The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 by William Dean Howells (read dune txt) 📕

It

Came Out,  And He Ended by Feeling rather Sore About It.

He Took It For Granted that Everybody Had Read It.

 

"I Don'T Know What You Mean," Replied corey,  "I Don'T

See The Events Regularly."

 

"Oh,  It Was Nothing.  They Sent A Fellow Down Here To

Interview Me,  And He Got Everything about As Twisted

As He Could."

 

"I Believe They Always Do," Said Corey.  "I Hadn'T Seen It.

Perhaps It Came Out Before I Got Home."

 

"Perhaps It Did."

 

"My Notion Of Making myself Useful To You Was Based

On A Hint I Got From One Of Your Own Circulars."

 

Lapham Was Proud Of Those Circulars; He Thought They Read

Very Well.  "What Was That?"

 

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"I Could Put A Little Capital Into The Business," Said Corey,

With The Tentative Accent Of A Man Who Chances A Thing.

"I'Ve Got A Little Money,  But I Didn'T Imagine You Cared

For Anything of That Kind."

 

"No,  Sir,  I Don'T," Returned the Colonel Bluntly.

"I'Ve Had One Partner,  And One'S Enough."

 

"Yes," Assented the Young Man,  Who Doubtless Had His Own

Ideas As To Eventualities--Or Perhaps Rather Had The Vague

Hopes Of Youth.  "I Didn'T Come To Propose A Partnership.

But I See That You Are Introducing your Paint Into The

Foreign Markets,  And There I Really Thought I Might Be

Of Use To You,  And To Myself Too."

 

"How?" Asked the Colonel Scantly.

 

"Well,  I Know Two Or Three Languages Pretty Well.

I Know French,  And I Know German,  And I'Ve Got A Pretty

Fair Sprinkling of Spanish."

 

"You Mean That You Can Talk Them?" Asked the Colonel,

With The Mingled awe And Slight That Such A Man Feels

For Such Accomplishments.  "Yes; And I Can Write

An Intelligible Letter In either Of Them."

 

Lapham Rubbed his Nose.  "It'S Easy Enough To Get All

The Letters We Want Translated."

 

"Well," Pursued corey,  Not Showing his Discouragement

If He Felt Any,  "I Know The Countries Where You Want

To Introduce This Paint Of Yours.  I'Ve Been There.

I'Ve Been In germany And France And I'Ve Been In south

America And Mexico; I'Ve Been In italy,  Of Course.

I Believe I Could Go To Any Of Those Countries And Place It

To Advantage."

 

Lapham Had Listened with A Trace Of Persuasion In his Face,

But Now He Shook His Head.

 

"It'S Placing itself As Fast As There'S Any Call For It.

It Wouldn'T Pay Us To Send Anybody Out To Look After It.

Your Salary And Expenses Would Eat Up About All We Should Make

On It."

 

"Yes," Returned the Young Man Intrepidly,  "If You Had

To Pay Me Any Salary And Expenses."

 

"You Don'T Propose To Work For Nothing?"

 

"I Propose To Work For A Commission." The Colonel Was

Beginning to Shake His Head Again,  But Corey Hurried on.

"I Haven'T Come To You Without Making some Inquiries About

The Paint,  And I Know How It Stands With Those Who Know Best.

I Believe In it."

 

Lapham Lifted his Head And Looked at The Young Man,

Deeply Moved. 

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"It'S The Best Paint In god'S Universe," He Said With

The Solemnity Of Prayer.

 

"It'S The Best In the Market," Said Corey; And He Repeated,

"I Believe In it."

 

"You Believe In it," Began The Colonel,  And Then He Stopped.

If There Had Really Been Any Purchasing power In money,  A Year'S

Income Would Have Bought Mrs. Lapham'S Instant Presence.

He Warmed and Softened to The Young Man In every Way,

Not Only Because He Must Do So To Any One Who Believed

In His Paint,  But Because He Had Done This Innocent Person

The Wrong Of Listening to A Defamation Of His Instinct

And Good Sense,  And Had Been Willing to See Him Suffer

For A Purely Supposititious Offence.

 

Corey Rose.

 

"You Mustn'T Let Me Outstay My Twenty Minutes," He Said,

Taking out His Watch.  "I Don'T Expect You To Give A

Decided answer On The Spot.  All That I Ask Is That You'Ll

Consider My Proposition."

 

"Don'T Hurry," Said Lapham.  "Sit Still! I Want To Tell

You About This Paint," He Added,  In a Voice Husky

With The Feeling that His Hearer Could Not Divine.

"I Want To Tell You All About It."

 

"I Could Walk With You To The Boat," Suggested the Young Man.

 

"Never Mind The Boat! I Can Take The Next One.  Look Here!"

The Colonel Pulled open A Drawer,  As Corey Sat Down Again,

And Took Out A Photograph Of The Locality Of The Mine.

"Here'S Where We Get It.  This Photograph Don'T Half

Do The Place Justice," He Said,  As If The Imperfect

Art Had Slighted the Features Of A Beloved face.

"It'S One Of The Sightliest Places In the Country,

And Here'S The Very Spot "--He Covered it With His Huge

Forefinger--"Where My Father Found That Paint,  More Than

Forty--Years--Ago. Yes,  Sir!"

