Beauty and The Beast by Bayard Taylor (sci fi books to read TXT) 📕

“`Ho, ho, Mr. Enos!’ said he, `you’ve found me out; But you won’t say nothin’. Gosh! you like it as well I do. Look ‘ee there!’— breaking open the clay, from which arose `a steam of rich distilled perfumes,’—`and, I say, I’ve got the box-lid with that ‘ere stuff in it,—ho! ho!’—and the scamp roared again.

“Out of a hole in the rock he brought salt and the end of a loaf, and between us we finished the fish. Before long, I got into the habit of disappearing in the afternoon.

“Now and then we took walks, alone or collectively, to the nearest village, or even to Bridgeport, for the papers or a late book. The few purchases we required were made at such times, and sent down in a cart, or, if not too heavy, carried by Perkins in a basket. I noticed that Abel, whenever we had occasion to visit a grocery, would go sniffing around, alternately attracted or repelled by the various articles: now turning away with a shudder from a ham,—now inhaling, with a fearful delight and uncertainty, the odor of smoked herrings. `I think herrings must feed on sea-weed,’ said he, `there is such a vegetable attraction about them.’ After his violent vegetarian harangues, however, he hesitated about adding them to his catalogue.

“But, one day, as we were passing through the village, he was reminded by the sign of `WARTER CRACKERS’ in the window of an obscure grocery that he required a supply of these articles, and we therefore entered. There was a splendid Rhode Island cheese on the counter, from which the shop-mistress was just cutting a slice for a customer. Abel leaned over it, inhaling the rich, pungent fragrance.

“`Enos,’ said he to me, between his sniffs, `this impresses me like flowers—like marigolds. It must be—really—yes, the vegetable element is predominant. My instinct towards it is so strong that I cannot be mistaken. May I taste it, ma’am?’

“The woman sliced off a thin corner, and presented it to him on the knife.

“`Delicious!’ he exclaimed; `I am right,—this is the True Food. Give me two pounds—and the crackers, ma’am.’

“I turned away, quite as much disgusted as amused with this charlatanism. And yet I verily believe the fellow was sincere— self-deluded only. I had by this time lost my faith in him, though not in the great Arcadian principles. On reaching home, after an hour’s walk, I found our household in unusual commotion. Abel was writhing in intense pain: he had eaten the whole two pounds of cheese, on his way home! His stomach, so weakened by years of unhealthy abstinence from true nourishment, was now terribly tortured by this sudden stimulus. Mrs. Shelldrake, fortunately, had some mustard among her stores, and could therefore administer a timely emetic. His life was saved, but he was very ill for two or three days. Hollins did not fail to take advantage of this circumstance to overthrow the authority which Abel had gradually acquired on the subject of food. He was so arrogant in his nature that he could not tolerate the same quality in another, even where their views coincided.

“By this time several weeks had passed away. It was the beginning of July, and the long summer heats had come. I was driven out of my attic during the middle hours of the day, and the others found it pleasanter on the doubly shaded stoop than in their chambers. We were thus thrown more together than usual—a circumstance which made our life more monotonous to the others, as I could see; but to myself, who could at last talk to Eunice, and who was happy at the very sight of her, this `heated term’ seemed borrowed from Elysium.

I read aloud, and the sound of my own voice gave me confidence; many passages suggested discussions, in which I took a part; and you may judge, Ned, how fast I got on, from the fact that I ventured to tell Eunice of my fish-bakes with Perkins, and invite her to join them. After that, she also often disappeared from sight for an hour or two in the afternoon.”

–-“Oh, Mr. Johnson,” interrupted Mrs. Billings, “it wasn’t for the fish!”

“Of course not,” said her husband; “it was for my sake.”

“No, you need not think it was for you. Enos,” she added, perceiving the feminine dilemma into which she had been led, “all this is not necessary to the story.”

“Stop!” he answered. “The A. C. has been revived for this night only. Do you remember our platform, or rather no-platform? I must follow my impulses, and say whatever comes uppermost.”

“Right, Enos,” said Mr. Johnson; “I, as temporary Arcadian, take the same ground. My instinct tells me that you, Mrs. Billings, must permit the confession.”

She submitted with a good grace, and her husband continued:

“I said that our lazy life during the hot weather had become a little monotonous. The Arcadian plan had worked tolerably well, on the whole, for there was very little for any one to do—Mrs. Shelldrake and Perkins Brown excepted. Our conversation, however, lacked spirit and variety. We were, perhaps unconsciously, a little tired of hearing and assenting to the same sentiments. But one evening, about this time, Hollins struck upon a variation, the consequences of which he little foresaw. We had been reading one of Bulwer’s works (the weather was too hot for Psychology), and came upon this paragraph, or something like it:

“`Ah, Behind the Veil! We see the summer smile of the Earth— enamelled meadow and limpid stream,—but what hides she in her sunless heart? Caverns of serpents, or grottoes of priceless gems?

