Everything in the right place 各得其所
作者：古文学 时间：2017/12/18 8:50:16 阅读：次 类别：英语童话
Everythingintherightplace各得其所
ITismorethanahundredyearsago！Attheborderofthewood，nearalargelake，stoodtheoldmansion：deepditchessurroundeditoneveryside，inwhichreedsandbulrushesgrew.Closebythedrawbridge，nearthegate，therewasanoldwillowtree，whichbentoverthereeds.
Fromthenarrowpasscamethesoundofbuglesandthetramplingofhorses’feet；thereforealittlegirlwhowaswatchingthegeesehastenedtodrivethemawayfromthebridge，beforethewholehuntingpartycamegallopingup；theycame，however，soquickly，thatthegirl，inordertoavoidbeingrunover，placedherselfononeofthehighcorner-stonesofthebridge.Shewasstillhalfachildandverydelicatelybuilt；shehadbrightblueeyes，andagentle，sweetexpression.Butsuchthingsthebarondidnotnotice；whilehewasridingpastthelittlegoose-girl，hereversedhishuntingcrop，andinroughplaygavehersuchapushwithitthatshefellbackwardintotheditch.
“Everythingintherightplace！”hecried.“Intotheditchwithyou.”
Thenheburstoutlaughing，forthathecalledfun；theothersjoinedin—thewholepartyshoutedandcried，whilethehoundsbarked.
Whilethepoorgirlwasfallingshehappilycaughtoneofthebranchesofthewillowtree，bythehelpofwhichsheheldherselfoverthewater，andassoonasthebaronwithhiscompanyandthedogshaddisappearedthroughthegate，thegirlendeavouredtoscrambleup，butthebranchbrokeoff，andshewouldhavefallenbackwardamongtherushes，hadnotastronghandfromaboveseizedheratthismoment.Itwasthehandofapedlar；hehadwitnessedwhathadhappenedfromashortdistance，andnowhastenedtoassisther.
“Everythingintherightplace，”hesaid，imitatingthenoblebaron，andpullingthelittlemaiduptothedryground.Hewishedtoputthebranchbackintheplaceithadbeenbrokenoff，butitisnotpossibletoputeverythingintherightplace；thereforehestuckthebranchintothesoftground.
“Growandthriveifyoucan，andproduceagoodfluteforthemyonderatthemansion，”hesaid；itwouldhavegivenhimgreatpleasuretoseethenoblebaronandhiscompanionswellthrashed.Thenheenteredthecastle—butnotthebanquetinghall；hewastoohumbleforthat.No；hewenttotheservants’hall.Themen-servantsandmaidslookedoverhisstockofarticlesandbargainedwithhim；loudcryingandscreamingwereheardfromthemaster’stableabove：theycalleditsinging—indeed，theydidtheirbest.Laughterandthehowlsofdogswereheardthroughtheopenwindows：theretheywerefeastingandrevelling；wineandstrongoldalewerefoamingintheglassesandjugs；thefavouritedogsatewiththeirmasters；nowandthenthesquireskissedoneoftheseanimals，afterhavingwipeditsmouthfirstwiththetablecloth.Theyorderedthepedlartocomeup，butonlytomakefunofhim.Thewinehadgotintotheirheads，andreasonhadleftthem.Theypouredbeerintoastockingthathecoulddrinkwiththem，butquick.That’swhattheycalledfun，anditmadethemlaugh.Thenmeadows，peasants，andfarmyardswerestakedononecardandlost.
“Everythingintherightplace！”thepedlarsaidwhenhehadatlastsafelygotoutofSodomandGomorrah，ashecalledit.“Theopenhighroadismyrightplace；upthereIdidnotfeelatease.”
Thelittlemaid，whowasstillwatchingthegeese，noddedkindlytohimashepassedthroughthegate.
Daysandweekspassed，anditwasseenthatthebrokenwillow-branchwhichthepeddlarhadstuckintothegroundneartheditchremainedfreshandgreen—nay，itevenputforthfreshtwigs；thelittlegoose-girlsawthatthebranchhadtakenroot，andwasverypleased；thetree，soshesaid，wasnowhertree.Whilethetreewasadvancing，everythingelseatthecastlewasgoingbackward，throughfeastingandgambling，forthesearetworollersuponwhichnobodystandssafely.Lessthansixyearsafterwardsthebaronpassedoutofhiscastle-gateapoorbeggar，whilethebaronialseathadbeenboughtbyarichtradesman.Hewastheverypedlartheyhadmadefunofandpouredbeerintoastockingforhimtodrink；buthonestyandindustrybringoneforward，andnowthepedlarwasthepossessorofthebaronialestate.Fromthattimeforwardnocard-playingwaspermittedthere.