 

He Went On,  And Told The Story In unsparing detail,

While His Chance For The Boat Passed unheeded,  And The

Clerks In the Outer Office Hung Up Their Linen Office Coats

And Put On Their Seersucker Or Flannel Street Coats.

The Young Lady Went Too,  And Nobody Was Left But The Porter,

Who Made From Time To Time A Noisy Demonstration Of

Fastening a Distant Blind,  Or Putting something in place.

At Last The Colonel Roused himself From The Autobiographical

Delight Of The History Of His Paint.  "Well,  Sir,

That'S The Story."

 

"It'S An Interesting story," Said Corey,  With A Long Breath,

As They Rose Together,  And Lapham Put On His Coat.

 

"That'S What It Is," Said The Colonel.  "Well!" He Added,

"I Don'T See But What We'Ve Got To Have Another Talk

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About This Thing.  It'S A Surprise To Me,  And I Don'T See

Exactly How You'Re Going to Make It Pay."

 

"I'M Willing to Take The Chances," Answered corey.  "As I Said,

I Believe In it.  I Should Try South America First.

I Should Try Chili."

 

"Look Here!" Said Lapham,  With His Watch In his Hand.

"I Like To Get Things Over.  We'Ve Just Got Time For

The Six O'Clock Boat.  Why Don'T You Come Down With Me

To Nantasket? I Can Give You A Bed as Well As Not.

And Then We Can Finish Up."

 

The Impatience Of Youth In corey Responded to The

Impatience Of Temperament In his Elder.  "Why,  I Don'T

See Why I Shouldn'T," He Allowed himself To Say.

"I Confess I Should Like To Have It Finished up Myself,

If It Could Be Finished up In the Right Way."

 

"Well,  We'Ll See.  Dennis!" Lapham Called to The Remote

Porter,  And The Man Came.  "Want To Send Any Word Home?"

He Asked corey.

 

"No; My Father And I Go And Come As We Like,  Without

Keeping account Of Each Other.  If I Don'T Come Home,

He Knows That I'M Not There.  That'S All."

 

"Well,  That'S Convenient.  You'Ll Find You Can'T Do That

When You'Re Married.  Never Mind,  Dennis," Said The Colonel.

 

He Had Time To Buy Two Newspapers On The Wharf

Before He Jumped on Board The Steam-Boat With Corey.

"Just Made It," He Said; "And That'S What I Like To Do.

I Can'T Stand It To Be Aboard Much More Than A Minute

Before She Shoves Out." He Gave One Of The Newspapers

To Corey As He Spoke,  And Set Him The Example Of Catching

Up A Camp-Stool On Their Way To That Point On The Boat

Which His Experience Had Taught Him Was The Best.

He Opened his Paper At Once And Began To Run Over Its News,

While The Young Man Watched the Spectacular Recession

Of The City,  And Was Vaguely Conscious Of The People

About Him,  And Of The Gay Life Of The Water Round The Boat.

The Air Freshened; The Craft Thinned in number; They Met

Larger Sail,  Lagging slowly Inward In the Afternoon Light;

The Islands Of The Bay Waxed and Waned as The Steamer

Approached and Left Them Behind.

 

"I Hate To See Them Stirring up Those Southern Fellows Again,"

Said The Colonel,  Speaking into The Paper On His Lap.

"Seems To Me It'S Time To Let Those Old Issues Go."

 

"Yes," Said The Young Man.  "What Are They Doing now?"

 

"Oh,  Stirring up The Confederate Brigadiers In congress.

I Don'T Like It.  Seems To Me,  If Our Party Hain'T Got Any

Other Stock-In-Trade,  We Better Shut Up Shop Altogether."

Lapham Went On,  As He Scanned his Newspaper,  To Give

His Ideas Of Public Questions,  In a Fragmentary Way,

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While Corey Listened patiently,  And Waited for Him To

Come Back To Business.  He Folded up His Paper At Last,

And Stuffed it Into His Coat Pocket.  "There'S One Thing i

Always Make It A Rule To Do," He Said,  "And That Is To Give

My Mind A Complete Rest From Business While I'M Going down

On The Boat.  I Like To Get The Fresh Air All Through Me,

Soul And Body.  I Believe A Man Can Give His Mind A Rest,

Just The Same As He Can Give His Legs A Rest,  Or His Back.

All He'S Got To Do Is To Use His Will-Power. Why,  I Suppose,

If I Hadn'T Adopted some Such Rule,  With The Strain I'Ve

Had On Me For The Last Ten Years,  I Should 'A' Been

A Dead Man Long Ago.  That'S The Reason I Like A Horse.

You'Ve Got To Give Your Mind To The Horse; You Can'T Help It,

Unless You Want To Break Your Neck; But A Boat'S Different,

And There You Got To Use Your Will-Power.  You Got

To Take Your Mind Right Up And Put It Where You Want It.

I Make It A Rule To Read The Paper On The Boat----Hold On!"

He Interrupted himself To Prevent Corey From Paying

His Fare To The Man Who Had Come Round For It.

"I'Ve Got Tickets.  And When I Get Through The Paper,

I Try To Get Somebody To Talk To,  Or I Watch The People.

It'S