Youth, whose soul sits on thy countenance, thyself wearing no mask, strive not to lift the masks of others! Be content with what thou seest; and wait until Time and Experience shall teach thee to find jealousy behind the sweet smile, and hatred under the honeyed word!’

“This seemed to us a dark and bitter reflection; but one or another of us recalled some illustration of human hypocrisy, and the evidences, by the simple fact of repetition, gradually led to a division of opinion—Hollins, Shelldrake, and Miss Ringtop on the dark side, and the rest of us on the bright. The last, however, contented herself with quoting from her favorite poet, Gamaliel J. Gawthrop:

“`I look beyond thy brow’s concealment! I see thy spirit’s dark revealment! Thy inner self betrayed I see: Thy coward, craven, shivering ME!’

“`We think we know one another,’ exclaimed Hollins; `but do we? We see the faults of others, their weaknesses, their disagreeable qualities, and we keep silent. How much we should gain, were candor as universal as concealment! Then each one, seeing himself as others see him, would truly know himself. How much misunderstanding might be avoided—how much hidden shame be removed—hopeless, because unspoken, love made glad—honest admiration cheer its object—uttered sympathy mitigate misfortune—in short, how much brighter and happier the world would become if each one expressed, everywhere and at all times, his true and entire feeling! Why, even Evil would lose half its power!’

“There seemed to be so much practical wisdom in these views that we were all dazzled and half-convinced at the start. So, when Hollins, turning towards me, as he continued, exclaimed—`Come, why should not this candor be adopted in our Arcadia? Will any one— will you, Enos—commence at once by telling me now—to my face—my principal faults?’ I answered after a moment’s reflection—`You have a great deal of intellectual arrogance, and you are, physically, very indolent’

“He did not flinch from the self-invited test, though he looked a little surprised.

“`Well put,’ said he, `though I do not say that you are entirely correct. Now, what are my merits?’

“`You are clear-sighted,’ I answered, `an earnest seeker after truth, and courageous in the avowal of your thoughts.’

“This restored the balance, and we soon began to confess our own private faults and weaknesses. Though the confessions did not go very deep,—no one betraying anything we did not all know already,—yet they were sufficient to strength Hollins in his new idea, and it was unanimously resolved that Candor should thenceforth be the main charm of our Arcadian life. It was the very thing I wanted, in order to make a certain communication to Eunice; but I should probably never have reached the point, had not the same candor been exercised towards me, from a quarter where I least expected it.

“The next day, Abel, who had resumed his researches after the True Food, came home to supper with a healthier color than I had before seen on his face.

“`Do you know,’ said he, looking shyly at Hollins, `that I begin to think Beer must be a natural beverage? There was an auction in the village to-day, as I passed through, and I stopped at a cake-stand to get a glass of water, as it was very hot. There was no water— only beer: so I thought I would try a glass, simply as an experiment. Really, the flavor was very agreeable. And it occurred to me, on the way home, that all the elements contained in beer are vegetable. Besides, fermentation is a natural process. I think the question has never been properly tested before.’

“`But the alcohol!’ exclaimed Hollins.

“`I could not distinguish any, either by taste or smell. I know that chemical analysis is said to show it; but may not the alcohol be created, somehow, during the analysis?’

“`Abel,’ said Hollins, in a fresh burst of candor, `you will never be a Reformer, until you possess some of the commonest elements of knowledge.’

“The rest of us were much diverted: it was a pleasant relief to our monotonous amiability.

“Abel, however, had a stubborn streak in his character. The next day he sent Perkins Brown to Bridgeport for a dozen bottles of `Beer.’ Perkins, either intentionally or by mistake, (I always suspected the former,) brought pint-bottles of Scotch ale, which he placed in the coolest part of the cellar. The evening happened to be exceedingly hot and sultry, and, as we were all fanning ourselves and talking languidly, Abel bethought him of his beer. In his thirst, he drank the contents of the first bottle, almost at a single draught.

“`The effect of beer,’ said he, `depends, I think, on the commixture of the nourishing principle of the grain with the cooling properties of the water. Perhaps, hereafter, a liquid food of the same character may be invented, which shall save us from mastication and all the diseases of the teeth.’

“Hollins and Shelldrake, at his invitation, divided a bottle between them, and he took a second. The potent beverage was not long in acting on a brain so unaccustomed to its influence. He grew unusually talkative and sentimental, in a few minutes.

“`Oh, sing, somebody!’ he sighed in a hoarse rapture: `the night was made for Song.’

“Miss Ringtop, nothing loath, immediately commenced, `When stars are in the quiet skies;’ but scarcely had she finished the first verse before Abel interrupted her.

“`Candor’s the order of the day, isn’t it?’ he asked.

“`Yes!’ `Yes!’ two or three answered.

“`Well then,’ said he, `candidly, Pauline, you’ve got the darn’dest squeaky voice’—

“Miss Ringtop gave a faint little scream of horror.

“`Oh, never mind!’ he continued. `We act according to impulse, don’t we? And I’ve the impulse to swear; and it’s right. Let Nature have her way. Listen! Damn, damn, damn, damn! I never