“That’sabadpastime，”hesaid；“whenthedevilsawtheBibleforthefirsttimehewantedtoproduceacaricatureinoppositiontoit，andinventedcard-playing.”
Thenewproprietoroftheestatetookawife，andwhomdidhetake？—Thelittlegoose-girl，whohadalwaysremainedgoodandkind，andwholookedasbeautifulinhernewclothesasifshehadbeenaladyofhighbirth.Andhowdidallthiscomeabout？Thatwouldbetoolongataletotellinourbusytime，butitreallyhappened，andthemostimportanteventshaveyettobetold.
Itwaspleasantandcheerfultoliveintheoldplacenow：themothersuperintendedthehousehold，andthefatherlookedafterthingsout-of-doors，andtheywereindeedveryprosperous.
Wherehonestyleadstheway，prosperityissuretofollow.Theoldmansionwasrepairedandpainted，theditcheswerecleanedandfruit-treesplanted；allwashomelyandpleasant，andthefloorswereaswhiteandshiningasapasteboard.Inthelongwintereveningsthemistressandhermaidssatatthespinning-wheelinthelargehall；everySundaythecounsellor—thistitlethepedlarhadobtained，althoughonlyinhisolddays—readaloudaportionfromtheBible.Thechildren（fortheyhadchildren）allreceivedthebesteducation，buttheywerenotallequallyclever，asisthecaseinallfamilies.
Inthemeantimethewillowtreenearthedrawbridgehadgrownupintoasplendidtree，andstoodthere，free，andwasneverclipped.“Itisourgenealogicaltree，”saidtheoldpeopletotheirchildren，“andthereforeitmustbehonoured.”
Ahundredyearshadelapsed.Itwasinourowndays；thelakehadbeentransformedintomarshland；thewholebaronialseathad，asitwere，disappeared.Apoolofwaternearsomeruinedwallswastheonlyremainderofthedeepditches；andherestoodamagnificentoldtreewithoverhangingbranches—thatwasthegenealogicaltree.Hereitstood，andshowedhowbeautifulawillowcanlookifonedoesnotinterferewithit.Thetrunk，itistrue，wascleftinthemiddlefromtheroottothecrown；thestormshadbentitalittle，butitstillstoodthere，andoutofeverycreviceandcleft，inwhichwindandweatherhadcarriedmould，bladesofgrassandflowerssprangforth.Especiallyabove，wherethelargeboughsparted，therewasquiteahanginggarden，inwhichwildraspberriesandhart’s-tonguefernsthrove，andevenalittlemistletoehadtakenroot，andgrewgracefullyintheoldwillowbranches，whichwerereflectedinthedarkwaterbeneathwhenthewindblewthechickweedintothecornerofthepool.Afootpathwhichledacrossthefieldspassedclosebytheoldtree.Highup，onthewoodyhillside，stoodthenewmansion.Ithadasplendidview，andwaslargeandmagnificent；itswindowpanesweresoclearthatonemighthavethoughttherewerenonethereatall.Thelargeflightofstepswhichledtotheentrancelookedlikeabowercoveredwithrosesandbroad-leavedplants.Thelawnwasasgreenasifeachbladeofgrasswascleanedseparatelymorningandevening.Inside，inthehall，valuableoilpaintingswerehangingonthewalls.Herestoodchairsandsofascoveredwithsilkandvelvet，whichcouldbeeasilyrolledaboutoncastors；thereweretableswithpolishedmarbletops，andbooksboundinmoroccowithgiltedges.Indeed，well-to-doanddistinguishedpeoplelivedhere；itwasthedwellingofthebaronandhisfamily.Eacharticlewasinkeepingwithitssurroundings.“Everythingintherightplace”wasthemottoaccordingtowhichtheyalsoactedhere，andthereforeallthepaintingswhichhadoncebeenthehonourandgloryoftheoldmansionwerenowhungupinthepassagewhichledtotheservants’rooms.Itwasalloldlumber，especiallytwoportraits—onerepresentingamaninascarletcoatwithawig，andtheotheraladywithpowderedandcurledhairholdingaroseinherhand，eachofthembeingsurroundedbyalargewreathofwillowbranches.Bothportraitshadmanyholesinthem，becausethebaron’ssonsusedthetwooldpeopleastargetsfortheircrossbows.Theyrepresentedthecounsellorandhiswife，fromwhomthewholefamilydescended.“Buttheydidnotproperlybelongtoourfamily，”saidoneoftheboys；“hewasapedlarandshekeptthegeese.Theywerenotlikepapaandmamma.”Theportraitswereoldlumber，and“everythinginitsrightplace.”Thatwaswhythegreat-grandparentshadbeenhungupinthepassageleadingtotheservants’rooms.
