Often he would be surrounded by an eager circle, all waiting
to be served; holding boat-spades, pikeheads, harpoons, and lances,
and jealously watching his every sooty movement, as he toiled.
Nevertheless, this old man's was a patient hammer wielded by a
patient arm. No murmur, no impatience, no petulance did come
from him. Silent, slow, and solemn; bowing over still further his
chronically broken back, he toiled away, as if toil were life itself,
and the heavy beating of his hammer the heavy beating of his heart.
And so it was.--Most miserable!
A peculiar walk in this old man, a certain slight but painful
appearing yawing in his gait, had at an early period of the voyage
excited the curiosity of the mariners. And to the importunity
of their persisted questionings he had finally given in;
and so it came to pass that every one now knew the shameful
story of his wretched fate.
Belated, and not innocently, one bitter winter's midnight,
on the road running between two country towns, the blacksmith
half-stupidly felt the deadly numbness stealing over him,
and sought refuge in a leaning, dilapidated barn.
The issue was, the loss of the extremities of both feet.
Out of this revelation, part by part, at last came out the four
acts of the gladness, and the one long, and as yet uncatastrophied
fifth act of the grief of his life's drama.
Pages:
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785