英语天堂-第33部分

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“Well；　I　know　pretty　well　where　to；”　said　the　senator；　beginning　to　put　on　his　boots；　with　a　reflective　air；　and；　stopping　when　his　leg　was　half　in；　he　embraced　his　knee　with　both　hands；　and　seemed　to　go　off　in　deep　meditation。
“It’s　a　confounded　awkward；　ugly　business；”　said　he；　at　last；　beginning　to　tug　at　his　boot…straps　again；　“and　that’s　a　fact！”　After　one　boot　was　fairly　on；　the　senator　sat　with　the　other　in　his　hand；　profoundly　studying　the　figure　of　the　carpet。　“It　will　have　to　be　done；　though；　for　aught　I　see；—hang　it　all！”　and　he　drew　the　other　boot　anxiously　on；　and　looked　out　of　the　window。
Now；　little　Mrs。　Bird　was　a　discreet　woman；—a　woman　who　never　in　her　life　said；　“I　told　you　so！”　and；　on　the　present　ocomasion；　though　pretty　well　aware　of　the　shape　her　husband’s　meditations　were　taking；　she　very　prudently　forbore　to　meddle　with　them；　only　sat　very　quietly　in　her　chair；　and　looked　quite　ready　to　hear　her　liege　lord’s　intentions；　when　he　should　think　proper　to　utter　them。
“You　see；”　he　said；　“there’s　my　old　client；　Van　Trompe；　has　come　over　from　Kentucky；　and　set　all　his　slaves　free；　and　he　has　bought　a　place　seven　miles　up　the　creek；　here；　back　in　the　woods；　where　nobody　goes；　unless　they　go　on　purpose；　and　it’s　a　place　that　isn’t　found　in　a　hurry。　There　she’d　be　safe　enough；　but　the　plague　of　the　thing　is；　nobody　could　drive　a　carriage　there　tonight；　but　me。”
“Why　not？　Cudjoe　is　an　excellent　driver。”
“Ay；　ay；　but　here　it　is。　The　creek　has　to　be　crossed　twice；　and　the　second　crossing　is　quite　dangerous；　unless　one　knows　it　as　I　do。　I　have　crossed　it　a　hundred　times　on　horseback；　and　know　exactly　the　turns　to　take。　And　so；　you　see；　there’s　no　help　for　it。　Cudjoe　must　put　in　the　horses；　as　quietly　as　may　be；　about　twelve　o’clock；　and　I’ll　take　her　over；　and　then；　to　give　color　to　the　matter；　he　must　carry　me　on　to　the　next　tavern　to　take　the　stage　for　Columbus；　that　comes　by　about　three　or　four；　and　so　it　will　look　as　if　I　had　had　the　carriage　only　for　that。　I　shall　get　into　business　bright　and　early　in　the　morning。　But　I’m　thinking　I　shall　feel　rather　cheap　there；　after　all　that’s　been　said　and　done；　but；　hang　it；　I　can’t　help　it！”
“Your　heart　is　better　than　your　head；　in　this　case；　John；”　said　the　wife；　laying　her　little　white　hand　on　his。　“Could　I　ever　have　loved　you；　had　I　not　known　you　better　than　you　know　yourself？”　And　the　little　woman　looked　so　handsome；　with　the　tears　sparkling　in　her　eyes；　that　the　senator　thought　he　must　be　a　decidedly　clever　fellow；　to　get　such　a　pretty　creature　into　such　a　passionate　admiration　of　him；　and　so；　what　could　he　do　but　walk　off　soberly；　to　see　about　the　carriage。　At　the　door；　however；　he　stopped　a　moment；　and　then　coming　back；　he　said；　with　some　hesitation。
“Mary；　I　don’t　know　how　you’d　feel　about　it；　but　there’s　that　drawer　full　of　things—of—of—poor　little　Henry’s。”　So　saying；　he　turned　quickly　on　his　heel；　and　shut　the　door　after　him。
