the village watch-tower-第22部分

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and　thus　it　was　often　dusk；　and　sometimes　late　in　the　evening；

when　the　lumbering　vehicle　neared　its　final　destination

and　drew　up　to　the　little　post…offices　along　the　way。

However　late　it　might　be；　the　village　postmaster　had　to　be　on　hand

to　receive　and　open　the　mailbags；　after　which　he　distributed

the　newspapers　and　letters　in　a　primitive　set　of　pine

pigeon…holes　on　the　wall；　turned　out　the　loafers；　〃banked　up〃

the　fire；　and　went　home　to　bed。



〃Life〃　Lane　was　a　jolly　good　fellow；just　the　man　to　sit　on　the　box

seat　and　drive　the　three　horses　through　ruts　and　〃thank…you…ma'ams；〃

slush　and　mud　and　snow。　　There　was　a　perennial　twinkle　in　his　eye；

his　ruddy　cheeks　were　wrinkled　with　laughter；　and　he　had　a　good　story

forever　on　the　tip　of　his　tongue。　　He　stood　six　feet　two　in　his　stockings

（his　mother　used　to　say　she　had　the　longest　Life　of　any　woman　in　the

State　o'　Maine）；　his　shoulders　were　broad　in　proportion；　and　his　lungs

just　the　sort　to　fill　amply　his　noble　chest。　　Therefore；　when　he　had

what　was　called　in　the　vernacular　〃turrible　bad　goin'；〃　and　when　any　other

stage…driver　in　York　County　would　have　shrunk　into　his　muffler　and　snapped

and　snarled　on　the　slightest　provocation；　Life　Lane　opened　his　great

throat　when　he　passed　over　the　bridges　at　Moderation　or　Bonny　Eagle；

and　sent　forth　a　golden；　sonorous　〃Yo　ho！　halloo！〃　into　the　still　air。

The　later　it　was　and　the　stormier　it　was；　the　more　vigor　he　put　into

the　note；　and　it　was　a　drowsy　postmaster　indeed　who　did　not　start

from　his　bench　by　the　fire　at　the　sound　of　that　ringing　halloo。

Thus　the　old　stage…coach；　in　Life　Lane's　time；　was　generally　called　〃The

Midnight　Cry；〃　and　not　such　a　bad　name　either；　whether　the　term　was　derisively

applied　because　the　stage　was　always　late；　or　whether　Life's　〃Yo　ho！〃

had　caught　the　popular　fancy。



There　was　a　pretty　girl　in　Pleasant　River　（and；　alas！　another　in

Bonny　Eagle）　who　went　to　bed　every　night　with　the　chickens；　but　stayed　awake

till　she　heard　first　the　rumble　of　heavy　wheels　on　a　bridge；　then　a　faint；

bell…like　tone　that　might　have　come　out　of　the　mouth　of　a　silver　horn；

whereupon　she　blushed　as　if　it　were　an　offer　of　marriage；　and　turned

over　and　went　to　sleep。



If　the　stage　arrived　in　good　season；　Life　would　have　a　few　minutes

to　sit　on　the　loafers'　beach　beside　the　big　open　fire；　and　what　a

feature　he　was；　with　his　tales　culled　from　all　sorts　of　passengers；

who　were　never　so　fluent　as　when　sitting　beside　him　〃up　in　front！〃

There　was　a　tallow　dip　or　two；　and　no　other　light　save　that　of　the　fire。

Who　that　ever　told　a　story　could　wish　a　more　inspiring　auditor　than

Jacob　Bean；　a　literal；　honest　old　fellow　who　took　the　most

vital　interest　in　every　detail　of　the　stories　told；　looking　upon

their　heroes　and　their　villains　as　personal　friends　or　foes。

He　always　sat　in　one　corner　of　the　fireplace；　poker　in　hand；

and　the　crowd　tacitly　allowed　him　the　role　of　Greek　chorus。

Indeed；　nobody　could　have　told　a　story　properly　without　Jake　Bean's

parentheses　and　punctuation　marks　poked　in　at　exciting　junctures。



〃That　's　so　every　time！〃　he　would　say；　with　a　lunge　at　the　forestick。

〃I'll　bate　he　was　glad　then！〃　with　another　stick　flung　on　in　just

