back home-第27部分

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You'll　just　have　to　take　me　gently　but　firmly　by　the　sleeve　and　lead　me　past　the　next　exhibit；　the　noisy　one；　where　there's　so　much　cackling　and　crowing。　　I　give　you　fair　warning　that　if　you　get　me　started　talking　about　chickens；　the　County　Fair　will　have　to　wait　till　some　other　time。　　I　don't　know　much　about　ducks；　and　geese；　and　guinea…hens；　and　pea…fowl；　and　turkeys；　but　chickens　…　Why；　say。　　We　had　a　hen　once　（Plymouth　Rock　she　was；　we　called　her　Henrietta）；　and　honestly；　that　hen　knew　more　than　some　folks。　　One　time　she　…　all　right。　　I'll　hush。　　Let's　go　in　here。

I　don't　remember　whether　the　pies；　and　cakes；　and　canned　fruit；　and　such　are　in　Pomona　Hall　or　the　Fine　Arts　Hall。　　Fine　Arts　Hall　I　think。　　They　ought　to　be。　　I　speak　to　be　one　of　the　judges　that　give　out　the　premiums　in　this　department。　　I'd　be　generous　and　let　somebody　else　do　the　judging　of　the　cakes；　because　I　don't　care　much　for　cake。　　Oh；　I　can　manage　to　choke　it　down；　but　I　haven't　the　expert　knowledge；　practical　and　scientific；　that　I　have　in　the　matter　of　pie。　　I'd　bear　my　share　of　the　work　when　it　came　to　the　other　things；　jellies　and　preserves；　and　pies；　but　not　cake。　Wouldn't　know　just　exactly　how　to　go　at　it　in　the　matter　of　jellies。　I'd　take　a　glass　of　currant；　and　hold　it　up　to　the　light　to　note　its　crimson　glory。　　And　I'd　lift　off　the　waxed　paper　top　and　peer　in；　and　maybe　give　the　jelly　a　shake。　　And　then　I'd　take　a　spoon　and　taste；　closing　my　eyes　so　as　to　appear　to　deliberate　…　they'd　roll　up　in　an　ecstacy　anyhow　…　and　I'd　smack　my　lips；　and　say：　〃Mmmmm！〃　very　thoughtfully；　and　set　the　glass　back；　and　write　down　in　my　book　my　judgment；　which　would　invariably　be：　〃First　Prize。〃　Because　if　there　is　anything　on　top　of　this　green　earth　that　I　think　is　just　about　right；　it　is　currant　jelly。　　Grape　jelly　is　nice；　and　crab…apple　jelly　has　its　good　points；　and　quince　jelly　is　very　delicate；　but　there　is　something　about　currant　jelly　that　seems　to　touch　the　spot。　　Quince　preserves　are　good　if　there　is　enough　apple　with　the　quince；　and　watermelon　preserves　are　a　great　favorite；　not　because　they　are　so　much　better　tasting；　but　because　the　lucent　golden　cubes　in　the　spicy　syrup　appeal　so　to　the　eye。　　But　if　you　want　to　know　what　I　think　is　really　good　eating　in　the　preserve　line；　you　just　watch　my　motions　when　I　come　to　the　tomato　preserves；　these　little　fig…tomatoes；　and　see　how　quick　the　red　card　is　put　on　them。　　Yes；　indeed。　　It's　been　a　long　time；　hasn't　it？　　since　you　had　any　tomato…preserves；　you　that　haven't　been　〃Back　Home〃　lately。

It's　no　great　trick　to　put　up　other　fruit　so　that　it　will　keep；　but　I'd　look　the　canned　tomatoes　over　pretty　carefully；　and　if　I　saw　that　one　lady　had　not　only　put　them　up　so　that　they　hadn't　turned　foamy；　but　had　also　succeeded　with　green　corn；　and　that　other　poser；　string　beans；　I'd　give　her　first　premium；　because　I'd　know　she　was　a　first…rate　housekeeper；　and　a　careful　woman；　and　one　that　deserved　encouragement。

But　I'd　save　myself　for　the　pies。　　I　can　tell　a　rich；　short；　flaky　crust；　and　I　can　tell　the　kind　that　is　as　brown　as　a　dried　apple；　and　tough　as　the　same　on　the　top；　and　sad　and　livery　on　the　bottom。　And　I　know　about　fillings；　how　thick　they　ought　to　be；　and　how　they　ought　to　be　seasoned；　and　all。　　Particularly　pumpkin…pies；　because　I　had　early　advantages　that　way　that　very　few　other　boys　had。　　I　was　allowed　to　scrape　the　crock　that　had　held　the　pumpkin　for　the　pies。　　So　that's　how　I　know　as　much　as　I　do。