His　wife　opened　the　little　bed…room　door　adjoining　her　room　and；　taking　the　candle；　set　it　down　on　the　top　of　a　bureau　there；　then　from　a　small　recess　she　took　a　key；　and　put　it　thoughtfully　in　the　lock　of　a　drawer；　and　made　a　sudden　pause；　while　two　boys；　who；　boy　like；　had　followed　close　on　her　heels；　stood　looking；　with　silent；　significant　glances；　at　their　mother。　And　oh！　mother　that　reads　this；　has　there　never　been　in　your　house　a　drawer；　or　a　closet；　the　opening　of　which　has　been　to　you　like　the　opening　again　of　a　little　grave？　Ah！　happy　mother　that　you　are；　if　it　has　not　been　so。
Mrs。　Bird　slowly　opened　the　drawer。　There　were　little　coats　of　many　a　form　and　pattern；　piles　of　aprons；　and　rows　of　small　stockings；　and　even　a　pair　of　little　shoes；　worn　and　rubbed　at　the　toes；　were　peeping　from　the　folds　of　a　paper。　There　was　a　toy　horse　and　wagon；　a　top；　a　ball；—memorials　gathered　with　many　a　tear　and　many　a　heart…break！　She　sat　down　by　the　drawer；　and；　leaning　her　head　on　her　hands　over　it；　wept　till　the　tears　fell　through　her　fingers　into　the　drawer；　then　suddenly　raising　her　head；　she　began；　with　nervous　haste；　selecting　the　plainest　and　most　substantial　articles；　and　gathering　them　into　a　bundle。
“Mamma；”　said　one　of　the　boys；　gently　touching　her　arm；　“you　going　to　give　away　those　things？”
“My　dear　boys；”　she　said；　softly　and　earnestly；　“if　our　dear；　loving　little　Henry　looks　down　from　heaven；　he　would　be　glad　to　have　us　do　this。　I　could　not　find　it　in　my　heart　to　give　them　away　to　any　common　person—to　anybody　that　was　happy；　but　I　give　them　to　a　mother　more　heart…broken　and　sorrowful　than　I　am；　and　I　hope　God　will　send　his　blessings　with　them！”
There　are　in　this　world　blessed　souls；　whose　sorrows　all　spring　up　into　joys　for　others；　whose　earthly　hopes；　laid　in　the　grave　with　many　tears；　are　the　seed　from　which　spring　healing　flowers　and　balm　for　the　desolate　and　the　distressed。　Among　such　was　the　delicate　woman　who　sits　there　by　the　lamp；　dropping　slow　tears；　while　she　prepares　the　memorials　of　her　own　lost　one　for　the　outcast　wanderer。
After　a　while；　Mrs。　Bird　opened　a　wardrobe；　and；　taking　from　thence　a　plain；　serviceable　dress　or　two；　she　sat　down　busily　to　her　work…table；　and；　with　needle；　scissors；　and　thimble；　at　hand；　quietly　commenced　the　“letting　down”　process　which　her　husband　had　recommended；　and　continued　busily　at　it　till　the　old　clock　in　the　corner　struck　twelve；　and　she　heard　the　low　rattling　of　wheels　at　the　door。
“Mary；”　said　her　husband；　coming　in；　with　his　overcoat　in　his　hand；　“you　must　wake　her　up　now；　we　must　be　off。”
Mrs。　Bird　hastily　deposited　the　various　articles　she　had　collected　in　a　small　plain　trunk；　and　locking　it；　desired　her　husband　to　see　it　in　the　carriage；　and　then　proceeded　to　call　the　woman。　Soon；　arrayed　in　a　cloak；　bonnet；　and　shawl；　that　had　belonged　to　her　benefactress；　she　appeared　at　the　door　with　her　child　in　her　arms。　Mr。　Bird　hurried　her　into　the　carriage；　and　Mrs。　Bird　pressed　on　after　her　to　the　carriage　steps。　Eliza　leaned　out　of　the　carriage；　and　put　out　her　hand；—a　hand　as　soft　and　beautiful　as　was　given　in　return。　She　fixed　her　large；　dark　eyes；　full　of　earnest　meaning；　on　Mrs。　Bird’s　face；　and　seemed　going　to　speak。　Her　lips　moved；—she　tried　once　or　twice；　but　there　was　no　sound；—and　pointing　upward；　with　a　look　never　to　be　forgotten；　she　fell　back　in　the　seat；　and　covered　her　face。　The　door　was　shut；　and　the　carriage　drove　on。
