第27章

thearrivalofasleighfromVermont，ladenwiththefrozenbodies

ofporkers，orsheep，andperhapsadeerortwo；sometimesofa

regularmarket-man，withchickens，geese，andturkeys，comprising

thewholecolonyofabarn-yard；andsometimesofafarmerandhis

dame，whohadcometotownpartlyfortheride，partlytogo

a-shopping，andpartlyforthesaleofsomeeggsandbutter。This

couplerodeinanold-fashionedsquaresleigh，whichhadservedthem

twentywinters，andstoodtwentysummersinthesunbesidetheirdoor。

Now，agentlemanandladyskimmedthesnowinanelegantcar，shaped

somewhatlikeacockle-shell。Now，astage-sleigh，withitscloth

curtainsthrustasidetoadmitthesun，dashedrapidlydownthe

street，whirlinginandoutamongthevehiclesthatobstructedits

passage。Nowcame，roundacorner，thesimilitudeofNoah’sarkon

runners，beinganimmenseopensleighwithseatsforfiftypeople，and

drawnbyadozenhorses。Thisspaciousreceptaclewaspopulouswith

merrymaidsandmerrybachelors，merrygirlsandboys，andmerryold

folks，allalivewithfun，andgrinningtothefullwidthoftheir

mouths。Theykeptupabuzzofbabblingvoicesandlowlaughter，and

sometimesburstintoadeep，joyousshout，whichthespectators

answeredwiththreecheers，whileagangofroguishboysletdrive

theirsnowballsrightamongthepleasureparty。Thesleighpassed

on，and，whenconcealedbyabendofthestreet，wasstillaudible

byadistantcryofmerriment。

NeverhadPeterbeheldalivelierscenethanwasconstitutedbyall

theseaccessories：thebrightsun，theflashingwater-drops，the

gleamingsnow，thecheerfulmultitude，thevarietyofrapid

vehicles，andthejingle-jangleofmerrybellswhichmadetheheart

dancetotheirmusic。Nothingdismalwastobeseen，exceptthat

peakedpieceofantiquity，PeterGoldthwaite’shouse，whichmightwell

looksadexternally，sincesuchaterribleconsumptionwaspreying

onitsin-sides。AndPeter’sgauntfigure，halfvisibleinthe

projectingsecondstory，wasworthyofhishouse。

“Peter！Howgoesit，friendPeter？”criedavoiceacrossthe

street，asPeterwasdrawinginhishead。“Lookouthere，Peter！”

Peterlooked，andsawhisoldpartner，Mr。JohnBrown，onthe

oppositesidewalk，portlyandcomfortable，withhisfurredcloak

thrownopen，disclosingahandsomesurtoutbeneath。Hisvoicehad

directedtheattentionofthewholetowntoPeterGoldthwaite’s

window，andtothedustyscarecrowwhichappearedatit。

“Isay，Peter。”criedMr。Brownagain，“whatthedevilareyou

aboutthere，IhearsucharacketwheneverIpassby？Youare

repairingtheoldhouse，Isuppose-makinganewoneofit-eh？”

“Toolateforthat，Iamafraid，Mr。Brown。”repliedPeter。“IfI

makeitnew，itwillbenewinsideandout，fromthecellarupwards。”

“Hadnotyoubetterletmetakethejob？”saidMr。Brown，

significantly。

“Notyet！”answeredPeter，hastilyshuttingthewindow；for，ever

sincehehadbeeninsearchofthetreasure，hehatedtohavepeople

stareathim。

Ashedrewback，ashamedofhisoutwardpoverty，yetproudofthe

secretwealthwithinhisgrasp，ahaughtysmileshoneoutonPeter’s

visage，withpreciselytheeffectofthedimsunbeamsinthesqualid

chamber。Heendeavoredtoassumesuchamienashisancestorhad

probablyworn，whenhegloriedinthebuildingofastronghousefora

hometomanygenerationsofhisposterity。Butthechamberwasvery

darktohissnow-dazzledeyes，andverydismaltoo，incontrastwith

thelivingscenethathehadjustlookedupon。Hisbriefglimpse

intothestreethadgivenhimaforcibleimpressionofthemannerin

whichtheworldkeptitselfcheerfulandprosperous，bysocial

pleasuresandanintercourseofbusiness，whilehe，inseclusion，

waspursuinganobjectthatmightpossiblybeaphantasm，bya

methodwhichmostpeoplewouldcallmadness。Itisonegreatadvantage

ofagregariousmodeoflifethatea