I　suppose；　however；　when　all　is　said　and　done；　that　there　is　no　pie　that　can　quite　come　up　to　an　apple…pie。　　You　take　nice；　short　crust　that's　been　worked　up　with　ice…water；　and　line　the　tin　with　it；　and　fill　it　heaping　with　sliced；　tart　apples　…not　sauce。　　Mercy；　no！　…　and　sweeten　them　just　right；　and　put　on　a　lump　of　butter；　and　some　allspice；　and　perhaps　a　clove；　and　a　little　lemon　peel；　and　then　put　on　the　cover；　and　trim　off　the　edge；　and　pinch　it　up　in　scallops；　and　draw　a　couple　of　leaves　in　the　top　with　a　sharp　knife；　and　have　the　oven　just　right；　and　set　it　in　there；　and　I　tell　you　that　when　ma　opens　the　oven…door　to　see　how　the　pie　is　coming　on；　there　distils　through　the　house　such　a　perfume　that　you　cry　out　in　a　choking　voice：　〃Say！　　Ain't　dinner　'most　ready？〃

But　I　fully　recognize　the　fact　that　very　often　our　judgment　is　warped　by　feeling；　and　I　am　inclined　to　believe　that　even　the　undoubted　merit　of　the　apple…pie　would　not　prevail　against　a　vinegar…pie；　if　such　should　be　presented　to　me　for　my　decision。　A　vinegar…pie？　　Well；　it　has　a　top　and　bottom　crust；　the　same　as　any　other　pie；　but　its　filling　is　made　of　vinegar；　diluted　with　water　to　the　proper　degree　of　sub…acidity；　sweetened　with　molasses；　thickened　with　flour；　and　all　baked　as　any　other　pie。　　You　smile　at　its　crude　simplicity；　and　wonder　why　I　should　favor　it。　　To　you　it　doesn't　tell　the　story　that　it　does　to　me。　　It　doesn't　take　you　back　in　imagination　to　〃the　airly　days；〃　when　folks　came　over　the　mountains　in　covered　wagons；　and　settled　in　the　Western　Reserve；　leaving　behind　them　all　the　civilization　of　their　day；　and　its　comforts；　parting　from　relatives　and　friends；　knowing　full　well　that　in　this　life　they　never　more　should　look　upon　their　faces　…　leaving　everything　behind　to　make　a　new　home　in　the　western　wilds。

Is　was　a　land　of　promise　that　they　came　to。　　The　virgin　soil　bore　riotously。　　There　were　fruit…trees　in　the　forest　that　Johnny　Appleseed　had　planted　on　his　journeyings。　　The　young　husband　could　stand　in　his　dooryard　and　kill　wild　turkeys　with　his　rifle。　They　fed　to　loathing　on　venison；　and　squirrels；　and　all　manner　of　game；　and　once　in　a　great　while　they　had　the　luxury　of　salt　pork。　They　were　well…nourished；　but　sometimes　they　pined　for　that　which　was　more　than　mere　food。　　They　hungered　for　that　which　should　be　to　the　meals'　victuals　what　the　flower　is　to　the　plant。

〃I　whoosh't　…　I　woosh't　was　so　we　could　hev　pie；〃　sighed　one　such。　（Let　us　call　him　Uriah　Kinney。　　I　think　that　sounds　as　if　it　were　his　name。

〃Land's　sakes！〃　snapped　his　wife；　exasperated　that　he　should　be　thinking　of　the　same　thing　that　she　was。　　〃Land's　sakes！　　Haow　d'　ye　s'pose　I　kin　make　a　pie　when　I　hain't　got　e'er　a　thing　to　make　it　aout　o'？　　You　gimme　suthirnn　to　make　it　aout　o'；　an'　you　see　haow　quick　…　〃

〃I　ain't　a…faultinn　ye；　Mary　Ann；〃　interposed　Uriah　gently。　　〃I　know　haow　't　is。　　I　was　on'y　tellin'　ye。　　I　git　I　git　a　kind　o'　hum'sick　sometimes。　　'Pears　like　as　if　I　sh'd　feel　more　resigned　like　。　。　。　。　Don't　ye　cry；　Mary　Ann。　　I　know；　I　know。　　You　feel　julluk　I　do　'baout　back　home；　an'　all　luk　that。〃

O　woman！　　When　the　heft　of　thy　intellect　is　thrown　against　a　problem；　something　has　got　to　give。　　Not　long　after；　Uriah　sits　down　to　dinner；　and　can　hardly　ask　a　blessing；　he　has　to　swallow　so。　　A　pie　is　on　the　table！

〃Gosh；　Mary　Ann；　but　this　is　good！〃　says　he；　holding　out　his　hand　for　the　third　piece。　　〃This　is　lickinn　good！〃　　And　he　celebrates　her　achievement　far　and　wide。