What　a　situation；　now；　for　a　patriotic　senator；　that　had　been　all　the　week　before　spurring　up　the　legislature　of　his　native　state　to　pass　more　stringent　resolutions　against　escaping　fugitives；　their　harborers　and　abettors！
Our　good　senator　in　his　native　state　had　not　been　exceeded　by　any　of　his　brethren　at　Washington；　in　the　sort　of　eloquence　which　has　won　for　them　immortal　renown！　How　sublimely　he　had　sat　with　his　hands　in　his　pockets；　and　scouted　all　sentimental　weakness　of　those　who　would　put　the　welfare　of　a　few　miserable　fugitives　before　great　state　interests！
He　was　as　bold　as　a　lion　about　it；　and　“mightily　convinced”　not　only　himself；　but　everybody　that　heard　him；—but　then　his　idea　of　a　fugitive　was　only　an　idea　of　the　letters　that　spell　the　word；—or　at　the　most；　the　image　of　a　little　newspaper　picture　of　a　man　with　a　stick　and　bundle　with　“Ran　away　from　the　subscriber”　under　it。　The　magic　of　the　real　presence　of　distress；—the　imploring　human　eye；　the　frail；　trembling　human　hand；　the　despairing　appeal　of　helpless　agony；—these　he　had　never　tried。　He　had　never　thought　that　a　fugitive　might　be　a　hapless　mother；　a　defenceless　child；—like　that　one　which　was　now　wearing　his　lost　boy’s　little　well…known　cap；　and　so；　as　our　poor　senator　was　not　stone　or　steel；—as　he　was　a　man；　and　a　downright　noble…hearted　one；　too；—he　was；　as　everybody　must　see；　in　a　sad　case　for　his　patriotism。　And　you　need　not　exult　over　him；　good　brother　of　the　Southern　States；　for　we　have　some　inklings　that　many　of　you；　under　similar　circumstances；　would　not　do　much　better。　We　have　reason　to　know；　in　Kentucky；　as　in　Mississippi；　are　noble　and　generous　hearts；　to　whom　never　was　tale　of　suffering　told　in　vain。　Ah；　good　brother！　is　it　fair　for　you　to　expect　of　us　services　which　your　own　brave；　honorable　heart　would　not　allow　you　to　render；　were　you　in　our　place？
Be　that　as　it　may；　if　our　good　senator　was　a　political　sinner；　he　was　in　a　fair　way　to　expiate　it　by　his　night’s　penance。　There　had　been　a　long　continuous　period　of　rainy　weather；　and　the　soft；　rich　earth　of　Ohio；　as　every　one　knows；　is　admirably　suited　to　the　manufacture　of　mud—and　the　road　was　an　Ohio　railroad　of　the　good　old　times。
“And　pray；　what　sort　of　a　road　may　that　be？”　says　some　eastern　traveller；　who　has　been　acomustomed　to　connect　no　ideas　with　a　railroad；　but　those　of　smoothness　or　speed。
Know；　then；　innocent　eastern　friend；　that　in　benighted　regions　of　the　west；　where　the　mud　is　of　unfathomable　and　sublime　depth；　roads　are　made　of　round　rough　logs；　arranged　transversely　side　by　side；　and　coated　over　in　their　pristine　freshness　with　earth；　turf；　and　whatsoever　may　come　to　hand；　and　then　the　rejoicing　native　calleth　it　a　road；　and　straightway　essayeth　to　ride　thereupon。　In　process　of　time；　the　rains　wash　off　all　the　turf　and　grass　aforesaid；　move　the　logs　hither　and　thither；　in　picturesque　positions；　up；　down　and　crosswise；　with　divers　chasms　and　ruts　of　black　mud　intervening。
