of　the　〃lake〃　and　the　〃river〃　and　the　〃main　street；〃　much　in
the　same　way　as　they　always　call　the　Continental　Hotel；　〃Pete
Robinson's〃　and　the　Pharmaceutical　Hall；　〃Eliot's　Drug　Store。〃　But　I
suppose　this　is　just　the　same　in　every　one　else's　town　as　in　mine；　so
I　need　lay　no　stress　on　it。

The　town；　I　say；　has　one　broad　street　that　runs　up　from　the　lake；
commonly　called　the　Main　Street。　There　is　no　doubt　about　its　width。
When　Mariposa　was　laid　out　there　was　none　of　that　shortsightedness
which　is　seen　in　the　cramped　dimensions　of　Wall　Street　and
Piccadilly。　Missinaba　Street　is　so　wide　that　if　you　were　to　roll　Jeff
Thorpe's　barber　shop　over　on　its　face　it　wouldn't　reach　half　way
across。　Up　and　down　the　Main　Street　are　telegraph　poles　of　cedar　of
colossal　thickness；　standing　at　a　variety　of　angles　and　carrying
rather　more　wires　than　are　commonly　seen　at　a　transatlantic　cable
station。

On　the　Main　Street　itself　are　a　number　of　buildings　of　extraordinary
importance；Smith's　Hotel　and　the　Continental　and　the　Mariposa
House；　and　the　two　banks　（the　Commercial　and　the　Exchange）；　to　say
nothing　of　McCarthy's　Block　（erected　in　1878）；　and　Glover's　Hardware
Store　with　the　Oddfellows'　Hall　above　it。　Then　on　the　〃cross〃　street
that　intersects　Missinaba　Street　at　the　main　corner　there　is　the　Post
Office　and　the　Fire　Hall　and　the　Young　Men's　Christian　Association
and　the　office　of　the　Mariposa　Newspacket；in　fact；　to　the　eye　of
discernment　a　perfect　jostle　of　public　institutions　comparable　only
to　Threadneedle　Street　or　Lower　Broadway。　On　all　the　side　streets
there　are　maple　trees　and　broad　sidewalks；　trim　gardens　with　upright
calla　lilies；　houses　with　verandahs；　which　are　here　and　there　being
replaced　by　residences　with　piazzas。

To　the　careless　eye　the　scene　on　the　Main　Street　of　a　summer
afternoon　is　one　of　deep　and　unbroken　peace。　The　empty　street　sleeps
in　the　sunshine。　There　is　a　horse　and　buggy　tied　to　the　hitching　post
in　front　of　Glover's　hardware　store。　There　is；　usually　and　commonly；
the　burly　figure　of　Mr。　Smith；　proprietor　of　Smith's　Hotel；　standing
in　his　chequered　waistcoat　on　the　steps　of　his　hostelry；　and　perhaps；
further　up　the　street；　Lawyer　Macartney　going　for　his　afternoon　mail；
or　the　Rev。　Mr。　Drone；　the　Rural　Dean　of　the　Church　of　England
Church；　going　home　to　get　his　fishing　rod　after　a　mothers'　auxiliary
meeting。

But　this　quiet　is　mere　appearance。　In　reality；　and　to　those　who　know
it；　the　place　is　a　perfect　hive　of　activity。　Why；　at　Netley's
butcher　shop　（established　in　1882）　there　are　no　less　than　four　men
working　on　the　sausage　machines　in　the　basement；　at　the　Newspacket
office　there　are　as　many　more　job…printing；　there　is　a　long　distance
telephone　with　four　distracting　girls　on　high　stools　wearing　steel
caps　and　talking　incessantly；　in　the　offices　in　McCarthy's　block　are
dentists　and　lawyers　with　their　coats　off；　ready　to　work　at　any
moment；　and　from　the　big　planing　factory　down　beside　the　lake　where
the　railroad　siding　is；　you　may　hear　all　through　the　hours　of　the
summer　afternoon　the　long…drawn　music　of　the　running　saw。

