the story of a bad boy-第5部分

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deed；　I　paid　her　a　visit　every　half…hour　during　the　first　day　of　my　arrival。　At　the　twenty…fourth　visit　she　trod　on　my　foot　rather　heavily；　as　a　reminder；　probably；　that　I　was　wearing　out　my　welcome。　She　was　a　knowing　little　pony；　that　Gypsy；　and　I　shall　have　much　to　say　of　her　in　the　course　of　these　pages。

Gypsy's　quarters　were　all　that　could　be　wished；　but　nothing　among　my　new　surroundings　gave　me　more　satisfaction　than　the　cosey　sleeping　apartment　that　had　been　prepared　for　myself。　It　was　the　hall　room　over　the　front　door。

I　had　never　had　a　chamber　all　to　myself　before；　and　this　one；　about　twice　the　size　of　our　state…room　on　board　the　Typhoon；　was　a　marvel　of　neatness　and　comfort。　Pretty　chintz　curtains　hung　at　the　window；　and　a　patch　quilt　of　more　colors　than　were　in　Joseph's　coat　covered　the　little　truckle…bed。　The　pattern　of　the　wall…paper　left　nothing　to　be　desired　in　that　line。　On　a　gray　background　were　small　bunches　of　leaves；　unlike　any　that　ever　grew　in　this　world；　and　on　every　other　bunch　perched　a　yellow…bird；　pitted　with　crimson　spots；　as　if　it　had　just　recovered　from　a　severe　attack　of　the　small…pox。　That　no　such　bird　ever　existed　did　not　detract　from　my　admiration　of　each　one。　There　were　two　hundred　and　sixty…eight　of　these　birds　in　all；　not　counting　those　split　in　two　where　the　paper　was　badly　joined。　I　counted　them　once　when　I　was　laid　up　with　a　fine　black　eye；　and　falling　asleep　immediately　dreamed　that　the　whole　flock　suddenly　took　wing　and　flew　out　of　the　window。　From　that　time　I　was　never　able　to　regard　them　as　merely　inanimate　objects。

A　wash…stand　in　the　corner；　a　chest　of　carved　mahogany　drawers；　a　looking…glass　in　a　filigreed　frame；　and　a　high…backed　chair　studded　with　brass　nails　like　a　coffin；　constituted　the　furniture。　Over　the　head　of　the　bed　were　two　oak　shelves；　holding　perhaps　a　dozen　books…among　which　were　Theodore；　or　The　Peruvians；　Robinson　Crusoe；　an　odd　volume　of　Tristram　Shandy；　Baxter's　Saints'　Rest；　and　a　fine　English　edition　of　the　Arabian　Nights；　with　six　hundred　wood…cuts　by　Harvey。

Shall　I　ever　forget　the　hour　when　I　first　overhauled　these　books？　I　do　not　allude　especially　to　Baxter's　Saints'　Rest；　which　is　far　from　being　a　lively　work　for　the　young；　but　to　the　Arabian　Nights；　and　particularly　Robinson　Crusoe。　The　thrill　that　ran　into　my　fingers'　ends　then　has　not　run　out　yet。　Many　a　time　did　I　steal　up　to　this　nest　of　a　room；　and；　taking　the　dog's…eared　volume　from　its　shelf；　glide　off　into　an　enchanted　realm；　where　there　were　no　lessons　to　get　and　no　boys　to　smash　my　kite。　In　a　lidless　trunk　in　the　garret　I　subsequently　unearthed　another　motley　collection　of　novels　and　romances；　embracing　the　adventures　of　Baron　Trenck；　Jack　Sheppard；　Don　Quixote；　Gil　Blas；　and　Charlotte　Temple…all　of　which　I　fed　upon　like　a　bookworm。

I　never　come　across　a　copy　of　any　of　those　works　without　feeling　a　certain　tenderness　for　the　yellow…haired　little　rascal　who　used　to　lean　above　the　magic　pages　hour　after　hour；　religiously　believing　every　word　he　read；　and　no　more　doubting　the　reality　of　Sindbad　the　Sailor；　or　the　Knight　of　the　Sorrowful　Countenance；　than　he　did　the　existence　of　his　own　grandfather。

