The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1, William Dean Howells [the red fox clan txt] 📗
- Author: William Dean Howells
Book online «The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1, William Dean Howells [the red fox clan txt] 📗». Author William Dean Howells
Said Lapham, With Less Satisfaction Than He Had Hitherto
Shown In his Autobiography. "But I Found That I Had Got
Back To Another World. The Day Of Small Things Was Past,
And I Don'T Suppose It Will Ever Come Again In this Country.
My Wife Was At Me All The Time To Take A Partner--Somebody
With Capital; But I Couldn'T Seem To Bear The Idea.
That Paint Was Like My Own Blood To Me. To Have Anybody
of 1 Part 1 Pg 12Else Concerned in it Was Like--Well, I Don'T Know What.
I Saw It Was The Thing to Do; But I Tried to Fight It Off,
And I Tried to Joke It Off. I Used to Say, 'Why Didn'T
You Take A Partner Yourself, Persis, While I Was Away?'
And She'D Say, 'Well, If You Hadn'T Come Back, I Should,
Si.' Always Did Like A Joke About As Well As Any Woman I
Ever Saw. Well, I Had To Come To It. I Took A Partner."
Lapham Dropped the Bold Blue Eyes With Which He Had Been
Till Now Staring into Bartley'S Face, And The Reporter
Knew That Here Was A Place For Asterisks In his Interview,
If Interviews Were Faithful. "He Had Money Enough,"
Continued lapham, With A Suppressed sigh; "But He Didn'T Know
Anything about Paint. We Hung On Together For A Year Or Two.
And Then We Quit."
"And He Had The Experience," Suggested bartley,
With Companionable Ease.
"I Had Some Of The Experience Too," Said Lapham,
With A Scowl; And Bartley Divined, Through The Freemasonry
Of All Who Have Sore Places In their Memories, That This
Was A Point Which He Must Not Touch Again.
"And Since That, I Suppose, You'Ve Played it Alone."
"I'Ve Played it Alone."
"You Must Ship Some Of This Paint Of Yours To Foreign Countries,
Colonel?" Suggested bartley, Putting on A Professional Air.
"We Ship It To All Parts Of The World. It Goes To South America,
Lots Of It. It Goes To Australia, And It Goes To India,
And It Goes To China, And It Goes To The Cape Of Good Hope.
It'Ll Stand Any Climate. Of Course, We Don'T Export
These Fancy Brands Much. They'Re For Home Use. But We'Re
Introducing them Elsewhere. Here." Lapham Pulled open
A Drawer, And Showed bartley A Lot Of Labels In different
Languages--Spanish, French, German, And Italian.
"We Expect To Do A Good Business In all Those Countries.
We'Ve Got Our Agencies In cadiz Now, And In paris,
And In hamburg, And In leghorn. It'S A Thing that'S Bound
To Make Its Way. Yes, Sir. Wherever A Man Has Got A Ship,
Or A Bridge, Or A Lock, Or A House, Or A Car, Or A Fence,
Or A Pig-Pen Anywhere In god'S Universe To Paint, That'S The
Paint For Him, And He'S Bound To Find It Out Sooner Or Later.
You Pass A Ton Of That Paint Dry Through A Blast-Furnace,
And You'Ll Get A Quarter Of A Ton Of Pig-Iron. I Believe
In My Paint. I Believe It'S A Blessing to The World.
When Folks Come In, And Kind Of Smell Round, And Ask Me
What I Mix It With, I Always Say, 'Well, In the First Place,
I Mix It With Faith, And After That I Grind It Up
With The Best Quality Of Boiled linseed oil That Money
Will Buy.'"
Lapham Took Out His Watch And Looked at It, And Bartley
Perceived that His Audience Was Drawing to A Close.
"'F You Ever Want To Run Down And Take A Look At Our Works,
Pass You Over The Road,"--He Called it Rud--"And It Sha'N'T Cost
of 1 Part 1 Pg 13You A Cent." "Well, May Be I Shall, Sometime," Said Bartley.
"Good Afternoon, Colonel."
"Good Afternoon. Or--Hold On! My Horse Down There Yet,
William?" He Called to The Young Man In the Counting-Room
Who Had Taken His Letter At The Beginning of The Interview.
"Oh! All Right!" He Added, In response To Something
The Young Man Said.
"Can'T I Set You Down Somewhere, Mr. Hubbard? I'Ve Got
My Horse At The Door, And I Can Drop You On My Way Home.
I'M Going to Take Mis' Lapham To Look At A House I'M Driving
Piles For, Down On The New Land."
"Don'T Care If I Do," Said Bartley.
Lapham Put On A Straw Hat, Gathered up Some Papers Lying
On His Desk, Pulled down Its Rolling cover, Turned the
Key In it, And Gave The Papers To An Extremely Handsome
Young Woman At One Of The Desks In the Outer Office.
She Was Stylishly Dressed, As Bartley Saw, And Her Smooth,
Yellow Hair Was Sculpturesquely Waved over A Low,
White Forehead. "Here," Said Lapham, With The Same
Prompt Gruff Kindness That He Had Used in addressing
The Young Man, "I Want You Should Put These In shape,
And Give Me A Type-Writer Copy To-Morrow."
