Гарриет Бичер-Стоу - Oldtown Fireside Stories стр 4.

Capn Eb he was one of a party o eight that pulled down the chimbley; and there, sure enough, was the skeleton of poor Lommedieu.

So there you see, boys, there cant be no iniquity so hid but what itll come out. The Wild Indians of the forest, and the stormy winds and tempests, jined together to bring out this ere.

For my part, said Aunt Lois sharply, I never believed that story.

Why, Lois, said my grandmother, Capn Eb Sawin was a regular church-member, and a most respectable man.

Law, mother! I dont doubt he thought so. I suppose he and Cack got drinking toddy together, till he got asleep, and dreamed it. I wouldnt believe such a thing if it did happen right before my face and eyes. I should only think I was crazy, thats all.

Come, Lois, if I was you, I wouldnt talk so like a Sadducee, said my grandmother. What would become of all the accounts in Dr. Cotton Mathers Magnilly if folks were like you?

Wal, said Sam Lawson, drooping contemplatively over the coals, and gazing into the fire, theres a putty considable sight o things in this world thats true; and then agin theres a sight o things that aint true. Now, my old granther used to say, Boys, says he, if ye want to lead a pleasant and prosperous life, ye must contrive allers to keep jest the happy medium between truth and falsehood. Now, that ares my doctrine.

Aunt Lois knit severely.

Boys, said Sam, dont you want ter go down with me and get a mug o cider?

Of course we did, and took down a basket to bring up some apples to roast.

Boys, says Sam mysteriously, while he was drawing the cider, you jest ask your Aunt Lois to tell you what she knows bout Ruth Sullivan.

Why, what is it?

Oh! you must ask her. These ere folks thats so kind o toppin about sperits and sich, come sift em down, you genlly find they knows one story that kind o puzzles em. Now you mind, and jist ask your Aunt Lois about Ruth Sullivan.

THE SULLIVAN LOOKING-GLASS

Aunt Loiss quick black eyes gave a surprised flash; and she and my grandmother looked at each other a minute significantly. Who told you any thing about Ruth Sullivan, she said sharply.

Nobody. Somebody said you knew something about her, said I.

I was holding a skein of yarn for Aunt Lois; and she went on winding in silence, putting the ball through loops and tangled places.

Little boys shouldnt ask questions, she concluded at last sententiously. Little boys that ask too many questions get sent to bed.

I knew that of old, and rather wondered at my own hardihood.

Aunt Lois wound on in silence; but, looking in her face, I could see plainly that I had started an exciting topic.

I should think, pursued my grandmother in her corner, that Ruths case might show you, Lois, that a good many things may happen,more than you believe.

Oh, well, mother! Ruths was a strange case; but I suppose there are ways of accounting for it.

You believed Ruth, didnt you?

Oh, certainly, I believed Ruth! Why shouldnt I? Ruth was one of my best friends, and as true a girl as lives: there wasnt any nonsense about Ruth. She was one of the sort, said Aunt Lois reflectively, that Id as soon trust as myself: when she said a thing was so and so, I knew it was so.

Then, if you think Ruths story was true, pursued my grandmother, whats the reason you are always cavilling at things just cause you cant understand how they came to be so?

Aunt Lois set her lips firmly, and wound with grim resolve. She was the very impersonation of that obstinate rationalism that grew up at the New-England fireside, close alongside of the most undoubting faith in the supernatural.

I dont believe such things, at last she snapped out, and I dont disbelieve them. I just let em alone. What do I know about em? Ruth tells me a story; and I believe her. I know what she saw beforehand, came true in a most remarkable way. Well, Im sure Ive no objection. One thing may be true, or another, for all me; but, just because I believe Ruth Sullivan, Im not going to believe, right and left, all the stories in Cotton Mather, and all that anybody can hawk up to tell. Not I.

This whole conversation made me all the more curious to get at the story thus dimly indicated; and so we beset Sam for information.

So your Aunt Lois wouldnt tell ye nothin, said Sam. Wanter know, neow! sho!

No: she said we must go to bed if we asked her.

That ares a way folks has; but, ye see, boys, said Sam, while a droll confidential expression crossed the lack-lustre dolefulness of his visage, ye see, I put ye up to it, cause Miss Lois is so large and commandin in her ways, and so kind o up and down in all her doins, that I like once and a while to sort o gravel her; and I knowed enough to know that that are question would git her in a tight place.

Ye see, yer Aunt Lois was knowin to all this ere about Ruth, so there wernt no gettin away from it; and its about as remarkable a providence as any o them of Mister Cotton Marthers Magnilly. So if youll come up in the barn-chamber this arternoon, where Ive got a lot o flax to hatchel out, Ill tell ye all about it.

So that afternoon beheld Sam arranged at full length on a pile of top-tow in the barn-chamber, hatchelling by proxy by putting Harry and myself to the service.

Wal, now, boys, its kind o refreshing to see how wal ye take hold, he observed. Nothin like bein industrious while yer young: gret sight better now than loafin off, down in them medders.

But, Sam, if we work for you, you must tell us that story about Ruth Sullivan.

Lordy massy! yis,course I will. Ive had the best kind o chances of knowin all about that are. Wal, you see there was old Gineral Sullivan, he lived in state and grander in the old Sullivan house out to Roxberry. I been to Roxberry, and seen that are house o Gineral Sullivans. There was one time that I was a considable spell lookin round in Roxberry, a kind o seein how things wuz there, and whether or no there mightnt be some sort o providential openin or suthin. I used to stay with Aunt Polly Ginger. She was sister to Mehitable Ginger, Gineral Sullivans housekeeper, and hed the in and out o the Sullivan house, and kind o kept the run o how things went and came in it. Polly she was a kind o cousin o my mothers, and allers glad to see me. Fact was, I was putty handy round house; and she used to save up her broken things and sich till I come round in the fall; and then Id mend em up, and put the clock right, and split her up a lot o kindlings, and board up the cellar-windows, and kind o make her sort o comfortable,she bein a lone body, and no man round. As I said, it was sort o convenient to hev me; and so I jest got the run o things in the Sullivan house pretty much as ef I was one on em, Gineral Sullivan he kept a grand house, I tell you. You see, he cum from the old country, and felt sort o lordly and grand; and they used to hev the gretest kind o doins there to the Sullivan house. Ye ought ter a seen that are house,gret big front hall and gret wide stairs; none o your steep kind that breaks a fellers neck to get up and down, but gret broad stairs with easy risers, so they used to say you could a cantered a pony up that are stairway easy as not. Then there was gret wide rooms, and sofys, and curtains, and gret curtained bedsteads that looked sort o like fortifications, and picturs that was got in Italy and Rome and all them are heathen places. Ye see, the Gineral was a drefful worldly old critter, and was all for the pomps and the vanities. Lordy massy! I wonder what the poor old critter thinks about it all now, when his bodys all gone to dust and ashes in the graveyard, and his souls gone to tarnity! Wal, that are aint none o my business; only it shows the vanity o riches in a kind o strikin light, and makes me content that I never hed none.