back home-第20部分

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　idiot！　　Why　doesn't　he　come　down　out　of　that？

〃Yoffemoffemoffemoffemoff。　　Yoffemoff！〃

But　no！　　He　will　do　it　himself。　　The　Chief　rushes　gallantly　into　the　burning　building　and　disappears　up　the　dark　stair。

Desperate　measures　are　now　to　be　resorted　to。　　On　the　lawn　a　line　of　men　forms。　　They　bend　their　necks；　cowering　before　the　fierce　glow；　but　daring　it；　and　prepared　to　face　it　at　even　closer　range。　You　are　to　witness　now　an　exhibition　of　that　heroism　which　is　commoner　with　us　than　we　think；　that　spirit　of　do　and　dare　which　mocks　at　danger　and　even　welcomes　pain。　　It　is　a　far　finer　sentiment　than　the　cold…hearted　calculation　which　looks　ahead；　and　figures　out　first　whether　it　is　worth　while　or　not。

The　men　dash　forward　in　the　withering　heat。　　With　frantic　haste　they　fix　the　hook　into　the　lattice…work　beneath　the　porch　and　scamper　back。

〃Yo　hee！　　Yo　hee！〃

The　thick　rope　tautens　as　the　firemen　lay　their　weight　to　it。　　You　can　almost　see　the　bristling　fibers　stand　up　on　it。

〃Yo　hee！　Yo　hee！〃

With　a　splintering　crash　the　timber　parts；　and　a　piece　of　lattice…work　is　dragged　away。

Another　sortie　and　another。　　Bit　by　bit　the　porch　is　ripped　and　torn　to　rubbish。　　You　smile。　　It　seems　so　futile。　　What　are　these　kindlings　saved　when　the　whole　house　is　burning？　　Is　this　what　you　call　heroism？　　Yet　the　charge　at　Balaklava　was　not　more　futile。　It　had　even　less　of　commonsense；　less　of　hope　of　benefit　to　mankind　to　back　it　and　inspire　it。　　Heroism　is　an　instinct；　not　a　thoughtout　policy。　　Its　quality　is　the　same；　in　two…ounce　samples　or　in　car…load　lots。

The　weather…boarding　slips　down　in　a　sparkling　fall。　　The　joists　and　stringers；　all　outlined　and　gemmed　with　coals；　are；　as　it　were；　a　golden　grille；　through　which　the　world　may　look　unhindered　in　upon　the　holy　place　of　home；　heretofore　conventually　private。　There　stands　the　family　altar；　pitifully　grotesque　amid　the　ruinous　splendor　of　the　destroying　fire；　the　tea…kettle　upon　it　proudly　flaunting　its　steamy　plume。　　What？　　Is　a　common　cooking…stove　an　altar？　　Yes；　verily；　in　lineal　descent。　　Examine　an　ancient　altar　and　you　will　see　its　sacrificial　stone　scored　and　guttered　to　catch　the　dripping　from　the　roasting　meat。　　Who　is　the　priestess；　after　an　order　older　than　Melchisedec's；　but　she　that　ministers　to　us　that　most　comfortable　sacrament；　wherein　we　are　made　partakers　not　alone　of　the　outward　and　visible　food　which　we　do　carnally　press　with　our　teeth；　but　also　of　that　inward　and　spiritual　sustenance；　the　patient　and　enduring　love　of　wife　and　mother；　without　which　there　can　be　no　such　thing　as　home？　　All　other　sacraments　wherein　men　break　the　bread　of　amity　together　are　but　copies　of　this　pattern；　the　Blessed　Sacrament　of　the　Household　Altar；　the　first　and　primal　one　of　all；　the　one　that　shall　perdure；　please　God！　throughout　all　ages　of　ages。

The　flames　die　down。　　The　timbers　sink　together　with　a　softer　fall。　　The　air　grows　chill。　　We　fetch　a　sigh。　　We　cannot　bear　to　look　at　that　mute　figure　of　the　priestess　seated　on　the　sordid　heap　of　broken　furniture；　her　sleeping　baby　pressed　against　her　breast；　her　gaze　fixed　…　but　seeing　naught　…　upon　her　ruined　temple。　　We　do　not　like　to　think　upon　such　things。　　We　do　not　like　to　think　at　all。　　Is　there　nothing　more　to　laugh　at？

The　firemen；　having　all　borrowed　the　makings　of　a　cigarette　from　each　other；　put　on　their　hats　and　coats；　left　on　the　hook…and…ladder　truck　in　the　custody　of　a　trusted　member。　　The　apparatus　trundles　off；　the　bells　dolorously　tolling　as　the　striking　gear　on　the　rear　axle　engages　the　cam。