Over　such　a　road　as　this　our　senator　went　stumbling　along；　making　moral　reflections　as　continuously　as　under　the　circumstances　could　be　expected；—the　carriage　proceeding　along　much　as　follows；—bump！　bump！　bump！　slush！　down　in　the　mud！—the　senator；　woman　and　child；　reversing　their　positions　so　suddenly　as　to　come；　without　any　very　acomurate　adjustment；　against　the　windows　of　the　down…hill　side。　Carriage　sticks　fast；　while　Cudjoe　on　the　outside　is　heard　making　a　great　muster　among　the　horses。　After　various　ineffectual　pullings　and　twitchings；　just　as　the　senator　is　losing　all　patience；　the　carriage　suddenly　rights　itself　with　a　bounce；—two　front　wheels　go　down　into　another　abyss；　and　senator；　woman；　and　child；　all　tumble　promiscuously　on　to　the　front　seat；—senator’s　hat　is　jammed　over　his　eyes　and　nose　quite　unceremoniously；　and　he　considers　himself　fairly　extinguished；—child　cries；　and　Cudjoe　on　the　outside　delivers　animated　addresses　to　the　horses；　who　are　kicking；　and　floundering；　and　straining　under　repeated　cracks　of　the　whip。　Carriage　springs　up；　with　another　bounce；—down　go　the　hind　wheels；—senator；　woman；　and　child；　fly　over　on　to　the　back　seat；　his　elbows　encountering　her　bonnet；　and　both　her　feet　being　jammed　into　his　hat；　which　flies　off　in　the　concussion。　After　a　few　moments　the　“slough”　is　passed；　and　the　horses　stop；　panting；—the　senator　finds　his　hat；　the　woman　straightens　her　bonnet　and　hushes　her　child；　and　they　brace　themselves　for　what　is　yet　to　come。
For　a　while　only　the　continuous　bump！　bump！　intermingled；　just　by　way　of　variety；　with　divers　side　plunges　and　compound　shakes；　and　they　begin　to　flatter　themselves　that　they　are　not　so　badly　off；　after　all。　At　last；　with　a　square　plunge；　which　puts　all　on　to　their　feet　and　then　down　into　their　seats　with　incredible　quickness；　the　carriage　stops；—and；　after　much　outside　commotion；　Cudjoe　appears　at　the　door。
“Please；　sir；　it’s　powerful　bad　spot；　this’　yer。　I　don’t　know　how　we’s　to　get　clar　out。　I’m　a　thinkin’　we’ll　have　to　be　a　gettin’　rails。”
The　senator　despairingly　steps　out；　picking　gingerly　for　some　firm　foothold；　down　goes　one　foot　an　immeasurable　depth；—he　tries　to　pull　it　up；　loses　his　balance；　and　tumbles　over　into　the　mud；　and　is　fished　out；　in　a　very　despairing　condition；　by　Cudjoe。
But　we　forbear；　out　of　sympathy　to　our　readers’　bones。　Western　travellers；　who　have　beguiled　the　midnight　hour　in　the　interesting　process　of　pulling　down　rail　fences；　to　pry　their　carriages　out　of　mud　holes；　will　have　a　respectful　and　mournful　sympathy　with　our　unfortunate　hero。　We　beg　them　to　drop　a　silent　tear；　and　pass　on。
It　was　full　late　in　the　night　when　the　carriage　emerged；　dripping　and　bespattered；　out　of　the　creek；　and　stood　at　the　door　of　a　large　farmhouse。
