Мхи старой усадьбы
The Artist of the Beautiful
Anonhedrewawhite-hotbarofironfromthecoals,laiditontheanvil,upliftedhisarmofmight,andwassoonenvelopedinthemyriadsofsparkswhichthestrokesofhishammerscatteredintothesurroundinggloom.
"Now,thatisapleasantsight,"saidtheoldwatchmaker."Iknowwhatitistoworkingold;butgivemetheworkerinironafterallissaidanddone.Hespendshislaboruponareality.Whatsayyou,daughterAnnie?"
"Praydon’tspeaksoloud,father,"whisperedAnnie,"RobertDanforthwillhearyou."
"Andwhatifheshouldhearme?"saidPeterHovenden."Isayagain,itisagoodandawholesomethingtodependuponmainstrengthandreality,andtoearnone’sbreadwiththebareandbrawnyarmofablacksmith.Awatchmakergetshisbrainpuzzledbyhiswheelswithinawheel,orloseshishealthorthenicetyofhiseyesight,aswasmycase,andfindshimselfatmiddleage,oralittleafter,pastlaborathisowntradeandfitfornothingelse,yettoopoortoliveathisease.SoIsayonceagain,givememainstrengthformymoney.Andthen,howittakesthenonsenseoutofaman!DidyoueverhearofablacksmithbeingsuchafoolasOwenWarlandyonder?"
"Wellsaid,uncleHovenden!"shoutedRobertDanforthfromtheforge,inafull,deep,merryvoice,thatmadetheroofre-echo."AndwhatsaysMissAnnietothatdoctrine?She,Isuppose,willthinkitagenteelerbusinesstotinkerupalady’swatchthantoforgeahorseshoeormakeagridiron."
Anniedrewherfatheronwardwithoutgivinghimtimeforreply.