CHAPTER IV.

I did not faint, but the effort to realize my position made me very

giddy, and I remember that my companion had to give me a strong arm as

he conducted me from the roof to a roomy apartment on the upper floor

of the house, where he insisted on my drinking a glass or two of good

wine and partaking of a light repast.

"I think you are going to be all right now," he said cheerily. "I

should not have taken so abrupt a means to convince you of your

position if your course, while perfectly excusable under the

circumstances, had not rather obliged me to do so. I confess," he

added laughing, "I was a little apprehensive at one time that I should

undergo what I believe you used to call a knockdown in the nineteenth

century, if I did not act rather promptly. I remembered that the

Bostonians of your day were famous pugilists, and thought best to lose

no time. I take it you are now ready to acquit me of the charge of

hoaxing you."

"If you had told me," I replied, profoundly awed, "that a thousand

years instead of a hundred had elapsed since I last looked on this

city, I should now believe you."

"Only a century has passed," he answered, "but many a millennium in

the world's history has seen changes less extraordinary."

"And now," he added, extending his hand with an air of irresistible

cordiality, "let me give you a hearty welcome to the Boston of the

twentieth century and to this house. My name is Leete, Dr. Leete they

call me."

"My name," I said as I shook his hand, "is Julian West."

"I am most happy in making your acquaintance, Mr. West," he responded.

"Seeing that this house is built on the site of your own, I hope you

will find it easy to make yourself at home in it."

After my refreshment Dr. Leete offered me a bath and a change of

clothing, of which I gladly availed myself.

It did not appear that any very startling revolution in men's attire

had been among the great changes my host had spoken of, for, barring a

few details, my new habiliments did not puzzle me at all.

Physically, I was now myself again. But mentally, how was it with me,

the reader will doubtless wonder. What were my intellectual

sensations, he may wish to know, on finding myself so suddenly dropped

as it were into a new world. In reply let me ask him to suppose

himself suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, transported from earth,

say, to Paradise or Hades. What does he fancy would be his own

experience? Would his thoughts return at once to the earth he had just

left, or would he, after the first shock, wellnigh forget his former

life for a while, albeit to be remembered later, in the interest

excited by his new surroundings? All I can say is, that if his

experience were at all like mine in the transition I am describing,

the latter hypothesis would prove the correct one. The impressions of

amazement and curiosity which my new surroundings produced occupied my

mind, after the first shock, to the exclusion of all other thoughts.

For the time the memory of my former life was, as it were, in

abeyance.

No sooner did I find myself physically rehabilitated through the kind

offices of my host, than I became eager to return to the house-top;

and presently we were comfortably established there in easy-chairs,

with the city beneath and around us. After Dr. Leete had responded to

numerous questions on my part, as to the ancient landmarks I missed

and the new ones which had replaced them, he asked me what point of

the contrast between the new and the old city struck me most forcibly.

"To speak of small things before great," I responded, "I really think

that the complete absence of chimneys and their smoke is the detail

that first impressed me."

"Ah!" ejaculated my companion with an air of much interest, "I had

forgotten the chimneys, it is so long since they went out of use. It

is nearly a century since the crude method of combustion on which you

depended for heat became obsolete."

"In general," I said, "what impresses me most about the city is the

material prosperity on the part of the people which its magnificence

implies."

"I would give a great deal for just one glimpse of the Boston of your

day," replied Dr. Leete. "No doubt, as you imply, the cities of that

period were rather shabby affairs. If you had the taste to make them

splendid, which I would not be so rude as to question, the general

poverty resulting from your extraordinary industrial system would not

have given you the means. Moreover, the excessive individualism which

then prevailed was inconsistent with much public spirit. What little

wealth you had seems almost wholly to have been lavished in private

luxury. Nowadays, on the contrary, there is no destination of the

surplus wealth so popular as the adornment of the city, which all

enjoy in equal degree."

The sun had been setting as we returned to the house-top, and as we

talked night descended upon the city.

"It is growing dark," said Dr. Leete. "Let us descend into the house;

I want to introduce my wife and daughter to you."