It　took　no　inconsiderable　perseverance　to　arouse　the　inmates；　but　at　last　the　respectable　proprietor　appeared；　and　undid　the　door。　He　was　a　great；　tall；　bristling　Orson　of　a　fellow；　full　six　feet　and　some　inches　in　his　stockings；　and　arrayed　in　a　red　flannel　hunting…shirt。　A　very　heavy　mat　of　sandy　hair；　in　a　decidedly　tousled　condition；　and　a　beard　of　some　days’　growth；　gave　the　worthy　man　an　appearance；　to　say　the　least；　not　particularly　prepossessing。　He　stood　for　a　few　minutes　holding　the　candle　aloft；　and　blinking　on　our　travellers　with　a　dismal　and　mystified　expression　that　was　truly　ludicrous。　It　cost　some　effort　of　our　senator　to　induce　him　to　comprehend　the　case　fully；　and　while　he　is　doing　his　best　at　that；　we　shall　give　him　a　little　introduction　to　our　readers。
Honest　old　John　Van　Trompe　was　once　quite　a　considerable　land…owner　and　slave…owner　in　the　State　of　Kentucky。　Having　“nothing　of　the　bear　about　him　but　the　skin；”　and　being　gifted　by　nature　with　a　great；　honest；　just　heart；　quite　equal　to　his　gigantic　frame；　he　had　been　for　some　years　witnessing　with　repressed　uneasiness　the　workings　of　a　system　equally　bad　for　oppressor　and　oppressed。　At　last；　one　day；　John’s　great　heart　had　swelled　altogether　too　big　to　wear　his　bonds　any　longer；　so　he　just　took　his　pocket…book　out　of　his　desk；　and　went　over　into　Ohio；　and　bought　a　quarter　of　a　township　of　good；　rich　land；　made　out　free　papers　for　all　his　people；—men；　women；　and　children；—packed　them　up　in　wagons；　and　sent　them　off　to　settle　down；　and　then　honest　John　turned　his　face　up　the　creek；　and　sat　quietly　down　on　a　snug；　retired　farm；　to　enjoy　his　conscience　and　his　reflections。
“Are　you　the　man　that　will　shelter　a　poor　woman　and　child　from　slave…catchers？”　said　the　senator；　explicitly。
“I　rather　think　I　am；”　said　honest　John；　with　some　considerable　emphasis。
“I　thought　so；”’　said　the　senator。
“If　there’s　anybody　comes；”　said　the　good　man；　stretching　his　tall；　muscular　form　upward；　“why　here　I’m　ready　for　him：　and　I’ve　got　seven　sons；　each　six　foot　high；　and　they’ll　be　ready　for　’em。　Give　our　respects　to　’em；”　said　John；　“tell　’em　it’s　no　matter　how　soon　they　call；—make　no　kinder　difference　to　us；”　said　John；　running　his　fingers　through　the　shock　of　hair　that　thatched　his　head；　and　bursting　out　into　a　great　laugh。
Weary；　jaded；　and　spiritless；　Eliza　dragged　herself　up　to　the　door；　with　her　child　lying　in　a　heavy　sleep　on　her　arm。　The　rough　man　held　the　candle　to　her　face；　and　uttering　a　kind　of　compassionate　grunt；　opened　the　door　of　a　small　bed…room　adjoining　to　the　large　kitchen　where　they　were　standing；　and　motioned　her　to　go　in。　He　took　down　a　candle；　and　lighting　it；　set　it　upon　the　table；　and　then　addressed　himself　to　Eliza。
“Now；　I　say；　gal；　you　needn’t　be　a　bit　afeard；　let　who　will　come　here。　I’m　up　to　all　that　sort　o’　thing；”　said　he；　pointing　to　two　or　three　goodly　rifles　over　the　mantel…piece；　“and　most　people　that　know　me　know　that　’t　wouldn’t　be　healthy　to　try　to　get　anybody　out　o’　my　house　when　I’m　agin　it。　So　now　you　jist　go　to　sleep　now；　as　quiet　as　if　yer　mother　was　a　rockin’　ye；”　said　he；　as　he　shut　the　doo