back home-第25部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


a　little　hop　up；　and　they　still　bang　him　on　the　head　with　the　paper…covered　hoop　to　　。　。　。　。　Hold　on　a　minute。　　Now。

Now　。　　。　　。　　That　story　the　clown　told　that　was　so　funny；　that　had　something　to　do　with　those　hoops。　　I　wish　I　could　think　of　it。　　It　would　make　you　laugh；　I　know。

People　try　to　lay　the　blame　of　the　modern　circus's　failure　to　interest　them　on　the　three　rings。　　They　say　so　many　things　to　watch　at　once　keeps　them　from　being　watching　properly　any　one　act。　　They　can't　give　it　the　attention　it　deserves。　　But　I'll　tell　you　what's　wrong：　　There　isn't　any　Funny　Old　Clown；　a　particular　one；　to　give　it　human　interest。　　It　is　all　too　splendid；　too　magnificent；　too　far　beyond　us。　　We　want　to　hear　somebody　talk　once　in　awhile。

They　pretended　that　the　tent　was　too　big　for　the　clown　to　be　heard；　but　I　take　notice　it　wasn't　too　big　for　the　fellow　to　get　up　and　declaim　〃The　puffawmance　ees　not　yait　hawf　ovah。　　The　jaintlemanly　agents　will　now　pawss　around　the　ring　with　tickets　faw　the　concert。〃　I　used　to　hate　that　man。　　When　he　said　the　performance　was　not　yet　half　over；　he　lied　like　a　dog；　consarn　his　picture！　　There　were　only　a　few　more　acts　to　come。　　He　knew　it　and　we　knew　it。　　We　wanted　the　show　to　go　on　and　on；　and　always　to　be　just　as　exciting　as　at　the　very　first；　and　it　wouldn't！　　We　had　got　to　the　point　where　we　couldn't　be　interested　in　anything　any　more。　　We　were　as　little　ones　unable　to　prop　their　eyelids　open　and　yet　quarreling　with　bed。　We　were　surfeited；　but　not　satisfied。　　We　sat　there　and　pouted　because　there　wasn't　any　more；　and　yet　we　couldn't　but　yawn　at　the　act　before　us。　　We　were　mad　at　ourselves；　and　mad　at　everybody　else。　We　clambered　down　the　rattling　bedslats　seats；　sour　and　sullen。　　We　didn't　want　to　look　at　the　animals；　we　didn't　want　to　do　this；　and　we　didn't　want　to　do　that。　　We　whined　and　snarled；　and　wriggled　and　shook　ourselves　with　temper；　and　we　got　a　good　hard　slap；　side　of　the　head；　right　before　everybody；　and　then　we　yelled　as　if　we　were　being　killed　alive。

〃Now；　mister；　if　I　ever　take　you　any　place　again；　you'll　know　it。　I'd　be　ashamed　of　myself　if　I　was　you。　　Hush　up！　　Hush　up；　I　tell　you。　　Now　you　mark。　　You're　never　going　to　the　show　again。　　Do　you　hear　me？　　Never！　I　mean　it。　　You're　never　going　again。〃

But　at　eventide　there　was　light。　　After　supper；　after　a　little　rest　and　a　good　deal　of　food；　while　chopping　the　kindling　for　morning　（it's　wonderful　how　useful　employ　tends　to　induce　a　cheerful　view　of　life）　out　of　her　dazzling　treasure…heap　of　jewels；　Memory　took　up；　one　after　another；　a　glowing　recollection　and　viewed　it　with　delight。　　The　evening　performance；　the　one　all　lighted　up　with　bunches　and　bunches　of　lights；　was　a…preparing；　and　in　the　gentle　breeze　the　far…off　music　waved　as　it　had　been　a　flag。　　A　harsh　and　rumbling　noise　as　of　heavy　timbers　falling　tore　through　the　tissue　of　sweet　sounds。　　The　horses　in　the　barn　next　door　screamed　in　their　stalls　to　hear　it。　　Ages　and　ages　ago；　on　distant　wind…swept　plains　their　ancestors　had　hearkened　to　that　hunting…cry；　and　summoned　up　their　valor　and　their　speed。　　It　still　thrilled　in　the　blood　of　these　patient　slaves　of　man；　though　countless　generations　of　them　had　never　even　so　much　as　seen　a　lion。

〃And　is　that　all　the　difference；　pa；　that　the　lion　roars　at　night　and　the　ostrich　in　the　daytime？〃

