子浪小说

第5部分（第4页）

service。　It　is　most　difficult　to　keep　the　true　significance　of　words

when　one　discusses　the　prejudices　of　mankind；　and　I　find　it　hard　to　give

an　account　of　odour…perceptions　which　shall　be　at　once　dignified　and

truthful。

In　my　experience　smell　is　most　important；　and　I　find　that　there　is　high

authority　for　the　nobility　of　the　sense　which　we　have　neglected　and

disparaged。　It　is　recorded　that　the　Lord　manded　that　incense　be　burnt

before　him　continually　with　a　sweet　savour。　I　doubt　if　there　is　any

sensation　arising　from　sight　more　delightful　than　the　odours　which

filter　through　sun…warmed；　wind…tossed　branches；　or　the　tide　of　scents

which　swells；　subsides；　rises　again　wave　on　wave；　filling　the　wide　world

with　invisible　sweetness。　A　whiff　of　the　universe　makes　us　dream　of

worlds　we　have　never　seen；　recalls　in　a　flash　entire　epochs　of　our

dearest　experience。　I　never　smell　daisies　without　living　over　again　the

ecstatic　mornings　that　my　teacher　and　I　spent　wandering　in　the　fields；

while　I　learned　new　words　and　the　names　of　things。　Smell　is　a　potent

wizard　that　transports　us　across　a　thousand　miles　and　all　the　years　we

have　lived。　The　odour　of　fruits　wafts　me　to　my　Southern　home；　to　my

childish　frolics　in　the　peach　orchard。　Other　odours；　instantaneous　and

fleeting；　cause　my　heart　to　dilate　joyously　or　contract　with　remembered

grief。　Even　as　I　think　of　smells；　my　nose　is　full　of　scents　that　start

awake　sweet　memories　of　summers　gone　and　ripening　grain　fields　far　away。

The　faintest　whiff　from　a　meadow　where　the　new…mown　hay　lies　in　the　hot

sun　displaces　the　here　and　the　now。　I　am　back　again　in　the　old　red　barn。

My　little　friends　and　I　are　playing　in　the　haymow。　A　huge　mow　it　is；

packed　with　crisp；　sweet　hay；　from　the　top　of　which　the　smallest　child

can　reach　the　straining　rafters。　In　their　stalls　beneath　are　the　farm

animals。　Here　is　Jerry；　unresponsive；　unbeautiful　Jerry；　crunching　his

oats　like　a　true　pessimist；　resolved　to　find　his　feed　not　good……at　least

not　so　good　as　it　ought　to　be。　Again　I　touch　Brownie；　eager；　grateful

little　Brownie；　ready　to　leave　the　juiciest　fodder　for　a　pat；　straining

his　beautiful；　slender　neck　for　a　caress。　Near　by　stands　Lady　Belle；

with　sweet；　moist　mouth；　lazily　extracting　the　sealed…up　cordial　from

timothy　and　clover；　and　dreaming　of　deep　June　pastures　and　murmurous

streams。

The　sense　of　smell　has　told　me　of　a　ing　storm　hours　before　there　was

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