short stories and essays-第24章

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creative　historian　of　the　place；　I　can　at　least　imagine　a　Jane　Austen　now
growing　up　in　Portsmouth。




V。

If　Miss　Jewett　were　of　a　little　longer　breath　than　she　has　yet　shown
herself　in　fiction；　I　might　say　the　Jane　Austen　of　Portsmouth　was　already
with　us；　and　had　merely　not　yet　begun　to　deal　with　its　precious　material。
One　day　when　we　crossed　the　Piscataqua　from　New　Hampshire　into　Maine；　and
took　the　trolley…line　for　a　run　along　through　the　lovely　coast　country；
we　suddenly　found　ourselves　in　the　midst　of　her　own　people；　who　are　a
little　different　sort　of　New…Englanders　from　those　of　Miss　Wilkins。　　They
began　to　flock　into　the　car；　young　maidens　and　old；　mothers　and
grandmothers；　and　nice　boys　and　girls；　with　a　very；　very　few　farmer　youth
of　marriageable　age；　and　more　rustic　and　seafaring　elders　long　past　it；
all　in　the　Sunday　best　which　they　had　worn　to　the　graduation　exercises　at
the　High　School；　where　we　took　them　mostly　up。　　The　womenkind　were　in　a
nervous　twitter　of　talk　and　laughter；　and　the　men　tolerantly　gay　beyond
their　wont；　〃passing　the　time　of　day〃　with　one　another；　and　helping　the
more　tumultuous　sex　to　get　settled　in　the　overcrowded　open　car。　　They
courteously　made　room　for　one　another；　and　let　the　children　stand　between
their　knees；　or　took　them　in　their　laps；　with　that　unfailing　American
kindness　which　I　am　prouder　of　than　the　American　valor　in　battle；
observing　in　all　that　American　decorum　which　is　no　bad　thing　either。　　We
had　chanced　upon　the　high　and　mighty　occasion　of　the　neighborhood　year；
when　people　might　well　have　been　a　little　off　their　balance；　but　there
was　not　a　boisterous　note　in　the　subdued　affair。　　As　we　passed　the
school…house　door；　three　dear；　pretty　maids　in　white　gowns　and　white
slippers　stood　on　the　steps　and　gently　smiled　upon　our　company。　　One
could　see　that　they　were　inwardly　glowing　and　thrilling　with　the
excitement　of　their　graduation；　but　were　controlling　their　emotions　to　a
calm　worthy　of　the　august　event；　so　that　no　one　might　ever　have　it　to　say
that　they　had　appeared　silly。

The　car　swept　on；　and　stopped　to　set　down　passengers　at　their　doors　or
gates；　where　they　severally　left　it；　with　an　easy　air　as　of　private
ownership；　into　some　sense　of　which　the　trolley　promptly　flatters　people
along　its　obliging　lines。　　One　comfortable　matron；　in　a　cinnamon　silk；
was　just　such　a　figure　as　that　in　the　Miss　Wilkins's　story　where　the
bridegroom　fails　to　come　on　the　wedding…day；　but；　as　I　say；　they　made　me
think　more　of　Miss　Jewett's　people。　　The　shore　folk　and　the　Down…Easters
are　specifically　hers；　and　these　were　just　such　as　might　have　belonged　in
'The　Country　of　the　Pointed　Firs'；　or　'Sister　Wisby's　Courtship'；　or
'Dulham　Ladies'；　or　'An　Autumn　Ramble'；　or　twenty　other　entrancing　tales。
Sometimes　one　of　them　would　try　her　front　door；　and　then；　with　a　bridling
toss　of　the　head；　express　that　she　had　forgotten　locking　it；　and　slip
round　to　the　kitchen；　but　most　of　the　ladies　made　their　way　back　at　once
between　the　roses　and　syringas　of　their　grassy　door…yards；　which　were　as
neat　and　prim　as　their　own　persons；　or　the　best　chamber　in　their　white…
walled；　green…shuttered；　story…and…a…half　house；　and　as　perfectly　kept　as
the　very　kitchen　itself。

The　trolley…line　had　been　opened　only　since　the　last　September；　but　in　an
effect　of　familiar　use　it　was　as　if　it　had　always　been　there；　and　it
climbed　and　crooked　and　clambered　about　with　the　easy　freedom　of　the
country　road　which　it　followed。　　It　is　a　land　of　low　hills；　broken　by
frequent　reaches　of　the　sea；　and　it　is　most　amusing；　most　amazing；　to　see
how　frankly　the　trolley…car　takes　and　overcomes　its　difficulties。　　It
scrambles　up　and　down　the　little　steeps　like　a　cat；　and　whisks　round　a
sharp　and　sudden　curve　with　a　feline　screech；　broadening　into　a　loud
caterwaul　as　it　darts　over　the　estuaries　on　its　trestles。　　Its　course
does　not　lack　excitement；　and　I　suppose　it　does　not　lack　danger；　but　as
yet　there　have　been　no　accidents；　and　it　is　not　so　disfiguring　as　one
would　think。　　The　landscape　has　already　accepted　it；　and　is　making　the
best　of　it；　and　to　the　country　people　it　is　an　inestimable　convenience。
It　passes　everybody's　front　door　or　back　door；　and　the　farmers　can　get
themselves　or　their　produce　（for　it　runs　an　express　car）　into　Portsmouth
in　an　hour；　twice　an　hour；　all　day　long。　　In　summer　the　cars　are　open；
with　transverse　seats；　and　stout　curtains　that　quite　shut　out　a　squall　of
wind　or　rain。　　In　winter　the　cars　are　closed；　and　heated　by　electricity。
The　young　motorman　whom　I　spoke　with；　while　we　waited　on　a　siding　to　let
a　car　from　the　opposite　direction　get　by；　told　me　that　he　was　caught　out
in　a　blizzard　last　Winter；　and　passed　the　night　in　a　snowdrift。　　〃But　the
cah　was　so　wa'm；　I　neva　suff'ed　a　mite。〃