〃My　Mary　Ann　med　me　a　pie　t'　other　day；　was　the　all…firedest　best　pie　I　ever　et。〃

〃Med　you　what？〃

〃Med　me　a　pie。〃

〃Pie？　　Whutch　talkinn'　baout？　　Can't　git　nummore　pies　naow。　　Frot　's　all　gin　aout。〃

〃I　golly；　she　med　it　just　the　same。　　Smartest　woman　y'　ever　see。〃　The　man　dribbled　at　the　mouth。

〃What　sh'　make　it　aout　o'？〃

〃Vinegar　an'　worter；　I　think　she　said。　　I　d'　know　's　I　ever　et　anythinn　I　relished　julluk　that。　　My　Mary　Ann；　tell　yew！　　She's　'baout's　smart　's　they　make　'em。〃

I　wish　I　knew　who　she　really　was　whom　I　have　called　Mary　Ann　Kinney；　she　that　made　the　first　vinegar…pie。　　I　wish　I　knew　where　her　grave　is　that　I　might　lay　upon　it　a　bunch　of　flowers；　such　as　she　knew　and　liked　…　sweet…william；　and　phlox；　and　larkspur；　and　wild　columbine。　　It　couldn't　make　it　up　to　her　for　all　the　hardships　she　underwent　when　she　was　bringing　up　a　family　in　that　wild；　western　country；　and　especially　that　fall　when　they　all　had　the　〃fever　'n'　ager〃　so　bad；　Uriah　and　the　twins　chilling　one　day；　and　Hiram　and　Sophronia　Jane　the　next；　and　she　just　as　miserable　as　any　of　them；　but　keeping　up　somehow；　God　only　knows　how。　　It　couldn't　make　it　up　to　her；　but　as　I　laid　the　pretty　posies　against　the　leaning　headstone　on　which　is　written：

　　　〃A　Loving　Wife　；　a　Mother　Dear；　　　　　Faithful　Friend　Lies　Buried　Here。〃

I　believe　she　'd　get　word　of　it　somehow；　and　understand　what　I　was　trying　to　say　by　it。

I'll　ask　to　be　let　off　the　committee　that　judges　the　rest　of　the　exhibits　in　the　Fine　Arts　Hall；　the　quilts　and　the　Battenberg；　and　the　crocheting；　and　such。　　I　know　the　Log　Cabin　pattern；　and　the　Mexican　Feather　pattern；　and　I　think　I　could　make　out　to　tell　the　Hen…and…Chickens　pattern　of　quilts；　but　that's　as　much　as　ever。　And　as　to　the　real；　hand…painted　views　of　fruit…cake；　and　grapes　and　apples　on　a　red　table…cloth；　I　am　one　of　those　that　can't　make　allowances　for　the　fact　that　she　only　took　two　terms。　　I　call　to　mind　one　picture　that　Miss　Alvalou　Ashbaker　made　of　her　pap；　old　〃Coonrod〃　Ashbaker。　　The　Lord　knows　he　was　a　〃humbly　critter；〃　but　he　wasn't　as　〃humbly〃　as　she　made　him　out　to　be；　with　his　eyes　bulging　out　of　his　head　as　if　he　was　choking　on　a　fishbone。　　And；　instead　of　her　dressing　him　up　in　his　Sunday　clothes；　I　wish　I　may　never　see　the　back　of　my　neck　if　that　girl　didn't　paint　him　in　a　red…and…black　barred　flannel　shirt；　with　porcelain　buttons　on　it！　And　his　hair　looked　as　if　the　calf　had　been　at　it。　　Wouldn't　you　think　somebody　would　have　told　her？　　And　that　isn't　all。　　She　got　the　premium！

Neither　am　I　prepared　to　pass　judgment　on　the　fancy　penmanship　displayed　by　Professor　Swope；　framed　elegantly　in　black　walnut；　and　gilt；　depicting　a　bounding　deer；　all　made　out　of　hair…line；　shaded　spirals；　done　with　his　facile　pen。　　（No　wonder　a　deer　can　jump　so；　with　all　those　springs　inside　him。）　　Professor　Swope　writes　visiting　cards　for　you；　wonderful　birds　done　in　flourishes　and　holding　ribbons　in　their　bills。　　He　puts　your　name　on　the　ribbon　place。　Neatest　and　tastiest　thing　you　can　imagine。　　I　like　to　watch　him　do　it；　but　it　makes　me　feel　unhappy；　somehow。　　I　never　was　much　of　a　scribe；　and　it's　too　late　for　me　to　learn　now。

I　don't　feel　so　downcast　when　I　examine　the　specimens　of　writing　done　by　the　children　of　District　No。　34。　　I　ca