Robert Nathan

“ But Juliet drew away.
"I'm not little," she said. "I'm old."
"So am I old," said Anna. She felt the joy run out of her; it left her empty. "I expect everybody in the world is old," she said. She watched her hands move about in the hay like great spiders.
"Is it fun to be old, do you think?" asked Juliet.
"I don't know," said Anna. "I don't expect it is, much."
"Mother is old," said Juliet. "What do old people do?"
Anna looked out through the barn door across the wet fields, the drenched hillsides, shrouded in mist. ”

“ Above them the smoke from Aaron's chimney, thin and blue, rose bending like an Indian pipe in the still air. And Mr. Jeminy gazed at it in silence, before replying:
"You have had the good things of life, Aaron Bade."
"Have I?" said Aaron bitterly. "I'm sure I didn't know it. What are the good things of life, Mr. Jeminy?"
"Love," said Mr. Jeminy, "peace, quiet of the heart, the work of one's hands. Perhaps it is human to wish for more. But to be human is not always to be wise. Do you desire to see the world, Aaron Bade? Soon you would ask to be home again." ”

“ Slowly, to the tonkle of herds in pasture, the crowing of cocks, and the thin, clear clang of the smithy, the full sun sank in the west. For a time all was quiet, as night, the shadow of the earth, crept between man and God.
After supper Thomas Frye, in his father's wagon, went to call on Anna
Barly.
From her porch where she sat hidden by vines which gave forth an odor sweeter than honey, the night was visible, pale and full of shadows. To the boy beside her, timid and ardent, the silence of her parents seemed, like the night, to be full of opinions.
"Well . . . shall we go for a ride?" ”

“ As she passed the little cottage belonging to Mrs. Wicket, she thought to herself: "Yes, you've seen something of life. But not what I want to see, exactly. Look at you." Like Mrs. Grumble, she believed that Mrs. Wicket had nothing more to live for. "There you are," she said, "and there you'll be. Life doesn't mean even as much as a hayride, so far as you're concerned.
"You, God," she cried, "put something in my way, just once."
At that moment Juliet, who had been peeking out from behind the house, came skipping down the path to the road. ”

“ Tomkins. And off he went along the path, to tell his wife, as he got into bed, that she was a lucky woman. But Mr. Jeminy stood in the doorway, gazing out across the hills, like David over Hebron. Below him the last late lanterns of the village burned in the valley. He heard the shrill kreef kreedn kreedn of the tree frogs, the cheep of crickets, the lonely barking of a dog, ghostly and far away; he breathed the air of night, cold, and sweet with honeysuckle. Age was in bed; only the young moved and whispered in the shadows; youth, obscure and immortal; love and hope, love and sorrow. ”

“ Jeminy was told that Thomas Frye and Anna Barly were to be married, he exclaimed: "What a shame.
"Yes," he continued with energy, "what a shame, Mrs. Grumble. They did as they were bid. Now they know that love is a trap to catch the young, and tie them up once and for all, close to the kitchen sink."
"No one bade them do what they'd no right to do," said Mrs. Grumble.
"They did," replied Mr. Jeminy sensibly, "only what they were meant to do. Youth was not made for the chimney corner, Mrs. Grumble. And love is not all one piece. We make it so, because we are timid and indolent. ”

“ There, seated upon a stone, he saw himself in Attleboro again, pictured to himself the countryside beyond, and before noon, was half way round the world, leaving friends behind him in every land. Then, with a sigh, he would go in among the corn with his weeder, only to stand dreaming at every rustle of wind, seeing, in his mind, the smoke of distant cities, hearing, in fancy, the booming of foreign seas.
His wife was no longer a young woman. As a girl she had also had hopes for herself. It seemed to her, when she chose Aaron Bade, that in his company, life would be surprising and delightful. ”

“ Grumble," he said. "Your troubles are over. For you there is neither doubt nor grief; life does not matter to you any more. Nor does it matter very much to me. For there is no one now to care what I do. I am no trouble to anybody."
The chilly breath of morning filled the valley with mist, fine, gray, imperceptible in the faint light of dawn. And a farmer's cart, as it rattled down the road, woke, in his chair, the old schoolmaster from the reverie into which he had fallen.
Faint and clear the early lights of the village went out, leaving the valley empty and cold. ”