Thesonofthevillagepastorwastutoratthemansion.Onedayhewentforawalkacrossthefieldswithhisyoungpupilsandtheireldersister，whohadlatelybeenconfirmed.Theywalkedalongtheroadwhichpassedbytheoldwillowtree，andwhiletheywereontheroadshepickedabunchoffield-flowers.“Everythingintherightplace，”andindeedthebunchlookedverybeautiful.Atthesametimeshelistenedtoallthatwassaid，andsheverymuchlikedtohearthepastor’ssonspeakabouttheelementsandofthegreatmenandwomeninhistory.Shehadahealthymind，nobleinthoughtanddeed，andwithaheartfullofloveforeverythingthatGodhadcreated.Theystoppedattheoldwillowtree，astheyoungestofthebaron’ssonswishedverymuchtohaveaflutefromit，suchashadbeencutforhimfromotherwillowtrees；thepastor’ssonbrokeabranchoff.“Oh，praydonotdoit！”saidtheyounglady；butitwasalreadydone.“Thatisourfamousoldtree.Iloveitverymuch.Theyoftenlaughatmeathomeaboutit，butthatdoesnotmatter.Thereisastoryattachedtothistree.”Andnowshetoldhimallthatwealreadyknowaboutthetree—theoldmansion，thepedlarandthegoose-girlwhohadmetthereforthefirsttime，andhadbecometheancestorsofthenoblefamilytowhichtheyoungladybelonged.
“Theydidnotliketobeknighted，thegoodoldpeople，”shesaid；“theirmottowas’everythingintherightplace，’anditwouldnotberight，theythought，topurchaseatitleformoney.Mygrandfather，thefirstbaron，wastheirson.Theysayhewasaverylearnedman，agreatfavouritewiththeprincesandprincesses，andwasinvitedtoallcourtfestivities.Theothersathomelovehimbest；but，Idonotknowwhy，thereseemedtometobesomethingabouttheoldcouplethatattractsmyheart！Howhomely，howpatriarchal，itmusthavebeenintheoldmansion，wherethemistresssatatthespinning-wheelwithhermaids，whileherhusbandreadaloudoutoftheBible！”
“Theymusthavebeenexcellent，sensiblepeople，”saidthepastor’sson.Andwiththistheconversationturnednaturallytonoblemenandcommoners；fromthemannerinwhichthetutorspokeaboutthesignificanceofbeingnoble，itseemedalmostasifhedidnotbelongtoacommoner’sfamily.
“Itisgoodfortunetobeofafamilywhohavedistinguishedthemselves，andtopossessasitwereaspurinoneselftoadvancetoallthatisgood.Itisasplendidthingtobelongtoanoblefamily，whosenameservesasacardofadmissiontothehighestcircles.Nobilityisadistinction；itisagoldcointhatbearsthestampofitsownvalue.Itisthefallacyofthetime，andmanypoetsexpressit，tosaythatallthatisnobleisbadandstupid，andthat，onthecontrary，theloweronegoesamongthepoor，themorebrilliantvirtuesonefinds.Idonotsharethisopinion，foritiswrong.Intheupperclassesoneseesmanytouchinglybeautifultraits；myownmotherhastoldmeofsuch，andIcouldmentionseveral.Onedayshewasvisitinganobleman’shouseintown；mygrandmother，Ibelieve，hadbeenthelady’snursewhenshewasachild.Mymotherandthenoblemanwerealoneintheroom，whenhesuddenlynoticedanoldwomanoncrutchescomelimpingintothecourtyard；shecameeverySundaytocarryagiftawaywithher.
