Adventures of Pinocchio | Page 9

far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that
were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself
on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while,
that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the
uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out,
rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she
would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms
around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow
world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over
and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare.
At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness.
About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored
Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was
casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence
there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood
under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on
the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his
breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world,
with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death- damps from
his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus
SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop
one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright
young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down?
The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a
deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains!
The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in
the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a
small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom.
Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by
the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any
"references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger
in Tom's eye.
Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the
omission.

CHAPTER IV
THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a
benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built
from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin
mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the
Mosaic Law, as from Sinai.
Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had
learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses,
and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were
shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no
more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were
busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to
find his way through the fog:
"Blessed are the--a--a--"
"Poor"--
"Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--"
"In spirit--"
"In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--"
"THEIRS--"
"For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed
are they that mourn, for they--they--"
"Sh--"
"For they--a--"
"S, H, A--"
"For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!"
"SHALL!"
"Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they
that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't
you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?"
"Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must

go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and