the professor at the breakfast table-第10章

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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

arrived。　　Let　me　give　an　infinitesimal　illustration。



One　of　the　Boys　mentioned；　the　other　evening；　in　the　course　of　a　very

pleasant　poem　he　read　us；　a　little　trick　of　the　Commons…table

boarders；　which　I；　nourished　at　the　parental　board；　had　never　heard

of。　　Young　fellows　being　always　hungryAllow　me　to　stop　dead…short；

in　order　to　utter　an　aphorism　which　has　been　forming　itself　in　one　of

the　blank　interior　spaces　of　my　intelligence；　like　a　crystal　in　the

cavity　of　a　geode。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Aphorism　by　the　Professor。



In　order　to　know　whether　a　human　being　is　young　or　old；　offer　it　food

of　different　kinds　at　short　intervals。　　If　young；　it　will　eat

anything　at　any　hour　of　the　day　or　night。　　If　old；　it　observes　stated

periods；　and　you　might　as　well　attempt　to　regulate　the　time　of

highwater　to　suit　a　fishing…party　as　to　change　these　periods。

The　crucial　experiment　is　this。　　Offer　a　bulky　and　boggy　bun　to　the

suspected　individual　just　ten　minutes　before　dinner。　　If　this　is

eagerly　accepted　and　devoured；　the　fact　of　youth　is　established。　　If

the　subject　of　the　question　starts　back　and　expresses　surprise　and

incredulity；　as　if　you　could　not　possibly　be　in　earnest；　the　fact　of

maturity　is　no　less　clear。





Excuse　me；I　return　to　my　story　of　the　Commons…table。　Young

fellows　being　always　hungry；　and　tea　and　dry　toast　being　the　meagre

fare　of　the　evening　meal；　it　was　a　trick　of　some　of　the　Boys　to

impale　a　slice　of　meat　upon　a　fork；　at　dinner…time；　and　stick　the

fork　holding　it　beneath　the　table；　so　that　they　could　get　it　at　tea…

time。　　The　dragons　that　guarded　this　table　of　the　Hesperides　found

out　the　trick　at　last；　and　kept　a　sharp　look…out　for　missing　forks；

they　knew　where　to　find　one；　if　it　was　not　in　its　place。　Now　the

odd　thing　was；　that；　after　waiting　so　many　years　to　hear　of　this

college　trick；　I　should　hear　it　mentioned　a　second　time　within　the

same　twenty…four　hours　by　a　college　youth　of　the　present　generation。

Strange；　but　true。　　And　so　it　has　happened　to　me　and　to　every　person；

often　and　often；　to　be　hit　in　rapid　succession　by　these　twinned　facts

or　thoughts；　as　if　they　were　linked　like　chain…shot。



I　was　going　to　leave　the　simple　reader　to　wonder　over　this；　taking　it

as　an　unexplained　marvel。　　I　think；　however；　I　will　turn　over　a

furrow　of　subsoil　in　it。　The　explanation　is；　of　course；　that　in　a

great　many　thoughts　there　must　be　a　few　coincidences；　and　these

instantly　arrest　our　attention。　　Now　we　shall　probably　never　have　the

least　idea　of　the　enormous　number　of　impressions　which　pass　through

our　consciousness；　until　in　some　future　life　we　see　the　photographic

record　of　our　thoughts　and　the　stereoscopic　picture　of　our　actions。

There　go　more　pieces　to　make　up　a　conscious　life　or　a　living　body

than　you　think　for。　　Why；　some　of　you　were　surprised　when　a　friend　of

mine　told　you　there　were　fifty…eight　separate　pieces　in　a　fiddle。

How　many　〃swimming　glands〃solid；　organized；　regularly　formed；

rounded　disks　taking　an　active　part　in　all　your　vital　processes；　part

and　parcel；　each　one　of　them；　of　your　corporeal　beingdo　you　suppose

are　whirled　along；　like　pebbles　in　a　stream；　with　the　blood　which

warms　your　frame　and　colors　your　cheeks？A　noted　German　physiologist

spread　out　a　minute　drop　of　blood；　under　the　microscope；　in　narrow

streaks；　and　counted　the　globules；　and　then　made　a　calculation。　　The

counting　by　the　micrometer　took　him　a　week。　You　have；　my　full…grown

friend；　of　these　little　couriers　in　crimson　or　scarlet　livery；

running　on　your　vital　errands　day　and　night　as　long　as　you　live；

sixty…five　billions；　five　hundred　and　seventy　thousand　millions。

Errors　excepted。　Did　I　hear　some　gentleman　say；　〃Doubted？　〃I　am

the　Professor。　　I　sit　in　my　chair　with　a　petard　under　it　that　will

blow　me　through　the　skylight　of　my　lecture…room；　if　I　do　not　know

what　I　am　talking　about　and　whom　I　am　quoting。



Now；　my　dear　friends；　who　are　putting　your　hands　to　your　foreheads；

and　saying　to　yourselves　that　you　feel　a　little　confused；　as　if　you

had　been　waltzing　until　things　began　to　whirl　slightly　round　you；　is

it　possible　that　you　do　not　clearly　apprehend　the　exact　connection　of

all　that　I　have　been　saying；　and　its　bearing　on　what　is　now　to　come？

Listen；　then。　　The　number　of　these　living　elements　in　our　bodies

illustrates　the　incalculable　multitude　of　our　thoughts；　the　number　of

our　thoughts　accounts　for　those　frequent　coincidences　spoken　of；

these　coincidences　in　the　world　of　thought　illustrate　those　which　we

constantly　observe　in　the　world　of　outward　events；　of　which　the

presence　of　the　young　girl　now　at　our　table；　and　proving　to　be　the

daughter　of　an　old　acquaintance　some　of　us　may　remember；　is　the

special　example　which　led　me　through　this　labyrinth　of　reflections；

and　finally　lands　me　at　the　commencement　of　this　young　girl's　story；

which；　as　I　said；　I　have　found　the　time　and　felt　the　interest　to

learn　something　of；　and　which　I　think　I　can　tell　without　wronging　the

unconscious　subject　of　my　brief　delineation。







IRIS。



You　remember；　perhaps；　in　some　papers　published　awhile　ago；　an　odd

poem　written　by　an　old　Latin　tutor？　　He　brought　up　at　the　verb　amo；　I

love；　as　all　of　us　do；　and　by　and　by　Nature　opened　her　great　living

dictionary　for　him　at　the　word　；　filia；　a　daughter。　　The　poor　man　was

greatly　perplexed　in　choosing　a　name　for　her。　　Lucretia　and　Virginia

were　the　first　that　he　thought　of；　but　then　came　up　those　pictured

stories　of　Titus　Livius；　which　he　could　never　read　without　crying；

though　he　had　read　them　a　hundred　times。



Lucretia　sending　for　her　husband　and　her　father；　each　to　bring　one

friend　with　him；　and　awaiting　them　in　her　chamber。　　To　them　her

wrongs　briefly。　　Let　them　see　to　the　wretch；she　will　take　care　of

herself。　　Then　the　hidden　knife　flashes　out　and　sinks　into　her　heart。

She　slides　from　her　seat；　and　falls　dying。　　〃Her　husband　and　her

father　cry　aloud。〃No