第35章

byNathanielHawthorne

ANELDERLYMAN，withhisprettydaughteronhisarm，waspassing

alongthestreet，andemergedfromthegloomofthecloudyevening

intothelightthatfellacrossthepavementfromthewindowofa

smallshop。Itwasaprojectingwindow；andontheinsidewere

suspendedavarietyofwatches-pinchbeck，silver，andoneortwoof

gold-allwiththeirfacesturnedfromthestreet，asifchurlishly

disinclinedtoinformthewayfarerswhato’clockitwas。Seatedwithin

theshop，sidelongtothewindow，withhispalefacebentearnestly

oversomedelicatepieceofmechanism，onwhichwasthrownthe

concentratedlustreofashade-lamp，appearedayoungman。

“WhatcanOwenWarlandbeabout？”mutteredoldPeterHovenden-

himselfaretiredwatchmaker，andtheformermasterofthissameyoung

man，whoseoccupationhewasnowwonderingat。“Whatcanthefellowbe

about？Thesesixmonthspast，Ihavenevercomebyhisshopwithout

seeinghimjustassteadilyatworkasnow。Itwouldbeaflight

beyondhisusualfoolerytoseekforthePerpetualMotion。AndyetI

knowenoughofmyoldbusinesstobecertain，thatwhatheisnowso

busywithisnopartofthemachineryofawatch。”

“Perhaps，father。”saidAnnie，withoutshowingmuchinterestinthe

question，“Owenisinventinganewkindoftime-keeper。Iamsurehe

hasingenuityenough。”

“Pooh，child！hehasnotthesortofingenuitytoinventanything

betterthanaDutchtoy。”answeredherfather，whohadformerlybeen

puttomuchvexationbyOwenWarland’sirregulargenius。“Aplague

onsuchingenuity！AlltheeffectthateverIknewofitwas，tospoil

theaccuracyofsomeofthebestwatchesinmyshop。Hewouldturnthe

sunoutofitsorbit，andderangethewholecourseoftime，if，asI

saidbefore，hisingenuitycouldgraspanythingbiggerthana

child’stoy！”

“Hush，father！hehearsyou。”whisperedAnnie，pressingtheold

man’sarm。“Hisearsareasdelicateashisfeelings，andyouknowhow

easilydisturbedtheyare。Doletusmoveon。”

SoPeterHovendenandhisdaughterAnnieploddedon，without

furtherconversation，until，inaby-streetofthetown，theyfound

themselvespassingtheopendoorofablacksmith’sshop。Withinwas

seentheforge，nowblazingup，andilluminatingthehighanddusky

roof，andnowconfiningitslustretoanarrowprecinctofthe

coal-strewnfloor，accordingasthebreathofthebellowswaspuffed

forth，oragaininhaledintoitsvastleathernlungs。Intheintervals

ofbrightness，itwaseasytodistinguishobjectsinremotecornersof

theshop，andthehorse-shoesthathunguponthewall；inthe

momentarygloom，thefireseemedtobeglimmeringamidstthevagueness

ofun-enclosedspace。Movingaboutinthisredglareandalternate

dusk，wasthefigureoftheblacksmith，wellworthytobeviewedinso

picturesqueanaspectoflightandshade，wherethebrightblaze

struggledwiththeblacknight，asifeachwouldhavesnatchedhis

comelystrengthfromtheother。Anon，hedrewawhite-hotbarof

ironfromthecoals，laiditontheanvil，upliftedhisarmof

might，andwasseenenvelopedinthemyriadsofsparkswhichthe

strokesofhishammerscatteredintothesurroundinggloom。

“Now，thatisapleasantsight。”saidtheoldwatchmaker。“Iknow

whatitistoworkingold，butgivemetheworkeriniron，after

allissaidanddone。Hespendshislaboruponareality。Whatsay

you，daughterAnnie？”

“Praydon’tspeaksoloud，father。”whisperedAnnie。“Robert

Danforthwillhearyou。”

“Andwhatifheshouldhearme？”saidPeterHovenden；“Isayagain，

itisagoodandawholesomethingtodependuponmainstrengthand

reality，andtoearnone’sbreadwiththebareandbrawnyarmofa

blacksmith。Awatchmakergetshisbrainpuzzledbyhiswheelswithina

wheel，orloseshishealthorthenicetyofhiseyesight，aswasmy

case；andfindshimself，atmiddleage，oralittleafter，past

laborathisowntrade，andfitfornothingelse，yettoopoortolive

athisease。So，Isayonceagain，givememainstrengthformymoney。

Andthen，howittakesthenonsenseoutofaman！Didyoueverhearof

ablacksmithbeingsuchafoolasOwenWarland，yonder？”

“Wellsaid，uncleHovenden！”shoutedRobertDanforth，fromthe

forge，inafull，deep，merryvoice，thatmadetheroofreecho。“And

whatsaysMissAnnietothatdoctrine？She，Is