Madam How and Lady Why; Or, First Lessons in Earth Lore for Children. Charles Kingsley

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СКАЧАТЬ come, as bright warm flame, all the sunbeams that were stored away in that stick: and so Madam How would have her own again.  And if that should not be the fate of your stick, still something else will happen to it just as useful in the long run; for Madam How never loses anything, but uses up all her scraps and odds and ends somehow, somewhere, somewhen, as is fit and proper for the Housekeeper of the whole Universe.  Indeed, Madam How is so patient that some people fancy her stupid, and think that, because she does not fall into a passion every time you steal her sweets, or break her crockery, or disarrange her furniture, therefore she does not care.  But I advise you as a little boy, and still more when you grow up to be a man, not to get that fancy into your head; for you will find that, however good-natured and patient Madam How is in most matters, her keeping silence and not seeming to see you is no sign that she has forgotten.  On the contrary, she bears a grudge (if one may so say, with all respect to her) longer than any one else does; because she will always have her own again.  Indeed, I sometimes think that if it were not for Lady Why, her mistress, she might bear some of her grudges for ever and ever.  I have seen men ere now damage some of Madam How’s property when they were little boys, and be punished by her all their lives long, even though she had mended the broken pieces, or turned them to some other use.  Therefore I say to you, beware of Madam How.  She will teach you more kindly, patiently, and tenderly than any mother, if you want to learn her trade.  But if, instead of learning her trade, you damage her materials and play with her tools, beware lest she has her own again out of you.

      Some people think, again, that Madam How is not only stupid, but ill-tempered and cruel; that she makes earthquakes and storms, and famine and pestilences, in a sort of blind passion, not caring where they go or whom they hurt; quite heedless of who is in the way, if she wants to do anything or go anywhere.  Now, that Madam How can be very terrible there can be no doubt: but there is no doubt also that, if people choose to learn, she will teach them to get out of her way whenever she has business to do which is dangerous to them.  But as for her being cruel and unjust, those may believe it who like.  You, my dear boys and girls, need not believe it, if you will only trust to Lady Why; and be sure that Why is the mistress and How the servant, now and for ever.  That Lady Why is utterly good and kind I know full well; and I believe that, in her case too, the old proverb holds, “Like mistress, like servant;” and that the more we know of Madam How, the more we shall be content with her, and ready to submit to whatever she does: but not with that stupid resignation which some folks preach who do not believe in lady Why—that is no resignation at all.  That is merely saying—

      “What can’t be cured

      Must be endured,”

      like a donkey when he turns his tail to a hail-storm,—but the true resignation, the resignation which is fit for grown people and children alike, the resignation which is the beginning and the end of all wisdom and all religion, is to believe that Lady Why knows best, because she herself is perfectly good; and that as she is mistress over Madam How, so she has a Master over her, whose name—I say again—I leave you to guess.

      So now that I have taught you not to be afraid of Madam How, we will go and watch her at her work; and if we do not understand anything we see, we will ask her questions.  She will always show us one of her lesson books if we give her time.  And if we have to wait some time for her answer, you need not fear catching cold, though it is November; for she keeps her lesson books scattered about in strange places, and we may have to walk up and down that hill more than once before we can make out how she makes the glen.

      Well—how was the glen made?  You shall guess it if you like, and I will guess too.  You think, perhaps, that an earthquake opened it?

      My dear child, we must look before we guess.  Then, after we have looked a little, and got some grounds for guessing, then we may guess.  And you have no ground for supposing there ever was an earthquake here strong enough to open that glen.  There may have been one: but we must guess from what we do know, and not from what we do not.

      Guess again.  Perhaps it was there always, from the beginning of the world?  My dear child, you have no proof of that either.  Everything round you is changing in shape daily and hourly, as you will find out the longer you live; and therefore it is most reasonable to suppose that this glen has changed its shape, as everything else on earth has done.  Besides, I told you not that Madam How had made the glen, but that she was making it, and as yet has only half finished.  That is my first guess; and my next guess is that water is making the glen—water, and nothing else.

      You open your young eyes.  And I do not blame you.  I looked at this very glen for fifteen years before I made that guess; and I have looked at it some ten years since, to make sure that my guess held good.  For man after all is very blind, my dear boy, and very stupid, and cannot see what lies under his own feet all day long; and if Lady Why, and He whom Lady Why obeys, were not very patient and gentle with mankind, they would have perished off the face of the earth long ago, simply from their own stupidity.  I, at least, was very stupid in this case, for I had my head full of earthquakes, and convulsions of nature, and all sorts of prodigies which never happened to this glen; and so, while I was trying to find what was not there, I of course found nothing.  But when I put them all out of my head, and began to look for what was there, I found it at once; and lo and behold! I had seen it a thousand times before, and yet never learnt anything from it, like a stupid man as I was; though what I learnt you may learn as easily as I did.

      And what did I find?

      The pond at the bottom of the glen.

      You know that pond, of course?  You don’t need to go there?  Very well.  Then if you do, do not you know also that the pond is always filling up with sand and mud; and that though we clean it out every three or four years, it always fills again?  Now where does that sand and mud come from?

      Down that stream, of course, which runs out of this bog.  You see it coming down every time there is a flood, and the stream fouls.

      Very well.  Then, said Madam How to me, as soon as I recollected that, “Don’t you see, you stupid man, that the stream has made the glen, and the earth which runs down the stream was all once part of the hill on which you stand.”  I confess I was very much ashamed of myself when she said that.  For that is the history of the whole mystery.  Madam How is digging away with her soft spade, water.  She has a harder spade, or rather plough, the strongest and most terrible of all ploughs; but that, I am glad to say, she has laid by in England here.

      Water?  But water is too simple a thing to have dug out all this great glen.

      My dear child, the most wonderful part of Madam How’s work is, that she does such great things and so many different things, with one and the same tool, which looks to you so simple, though it really is not so.  Water, for instance, is not a simple thing, but most complicated; and we might spend hours in talking about water, without having come to the end of its wonders.  Still Madam How is a great economist, and never wastes her materials.  She is like the sailor who boasted (only she never boasts) that, if he had but a long life and a strong knife, he would build St. Paul’s Cathedral before he was done.  And Madam How has a very long life, and plenty of time; and one of the strongest of all her tools is water.  Now if you will stoop down and look into the heather, I will show you how she is digging out the glen with this very mist which is hanging about our feet.  At least, so I guess.

      For see how the mist clings to the points of the heather leaves, and makes drops.  If the hot sun came out the drops would dry, and they would vanish into the air in light warm steam.  But now that it is dark and cold they drip, or run down the heather-stems, to the ground.  And whither do they go then?  Whither will the water go,—hundreds of gallons of it perhaps,—which has dripped and run through the heather in this single day?  It will sink into the ground, you know.  And then what will become of it?  Madam How will use it as an underground spade, just as she uses the rain (at least, when it rains too hard, and therefore the rain runs off the moor instead of sinking СКАЧАТЬ