Busywell；　I　should　think　so！　Ask　any　of　its　inhabitants　if　Mariposa
isn't　a　busy；　hustling；　thriving　town。　Ask　Mullins；　the　manager　of
the　Exchange　Bank；　who　comes　hustling　over　to　his　office　from　the
Mariposa　House　every　day　at　10。30　and　has　scarcely　time　all　morning
to　go　out　and　take　a　drink　with　the　manager　of　the　Commercial；　or
askwell；　for　the　matter　of　that；　ask　any　of　them　if　they　ever　knew
a　more　rushing　go…a…head　town　than　Mariposa。

Of　course　if　you　come　to　the　place　fresh　from　New　York；　you　are
deceived。　Your　standard　of　vision　is　all　astray；　You　do　think　the
place　is　quiet。　You　do　imagine　that　Mr。　Smith　is　asleep　merely
because　he　closes　his　eyes　as　he　stands。　But　live　in　Mariposa　for　six
months　or　a　year　and　then　you　will　begin　to　understand　it　better；　the
buildings　get　higher　and　higher；　the　Mariposa　House　grows　more　and
more　luxurious；　McCarthy's　block　towers　to　the　sky；　the　'buses　roar
and　hum　to　the　station；　the　trains　shriek；　the　traffic　multiplies；
the　people　move　faster　and　faster；　a　dense　crowd　swirls　to　and　fro　in
the　post…office　and　the　five　and　ten　cent　storeand　amusements！
well；　now！　lacrosse；　baseball；　excursions；　dances；　the　Fireman's　Ball
every　winter　and　the　Catholic　picnic　every　summer；　and　musicthe
town　band　in　the　park　every　Wednesday　evening；　and　the　Oddfellows'
brass　band　on　the　street　every　other　Friday；　the　Mariposa　Quartette；
the　Salvation　Armywhy；　after　a　few　months'　residence　you　begin　to
realize　that　the　place　is　a　mere　mad　round　of　gaiety。

In　point　of　population；　if　one　must　come　down　to　figures；　the
Canadian　census　puts　the　numbers　every　time　at　something　round　five
thousand。　But　it　is　very　generally　understood　in　Mariposa　that　the
census　is　largely　the　outcome　of　malicious　jealousy。　It　is　usual　that
after　the　census　the　editor　of　the　Mariposa　Newspacket　makes　a
careful　reestimate　（based　on　the　data　of　relative　non…payment　of
subscriptions）；　and　brings　the　population　up　to　6；000。　After　that　the
Mariposa　Times…Herald　makes　an　estimate　that　runs　the　figures　up　to
6；500。　Then　Mr。　Gingham；　the　undertaker；　who　collects　the　vital
statistics　for　the　provincial　government；　makes　an　estimate　from　the
number　of　what　he　calls　the　〃demised〃　as　compared　with　the　less
interesting　persons　who　are　still　alive；　and　brings　the　population　to
7；000。　After　that　somebody　else　works　it　out　that　it's　7；500；　then
the　man　behind　the　bar　of　the　Mariposa　House　offers　to　bet　the　whole
room　that　there　are　9；000　people　in　Mariposa。　That　settles　it；　and
the　population　is　well　on　the　way　to　10；000；　when　down　swoops　the
federal　census　taker　on　his　next　round　and　the　town　has　to　begin　all
over　again。

Still；　it　is　a　thriving　town　and　there　is　no　doubt　of　it。　Even　the
transcontinental　railways；　as　any　townsman　will　tell　you；　run　through
Mariposa。　It　is　true　that　the　trains　mostly　go　through　at　night　and
don't　stop。　But　in　the　wakeful　silence　of　the　summer　night　you　may
hear　the　long　whistle　of　the　through　train　for　the　west　as　it　tears
through　Mariposa；　rattling　over　the　switches　and　past　the　semaphores
and　ending　in　a　long；　sullen　roar　as　it　takes　the　trestle　bridge　over
the　Ossawippi。　Or；　better　still；　on　a　winter　evening　about　eight
o'clock　you　will　see　the　long　row　of　the　Pullmans　and　diners　of　the
night　express　going　north　to　the　mining　country；　the　windows　flashing
with　brilliant　light；　and　within　them　a　vista　of　cut　glass　and
snow…white　table　linen；　smiling　negroes　and　millionaires　with　napkins
at　their　chins　whirling　past　in　the　driving　snowstorm。