“’Thereisthepooroldwoman，’saidthenobleman；’itissodifficultforhertowalk.’
“Mymotherhadhardlyunderstoodwhathesaidbeforehedisappearedfromtheroom，andwentdownstairs，inordertosaveherthetroublesomewalkforthegiftshecametofetch.Ofcoursethisisonlyalittleincident，butithasitsgoodsoundlikethepoorwidow’stwomitesintheBible，thesoundwhichechoesinthedepthofeveryhumanheart；andthisiswhatthepoetoughttoshowandpointout—moreespeciallyinourowntimeheoughttosingofthis；itdoesgood，itmitigatesandreconciles！Butwhenaman，simplybecauseheisofnoblebirthandpossessesagenealogy，standsonhishindlegsandneighsinthestreetlikeanArabianhorse，andsayswhenacommonerhasbeeninaroom：’Somepeoplefromthestreethavebeenhere，’therenobilityisdecaying；ithasbecomeamaskofthekindthatThespiscreated，anditisamusingwhensuchapersonisexposedinsatire.”
Suchwasthetutor’sspeech；itwasalittlelong，butwhilehedeliveredithehadfinishedcuttingtheflute.
Therewasalargepartyatthemansion；manyguestsfromtheneighbourhoodandfromthecapitalhadarrived.Therewereladieswithtastefulandwithtastelessdresses；thebighallwasquitecrowdedwithpeople.Theclergymenstoodhumblytogetherinacorner，andlookedasiftheywerepreparingforafuneral，butitwasafestival—onlytheamusementhadnotyetbegun.Agreatconcertwastotakeplace，andthatiswhythebaron’syoungsonhadbroughthiswillowflutewithhim；buthecouldnotmakeitsound，norcouldhisfather，andthereforetheflutewasgoodfornothing.
Therewasmusicandsongsofthekindwhichdelightmostthosethatperformthem；otherwisequitecharming！
“Areyouanartist？”saidacavalier，thesonofhisfather；“youplayontheflute，youhavemadeityourself；itisgeniusthatrules—theplaceofhonourisduetoyou.”
“Certainlynot！Ionlyadvancewiththetime，andthatofcourseonecan’thelp.”
“Ihopeyouwilldelightusallwiththelittleinstrument—willyounot？”Thussayinghehandedtothetutortheflutewhichhadbeencutfromthewillowtreebythepool；andthenannouncedinaloudvoicethatthetutorwishedtoperformasoloontheflute.Theywishedtoteasehim—thatwasevident，andthereforethetutordeclinedtoplay，althoughhecoulddosoverywell.Theyurgedandrequestedhim，however，solong，thatatlasthetookupthefluteandplacedittohislips.
Thatwasamarvellousflute！Itssoundwasasthrillingasthewhistleofasteamengine；infactitwasmuchstronger，foritsoundedandwasheardintheyard，inthegarden，inthewood，andmanymilesroundinthecountry；atthesametimeastormroseandroared；“Everythingintherightplace.”Andwiththisthebaron，asifcarriedbythewind，flewoutofthehallstraightintotheshepherd’scottage，andtheshepherdflew—notintothehall，thitherhecouldnotcome—butintotheservants’hall，amongthesmartfootmenwhowerestridingaboutinsilkstockings；thesehaughtymenialslookedhorror-struckthatsuchapersonventuredtositattablewiththem.Butinthehallthebaron’sdaughterflewtotheplaceofhonourattheendofthetable—shewasworthytositthere；thepastor’ssonhadtheseatnexttoher；thetwosatthereasiftheywereabridalpair.AnoldCount，belongingtooneoftheoldestfamiliesofthecountry，remaineduntouchedinhisplaceofhonour；theflutewasjust，anditisone’sdutytobeso.Thesharp-tonguedcavalierwhohadcausedtheflutetobeplayed，andwhowasthechildofhisparents，flewheadlongintothefowl-house，butnothealone.
