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

An Astonishing thing to Me Where They All Come From.

I'Ve Been Riding up And Down On These Boats For Six Or

Seven Years,  And I Don'T Know But Very Few Of The Faces

I See On Board.  Seems To Be A Perfectly Fresh Lot

Every Time.  Well,  Of Course! Town'S Full Of Strangers

In The Summer Season,  Anyway,  And Folks Keep Coming

Down From The Country.  They Think It'S A Great Thing

To Get Down To The Beach,  And They'Ve All Heard Of The

Electric Light On The Water,  And They Want To See It.

But You Take Faces Now! The Astonishing thing to Me

Is Not What A Face Tells,  But What It Don'T Tell.

When You Think Of What A Man Is,  Or A Woman Is,  And What

Most Of 'Em Have Been Through Before They Get To Be Thirty,

It Seems As If Their Experience Would Burn Right Through.

But It Don'T. I Like To Watch The Couples,  And Try To Make

Out Which Are Engaged,  Or Going to Be,  And Which Are Married,

Or Better Be.  But Half The Time I Can'T Make Any Sort

Of Guess.  Of Course,  Where They'Re Young And Kittenish,

You Can Tell; But Where They'Re Anyways On,  You Can'T.

Heigh?"

 

"Yes,  I Think You'Re Right," Said Corey,  Not Perfectly

Reconciled to Philosophy In the Place Of Business,

But Accepting it As He Must.

 

"Well," Said The Colonel,  "I Don'T Suppose It Was Meant We

Should Know What Was In each Other'S Minds.  It Would Take

A Man Out Of His Own Hands.  As Long As He'S In his Own Hands,

There'S Some Hopes Of His Doing something with Himself;

But If A Fellow Has Been Found Out--Even If He Hasn'T Been

Found Out To Be So Very Bad--It'S Pretty Much All Up With Him.

No,  Sir.  I Don'T Want To Know People Through And Through."

 

The Greater Part Of The Crowd On Board--And,  Of Course,

The Boat Was Crowded--Looked as If They Might Not Only

Be Easily But Safely Known.  There Was Little Style

And No Distinction Among Them; They Were People Who Were

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Going down To The Beach For The Fun Or The Relief Of It,

And Were Able To Afford It.  In face They Were Commonplace,

With Nothing but The American Poetry Of Vivid Purpose

To Light Them Up,  Where They Did Not Wholly Lack Fire.

But They Were Nearly All Shrewd And Friendly-Looking,

With An Apparent Readiness For The Humorous Intimacy

Native To Us All.  The Women Were Dandified in dress,

According to Their Means And Taste,  And The Men Differed

From Each Other In degrees Of Indifference To It.

To A Straw-Hatted population,  Such As Ours Is In summer,

No Sort Of Personal Dignity Is Possible.  We Have Not Even

The Power Over Observers Which Comes From The Fantasticality

Of An Englishman When He Discards The Conventional Dress.

In Our Straw Hats And Our Serge Or Flannel Sacks We Are No

More Imposing than A Crowd Of Boys.

 

"Some Day," Said Lapham,  Rising as The Boat Drew Near

The Wharf Of The Final Landing,  "There S Going to Be

An Awful Accident On These Boats.  Just Look At That Jam."

 

He Meant The People Thickly Packed on The Pier,  And Under

Strong Restraint Of Locks And Gates,  To Prevent Them

From Rushing on Board The Boat And Possessing her For The

Return Trip Before She Had Landed her Nantasket Passengers.

 

"Overload 'Em Every Time," He Continued,  With A Sort

Of Dry,  Impersonal Concern At The Impending calamity,

As If It Could Not Possibly Include Him.  "They Take

About Twice As Many As They Ought To Carry,  And About Ten

Times As Many As They Could Save If Anything happened.

Yes,  Sir,  It'S Bound To Come.  Hello! There'S My Girl!"

He Took Out His Folded newspaper And Waved it Toward A Group

Of Phaetons And Barouches Drawn Up On The Pier A Little

Apart From The Pack Of People,  And A Lady In one Of Them

Answered with A Flourish Of Her Parasol.

 

When He Had Made His Way With His Guest Through The Crowd,

She Began To Speak To Her Father Before She Noticed corey.

"Well,  Colonel,  You'Ve Improved your Last Chance.

We'Ve Been Coming to Every Boat Since Four O'Clock,--Or

Jerry Has,--And I Told Mother That I Would Come Myself Once,

And See If I Couldn'T Fetch You; And If I Failed,  You Could

Walk Next Time.  You'Re Getting perfectly Spoiled."

 

The Colonel Enjoyed letting her Scold Him To The End

Before He Said,  With A Twinkle Of Pride In his Guest

And Satisfaction In her Probably Being able To Hold Her

Own Against Any Discomfiture,  "I'Ve Brought Mr. Corey

Down For The Night With Me,  And I Was Showing him Things

All The Way,  And It Took Time."

 

The Young Fellow Was At The Side Of The Open Beach-Wagon,

Making a Quick Bow,  And Penelope Lapham Was Cozily Drawling,

"Oh,  How Do You Do,  Mr. Corey?" Before The Colonel Had

Finished his Explanation.

