第 16 节
作者:莫莫言      更新:2021-02-18 23:43      字数:9322
  wheelbarrow。 I find it difficult to describe him other than vaguely; possibly
  because Wilbird had no expression whatever in his countenance。 With his
  vacant white face lifted to the clouds; seemingly oblivious of everything;
  yet going with a sort of heaven…given instinct straight to his destination; he
  trundled      that  rattling   wheelbarrow        for  many     a  year    over   Portsmouth
  cobblestones。 He was so unconscious of his environment that sometimes a
  small     boy   would     pop   into   the   empty    wheelbarrow        and   secure    a  ride
  without   Wibird   arriving   at   any   very   clear   knowledge   of   the   fact。        His
  employment   in   life   was   to   deliver   groceries   and   other   merchandise   to
  purchasers。 This he did in a dreamy; impersonal kind of way。 It was as if a
  spirit had somehow go hold of an earthly wheelbarrow and was trundling
  it   quite   unconsciously;       with    no   sense    of  responsibility。     One    day    he
  appeared   at   a   kitchen   door   with   a   two…gallon   molasses   jug;   the   top   of
  which   was   wanting。   It   was   not   longer   a   jug;   but   a   tureen。   When   the
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  recipient   of   the   damaged   article   remonstrated   with   〃Goodness   gracious;
  Wibird! You have broken the jug;〃 his features lighted up; and he seemed
  immensely        relieved。     〃I  thought;     〃  He    remarked;      〃I  heerd    somethink
  crack!〃
  Wibird Penhallow's heaviest patron was the keeper of a variety store;
  and     the  first  specimen      of  a   pessimist    I  ever   encountered。       He   was    an
  excellent specimen。 He took exception to everything。 He objected to the
  telegraph;   to   the   railway;   to   steam   in   all   its   applications。   Some   of   his
  arguments; I recollect; made a deep impression on my mind。 〃Nowadays;〃
  he once observed to me; 〃if your son or your grandfather drops dead at the
  other   end   of   creation;   you   know   of   it   in   ten   minutes。   What's   the   use?
  Unless   you   are   anxious   to   know   he's   dead;   you've   got   just   two   or   three
  weeks more to be miserable in。〃 He scorned the whole business; and was
  faithful   to   his   scorn。   When   he   received   a   telegram;   which   was   rare;   he
  made a point of keeping it awhile unopened。 Through the exercise of this
  whim   he   once   missed   an   opportunity   of   buying   certain   goods   to   great
  advantage。 〃There!〃 he exclaimed; 〃if the telegraph hadn't been invented
  the   idiot   would   have   written   to   me;   and   I'd   have   sent   a   letter   by   return
  coach;   and   got   the   goods   before   he   found   out   prices   had   gone   up         in
  Chicago。 If that boy brings me another of those tapeworm telegraphs; I'll
  throw   an   axe…handle   at   him。〃   His   pessimism   extended   up;   or   down;   to
  generally recognized canons of orthography。 They were all iniquitous。 If
  k…n…i…f…e     spelled    knife;   then;   he   contended;      k…n…i…f…e…s    was    the  plural。
  Diverting   tags;   written   by   his   own   hand   in   conformity   with   this   theory;
  were always attached to articles in his shop window。 He is long since ded;
  as he himself would have put it; but his phonetic theory appears to have
  survived him  in   crankish   brains   here   and there。 As   my  discouraging   old
  friend   was   not   exactly   a   public   character;   like   the   town   crier   or   Wibird
  Penhallow; I have intentionally thrown a veil over his identity。 I have; so
  to speak; dropped into his pouch a grain or two of that magical fern…seed
  which   was   supposed   by   our   English   ancestors;   in   Elizabeth's   reign;   to
  possess the quality of rendering a man invisible。
  Another      person     who    singularly     interested    me    at  this  epoch     was   a
  person with whom I had never exchanged a word; whose voice I had never
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  heard; but whose face was as familiar to me as every day could make it。
  For each morning as I went to school; and each afternoon as I returned; I
  saw this face peering out of a window in the second story of a shambling
