winesburg,ohio-第47章

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　road　and　the　fields　are　covered　with　dust；　a　smoky　haze　lies　over　the　great　flat　basin　of　land。　　To　look　across　it　is　like　looking　out　across　the　sea。　　In　the　spring　when　the　land　is　green　the　effect　is　somewhat　different。　　The　land　becomes　a　wide　green　billiard　table　on　which　tiny　human　in…　sects　toil　up　and　down。

All　through　his　boyhood　and　young　manhood　George　Willard　had　been　in　the　habit　of　walking　on　Trunion　Pike。　　He　had　been　in　the　midst　of　the　great　open　place　on　winter　nights　when　it　was　covered　with　snow　and　only　the　moon　looked　down　at　him；　he　had　been　there　in　the　fall　when　bleak　winds　blew　and　on　summer　evenings　when　the　air　vibrated　with　the　song　of　insects。　　On　the　April　morning　he　wanted　to　go　there　again；　to　walk　again　in　the　silence。　　He　did　walk　to　where　the　road　dipped　down　by　a　little　stream　two　miles　from　town　and　then　turned　and　walked　silently　back　again。　　When　he　got　to　Main　Street　clerks　were　sweeping　the　sidewalks　before　the　stores。　　〃Hey；　you　George。　　How　does　it　feel　to　be　going　away？〃　they　asked。

The　westbound　train　leaves　Winesburg　at　seven　forty…five　in　the　morning。　　Tom　Little　is　conductor。　His　train　runs　from　Cleveland　to　where　it　connects　with　a　great　trunk　line　railroad　with　terminals　in　Chicago　and　New　York。　　Tom　has　what　in　railroad　circles　is　called　an　〃easy　run。〃　Every　evening　he　returns　to　his　family。　　In　the　fall　and　spring　he　spends　his　Sundays　fishing　in　Lake　Erie。　　He　has　a　round　red　face　and　small　blue　eyes。　　He　knows　the　people　in　the　towns　along　his　railroad　better　than　a　city　man　knows　the　people　who　live　in　his　apart…　ment　building。

George　came　down　the　little　incline　from　the　New　Willard　House　at　seven　o'clock。　　Tom　Willard　carried　his　bag。　　The　son　had　become　taller　than　the　father。

On　the　station　platform　everyone　shook　the　young　man's　hand。　　More　than　a　dozen　people　waited　about。　　Then　they　talked　of　their　own　affairs。　　Even　Will　Henderson；　who　was　lazy　and　often　slept　until　nine；　had　got　out　of　bed。　　George　was　embarrassed。　Gertrude　Wilmot；　a　tall　thin　woman　of　fifty　who　worked　in　the　Winesburg　post　office；　came　along　the　station　platform。　　She　had　never　before　paid　any　attention　to　George。　　Now　she　stopped　and　put　out　her　hand。　　In　two　words　she　voiced　what　everyone　felt。　　〃Good　luck；〃　she　said　sharply　and　then　turning　went　on　her　way。

When　the　train　came　into　the　station　George　felt　relieved。　　He　scampered　hurriedly　aboard。　　Helen　White　came　running　along　Main　Street　hoping　to　have　a　parting　word　with　him；　but　he　had　found　a　seat　and　did　not　see　her。　　When　the　train　started　Tom　Little　punched　his　ticket；　grinned　and；　although　he　knew　George　well　and　knew　on　what　adventure　he　was　just　setting　out；　made　no　comment。　　Tom　had　seen　a　thousand　George　Willards　go　out　of　their　towns　to　the　city。　　It　was　a　commonplace　enough　incident　with　him。　　In　the　smoking　car　there　was　a　man　who　had　just　invited　Tom　to　go　on　a　fishing　trip　to　Sandusky　Bay。　　He　wanted　to　accept　the　invi…　tation　and　talk　over　details。

George　glanced　up　and　down　the　car　to　be　sure　no　one　was　looking；　then　took　out　his　pocketbook　and　counted　his　money。　　His　mind　was　occupied　with　a　desire　not　to　appear　green。　　Almost　the　last　words　his　father　had　said　to　him　concerned　the　mat…　ter　of　his　behavior　when　he　got　to　the　city。　　〃Be　a　sharp　one；〃　Tom　Willard　had　said。　　〃Keep　your　eyes　on　your　money。　　Be　awake。　　That's　the　ticket。　　Don't　let　anyone　think　you're　a　greenhorn。〃

After　George　counted　his　money　he　looked　out　of　the　window　and　was　surprised　to　see　that　the　train　was　still　in　Winesburg。

The　young　man；　going　out　of　his　town　to　meet　the　adventure　of　life；　began　to　think　but　he　did　not　think　of　anything　very　big　or　dramatic。　　Things　like　his　mother's　death；　his　departure　from　Winesburg；　the　uncertainty　of　his　future　life　in　the　city；　the　seri…　ous　and　larger　aspects　of　his　life　did　not　come　into　his　mind。

He　thought　of　little　thingsTurk　Smollet　wheel…　ing　boards　through　the　main　street　of　his　town　in　the　morning；　a　tall　woman；　beautifully　gowned；　who　had　once　stayed　overnight　at　his　father's　hotel；　Butch　Wheeler　the　lamp　lighter　of　Winesburg　hur…　rying　through　the　streets　on　a　summer　evening　and　holding　a　torch　in　his　hand；　Helen　White　standing　by　a　window　in　the　Winesburg　post　office　and　put…　ting　a　stamp　on　an　envelope。

The　young　man's　mind　was　carried　away　by　his　growing　passion　for　dreams。　　One　looking　at　him　would　not　have　thought　him　particularly　sharp。　With　the　recollection　of　little　things　occupying　his　mind　he　closed　his　eyes　and　leaned　back　in　the　car　seat。　　He　stayed　that　way　for　a　long　time　and　when　he　aroused　himself　and　again　looked　out　of　the　car　window　the　town　of　Winesburg　had　disappeared　and　his　life　there　had　become　but　a　background　on　which　to　paint　the　dreams　of　his　manhood。



End