Dreamthorp : $b A book of essays written in the countrySmith, Alexander
General
Dreamthorp : $b A book of essays written in the country
Smith, Alexander
Essays
followed by an aromatic flavour in the air,--"and when they do meet,
which they are certain to do in the long run,"--here the doctor put the
pipe in his mouth, and finished his speech with it there,--"the figure
of the continent has become known, and may be set down in maps. The
exploring parties have started long ago. What folly in the one to
pooh-pooh or be suspicious of the exertions of the other. That party
deserves the greatest credit which meets the other more than half
way."--"Bravo!" cried the clergyman, when the doctor had finished his
oration; "I don't know that I could fill your place at the bedside, but
I am quite sure that you could fill mine in the pulpit."--"I am not
sure that the congregation would approve of the change,--I might
disturb their slumbers;" and, pleased with his retort, his cheery laugh
rose through a cloud of smoke into the sunset.
Heigho! mine is a dull life, I fear, when this little affair of the
doctor and the clergyman takes the dignity of an incident, and seems
worthy of being recorded.
The doctor was anxious that, during the following winter, a short
course of lectures should be delivered in the village schoolroom, and
in my garden he held several conferences on the matter with the
clergyman and myself. It was arranged finally that the lectures should
be delivered, and that one of them should be delivered by me. I need
not say how pleasant was the writing out of my discourse, and how the
pleasure was heightened by the slightest thrill of alarm at my own
temerity. My lecture I copied out in my most careful hand, and, as I
had it by heart, I used to declaim passages of it ensconced in my
moss-house, or concealed behind my shrubbery trees. In these places I
tried it all over, sentence by sentence. The evening came at last
which had been looked forward to for a couple of months or more. The
small schoolroom was filled by forms on which the people sat, and a
small reading-desk, with a tumbler of water on it, at the further end,
waited for me. When I took my seat, the couple of hundred eyes struck
into me a certain awe. I discovered in a moment why the orator of the
hustings is so deferential to the mob. You may despise every
individual member of your audience, but these despised individuals, in
their capacity of a collective body, overpower you. I addressed the
people with the most unfeigned respect. When I began, too, I found
what a dreadful thing it is to hear your own voice inhabiting the
silence. You are related to your voice, and yet divorced from it. It
is you, and yet a thing apart. All the time it is going on, you can be
critical as to its tone, volume, cadence, and other qualities, as if it
was the voice of a stranger. Gradually, however, I got accustomed to
my voice, and the respect which I entertained for my hearers so far
relaxed that I was at last able to look them in the face. I saw the
doctor and the clergyman smile encouragingly, and my half-witted
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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