Who　is　this　weeping　man　approaches；　supported　by　two　friends；　that　comfort　him　with：　〃All　right；　Tom。　　You　done　noble；〃　uttered　in　pacifying　if　not　convincing　tones？　　Heart…brokenly　he　cries：　〃I　dull　le　ver'　bes'　I　knowed；　now　di'　n't　I？　　Charley？　　Billy；　I　dub　bes'　I　knowed　how。　　An'　nen　he　says　to　me　…　Oo…hoo…hoo…oooo…oo！　　He　says　to　me：　'Come　ou'　that；　ye　cussed　fool！'　Oo…oooo…hoo…hoo…oo…oo！　　Smf！　Lemme　gi'　amma　ham　hankshiff。　　Leg　go　my　arm。　　Waw　gi'　amma　hankshifp。　Oo…oo…oo…hoo…hoo…oo…oo！　　Fmf！　　I　ash　you　as　may　wurl　…　I　ash　you　as　may　…　man　of　world；　is　that　…　is　that　proper　way　address　me？　Me！　　Know　who　I　am？　　I'm　Tom　Ball。　　'S　who　I　am。　　I　kill　lick　em　man　ill　Logan　Coun'y。　　Ai'　thasso？　　Hay？　　'S　aw　ri。　　Mfi　choose　stay　up　there；　aw　thas　sec　…　aw　thas　second　floor　and　rescue　fel…cizzen's　propprop'ty　from　devouring　em　…　from　devouring　emlement；　thas　my　bizless。　　Ai'　tham　my　bizless；　Charley？　　Ai'　tham　my　bizless；　Billy？　　W'y；　sure。　　Charley；　you're　goof　feller。　　You　too；　Billy。　You're　goof　feller；　too。　　Say。　　Wur…wur　if　Miller's　is　open　yet？　'Spose　it　is？　　Charley；　I　dub　bes'　I　knowed　how；　di'n't　I；　now？　Affor　that　Chief　come　up　thas　stairway　and　say　me：　'Come　ou'　that；　ye　cussed　fool！'　　Aw　say！　　'Come　ou'　that　…　'Called　me　fool；　too！　Oo…hoo…hoo…oo…oo…oo！〃

〃Hello；　Dan！　　Hurt　yourself　any？　　（That's　Dan　O'Brien。　　Fell　off　the　roof。）　　Well；　sir；　I　thought　sure　you'd　broken　your　neck。　　You　don't　know　your　luck。　　And　let　me　tell　you　one　thing；　my　bold　bucko：　You'll　do　that　just　once　too　often。　　Now　you　mark。〃


The　day　before　the　Weekly　Examiner　goes　to　press；　Mr。　Swope　hands　the　editor　a　composition　entitled：　〃A　Card　of　Thanks；〃　signed　by　John　K。　and　Amelia　M。　Swope；　and　addressed　to　the　firemen　and　all　who　showed　by　their　many　acts　of　kindness；　and　so　forth　and　so　on。

〃Kind　of　help　to　fill　up　the　paper；〃　says　Mr。　Swope；　covering　his　retreat。

〃Sure；〃　replies　the　editor。　　When　Mr。　Swope　is　good　and　gone；　he　says：　　〃Dog　my　riggin's　if　I　didn't　forget　all　about　writing　up　that　fire。　　　Been　so　busy　here　lately。　　Good　thing　he　come　in。　　Hay；　Andy！〃

〃Watch　want？〃　from　the　composing…room。

〃Got　room　for　about　two　sticks　more？〃

〃Yes；　guess　so。　　If　it　don't　run　over　that。〃

A　brief　silence。　　Then：

〃Hay；　Andy？〃

〃What　？〃

〃Is　it　'had　have；'　or　'had　of　？〃

〃What's　the　connection？〃

〃Why…ah。　　'If　the　gallant　fire…laddies；　under　the　able　direction　of　Chief　Charley　Lomax；　　had　of　had　a　sufficiency　of　water　with　which　to　cope　with　the　devouring　element　…　'etc。〃

〃'Had　have；'　I　guess。　　I　don't　know。〃

〃Guess　you're　right。　　Run　it　that　way　anyhow。〃




CIRCUS　DAY


Only　the　other　day；　the　man　that　in　all　this　country　knows　better　than　anybody　else　how　a　circus　should　be　advertised；　said　（with　some　sadness；　I　do　believe）　that　it　didn't　pay　any　longer　to　put　up　showbills；　the　money　was　better　invested　in　newspaper　advertising。

〃It　doesn't　pay。〃　　Ah；　me！　　How　the　commercial　spirit　of　the　age　plays　whaley　with　the　romance　of　existence！　　You　shall　not　look。　long　upon　the　showbill　now　that　there　is　no　money　to　be　had　from　it。　〃Youth's　sweet…scented　manuscript〃　is　about　to　close；　but　ere　it　does；　let　us　turn　back　a　little　to　the　pages　illuminated　by　the　glowing　colors　of　the　circus　poster。