Theflutewasheardatthedistanceofamile，andstrangeeventstookplace.Arichbanker’sfamily，whoweredrivinginacoachandfour，wereblownoutofit，andcouldnotevenfindroombehinditwiththeirfootmen.Tworichfarmerswhohadinourdaysshotuphigherthantheirowncorn-fields，wereflungintotheditch；itwasadangerousflute.Fortunatelyitburstatthefirstsound，andthatwasagoodthing，forthenitwasputbackintoitsowner’spocket—“itsrightplace.”
Thenextday，nobodyspokeawordaboutwhathadtakenplace；thusoriginatedthephrase，“topockettheflute.”Everythingwasagaininitsusualorder，exceptthatthetwooldpicturesofthepeddlarandthegoose-girlwerehanginginthebanqueting-hall.Theretheywereonthewallasifblownupthere；andasarealexpertsaidthattheywerepaintedbyamaster’shand，theyremainedthereandwererestored.“Everythingintherightplace，”andtothisitwillcome.Eternityislong，muchlongerindeedthanthisstory.
ITismorethanahundredyearsago！Attheborderofthewood，nearalargelake，stoodtheoldmansion：deepditchessurroundeditoneveryside，inwhichreedsandbulrushesgrew.Closebythedrawbridge，nearthegate，therewasanoldwillowtree，whichbentoverthereeds.
Fromthenarrowpasscamethesoundofbuglesandthetramplingofhorses’feet；thereforealittlegirlwhowaswatchingthegeesehastenedtodrivethemawayfromthebridge，beforethewholehuntingpartycamegallopingup；theycame，however，soquickly，thatthegirl，inordertoavoidbeingrunover，placedherselfononeofthehighcorner-stonesofthebridge.Shewasstillhalfachildandverydelicatelybuilt；shehadbrightblueeyes，andagentle，sweetexpression.Butsuchthingsthebarondidnotnotice；whilehewasridingpastthelittlegoose-girl，hereversedhishuntingcrop，andinroughplaygavehersuchapushwithitthatshefellbackwardintotheditch.
“Everythingintherightplace！”hecried.“Intotheditchwithyou.”
Thenheburstoutlaughing，forthathecalledfun；theothersjoinedin—thewholepartyshoutedandcried，whilethehoundsbarked.
Whilethepoorgirlwasfallingshehappilycaughtoneofthebranchesofthewillowtree，bythehelpofwhichsheheldherselfoverthewater，andassoonasthebaronwithhiscompanyandthedogshaddisappearedthroughthegate，thegirlendeavouredtoscrambleup，butthebranchbrokeoff，andshewouldhavefallenbackwardamongtherushes，hadnotastronghandfromaboveseizedheratthismoment.Itwasthehandofapedlar；hehadwitnessedwhathadhappenedfromashortdistance，andnowhastenedtoassisther.
“Everythingintherightplace，”hesaid，imitatingthenoblebaron，andpullingthelittlemaiduptothedryground.Hewishedtoputthebranchbackintheplaceithadbeenbrokenoff，butitisnotpossibletoputeverythingintherightplace；thereforehestuckthebranchintothesoftground.
“Growandthriveifyoucan，andproduceagoodfluteforthemyonderatthemansion，”hesaid；itwouldhavegivenhimgreatpleasuretoseethenoblebaronandhiscompanionswellthrashed.Thenheenteredthecastle—butnotthebanquetinghall；hewastoohumbleforthat.No；hewenttotheservants’hall.Themen-servantsandmaidslookedoverhisstockofarticlesandbargainedwithhim；loudcryingandscreamingwereheardfromthemaster’stableabove：theycalleditsinging—indeed，theydidtheirbest.Laughterandthehowlsofdogswereheardthroughtheopenwindows：theretheywerefeastingandrevelling；wineandstrongoldalewerefoamingintheglassesandjugs；thefavouritedogsatewiththeirmasters；nowandthenthesquireskissedoneoftheseanimals，afterhavingwipeditsmouthfirstwiththetablecloth.Theyorderedthepedlartocomeup，butonlytomakefunofhim.Thewinehadgotintotheirheads，andreasonhadleftthem.Theypouredbeerintoastockingthathecoulddrinkwiththem，butquick.That’swhattheycalledfun，anditmadethemlaugh.Thenmeadows，peasants，andfarmyardswerestakedononecardandlost.