I　can　tell　you　the　people　of　Mariposa　are　proud　of　the　trains；　even
if　they　don't　stop！　The　joy　of　being　on　the　main　line　lifts　the
Mariposa　people　above　the　level　of　their　neighbours　in　such　places　as
Tecumseh　and　Nichols　Corners　into　the　cosmopolitan　atmosphere　of
through　traffic　and　the　larger　life。　Of　course；　they　have　their　own
train；　toothe　Mariposa　Local；　made　up　right　there　in　the　station
yard；　and　running　south　to　the　city　a　hundred　miles　away。　That；　of
course；　is　a　real　train；　with　a　box　stove　on　end　in　the　passenger
car；　fed　with　cordwood　upside　down；　and　with　seventeen　flat　cars　of
pine　lumber　set　between　the　passenger　car　and　the　locomotive　so　as　to
give　the　train　its　full　impact　when　shunting。

Outside　of　Mariposa　there　are　farms　that　begin　well　but　get　thinner
and　meaner　as　you　go　on；　and　end　sooner　or　later　in　bush　and　swamp
and　the　rock　of　the　north　country。　And　beyond　that　again；　as　the
background　of　it　all；　though　it's　far　away；　you　are　somehow　aware　of
the　great　pine　woods　of　the　lumber　country　reaching　endlessly　into
the　north。

Not　that　the　little　town　is　always　gay　or　always　bright　in　the
sunshine。　There　never　was　such　a　place　for　changing　its　character
with　the　season。　Dark　enough　and　dull　it　seems　of　a　winter　night；　the
wooden　sidewalks　creaking　with　the　frost；　and　the　lights　burning　dim
behind　the　shop　windows。　In　olden　times　the　lights　were　coal　oil
lamps；　now；　of　course；　they　are；　or　are　supposed　to　be；　electricity；
brought　from　the　power　house　on　the　lower　Ossawippi　nineteen　miles
away。　But；　somehow；　though　it　starts　off　as　electricity　from　the
Ossawippi　rapids；　by　the　time　it　gets　to　Mariposa　and　filters　into
the　little　bulbs　behind　the　frosty　windows　of　the　shops；　it　has
turned　into　coal　oil　again；　as　yellow　and　bleared　as　ever。

After　the　winter；　the　snow　melts　and　the　ice　goes　out　of　the　lake；
the　sun　shines　high　and　the　shanty…men　come　down　from　the　lumber
woods　and　lie　round　drunk　on　the　sidewalk　outside　of　Smith's
Hoteland　that's　spring　time。　Mariposa　is　then　a　fierce；　dangerous
lumber　town；　calculated　to　terrorize　the　soul　of　a　newcomer　who　does
not　understand　that　this　also　is　only　an　appearance　and　that
presently　the　rough…looking　shanty…men　will　change　their　clothes　and
turn　back　again　into　farmers。

Then　the　sun　shines　warmer　and　the　maple　trees　come　out　and　Lawyer
Macartney　puts　on　his　tennis　trousers；　and　that's　summer　time。　The
little　town　changes　to　a　sort　of　summer　resort。　There　are　visitors　up
from　the　city。　Every　one　of　the　seven　cottages　along　the　lake　is
full。　The　Mariposa　Belle　churns　the　waters　of　the　Wissanotti　into
foam　as　she　sails　out　from　the　wharf；　in　a　cloud　of　flags；　the　band
playing　and　the　daughters　and　sisters　of　the　Knights　of　Pythias
dancing　gaily　on　the　deck。

That　changes　too。　The　days　shorten。　The　visitors　disappear。　The
golden　rod　beside　the　meadow　droops　and　withers　on　its　stem。　The
maples　blaze　in　glory　and　die。　The　evening　closes　dark　and　chill；　and
in　the　gloom　of　the　main　corner　of　Mariposa　the　Salvation　Army　around
a　naphtha　lamp　lift　up　the　confession　of　their　sinsand　that　is
autumn。　Thus　the　year　runs　its　round；　moving　and　changing　in
Mariposa；　much　as　it　does　in　other　places。

If；　then；　you　feel　that　you　know　the　town　well　enough　to　be　admitted
into　the　inner　life　and　movement　of　it；　walk　down　this　June　afternoon
half　way　down　the　Main　Streetor；　if　you　like；　half　way　up　from　the
wharfto　where　Mr。　Smith　is　standing　at　the　door　of　his　hostelry。
You　will　feel　as　you　draw　near　that　it　is　no　ordinary　man　th