“ Anna, huddled in the hay, could see her breath go out in fog; while the moon, shining in her face, seemed to veil in shadow the forms of her companions—Elsie Cobbler with her round, soft elbow over Brandon Adam's face, Susie Ploughman murmuring to Alec Stove . . . She was chilly and wakeful; and watching the moon through miles of empty sky, heard, as if from far away, the singing up front, back of the driver's seat, and Thomas, whispering at her side. ”

“ I am sick of you."
"I am building the world again," said Francis mildly; "it is all the more difficult because, for building material, I can find nothing but these old stones."
Mr. Jeminy gave his pupils their final examination in a meadow below the schoolhouse. There, seated among the dandelions, with voices as shrill as the crickets, they answered his questions, and watched the clouds, like great pillows, sail on the wind from west to east. Under the shiny sky, among the warm, sweet fields, Mr. Jeminy looked no more important than a robin, and not much wiser. ”

“ Wicket stood gazing at the ground, twisting her apron with her hands. On her face was a look of pity for Mr. Jeminy, because she had heard that he was not to teach school any longer. "It will be a hard blow to him," she thought.
"Few," continued Mr. Jeminy, "go very long without their share of sorrow. And sorrow is not a light thing to bear, Mrs. Wicket. Poverty, also, falls to the lot of most of us; and it is not easy to be poor. Yet to be poor, to be sad, and to be brave, is indeed the best of life. ”

“ It is the land we see from any hilltop. As we gaze at its far off rises, its hazy, shadowy valleys, we feel within us a longing and a faint melancholy. There, we think, dwell the friends who would love us, if we were known to them, and there, too, must be found the beauty and the happiness that we have failed to discover where we are. It seems to us that there, in the distance, we should be happier, we should be more amiable and more dignified.
Aaron Bade, tied to his rocky farm on the slopes above Adams' Forge, remembered with a feeling of pleasure his one journey as far south as Attleboro. ”

“ What with the young folks growing up so wild, we must all be as busy as thieves to keep what belongs to us."
"And what belongs to us, Mrs. Grumble?" asked the dressmaker, lifting from her lap a dress designed for Mrs. Sneath, the butcher's wife.
"No more than what we can get," replied Mrs. Grumble, with a shake of her head. "And that's little enough."
"Then," said Miss Beal, "what do you think Anna Barly meant by saying 'twas the old had got her into trouble?"
"Why, bless your soul," said Mrs. Grumble.
Miss Beal, from the front of her chair, regarded her friend with round and serious eyes. ”

“ In this valley youth is not without courage, or age without wisdom. Yet age, although wise, is full of sorrow."
While he was musing in this vein, the odor of frying bacon from the kitchen, warmed his nose. So he was not surprised to see Mrs. Grumble appear in the doorway soon afterward. "Your supper is ready," she said; "if you don't come in at once it will grow cold."
For supper, Mr. Jeminy had a bowl of soup, a glass of milk, bacon, potatoes, and a loaf of bread. When Mrs. Grumble was seated, he bent his head, and said: "Let us give thanks to God for this manifestation of His bounty." ”

“ Jeminy, clad in a pair of brown, earthy overalls, a blue, cotton shirt, and a straw hat, full of holes, was helping Mr. Tomkins dig potatoes, up on Barly Hill. From the field on the slopes above the village, he could see the hills across the valley, misted in the sun. Above him stretched the shining sky, thronged with its winds, the low clouds of early autumn trailing their shadows across the woods. All was peace; he saw September's yellow fields, and felt, on his face, the cool fall wind, with its smoke of burning leaves, mingled with the odor of spaded earth, and fresh manure. ”

“ Anna was the youngest of her three dolls; that is to say, Anna was smaller than either Sara or Margaret. It seemed to Juliet that to be without a parlor was to lack elegance. Mr. Jeminy rubbed his chin. "Isn't Anna very young," he asked, "to keep company in the parlor?"
"No, she isn't," said Juliet.
Then, as Mr. Jeminy made no reply, she added, "She's six, going on seven."
Mr. Jeminy sighed. "Is she indeed?" he remarked absently. "It is a charming age. I wish I were able to see the world again through the eyes of six, going on seven. What a noble world it would seem, full of pleasant people." ”