Out　on　the　back　porch　in　the　deepening　dusk　we　sat；　with　eyes　relaxed　and　dreaming；　and　watched　the　stars　that　powdered　the　dark　sky。　　Before　our　inward　vision　passed　in　review　the　day　of　splendor　and　renown。　　We　sighed；　at　last；　but　it　was　the　happy　sigh　of　him　who　has　full　dined。　　Ambition　was　digesting。　　In　our　turn；　when　we　grew　up；　we；　too；　were　to　do　the　deeds　of　high　emprise。　　We　were　to　be　somebody。

（I　never　heard　of　anybody　sitting　up　to　see　the　show　depart。　　And　yet　it　seems　to　me　that　would　be　the　best　time　to　run　off　with　it。）

The　next　day　we　visited　the　lots。　　It　was　no　dream。　　See　the　litter　that　mussed　up　the　place。

We　were　all　there。　　None　had　heard　the　man　that　runs　the　show　say　genially：　〃Yes；　I　think　we　can　arrange　to　take　you　with　us。〃　　Here　was　the　ring；　here　the　tent…pole　holes；　and　here　a　scrap　of　paper　torn　from　a　hoop　the　bareback　rider　leaped　through　。　。　。　。　　Oh；　now　I　know　what　I　was　going　to　tell　you　that　the　clown　said。　　The　comicalest　thing！

He　picked　up　one　of　these　hoops　and　began　to　sniffle。

So　the　ring…master　asked　him　what　he　was　crying　about。

〃I　…　I　…was　thinking　of　my　mother。　　Smf！　　My　good　old　mother！〃

So　the　ring…master　asked　him　what　made　him　think　of　his　mother。

〃This。〃　　And　he　held　up　the　paper…covered　hoop。

The　ring…master　couldn't　see　how　that　put　the　clown　in　mind　of　his　mother。　　He　was　awful　dumb；　that　man。

〃It　looks　just　like　the　pancakes　she　used　to　make　for　us。〃

Well；　sir；　we　just　hollered　and　laughed　at　that。　　And　after　we　had　quieted　down　a　little；　the　ringmaster　says：　〃As　big　as　that？〃

〃Bigger；〃　says　the　clown。　　〃Why；　she　used　to　make　'em　so　big　we　used　'em　for　bedclothes。〃

〃Indeed〃　　（Just　like　that。　　He　took　it　all　in；　just　as　if　it　was　so。）

〃Oh；　my；　yes！　　I　mind　one　time　I　was　sleeping　with　my　little　brother；　and　I　waked　up　just　as　cold　…　Brr！　　But　I　was　cold！〃

〃But　how　could　that　be；　sir？　　You　just　now　said　you　had　pancakes　for　bedclothes。〃

〃Yes；　but　my　little　brother　got　hungry　in　the　night；　and　et　up　all　the　cover。〃

Laugh？　　Why；　they　screamed。　　Me？　　I　thought　I'd　just　about　go　up。　But　the　ring　master　never　cracked　a　smile。　　He　didn't　see　the　joke　at　all。

Good…by；　old　clown；　friend　of　our　childhood；　goodby；　good…by　forever！　　And　you；　our　other　friend；　the　street　parade；　must　you　go；　too？　　And　you；　the　gorgeous　show…bills；　must　you　tread　the　path　toward　the　sundown？　　Good…by！　　Good…by！　　In　that　dreary　land　where　you　are　going；　the　Kingdom　of　the　Ausgespielt；　it　may　comfort　you　to　recollect　the　young　hearts　you　have　made　happy　in　the　days　that　were；　but　never　more　can　be　again。




THE　COUNTY　FAIR


Whether　or　not　the　name　had　an　influence　on　the　weather；　I　don't　know。　　Perhaps　it　did　rain　some　years；　but；　as　I　remember；　County　Fair　time　seems　to　have　had　a　sky　perfectly　cloudless；　with　its　blue　only　a　little　dulled　around　the　edges　where　it　came　close　to　the　ground　and　the　dust　settled　on　it。　　Things　far　off　were　sort　of　hazy；　but　that　might　have　been　the　result　of　the　bonfires　of　leaves　we　had　been　having　evenings　after　supper。　　In　Fair　weather；　when　the　sun　had　been　up　long　enough　to　get　a　really　good　start；　it　was　right　warm；　but　in　the　shade　it　was　cool；　and　nights　and　mornings　there　was　a　chill　in　the　air　that　threatened　worse　things　to　come。