the　right　spot。　　〃Golly！　but　that　served　'em　right！〃　with　a　thrust

at　the　backlog。



The　New　England　story　seemed　to　flourish　under　these　conditions：

a　couple　of　good　hard　benches　in　a　store　or　tavern；　where　you　could

not　only　smoke　and　chew　but　could　keep　on　your　hat　（there　was　not　a　man

in　York　County　in　those　days　who　could　say　anything　worth　hearing

with　his　hat　off）；　the　blazing　logs　to　poke；　and　a　cavernous　fireplace

into　which　tobacco　juice　could　be　neatly　and　judiciously　directed。

Those　were　good　old　times；　and　the　stage…coach　was　a　mighty　thing

when　school　children　were　taught　to　take　off　their　hats　and　make

a　bow　as　the　United　States　mail　passed　the　old　stage　tavern。



Life　Lane's　coaching　days　were　over　long　before　this　story　begins；

but　the　Midnight　Cry　was　still　in　pretty　fair　condition；　and　was　driven

ostensibly　by　Jeremiah　Todd；　who　lived　on　the　〃back…nippin'〃　road　from

Bonny　Eagle　to　Limington。



When　I　say　ostensibly　driven；　I　but　follow　the　lead　of

the　villagers；　who　declared　that；　though　Jerry　held　the　reins；

Mrs。　Todd　drove　the　stage；　as　she　drove　everything　else。

As　a　proof　of　this　lady's　strong　individuality；　she　was　still

generally　spoken　of　as　〃the　Widder　Bixby；〃　though　she　had　been

six　years　wedded　to　Jeremiah　Todd。　　The　Widder　Bixby；　then；

was　strong；　self…reliant；　valiant；　indomitable。　　Jerry　Todd　was；

to　use　his　wife's　own　characterization；　so　soft　you　could

stick　a　cat's　tail　into　him　without　ruffling　the　fur。

He　was　always　alluded　to　as　〃the　Widder　Bixby's　husband；〃

but　that　was　no　new　or　special　mortification；　for　he　had　been

known　successively　as　Mrs。　Todd's　youngest　baby；　the　Widder

Todd's　only　son；　Susan　Todd's　brother；　and；　when　Susan　Todd's

oldest　boy　fought　at　Chapultepec；　William　Peck's　uncle。



The　Widder　Bixby's　record　was　far　different。

She　was　the　mildest　of　the　four　Stover　sisters　of　Scarboro；

and　the　quartette　was　supposed　to　have　furnished　more　kinds

of　temper　than　had　ever　before　come　from　one　household。

When　Peace；　the　eldest；　was　mad；　she　frequently　kicked　the　churn

out　of　the　kitchen　door；　cream　and　all；and　that　lost

her　a　husband。



Love；　the　second；　married；　and　according　to　local　tradition　once

kicked　her　husband　all　the　way　up　Foolscap　Hill　with　a　dried　cod…fish。

Charity；　the　third；　married　too；　　for　the　Stovers　of　Scarboro　were

handsome　girls；　but　she　got　a　fit　mate　in　her　spouse。　　She　failed

to　intimidate　him；　for　he　was　a　foeman　worthy　of　her　steel；

but　she　left　his　bed　and　board；　and　left　in　a　manner　that　kept　up

the　credit　of　the　Stover　family　of　Scarboro。



They　had　had　a　stormy　breakfast　one　morning　before　he　started

to　Portland　with　a　load　of　hay。　　〃Good…by；〃　she　called；

as　she　stood　in　the　door；　〃you've　seen　the　last　of　me！〃

〃No　such　luck！〃　he　said；　and　whipped　up　his　horse。

Charity　baked　a　great　pile　of　biscuits；　and　left　them

on　the　kitchen　table　with　a　pitcher　of　skimmed　milk。

（She　wouldn't　give　him　anything　to　complain　of；　not　she！）

She　then　put　a　few　clothes　in　a　bundle；　and；　tying　on　her　shaker；

prepared　to　walk　to　Pleasant　River；　twelve　miles　distant。

As　she　locked　the　door　and　put　the　key　in　its　accustomed　place

under　the　mat；　a　pleasant　young　man　drove　up　and　explained

that　he　was　the　advance　agent　of　the　Sypher's　Two…in…One

Menagerie　and　Circus；　soon　to　appear　in　that　vicinity。

