the complete writings-4-第23章

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e　light　shone　full　in　their　happy　faces；　and　made　the　group；　enveloped　otherwise　in　darkness；　like　one　of　Correggio's　pictures　of　children　or　angels。　Correggio　was　a　famous　Italian　artist　of　the　sixteenth　century；　who　painted　cherubs　like　children　who　were　just　going　to　heaven；　and　children　like　cherubs　who　had　just　come　out　of　it。　　But　then；　he　had　the　Italian　children　for　models；　and　they　get　the　knack　of　being　lovely　very　young。　　An　Italian　child　finds　it　as　easy　to　be　pretty　as　an　American　child　to　be　good。

One　could　not　but　be　struck　with　the　patience　these　little　people　exhibited　in　their　occupation；　and　the　enjoyment　they　got　out　of　it。　There　was　no　noise；　all　conversed　in　subdued　whispers　and　behaved　in　the　most　gentle　manner　to　each　other；　especially　to　the　smallest；　and　there　were　many　of　them　so　small　that　they　could　only　toddle　about　by　the　most　judicious　exercise　of　their　equilibrium。　　I　do　not　say　this　by　way　of　reproof　to　any　other　kind　of　children。

These　little　groups；　as　I　have　said；　were　scattered　all　about　the　church；　and　they　made　with　their　tapers　little　spots　of　light；　which　looked　in　the　distance　very　much　like　Correggio's　picture　which　is　at　Dresden；the　Holy　Family　at　Night；　and　the　light　from　the　Divine　Child　blazing　in　the　faces　of　all　the　attendants。　　Some　of　the　children　were　infants　in　the　nurses'　arms；　but　no　one　was　too　small　to　have　a　taper；　and　to　run　the　risk　of　burning　its　fingers。

There　is　nothing　that　a　baby　likes　more　than　a　lighted　candle；　and　the　church　has　understood　this　longing　in　human　nature；　and　found　means　to　gratify　it　by　this　festival　of　tapers。

The　groups　do　not　all　remain　long　in　place；　you　may　imagine；　there　is　a　good　deal　of　shifting　about；　and　I　see　little　stragglers　wandering　over　the　church；　like　fairies　lighted　by　fireflies。　　Occasionally　they　form　a　little　procession　and　march　from　one　altar　to　another；　their　lights　twinkling　as　they　go。

But　all　this　time　there　is　music　pouring　out　of　the　organ…loft　at　the　end　of　the　church；　and　flooding　all　its　spaces　with　its　volume。　　In　front　of　the　organ　is　a　choir　of　boys；　led　by　a　round…faced　and　jolly　monk；　who　rolls　about　as　he　sings；　and　lets　the　deep　bass　noise　rumble　about　a　long　time　in　his　stomach　before　he　pours　it　out　of　his　mouth。　　I　can　see　the　faces　of　all　of　them　quite　well；　for　each　singer　has　a　candle　to　light　his　music…book。

And　next　to　the　monk　stands　the　boy；the　handsomest　boy　in　the　whole　world　probably　at　this　moment。　　I　can　see　now　his　great；　liquid；　dark　eyes；　and　his　exquisite　face；　and　the　way　he　tossed　back　his　long　waving　hair　when　he　struck　into　his　part。　　He　resembled　the　portraits　of　Raphael；　when　that　artist　was　a　boy；　only　I　think　he　looked　better　than　Raphael；　and　without　trying；　for　he　seemed　to　be　a　spontaneous　sort　of　boy。　　And　how　that　boy　did　sing！　　He　was　the　soprano　of　the　choir；　and　he　had　a　voice　of　heavenly　sweetness。　　When　he　opened　his　mouth　and　tossed　back　his　head；　he　filled　the　church　with　exquisite　melody。

He　sang　like　a　lark；　or　like　an　angel。　　As　we　never　heard　an　angel　sing；　that　comparison　is　not　worth　much。　　I　have　seen　pictures　of　angels　singing；　there　is　one　by　Jan　and　Hubert　Van　Eyck　in　the　gallery　at　Berlin；and　they　open　their　mouths　like　this　boy；　but　I　can't　say　as　much　for　their　singing。　　The　lark；　which　you　very　likely　never　heard　either）　for　larks　are　as　scarce　in　America　as　angels；is　a　bird　that　springs　up　from　the　meadow　and　begins　to　sing　as　he　rises　in　a　spiral　flight；　and　the　higher　he　mounts；　the　sweeter　he　sings；　until　you　think　the　notes　are　dropping　out　of　heaven　itself；　and　you　hear　him　when　he　is　gone　from　sight；　and　you　think　you　hear　him　long　after　all　sound　has　ceased。

And　yet　this　boy　sang　better　than　a　lark；　because　he　had　more　notes　and　a　greater　compass　and　more　volume；　although　he　shook　out　his　voice　in　the　same　gleesome　abundance。