Saturday　afternoon　when　we　went　by　the　enginehouse；　its　brick　wall　fluttered　with　the　rags　and　tatters　of　〃Esther；　the　Beautiful　Queen；〃　and　the　lecture　on　〃The　Republic：　Will　it　Endure？〃　　（Gee！　But　that　was　exciting！）　　Sunday　morning；　after　Sunday…school；　there　was　a　sudden　quickening　among　the　boys。　　We　stopped　nibbling　on　the　edges　of　the　lesson　leaf　and　followed　the　crowd　in　scuttling　haste。　Miraculously；　over…night；　the　shabby　wall　had　blossomed　into　thralling　splendor。　　What　was　Daniel　in　the　Lions'　Den；　compared　with　Herr　Alexander　in　the　same？　　Not；　as　the　prophet　is　pictured；　in　the　farthest　corner　from　the　lions；　and　manifestly　saying　to　himself：　〃If　I　was　only　out　of　this！〃　　But　with　his　head　right　smack　dab　in　the　lion's　mouth。　　Right　in　it。　　Yes；　sir。

〃S'　Posin'！〃　we　gasped；　all　goggle…eyed；　〃jist　s'posin'　that　there　lion　was　to　shut　his　mouth！　　Ga…ash！〃

The　Golden　Text？　　It　faded　before　the　lemon…and…scarlet　glories　of　the　Golden　Chariot。　　Drawn　by　sixteen　dappled　steeds；　each　with　his　neck　arching　like　a　fish…hook　and　reined　with　fancy　scalloped　reins；　it　occupied　the　center　of　the　foreground。　　The　band　rode　in　it；　far　more　fortunate　than　our　local　band　whose　best　was；　Charley　Wells's　depot　'bus。　　And　nobler　than　all　his　fellows　was　the　bass…drummer。　　He　had　a　canopy　over　him；　a　carved　and　golden　canopy；　on　whose　top　revolved　a　clown's　head　with　its　tongue　stuck　out。　　On　each　quarter　of　this　rococo　shallop　a　golden　circus…girl　in　short　skirts　gaily　skipped　rope　with　a　nubia　or　fascinator；　or　whatever　it　is　the　women　call　the　thing　they　wrap　around　their　heads　in　cold　weather　when　they　hang　out　the　clothes。　　There　were　big　pieces　of　looking…glass　let　into　the　sides　of　the　band…wagon；　and　every　decorator　knows　that　when　you　put　looking…glass　on　a　thing　it　is　impossible　to　fix　it　so　that　it　will　be　any　finer。

Winding　back　and　forth　across　the　picture　was　the　long　train　of　tableau…cars　and　animal　cages；　diminishing　with　distance　until　away；　'way　up　in　the　upper　left…hand　corner　the　hindmost　van　was　all　immersed　in　the　blue…and…yellow　haze　just　this　side　of　out…of…sight。　That　with　our　own　eyes　we　should　behold　the　glories　here　set　forth　we　knew　right　well。　　Cruel　Fortune　might　cheat　us　of　the　raptures　to　be　had　inside　the　tents；　but　the　street…parade　was　ours；　for　it　was　free。

It　seems　to　me　that　we　did　not　linger　so　long　before　these　pictures；　nor　before　those　of　the　rare　and　costly　animals；　which；　if　we　but　knew　it；　were　the　main　reason　why　we　were　permitted　to　go　（if　we　did　get　to　go）。　　To　look　at　these　animals　is　improving　to　the　mind；　and　since　we　could　not　go　alone；　an　older　person　had　to　accompany　us；　and　。　。　。　and　。　。　。　I　trust　I　make　myself　clear。　　But　we　didn't　want　to　improve　our　minds　if　it　was　a　possible　thing　to　avoid　it。　　The　pictures　of　these　animals　were　in　the　joggerfy　book　anyhow；　though　not　in　colors；　unless　we　had　a　box　of　paints。　　There　can　be　no　doubt　that　the　show…bill　pictures　of　the　menageries　were　in　colors。　　I　seem　to　recollect　that　Mr。　Galbraith；　who　kept　the　dry…goods　store　across　the　street　from　the　engine…house；　was　very　much　exercised　in　his　mind　about　the　way　one　of　these　pictures　was　printed。　　It　was　the　counterfeit　presentment　of　the　Hip…po…pot…a…mus；　or　Behemoth　of　Holy　Writ。　　His　objection　to　the　hip　…　you　know　was　not　because　its　open　countenance　was　so　fearsome；　but　because　it　was　so　red。　　Six　feet　by　two　of　flaming　crimson　across　the　stree