He　added　that　he　should　be　glad　to　give　her　five　tickets

to　the　entertainment　if　she　would　allow　him　to　paste　a　few

handsome　posters　on　that　side　of　her　barn　next　the　road；

that　their　removal　was　attended　with　trifling　difficulty；

owing　to　the　nature　of　a　very　superior　paste　invented　by　himself；

that　any　small　boy；　in　fact；　could　tear　them　off　in　an　hour；

and　be　well　paid　by　the　gift　of　a　ticket。



The　devil　entered　into　Charity　（not　by　any　means　for　the　first

time）；　and　she　told　the　man　composedly　that　if　he　would　give　her

ten　tickets　he　might　paper　over　the　cottage　as　well　as　the　barn；

for　they　were　going　to　tear　it　down　shortly　and　build　a　larger　one。

The　advance　agent　was　delighted；　and　they　passed　a　pleasant

hour　together；　Charity　holding　the　paste…pot；　while　the　talkative

gentleman　glued　six　lions　and　an　elephant　on　the　roof；

a　fat　lady　on　the　front　door；　a　tattooed　man　between　the　windows；

living　skeletons　on　the　blinds；　and　ladies　insufficiently

clothed　in　all　the　vacant　spaces　and　on　the　chimneys。

Nobody　went　by　during　the　operation；　and　the　agent　remarked；

as　he　unhitched　his　horse；　that　he　had　never　done　a　neater　job。

〃Why；　they'll　come　as　far　to　see　your　house　as　they　will

to　the　circus！〃　he　exclaimed。



〃I　calculate　they　will；〃　said　Charity；　as　she　latched　the　gate

and　started　for　Pleasant　River。



I　am　not　telling　Charity　Stover's　story；　so　I　will　only　add

that　the　bill…poster　was　mistaken　in　the　nature　of　his　paste；

and　greatly　undervalued　its　adhesive　properties。



The　temper　of　Prudence；　the　youngest　sister；　now　Mrs。　Todd；

paled　into　insignificance　beside　that　of　the　others；　but　it　was

a　very　pretty　thing　in　tempers　nevertheless；　and　would　have　been

thought　remarkable　in　any　other　family　in　Scarboro。



You　may　have　noted　the　fact　that　it　is　a　person's　virtues

as　often　as　his　vices　that　make　him　difficult　to　live　with。

Mrs。　Todd's　masterfulness　and　even　her　jealousy　might　have

been　endured；　by　the　aid　of　fasting　and　prayer；　but　her　neatness；

her　economy；　and　her　forehandedness　made　a　combination　that

only　the　grace　of　God　could　have　abided　with　comfortably；

so　that　Jerry　Todd's　comparative　success　is　a　matter　of

local　tradition。　　Punctuality　is　a　praiseworthy　virtue　enough；

but　as　the　years　went　on；　Mrs。　Todd　blew　her　breakfast　horn

at　so　early　an　hour　that　the　neighbors　were　in　some　doubt

as　to　whether　it　might　not　herald　the　supper　of　the　day　before。

They　also　predicted　that　she　would　have　her　funeral　before　she

was　fairly　dead；　and　related　with　great　gusto　that　when　she

heard　there　was　to　be　an　eclipse　of　the　sun　on　Monday；

the　26th　of　July；　she　wished　they　could　have　it　the　25th；

as　Sunday　would　be　so　much　more　convenient　than　wash…day。



She　had　oilcloth　on　her　kitchen　to　save　the　floor；　and　oilcloth

mats　to　save　the　oilcloth；　yet　Jerry's　boots　had　to　be　taken　off

in　the　shed；　and　he　was　required　to　walk　through　in　his　stocking　feet。

She　blackened　her　stove　three　times　a　day；　washed　her　dishes　in　the　woodhouse；

in　order　to　keep　her　sink　clean；　and　kept　one　pair　of　blinds　open

in　the　sitting…room；　but　spread　newspapers　over　the　carpet　wherever

the　sun　shone　in。



It　was　the　desire　of　Jerry's　heart　to　give　up　the

fatigues　and　exposures　of　stage…driving；　and　〃keep　store；〃

but　Mrs。　Todd　deemed　it　much　better　for　him　to　be　in　the　open

air　than　deali