I　am　sorry　that　I　cannot　add　that　this　ravishingly　beautiful　boy　was　a　good　boy。　　He　was　probably　one　of　the　most　mischievous　boys　that　was　ever　in　an　organ…loft。　　All　the　time　that　he　was　singing　the　vespers　he　was　skylarking　like　an　imp。　　While　he　was　pouring　out　the　most　divine　melody；　he　would　take　the　opportunity　of　kicking　the　shins　of　the　boy　next　to　him；　and　while　he　was　waiting　for　his　part；　he　would　kick　out　behind　at　any　one　who　was　incautious　enough　to　approach　him。　　There　never　was　such　a　vicious　boy；　he　kept　the　whole　loft　in　a　ferment。　　When　the　monk　rumbled　his　bass　in　his　stomach；　the　boy　cut　up　monkey…shines　that　set　every　other　boy　into　a　laugh；　or　he　stirred　up　a　row　that　set　them　all　at　fisticuffs。

And　yet　this　boy　was　a　great　favorite。　　The　jolly　monk　loved　him　best　of　all　and　bore　with　his　wildest　pranks。　　When　he　was　wanted　to　sing　his　part　and　was　skylarking　in　the　rear；　the　fat　monk　took　him　by　the　ear　and　brought　him　forward；　and　when　he　gave　the　boy's　ear　a　twist；　the　boy　opened　his　lovely　mouth　and　poured　forth　such　a　flood　of　melody　as　you　never　heard。　　And　he　did　n't　mind　his　notes；　he　seemed　to　know　his　notes　by　heart；　and　could　sing　and　look　off　like　a　nightingale　on　a　bough。　　He　knew　his　power；　that　boy；　and　he　stepped　forward　to　his　stand　when　he　pleased；　certain　that　he　would　be　forgiven　as　soon　as　he　began　to　sing。　　And　such　spirit　and　life　as　he　threw　into　the　performance；　rollicking　through　the　Vespers　with　a　perfect　abandon　of　carriage；　as　if　he　could　sing　himself　out　of　his　skin　if　he　liked。

While　the　little　angels　down　below　were　pattering　about　with　their　wax　tapers；　keeping　the　holy　fire　burning；　suddenly　the　organ　stopped；　the　monk　shut　his　book　with　a　bang；　the　boys　blew　out　the　candles；　and　I　heard　them　all　tumbling　down…stairs　in　a　gale　of　noise　and　laughter。　　The　beautiful　boy　I　saw　no　more。

About　him　plays　the　light　of　tender　memory；　but　were　he　twice　as　lovely；　I　could　never　think　of　him　as　having　either　the　simple　manliness　or　the　good　fortune　of　the　New　England　boy。






ON　HORSEBACK


I

〃The　way　to　mount　a　horse〃…　said　the　Professor。

〃If　you　have　no　ladderput　in　the　Friend　of　Humanity。

The　Professor　had　ridden　through　the　war　for　the　Union　on　the　right　side；　enjoying　a　much　better　view　of　it　than　if　he　had　walked；　and　knew　as　much　about　a　horse　as　a　person　ought　to　know　for　the　sake　of　his　character。　　The　man　who　can　recite　the　tales　of　the　Canterbury　Pilgrims；　on　horseback；　giving　the　contemporary　pronunciation；　never　missing　an　accent　by　reason　of　the　trot；　and　at　the　same　time　witch　North　Carolina　and　a　strip　of　East　Tennessee　with　his　noble　horsemanship；　is　a　kind　of　Literary　Centaur　of　whose　double　instruction　any　Friend　of　Humanity　may　be　glad　to　avail　himself。

〃The　way　to　mount　a　horse　is　to　grasp　the　mane　with　the　left　hand　holding　the　bridle…rein；　put　your　left　foot　in　the　stirrup；　with　the　right　hand　on　the　back　of　the　saddle；　and…〃

Just　then　the　horse　stepped　quickly　around　on　his　hind　feet；　and　looked　the　Professor　in　the　face。　　The　Superintendents　of　Affairs；　who　occupy　the　flagging　in　front　of　the　hotel；　seated　in　cane…　bottomed　chairs　tilted　back；　smiled。　　These　useful　persons　appear　to　have　a　life…lease　of　this　portion　of　the　city　pavement；　and　pretty　effectually　block　it　up　nearly　all　day　and　evening。　　When　a　lady　wishes　to　make　her　way　through　the　blockade；　it　is　the　habit　of　these　observers　of　life　to　rise　and　make　room；　touching　their　hats；　while　she　picks　her　way　through；　and　goes　down　the　street　with　a　pretty　consciousness　of　the　flutter　she　has　caused。　　The　war　has　not　changed　the　Southern　habit　of　sitting　out…of…doors；　but　has　added　a　new　element　of　street　picturesqueness　in　groups　of　colored　people　lounging　about　the　corners。　　There　appears　to　be　more　leisure　than　ever。

The　scene　of　this　little　lesson　in　horsemanship　was　the　old　town　of　Abingdon；　in　southwest　Virginia；　on　the　Virginia　and　East　Tennessee　railway；　a　town　of　ancient　respectability；　which　gave　birth　to　the　Johnstons　and　Floyds　and　other　notable　people；　a　town；　that　still　preserves　the　flavor　of　excellent　tobacco　and；　something　of　the　easy…　going　habits　of　the　days　of　slavery；　and　is　a　sort　of　educational　center；　where　the　young　ladies　of　the　region　add　the　final　graces　of　intellectual　life　in　moral　philosophy　and　the　use　of　the