His words recalled to me the feminine voices which I had heard

whispering about me as I was coming back to conscious life; and, most

curious to learn what the ladies of the year 2000 were like, I

assented with alacrity to the proposition. The apartment in which we

found the wife and daughter of my host, as well as the entire interior

of the house, was filled with a mellow light, which I knew must be

artificial, although I could not discover the source from which it was

diffused. Mrs. Leete was an exceptionally fine looking and well

preserved woman of about her husband's age, while the daughter, who

was in the first blush of womanhood, was the most beautiful girl I had

ever seen. Her face was as bewitching as deep blue eyes, delicately

tinted complexion, and perfect features could make it, but even had

her countenance lacked special charms, the faultless luxuriance of her

figure would have given her place as a beauty among the women of the

nineteenth century. Feminine softness and delicacy were in this lovely

creature deliciously combined with an appearance of health and

abounding physical vitality too often lacking in the maidens with whom

alone I could compare her. It was a coincidence trifling in comparison

with the general strangeness of the situation, but still striking,

that her name should be Edith.

The evening that followed was certainly unique in the history of

social intercourse, but to suppose that our conversation was

peculiarly strained or difficult would be a great mistake. I believe

indeed that it is under what may be called unnatural, in the sense of

extraordinary, circumstances that people behave most naturally, for

the reason, no doubt, that such circumstances banish artificiality. I

know at any rate that my intercourse that evening with these

representatives of another age and world was marked by an ingenuous

sincerity and frankness such as but rarely crown long acquaintance. No

doubt the exquisite tact of my entertainers had much to do with this.

Of course there was nothing we could talk of but the strange

experience by virtue of which I was there, but they talked of it with

an interest so naive and direct in its expression as to relieve the

subject to a great degree of the element of the weird and the uncanny

which might so easily have been overpowering. One would have supposed

that they were quite in the habit of entertaining waifs from another

century, so perfect was their tact.

For my own part, never do I remember the operations of my mind to have

been more alert and acute than that evening, or my intellectual

sensibilities more keen. Of course I do not mean that the

consciousness of my amazing situation was for a moment out of mind,

but its chief effect thus far was to produce a feverish elation, a

sort of mental intoxication.[1]

Edith Leete took little part in the conversation, but when several

times the magnetism of her beauty drew my glance to her face, I found

her eyes fixed on me with an absorbed intensity, almost like

fascination. It was evident that I had excited her interest to an

extraordinary degree, as was not astonishing, supposing her to be a

girl of imagination. Though I supposed curiosity was the chief motive

of her interest, it could but affect me as it would not have done had

she been less beautiful.

Dr. Leete, as well as the ladies, seemed greatly interested in my

account of the circumstances under which I had gone to sleep in the

underground chamber. All had suggestions to offer to account for my

having been forgotten there, and the theory which we finally agreed on

offers at least a plausible explanation, although whether it be in its

details the true one, nobody, of course, will ever know. The layer of

ashes found above the chamber indicated that the house had been burned

down. Let it be supposed that the conflagration had taken place the

night I fell asleep. It only remains to assume that Sawyer lost his

life in the fire or by some accident connected with it, and the rest

follows naturally enough. No one but he and Dr. Pillsbury either knew

of the existence of the chamber or that I was in it, and Dr.

Pillsbury, who had gone that night to New Orleans, had probably never

heard of the fire at all. The conclusion of my friends, and of the

public, must have been that I had perished in the flames. An

excavation of the ruins, unless thorough, would not have disclosed the

recess in the foundation walls connecting with my chamber. To be sure,

if the site had been again built upon, at least immediately, such an

excavation would have been necessary, but the troublous times and the

undesirable character of the locality might well have prevented

rebuilding. The size of the trees in the garden now occupying the site

indicated, Dr. Leete said, that for more than half a century at least

it had been open ground.

[Footnote 1: In accounting for this state of mind it must be

remembered that, except for the topic of our conversations, there was

in my surroundings next to nothing to suggest what had befallen me.

Within a block of my home in the old Boston I could have found social

circles vastly more foreign to me. The speech of the Bostonians of the

twentieth century differs even less from that of their cultured

ancestors of the nineteenth than did that of the latter from the

language of Washington and Franklin, while the differences between the

style of dress and furniture of the two epochs are not more marked

than I have known fashion to make in the time of one generation.]

Looking Backward: 2000-1887 · 第 4 / 28 章