Against　the　wall　at　the　foot　of　the　bed　hung　a　single…barrel　shot…gun…placed　there　by　Grandfather　Nutter；　who　knew　what　a　boy　loved；　if　ever　a　grandfather　did。　As　the　trigger　of　the　gun　had　been　accidentally　twisted　off；　it　was　not；　perhaps；　the　most　dangerous　weapon　that　could　be　placed　in　the　hands　of　youth。　In　this　maimed　condition　its　〃bump　of　destructiveness〃　was　much　less　than　that　of　my　small　brass　pocket…pistol；　which　I　at　once　proceeded　to　suspend　from　one　of　the　nails　supporting　the　fowling…piece；　for　my　vagaries　concerning　the　red　man　had　been　entirely　dispelled。

Having　introduced　the　reader　to　the　Nutter　House；　a　presentation　to　the　Nutter　family　naturally　follows。　The　family　consisted　of　my　grandfather；　his　sister；　Miss　Abigail　Nutter；　and　Kitty　Collins；　the　maid…of…all…work。

Grandfather　Nutter　was　a　hale；　cheery　old　gentleman；　as　straight　and　as　bald　as　an　arrow。　He　had　been　a　sailor　in　early　life；　that　is　to　say；　at　the　age　of　ten　years　he　fled　from　the　multiplication…table；　and　ran　away　to　sea。　A　single　voyage　satisfied　him。　There　never　was　but　one　of　our　family　who　didn't　run　away　to　sea；　and　this　one　died　at　his　birth。　My　grandfather　had　also　been　a　soldier…a　captain　of　militia　in　1812。　If　I　owe　the　British　nation　anything；　I　owe　thanks　to　that　particular　British　soldier　who　put　a　musket…ball　into　the　fleshy　part　of　Captain　Nutter's　leg；　causing　that　noble　warrior　a　slight　permanent　limp；　but　offsetting　the　injury　by　furnishing　him　with　the　material　for　a　story　which　the　old　gentleman　was　never　weary　of　telling　and　I　never　weary　of　listening　to。　The　story；　in　brief；　was　as　follows。

At　the　breaking　out　of　the　war；　an　English　frigate　lay　for　several　days　off　the　coast　near　Rivermouth。　A　strong　fort　defended　the　harbor；　and　a　regiment　of　minute…men；　scattered　at　various　points　along…shore；　stood　ready　to　repel　the　boats；　should　the　enemy　try　to　effect　a　landing。　Captain　Nutter　had　charge　of　a　slight　earthwork　just　outside　the　mouth　of　the　river。　Late　one　thick　night　the　sound　of　oars　was　heard；　the　sentinel　tried　to　fire　off　his　gun　at　half…cock；　and　couldn't；　when　Captain　Nutter　sprung　upon　the　parapet　in　the　pitch　darkness；　and　shouted；　〃Boat　ahoyl〃　A　musket…shot　immediately　embedded　itself　in　the　calf　of　his　leg。　The　Captain　tumbled　into　the　fort　and　the　boat；　which　had　probably　come　in　search　of　water；　pulled　back　to　the　frigate。

This　was　my　grandfather's　only　exploit　during　the　war。　That　his　prompt　and　bold　conduct　was　instrumental　in　teaching　the　enemy　the　hopelessness　of　attempting　to　conquer　such　a　people　was　among　the　firm　beliefs　of　my　boyhood。

At　the　time　I　came　to　Rivermouth　my　grandfather　had　retired　from　active　pursuits；　and　was　living　at　ease　on　his　money；　invested　principally　in　shipping。　He　bad　been　a　widower　many　years；　a　maiden　sister；　the　aforesaid　Miss　Abigail；　managing　his　household。　Miss　Abigail　also　managed　her　brother；　and　her　brother's　servant；　and　the　visitor　at　her　brother's　gate…not　in　a　tyrannical　spirit；　but　from　a　philanthropic　desire　to　be　useful　to　everybody。　In　person　she　was　tall　and　angular；　she　had　a　gray　complexion；　gray　eyes；　gray　eyebrows；　and　generally　wore　a　gray　dress。　Her　strongest　weak　point　was　a　belief　in　the　efficacy　of　〃hot…drops〃　as　a　cure　for　all　known　diseases。

If　there　were　ever　two　people　who　seemed　to　dislike　each　other；　Miss　Abigail　and　Kitty　Collins　were　those　people。　If　ever　two　people　really　loved　each　other；　Miss　Abigail　and　Kitty　Collins　were　those　people　also。　They　were　always　either　skirmishing　or　having　a　cup　of　tea　lovingly　together。