"What An Uncommonly Pretty Girl!" Said Bartley, As They
Descended the Rough Stairway And Found Their Way Out To
The Street, Past The Dangling rope Of A Block And Tackle
Wandering up Into The Cavernous Darkness Overhead.
"She Does Her Work," Said Lapham Shortly.
Bartley Mounted to The Left Side Of The Open Buggy Standing at
The Curb-Stone, And Lapham, Gathering up The Hitching-Weight,
Slid It Under The Buggy-Seat And Mounted beside Him.
"No Chance To Speed a Horse Here, Of Course," Said Lapham,
While The Horse With A Spirited gentleness Picked her Way,
With A High, Long Action, Over The Pavement Of The Street.
The Streets Were All Narrow, And Most Of Them Crooked,
In That Quarter Of The Town; But At The End Of One
The Spars Of A Vessel Pencilled themselves Delicately
Against The Cool Blue Of The Afternoon Sky. The Air
Was Full Of A Smell Pleasantly Compounded of Oakum,
Of Leather, And Of Oil. It Was Not The Busy Season,
And They Met Only Two Or Three Trucks Heavily Straggling
Toward The Wharf With Their Long String teams; But The
Cobble-Stones Of The Pavement Were Worn With The Dint Of
Ponderous Wheels, And Discoloured with Iron-Rust From Them;
Here And There, In wandering streaks Over Its Surface,
Was The Grey Stain Of The Salt Water With Which The Street
Had Been Sprinkled.
After An Interval Of Some Minutes, Which Both Men
Spent In looking round The Dash-Board From Opposite
Sides To Watch The Stride Of The Horse, Bartley Said,
of 1 Part 1 Pg 14With A Light Sigh, "I Had A Colt Once Down In maine
That Stepped just Like That Mare."
"Well!" Said Lapham, Sympathetically Recognising the
Bond That This Fact Created between Them. "Well, Now,
I Tell You What You Do. You Let Me Come For You 'Most
Any Afternoon, Now, And Take You Out Over The Milldam,
And Speed this Mare A Little. I'D Like To Show You What
This Mare Can Do. Yes, I Would."
"All Right," Answered bartley; "I'Ll Let You Know
My First Day Off."
"Good," Cried lapham.
"Kentucky?" Queried bartley.
"No, Sir. I Don'T Ride Behind Anything but Vermont; Never Did.
Touch Of Morgan, Of Course; But You Can'T Have Much Morgan
In A Horse If You Want Speed. Hambletonian Mostly.
Where'D You Say You Wanted to Get Out?"
"I Guess You May Put Me Down At The Events Office,
Just Round The Corner Here. I'Ve Got To Write Up This
Interview While It'S Fresh."
"All Right," Said Lapham, Impersonally Assenting
To Bartley'S Use Of Him As Material.
He Had Not Much To Complain Of In bartley'S Treatment,
Unless It Was The Strain Of Extravagant Compliment Which
It Involved. But The Flattery Was Mainly For The Paint,
Whose Virtues Lapham Did Not Believe Could Be Overstated,
And Himself And His History Had Been Treated with As Much
Respect As Bartley Was Capable Of Showing any One.
He Made A Very Picturesque Thing of The Discovery Of The
Paint-Mine. "Deep In the Heart Of The Virgin Forests
Of Vermont, Far Up Toward The Line Of The Canadian Snows,
On A Desolate Mountain-Side, Where An Autumnal Storm Had Done
Its Wild Work, And The Great Trees, Strewn Hither And Thither,
Bore Witness To Its Violence, Nehemiah Lapham Discovered,
Just Forty Years Ago, The Mineral Which The Alchemy
Of His Son'S Enterprise And Energy Has Transmuted
Into Solid Ingots Of The Most Precious Of Metals.
The Colossal Fortune Of Colonel Silas Lapham Lay At The
Bottom Of A Hole Which An Uprooted tree Had Dug For Him,
And Which For Many Years Remained a Paint-Mine Of No More
Appreciable Value Than A Soap-Mine."
Here Bartley Had Not Been Able To Forego Another Grin;
But He Compensated for It By The High Reverence With Which
He Spoke Of Colonel Lapham'S Record During the War Of The
Rebellion, And Of The Motives Which Impelled him To Turn Aside
From An Enterprise In which His Whole Heart Was Engaged, And
Take Part In the Struggle. "The Colonel Bears Embedded in the
Muscle Of His Right Leg A Little Memento Of The Period In the
Shape Of A Minie-Ball, Which He Jocularly Referred to As His
Thermometer, And Which Relieves Him From The Necessity Of
of 1 Part 1 Pg 15Reading 'The Probabilities' In his Morning paper. This Saves
Him Just So Much Time; And For A Man Who, As He Said, Has Not A
Moment Of Waste Time On Him Anywhere, Five Minutes A Day Are
Something in the Course Of A Year. Simple, Clear, Bold, And
Straightforward In mind And Action, Colonel Silas Lapham, With
A Prompt Comprehensiveness And A Never-Failing business
Sagacity, Is, In the Best Sense Of That Much-Abused term, One
Of Nature'S Noblemen, To The Last Inch Of His Five Eleven And A
Half. His Life Affords An Example Of Single-Minded application
And Unwavering perseverance Which Our Young Business Men Would
Do Well To Emulate. There Is Nothing showy Or Meretricious
About The Man. He Believes In mineral Paint, And He Puts His
Heart And Soul Into It.
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