“ And one by one we slip away, no wiser than before.
"We are like the bees, who work from dawn till dark, gathering honey in the fields and in the woods. But we are not as wise as the bees, for each one grasps what he can, and cries, 'this is mine.' Then seeing that it is of no use to him, he adds, 'What will you give me for it?'"
And he began to think of the past. It seemed to him that he was in school again. It was spring; and the children came romping into the schoolroom, their arms full of books and flowers. Summer passed; he saw Anna Barly crying by the roadside, under the gray sky. ”

“ Old Mrs. Ploughman said nothing, but regarded her friends with a gloomy and thoughtful air. On the other hand, Miss Beal, the dressmaker, saw no reason to keep her opinions to herself. "It's a scandal," she said to her friend Mrs. Grumble; "what with Eben Wicket scarcely cold in his grave, and John a thief, with his neck broke and heaven only knows what else besides."
Nevertheless, that summer Noel Ploughman's sober, honest face was often to be seen in Mrs. Wicket's garden patch, among the beans and the lettuces. Who can say what they found in one another to admire? ”

“ Grumble. "He talks about nothing but the dead," she said to Miss Beal; "mostly heathen."
"No," said Miss Beal. "How aggravating."
Now, Mr. Jeminy, unheeding the sighs of his housekeeper, continued: "But after all, I would not change places with Farmer Barly. For riches are a source of trouble, Mrs. Grumble; they crowd love out of the heart. A man is only to be envied who desires little."
"It is always the same," said Mrs. Grumble; "the rich have their pleasures, and the poor people their sorrows." ”

“ He who wants little for himself, is a happy man. If he is wise, he will pity those who have more than they need. He will not envy them; he will see the trouble they are making for themselves. There is no end of pity in this world, Mrs. Wicket; like love, it makes rich men of us all."
Mrs. Wicket nodded her head. "Yes," she said, "it's a blessing to feel pity. It makes you strong, like. The humble heart is a power of strength."
And she went back to Juliet, who had begun to cough again. Left to himself, Mr. Jeminy regarded the gate-post with a thoughtful air. ”

“ It is in your hands, Anna Barly, and yours, Thomas Frye. But you must do better than I did, and those with whom I quarreled. To youth is given the burden and the pain. Only the old are happy to-day.
"Children, children, what will become of you?"
When Mr. Jeminy, with Juliet in his arms, strode in through Mrs. Grumble's door, Mrs. Wicket rose to her feet, her hands pressed to her bosom with delight and alarm. Mr. Jeminy gave Juliet to her mother. "Take the child home," he said. Then with timid, hesitant steps, he approached Mrs. Grumble's bed. ”

“ Little Juliet, playing on the steps with her doll Sara, missed none of this conversation, only a part of which, however, she understood. While she dressed and undressed her child, made of rags and sawdust, put her to sleep and woke her up again, she was listening with attention first to Mrs. Tomkins, and then to Mrs. Ploughman.
"Let's play you're Mrs. Grumble," she told Sara. And she covered the doll with her handkerchief. Sara did not mind the square piece of cambric, which Juliet often used to carry small handfuls of earth from one place to another. "I'm mother," said Juliet. ”

“ Jeminy, who she never doubted would come to help her die.
Meanwhile the schoolmaster, in Aaron Bade's wagon, was rattling along the road, with Juliet tight asleep in his arms. As he drew near his home, he saw in the distance Barly Hill, and the lights of Barly Farm shining across the valley. "I am coming home again," he said to them; "I have no longer any pride. So now I know that I am an old man."
But later a feeling of peace took possession of his heart. "Yes," he said, "I am an old man. The world is not my affair any more. ”

“ Now that the war was over, the neighbors no longer came to his cottage with gifts of vegetables, fruit, and milk. Mrs. Grumble looked at him thoughtfully, and while she washed the plates at the kitchen sink, sighed from the bottom of her soul. Although she liked Mr. Jeminy who, she declared, was a good man, she felt, nevertheless, that in his company her talents were wasted. "It is impossible to talk to Mr. Jeminy," she told Miss Beal, the dress-maker, "because he talks so much." ”

“ Anna stood at the sink, and washed the dishes. Her hands floated through the warm, soapy water like lazy fish, curled around plates, swam out of pots; while her thoughts, drowsy, sunny in her head, passed, like her hands, from what was hardly seen to what was hardly felt.
"Look after the milk, Anna," said her mother, "while I go for some kindlings." She went out, thin, stooped, her long, lean fingers fumbling with her apron; and she came back more bent than before. She put the wood down with a sigh. "A body's never done," she said. ”