Скачать книгу

on dry land.

      “Oh, he’ll catch his death of cold,” said Emily.

      “Let me wrap this shawl round you,” said Arabella.

      “Ah, that’s the best thing you can do,” said Wardle; “and when you’ve got it on, run home as fast as your legs can carry you, and jump into bed directly.”

      A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three or four of the thickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick was wrapped up, and started off, under the guidance of Mr. Weller, presenting the singular appearance of an elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and without a hat, with his arms bound down to his sides, skimming over the ground, without any clearly defined purpose, at the rate of six good English miles an hour.

      But Mr. Pickwick cared not for appearances in such an extreme case, and urged on by Mr. Weller, he kept at the very top of his speed until he reached the door of Manor Farm, where he paused not an instant till he was snug in bed. – Charles Dickens.

      DICKENS IN CAMP

      Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting,

      The river sang below;

      The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting

      Their minarets of snow.

      The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted

      The ruddy tints of health

      On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted

      In the fierce race for wealth;

      Till one arose, and from his pack’s scant treasure

      A hoarded volume drew,

      And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure

      To hear the tale anew;

      And then, while round them shadows gathered faster,

      And as the firelight fell,

      He read aloud the book wherein the Master

      Had writ of “Little Nell.”

      Perhaps ’twas boyish fancy, – for the reader

      Was youngest of them all, —

      But as he read, from clustering pine and cedar

      A silence seemed to fall;

      The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,

      Listened in every spray,

      While the whole camp with “Nell” on English meadows

      Wandered, and lost their way.

      And so, in mountain solitudes, o’ertaken

      As by some spell divine —

      Their cares drop from them, like the needles shaken

      From out the gusty pine.

      Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire; —

      And he who wrought that spell?

      Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire,

      Ye have one tale to tell!

      Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story

      Blend with the breath that thrills

      With hop-vines’ incense all the pensive glory

      That fills the Kentish hills.

      And on that grave where English oak and holly

      And laurel wreaths entwine,

      Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,

      This spray of Western pine!

– Francis Bret Harte.

      HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR

      Home they brought her warrior dead:

      She nor swoon’d, nor utter’d cry:

      All her maidens, watching, said,

      “She must weep or she will die.”

      Then they praised him, soft and low,

      Call’d him worthy to be loved,

      Truest friend and noblest foe;

      Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

      Stole a maiden from her place,

      Lightly to the warrior stept,

      Took the face-cloth from the face;

      Yet she neither moved nor wept.

      Rose a nurse of ninety years,

      Set his child upon her knee —

      Like summer tempest came her tears —

      “Sweet my child, I live for thee.”

– Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

      The world goes up and the world goes down,

      And the sunshine follows the rain;

      And yesterday’s sneer and yesterday’s frown

      Can never come over again.

– Kingsley.

      THE LOCKSMITH OF THE GOLDEN KEY

      From the workshop of the Golden Key there issued forth a tinkling sound, so merry and good-humored that it suggested the idea of some one working blithely, and made quite pleasant music. Tink, tink, tink– clear as a silver bell, and audible at every pause of the street’s harsher noises, as though it said, “I don’t care; nothing puts me out; I am resolved to be happy.”

      Women scolded, children squalled, heavy carts went rumbling by, horrible cries proceeded from the lungs of hawkers. Still it struck in again, no higher, no lower, no louder, no softer; not thrusting itself on people’s notice a bit the more for having been outdone by louder sounds —tink, tink, tink, tink, tink.

      It was a perfect embodiment of the still small voice, free from all cold, hoarseness, huskiness, or unhealthiness of any kind. Foot-passengers slackened their pace, and were disposed to linger near it. Neighbors who had got up splenetic that morning felt good-humor stealing on them as they heard it, and by degrees became quite sprightly. Mothers danced their babies to its ringing – still the same magical tink, tink, tink, came gayly from the workshop of the Golden Key.

      Who but the locksmith could have made such music? A gleam of sun, shining through the unsashed window, and checkering the dark workshop with a broad patch of light, fell full upon him, as though attracted by his sunny heart. There he stood, working at his anvil, his face radiant with exercise and gladness – the easiest, freest, happiest man in all the world.

      Beside him sat a sleek cat, purring and winking in the light, and falling every now and then into an idle doze, as from excess of comfort. The very locks that hung around had something jovial in their rust, and seemed like gouty old gentlemen of hearty natures, disposed to joke on their infirmities.

      There was nothing surly or severe in the whole scene. It seemed impossible that any one of the innumerable keys could fit a churlish strong-box or a prison-door. Store-houses of good things, rooms where there were fires, books, gossip, and cheering laughter – these were their proper sphere of action. Places of distrust and cruelty and restraint they would have quadruple locked forever.

      Tink, tink, tink. No man who hammered on at a dull, monotonous duty could have brought such cheerful notes from steel and iron; none but a chirping, healthy, honest-hearted fellow, who made the best of everything, and felt kindly towards everybody, could have done it for an instant. He might have been a coppersmith, and still been musical. If he had sat on a jolting wagon, full of rods of iron, it seemed as if he would have brought some harmony out of it. – Charles Dickens.

A clear conscience is better than untold riches.

      TUBAL CAIN

      Old Tubal Cain

Скачать книгу