 

"Get Right In there,  Alongside Of Miss Lapham,  Mr. Corey,"

He Said,  Pulling himself Up Into The Place Beside The Driver. 

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"No,  No," He Had Added quickly,  At Some Signs Of Polite

Protest In the Young Man,  "I Don'T Give Up The Best Place

To Anybody.  Jerry,  Suppose You Let Me Have Hold Of The

Leathers A Minute."

 

This Was His Way Of Taking the Reins From The Driver;

And In half The Time He Specified,  He Had Skilfully

Turned the Vehicle On The Pier,  Among The Crooked lines

And Groups Of Foot-Passengers,  And Was Spinning up The Road

Toward The Stretch Of Verandaed hotels And Restaurants

In The Sand Along The Shore.  "Pretty Gay Down Here,"

He Said,  Indicating all This With A Turn Of His Whip,  As He

Left It Behind Him.  "But I'Ve Got About Sick Of Hotels;

And This Summer I Made Up My Mind That I'D Take A Cottage.

Well,  Pen,  How Are The Folks?" He Looked half-Way Round

For Her Answer,  And With The Eye Thus Brought To Bear Upon

Her He Was Able To Give Her A Wink Of Supreme Content.

The Colonel,  With No Sort Of Ulterior Design,  And Nothing

But His Triumph Over Mrs. Lapham Definitely In his Mind,

Was Feeling,  As He Would Have Said,  About Right.

 

 

 

 

 

The Girl Smiled a Daughter'S Amusement At Her

Father'S Boyishness.  "I Don'T Think There'S Much Change

Since Morning.  Did Irene Have A Headache When You Left?"

 

"No," Said The Colonel.

 

"Well,  Then,  There'S That To Report."

 

"Pshaw!" Said The Colonel With Vexation In his Tone.

 

"I'M Sorry Miss Irene Isn'T Well," Said Corey Politely.

 

"I Think She Must Have Got It From Walking too Long

On The Beach.  The Air Is So Cool Here That You Forget

How Hot The Sun Is."

 

"Yes,  That'S True," Assented corey.

 

"A Good Night'S Rest Will Make It All Right," Suggested the Colonel,

Without Looking round.  "But You Girls Have Got To Look Out."

 

"If You'Re Fond Of Walking," Said Corey,  "I Suppose You

Find The Beach A Temptation."

 

"Oh,  It Isn'T So Much That," Returned the Girl.

"You Keep Walking on And On Because It'S So Smooth And

Straight Before You.  We'Ve Been Here So Often That We

Know It All By Heart--Just How It Looks At High Tide,

And How It Looks At Low Tide,  And How It Looks After

A Storm.  We'Re As Well Acquainted with The Crabs And

Stranded jelly-Fish As We Are With The Children Digging

In The Sand And The People Sitting under Umbrellas.

I Think They'Re Always The Same,  All Of Them."

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The Colonel Left The Talk To The Young People.

When He Spoke Next It Was To Say,  "Well,  Here We Are!"

And He Turned from The Highway And Drove Up In front

Of A Brown Cottage With A Vermilion Roof,  And A Group

Of Geraniums Clutching the Rock That Cropped up In the Loop

Formed by The Road.  It Was Treeless And Bare All Round,

And The Ocean,  Unnecessarily Vast,  Weltered away A Little

More Than A Stone'S-Cast From The Cottage.  A Hospitable

Smell Of Supper Filled the Air,  And Mrs. Lapham Was On

The Veranda,  With That Demand In her Eyes For Her Belated

Husband'S Excuses,  Which She Was Obliged to Check On Her

Tongue At Sight Of Corey.

 

 

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The Exultant Colonel Swung Himself Lightly Down From His Seat.

"I'Ve Brought Mr. Corey With Me," He Nonchalantly Explained.

 

Mrs. Lapham Made Their Guest Welcome,  And The Colonel Showed

Him To His Room,  Briefly Assuring himself That There Was

Nothing wanting there.  Then He Went To Wash His Own Hands,

Carelessly Ignoring the Eagerness With Which His Wife

Pursued him To Their Chamber.

 

"What Gave Irene A Headache?" He Asked,  Making himself

A Fine Lather For His Hairy Paws.

 

"Never You Mind Irene," Promptly Retorted his Wife.

"How Came He To Come? Did You Press Him? If You Did,

I'Ll Never Forgive You,  Silas!"

 

The Colonel Laughed,  And His Wife Shook Him By The

Shoulder To Make Him Laugh Lower.  "'Sh!" She Whispered.

"Do You Want Him To Hear Every Thing? Did You Urge Him?"

 

The Colonel Laughed the More.  He Was Going to Get

All The Good Out Of This.  "No,  I Didn'T Urge Him.

Seemed to Want To Come."

 

"I Don'T Believe It.  Where Did You Meet Him?"

 

"At The Office."

 

"What Office?"

 

"Mine."

 

"Nonsense! What Was He Doing there?"