〃Well；〃　I　summarized；　〃it　must　be　a　great　advantage　to　all　the　people
along　the　line。〃

〃Well；　you　wouldn't　'a'　thought　so；　from　the　kick　they　made。〃

〃I　suppose　the　cottagers〃the　summer　colony〃didn't　like　the　noise。〃

〃Oh　yes；　that's　what　I　mean。　　The's　whe'　the　kick　was。　　The　natives　like
it。　　I　guess　the　summa　folks　'll　like　it；　too。〃

He　looked　round　at　me　with　enjoyment　of　his　joke　in　his　eye；　for　we　both
understood　that　the　summer　folks　could　not　help　themselves；　and　must　bow
to　the　will　of　the　majority。






THE　ART　OF　THE　ADSMITH

The　other　day；　a　friend　of　mine；　who　professes　all　the　intimacy　of　a　bad
conscience　with　many　of　my　thoughts　and　convictions；　came　in　with　a　bulky
book　under　his　arm；　and　said；　〃I　see　by　a　guilty　look　in　your　eye　that
you　are　meaning　to　write　about　spring。〃

〃I　am　not；〃　I　retorted；　〃and　if　I　were；　it　would　be　because　none　of　the
new　things　have　been　said　yet　about　spring；　and　because　spring　is　never
an　old　story；　any　more　than　youth　or　love。〃

〃I　have　heard　something　like　that　before；〃　said　my　friend；　〃and　I
understand。　　The　simple　truth　of　the　matter　is　that　this　is　the　fag…end
of　the　season；　and　you　have　run　low　in　your　subjects。　　Now　take　my　advice
and　don't　write　about　spring；　it　will　make　everybody　hate　you；　and　will
do　no　good。　　Write　about　advertising。〃　　He　tapped　the　book　under　his　arm
significantly。　　〃Here　is　a　theme　for　you。〃




I。

He　had　no　sooner　pronounced　these　words　than　I　began　to　feel　a　weird　and
potent　fascination　in　his　suggestion。　　I　took　the　book　from　him　and
looked　it　eagerly　through。　　It　was　called　Good　Advertising；　and　it　was
written　by　one　of　the　experts　in　the　business　who　have　advanced　it　almost
to　the　grade　of　an　art；　or　a　humanity。

〃But　I　see　nothing　here；〃　I　said；　musingly；　〃which　would　enable　a　self…
respecting　author　to　come　to　the　help　of　his　publisher　in　giving　due　hold
upon　the　public　interest　those　charming　characteristics　of　his　book　which
no　one　else　can　feel　so　penetratingly　or　celebrate　so　persuasively。〃

〃I　expected　some　such　objection　from　you；〃　said　my　friend。　　〃You　will
admit　that　there　is　everything　else　here？〃

〃Everything　but　that　most　essential　thing。　　You　know　how　we　all　feel
about　it：　the　bitter　disappointment；　the　heart…sickening　sense　of
insufficiency　that　the　advertised　praises　of　our　books　give　us　poor
authors。　　The　effect　is　far　worse　than　that　of　the　reviews；　for　the
reviewer　is　not　your　ally　and　copartner；　while　your　publisher〃

〃I　see　what　you　mean；〃　said　my　friend。　　〃But　you　must　have　patience。
If　the　author　of　this　book　can　write　so　luminously　of　advertising　in
other　respects；　I　am　sure　he　will　yet　be　able　to　cast　a　satisfactory
light　upon　your　problem。　　The　question　is；　I　believe；　how　to　translate
into　irresistible　terms　all　that　fond　and　exultant　regard　which　a　writer
feels　for　his　book；　all　his　pervasive　appreciation　of　its　singular
beauty；　unique　value；　and　utter　charm；　and　transfer　it　to　print；　without
infringing　upon　the　delicate　and　shrinking　modesty　which　is　the
distinguishing　ornament　of　the　literary　spirit？〃

〃Something　like　that。　　But　you　understand。〃

〃Perhaps　a　Roentgen　ray　might　be　got　to　do　it；〃　said　my　friend；
thoughtfully；　〃or　perhaps　this　author　may　bring　his　mind　to　bear　upon　it
yet。　　He　seems　to　have　considered　every　kind　of　advertising　except　book…
advertising。〃

〃The　most　im