The　harvest　is　past；　the　summer　is　ended。　　Down　cellar　the　swing…shelf　is　cram…jam　full　of　jellyglasses；　and　jars　of　fruit。　Out　on　the　hen…house　roof　are　drying　what；　when　the　soap…box　wagon　was　first　built；　promised　barrels　and　barrels　of　nuts　to　be　brought　up　with　the　pitcher　of　cider　for　our　comforting　in　the　long　winter　evenings；　but　what　turns　out；　when　the　shucks　are　off；　to　be　a　poor；　pitiful　half…peck；　daily　depleted　by　the　urgent　necessity　of　finding　out　if　they　are　dry　enough　yet。　　Folks　are　picking　apples；　and　Koontz's　cider…mill　is　in　full　operation。　　（Do　you　know　any　place　where　a　fellow　can　get　some　nice　long　straws？）　　Out　in　the　fields　are　champagne…colored　pyramids；　each　with　a　pale…gold　heap　of　corn　beside　it；　and　the　good　black　earth　is　dotted　with　orange　blobs　that　promise　pumpkin…pies　for　Thanksgiving　Day。　　No。　　Let　me　look　again。　　Those　aren't　pie…pumpkins；　those　are　cow…pumpkins；　and　if　you　want　to　see　something　kind　of　pitiful；　I'll　show　you　Abe　Bethard　chopping　up　one　of　those　yellow　globes　…with　what；　do　you　suppose？　　With　the　cavalry　saber　his　daddy　used　at　Gettysburg。

The　harvest　is　past；　the　summer　is　ended。　　As　a　result　of　all　the　good　feeding　and　the　outdoor　air　we　have　had　for　three　or　four　months　past；　the　strawberry　shortcakes；　and　cherry…pies；　and　green　peas；　and　new　potatoes；　and　string　beans；　and　roasting…ears；　and　all　such　garden…stuff；　and　the　fresh　eggs；　broken　into　the　skillet　before　Speckle　gets　done　cackling；　and　the　cockerels　we　pick　off　the　roost　Saturday　evenings　（you　see；　we're　thinning　'em　out；　no　sense　in　keeping　all　of　'em　over　winter）　…　as　a　result；　I　say；　of　all　this　good　eating；　and　the　outdoor　life；　and　the　necessity　of　stirring　around　a　little　lively　these　days　we　feel　pretty　good。　　And　yet　we　get　kind　of　low　in　our　minds；　too。　　The　harvest　is　past；　the　summer　is　ended。　　It's　gone；　the　good　playtime　when　we　didn't　have　to　go　to　school；　when　the　only　foot…covering　we　wore　was　a　rag　around　one　big　toe　or　the　other；　the　days　when　we　could　stay　in　swimming　all　day　long　except　mealtimes；　the　days　of　Sabbath…school　picnics　and　excursions　to　the　Soldiers'　Home　…　it's　gone。　　The　harvest　is　past；　the　summer　is　ended。　　The　green　and　leafy　things　have　heard　the　word；　and　most　of　them　are　taking　it　pretty　seriously；　judging　by　their　looks。　　But　the　maples　and　some　more　of　them；　particularly　the　maples；　with　daredevil　recklessness；　have　resolved；　as　it　were；　to　die　with　their　boots　on；　and　flame　out　in　such　violent　and　unbelievable　colors　that　we　feel　obliged　to　take　testimony　in　certain　outrageous　cases；　and　file　away　the　exhibits　in　the　Family　Bible　where　nobody　will　bother　them。　　The　harvest　is　past；　the　summer　is　ended。　　Rainy　days　you　can　see　how　played…out　and　forlorn　the　whole　world　looks。　　But　at　Fair　time；　when　the　sun　shines　bright；　it　appears　right　cheerful。

It　seems　to　me　the　Fair　lasted　three　days。　　One　of　them　was　a　holiday　from　school；　I　know；　and　unless　I'm　wrong；　it　wasn't　on　the　first　day；　because　then　they　were　getting　the　things　in；　and　it　wasn't　on　the　last　day；　because　then　they　were　taking　the　things　out；　so　it　must　have　been　on　the　middle　day；　when　everybody　went。　Charley　Wells　had　both　the　depot　'buses　out　with　〃County　FAIR〃　painted　on　muslin　hung　on　the　sides。　　The　Cornet　Band　rode　all　round　town　in　one；　and　so　on　over　to　the　〃scene　of　the　festivities〃　as　the　Weekly　Examiner　very　aptly　put　it；　and　then　both　'buses　stood　out　in　front　of　the　American　House；　waiting　for　passengers；　with　Dinny　Enright　calling　out：　〃This　sway　t'　the　Fair　Groun's！　　Going　RIGHT　over！〃　　Only　he　always　waited　till　he　got　a　good　load