第41章古瓷器（1）
Olda
查尔斯·兰姆CharlesLamb
Ihaveanalmostfemiialityforolda。WhenIgotoseeahouse，Iiheadhepicturegallery。Iotdefendtheorderofpreferebysayingthatwehaveallsometasteorother，oftooaetoadmitofourrememberingdistinctlythatitwasanae。Iiplay，aexhibition，thatIwastakento；butIamnotsewhenajarsandsaucerswereiomyimagination。
Ihadnhen—whyshouldIhoselittle，lawless，azure-tiesques，thatuionofmeabout，uncircumscribedbyahatworldbeforeperspective—aateacup。
Iliketoseemyoldfriends—whomdistadiminish—f？iguringupintheair（sotheyappeartoouroptics），yetonterraf？irmastill—forsowemustierpretthatspeckofdeeperblue，whichthedecorousartist，topreventabsurdity，hadmadetupbeheirsandals。
Ilovethemenwithwomehewomen，ifpossible，withstillmoreressions。
Hereisayoungandandarin，haoaladyfromasalver—twomilesoff。Seehowdistaoffrespedherethesamelady，oranother—forlikenessisidentityonteacups—issteppingintoalittlefairyboat，mooredohersideofthiscalmgardehadaintymingfoot，whiarightangleofinglesgoinourworld）mustinfalliblylahemidstofaf？lowerymead—furlongoffohersideofthesamestraream！
Fartheron—iffarornearbepredicatedoftheirworld—seehodas，dangthehays。
Here—adrabbitt，aensive—soobjectsshow，seenthroughthelucidatmosphereoff？ihay。
Iointingouttomylastevening，overourHyson（whichweareold-fashioodriillofanafternoohesespeiraasetofextraordinaryoldbluea（aretpurchase）forthef？irsttimeusing；andhowfavorableceshadbeentousoflateyearsthatwecouldaffordtopleasetheeyesometimeswithtrif？lesofthissort—assiseemedtoovershadethebrowsofmyquickatdetegthesesummerBridget。
“Iwishthegoodoldtimeswouldeagain，”shesaid，“erenotquitesorieanthatIwanttobepoor；buttherewasamiddlestate”—sosheleasedtorambleon—“inwhichIamsurewewereagreatdealhappier。Apurchaseisbutapurowthatyouhavemoneyenoughandtospare。Formerlyitusedtobeatriumph。Wheedacheapluxury（and，O！HowmuchadoIhadtogetyoutothosetimes！）—wewereusedtohaveadebatetwoorthreedaysbefore，ahefainst，andthispareitoutof，andwhatsavingwecouldhitupon，thatshouldbeahingwaswthehemowepaidforit。
“Doyourememberthebrownsuit，whiadetohanguponyou，tillallyourfriendscriedshameuponyou，itgrewsothreadbare—andallbecauseofthatfolioBeaumontacher，whichyedhomelateatnightfromBarker’siGarden？Doyourememberhowweeyeditforweeksbeforeweakeupourmindstothepurdhaderminationtillitwaseno’clockoftheSaturdaytyoushouldbetoolate—aheoldbooksellerwithsopenedhisshop，awinklingtaper（forhewassettingbedwards）lightedouttherelihisdustytreasures—andwhenyouluggedithome，wishiwicease—andwhetome—andereexpltheperfeessofit（g，youcalledit）—andairiheselooseleaveswithpaste，whipatienotsuffertobelefttilldaybreak—wastherenopleasureinbeingapoorman？Orthoseblackclotheswhichyouwearnow，andaresocarefultokeepbrushed，sincewehavebeeridf？inical，giveyouhalfthehoywithwhichyouf？lauaboutinthatoverwornsuit—youroldcorbeau—forfourorf？iveweekslohanyoushouldhavedoopacifyyourightysumoff？ifteen—orsixteenshillingswasit？—agreataffairwethoughtitthen—whichyouhadlavishedontheoldfolio。Nowyouaffordtobuyanybookthatpleasesyou，butIdoymehomeanyniceoldpurow。
“WhehtoloutalessnumberofshillingsuponthatprintafterLeonardo，whichweedthe‘LadyBlanyoulookatthepurdthoughtofthemohoughtofthemoney，andlookedagaiure—wastherenopleasureinbeingapoorman？Now，youhavenothingtodobuttowalkintoaghi’s，andbuyawildernessofLeodoyou？