Miss　Abigail　was　very　fond　of　me；　and　so　was　Kitty；　and　in　the　course　of　their　disagreements　each　let　me　into　the　private　history　of　the　other。

According　to　Kitty；　it　was　not　originally　my　grandfather's　intention　to　have　Miss　Abigail　at　the　head　of　his　domestic　establishment。　She　had　swooped　down　on　him　（Kitty's　own　words）；　with　a　band…box　in　one　hand　and　a　faded　blue　cotton　umbrella；　still　in　existence；　in　the　other。　Clad　in　this　singular　garb…I　do　not　remember　that　Kitty　alluded　to…any　additional　peculiarity　of　dress…Miss　Abigail　bad　made　her　appearance　at　the　door　of　the　Nutter　House　on　the　morning　of　my　grandmother's　funeral。　The　small　amount　of　baggage　which　the　lady　brought　with　her　would　have　led　the　superficial　observer　to　infer　that　Miss　Abigail's　visit　was　limited　to　a　few　days。　I　run　ahead　of　my　story　in　saying　she　remained　seventeen　years！　How　much　longer　she　would　have　remained　can　never　be　definitely　known　now；　as　she　died　at　the　expiration　of　that　period。

Whether　or　not　my　grandfather　was　quite　pleased　by　this　unlooked…for　addition　to　his　family　is　a　problem。　He　was　very　kind　always　to　Miss　Abigail；　and　seldom　opposed　her；　though　I　think　she　must　have　tried　his　patience　sometimes；　especially　when　she　interfered　with　Kitty。

Kitty　Collins；　or　Mrs。　Catherine；　as　she　preferred　to　be　called；　was　descended　in　a　direct　line　from　an　extensive　family　of　kings　who　formerly　ruled　over　Ireland。　In　consequence　of　various　calamities；　among　which　the　failure　of　the　potato…crop　may　be　mentioned；　Miss　Kitty　Collins；　in　company　with　several　hundred　of　her　countrymen　and　countrywomen…also　descended　from　kings…came　over　to　America　in　an　emigrant　ship；　in　the　year　eighteen　hundred　and　something。

I　don't　know　what　freak　of　fortune　caused　the　royal　exile　to　turn　up　at　Rivermouth；　but　turn　up　she　did；　a　few　months　after　arriving　in　this　country；　and　was　hired　by　my　grandmother　to　do　〃general　housework〃　for　the　sum　of　four　shillings　and　six…pence　a　week。

Kitty　had　been　living　about　seven　years　in　my　grandfather's　family　when　she　unburdened　her　heart　of　a　secret　which　had　been　weighing　upon　it　all　that　time。　It　may　be　said　of　people；　as　it　is　said　of　nations；　　〃Happy　are　they　that　have　no　history。〃　Kitty　had　a　history；　and　a　pathetic　one；　I　think。

On　board　the　emigrant　ship　that　brought　her　to　America；　she　became　acquainted　with　a　sailor；　who；　being　touched　by　Kitty's　forlorn　condition；　was　very　good　to　her。　Long　before　the　end　of　the　voyage；　which　had　been　tedious　and　perilous；　she　was　heartbroken　at　the　thought　of　separating　from　her　kindly　protector；　but　they　were　not　to　part　just　yet；　for　the　sailor　returned　Kitty's　affection；　and　the　two　were　married　on　their　arrival　at　port。　Kitty's　husband…she　would　never　mention　his　name；　but　kept　it　locked　in　her　bosom　like　some　precious　relic…had　a　considerable　sum　of　money　when　the　crew　were　paid　off；　and　the　young　couple…for　Kitty　was　young　then…lived　very　happily　in　a　lodging…house　on　South　Street；　near　the　docks。　This　was　in　New　York。

The　days　flew　by　like　hours；　and　the　stocking　in　which　the　little　bride　kept　the　funds　shrunk　and　shrunk；　until　at　last　there　were　only　three　or　four　dollars　left　in　the　toe　of　it。　Then　Kitty　was　troubled；　for　she　knew　her　sailor　would　have　to　go　to　sea　again　unless　he　could　get　employment　on　shore。　This　he　endeavored　to　do；　but　not　with　much　success。　One　morning　as　usual　he　kissed　her　good　day；　and　set　out　in　search　of　work。

〃Kissed　me　goodby；　and　called　me　his　little　Irish　lass；〃