  yellow   house   situated   in   Washington   Street;   not   far   from   the   corner   of
  State。 Whether some malign disease had fixed him to the chair he sat on;
  or whether he had lost the use of his legs; or; possible; had none (the upper
  part of him was that of a man in admirable health); presented a problem
  which; with that curious insouciance of youth I made no attempt to solve。
  It was an established fact; however; that he never went out of that house。 I
  cannot vouch so confidently for the cobwebby legend which wove itself
  about him。 It was to this effect: He had formerly been the master of a large
  merchantman running between New York and Calcutta; while still in his
  prime he had abruptly retired from the quarter…deck; and seated himself at
  that    windowwhere         the   outlook     must     have    been     the   reverse    of
  exhilarating; for not ten persons passed in the course of the day; and the
  hurried jingle of the bells on Parry's bakery…cart was the only sound that
  ever    shattered    the  silence。   Whether      it  was   an  amatory     or  a  financial
  disappointment        that   turned   him    into   a  hermit    was    left  to  ingenious
  conjecture。 But there he sat; year in and year out; with his cheek so close
  to the window that the nearest pane became permanently blurred with his
  breath; for after his demise the blurr remained。
  In   this  Arcadian     era   it  was   possible;   in  provincial    places;    for  an
  undertaker to assume the dimensions of a personage。 There was a sexton
  in   Portsmouthhis   name   escapes   me;   but   his   attributes   do   notwhose
  impressiveness made him own brother to the massive architecture of the
  Stone Church。 On every solemn occasion he was the striking figure; even
  to the eclipsing of the involuntary object of the ceremony。 His occasions;
  happily; were not exclusively solemn; he added to his other public services
  that   of   furnishing   ice…cream   for   the   evening   parties。   I   always   thought
  perhaps      it  was   the   working     of  an   unchastened      imaginationthat       he
  managed to throw into his ice…creams a peculiar chill not attained by either
  Dunyon or Peduzziarcades ambothe rival confectioners。
  Perhaps   I   should   not   say   rival;   for   Mr。   Dunyon   kept   a   species   of
  restaurant; while Mr。 Peduzzi restricted himself to preparing confections to
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  be   discussed   elsewhere   than   on   his   premises。   Both   gentlemen   achieved
  great popularity in their respective lines; but neither offered to the juvenile
  population   quite   the   charm   of   those   prim;   white…capped   old   ladies   who
  presided over certain snuffy little shops; occurring unexpectedly in silent
  side…streets where the football of commerce seemed an incongruous thing。
  These shops were never intended in nature。 They had an impromptu and
  abnormal   air   about   them。   I   do   not   recall   one   that   was   not   located   in   a
  private residence; and was not evidently the despairing expedient of some
  pathetic   financial   crisis;   similar   to   that   which   overtook   Miss   Hepzibah
  Pyrcheon   in   The   House   of   the   Seven   Gables。   The   horizontally   divided
  street   doorthe   upper   section   left   open   in   summerushered   you;   with   a
  sudden jangle of bell that turned your heart over; into a strictly private hall;
  haunted   by   the   delayed   aroma   of   thousands   of   family   dinners。   Thence;
  through   another door;  you   passed   into   what had   formerly  been   the   front
  parlor; but was now a shop; with a narrow; brown; wooden counter; and
  several   rows   of   little   drawers   built   up   against   the   picture…papered   wall
  behind it。 Through much use the paint on these drawers was worn off in
  circles round the polished brass knobs。 Here was stored almost every small
  article    required     by   humanity;     from    an   inflamed     emery     cushion     to  a
  peppermint Gibraltarthe latter a kind of adamantine confectionery which;
  when I reflect upon it; raises in me the wonder that any Portsmouth boy or
  girl ever reached the age of fifteen with a single tooth left unbroken。 The
  proprietors      of  these    little  knick…knack      establishments       were   th