“Everythingintherightplace！”thepedlarsaidwhenhehadatlastsafelygotoutofSodomandGomorrah，ashecalledit.“Theopenhighroadismyrightplace；upthereIdidnotfeelatease.”
Thelittlemaid，whowasstillwatchingthegeese，noddedkindlytohimashepassedthroughthegate.
Daysandweekspassed，anditwasseenthatthebrokenwillow-branchwhichthepeddlarhadstuckintothegroundneartheditchremainedfreshandgreen—nay，itevenputforthfreshtwigs；thelittlegoose-girlsawthatthebranchhadtakenroot，andwasverypleased；thetree，soshesaid，wasnowhertree.Whilethetreewasadvancing，everythingelseatthecastlewasgoingbackward，throughfeastingandgambling，forthesearetworollersuponwhichnobodystandssafely.Lessthansixyearsafterwardsthebaronpassedoutofhiscastle-gateapoorbeggar，whilethebaronialseathadbeenboughtbyarichtradesman.Hewastheverypedlartheyhadmadefunofandpouredbeerintoastockingforhimtodrink；buthonestyandindustrybringoneforward，andnowthepedlarwasthepossessorofthebaronialestate.Fromthattimeforwardnocard-playingwaspermittedthere.
“That’sabadpastime，”hesaid；“whenthedevilsawtheBibleforthefirsttimehewantedtoproduceacaricatureinoppositiontoit，andinventedcard-playing.”
Thenewproprietoroftheestatetookawife，andwhomdidhetake？—Thelittlegoose-girl，whohadalwaysremainedgoodandkind，andwholookedasbeautifulinhernewclothesasifshehadbeenaladyofhighbirth.Andhowdidallthiscomeabout？Thatwouldbetoolongataletotellinourbusytime，butitreallyhappened，andthemostimportanteventshaveyettobetold.
Itwaspleasantandcheerfultoliveintheoldplacenow：themothersuperintendedthehousehold，andthefatherlookedafterthingsout-of-doors，andtheywereindeedveryprosperous.
Wherehonestyleadstheway，prosperityissuretofollow.Theoldmansionwasrepairedandpainted，theditcheswerecleanedandfruit-treesplanted；allwashomelyandpleasant，andthefloorswereaswhiteandshiningasapasteboard.Inthelongwintereveningsthemistressandhermaidssatatthespinning-wheelinthelargehall；everySundaythecounsellor—thistitlethepedlarhadobtained，althoughonlyinhisolddays—readaloudaportionfromtheBible.Thechildren（fortheyhadchildren）allreceivedthebesteducation，buttheywerenotallequallyclever，asisthecaseinallfamilies.
Inthemeantimethewillowtreenearthedrawbridgehadgrownupintoasplendidtree，andstoodthere，free，andwasneverclipped.“Itisourgenealogicaltree，”saidtheoldpeopletotheirchildren，“andthereforeitmustbehonoured.”
Ahundredyearshadelapsed.Itwasinourowndays；thelakehadbeentransformedintomarshland；thewholebaronialseathad，asitwere，disappeared.Apoolofwaternearsomeruinedwallswastheonlyremainderofthedeepditches；andherestoodamagnificentoldtreewithoverhangingbranches—thatwasthegenealogicaltree.Hereitstood，andshowedhowbeautifulawillowcanlookifonedoesnotinterferewithit.Thetrunk，itistrue，wascleftinthemiddlefromtheroottothecrown；thestormshadbentitalittle，butitstillstoodthere，andoutofeverycreviceandcleft，inwhichwindandweatherhadcarriedmould，bladesofgrassandflowerssprangforth.Especiallyabove，wherethelargeboughsparted，therewasquiteahanginggarden，inwhichwildraspberriesandhart’s-tonguefernsthrove，andevenalittlemistletoehadtakenroot，andgrewgracefullyintheoldwillowbranches，whichwerereflectedinthedarkwaterbeneathwhenthewindblewthechickweedintothecornerofthepool.Afootpathwhichledacrossthefieldspassedclosebytheoldtree.Highup，onthewoodyhillside，stoodthenewmansion.Ithadasplendidview，andwaslargeandmagnificent；itswindowpanesweresoclearthatonemighthavethoughttherewerenonethereatall.Thelargeflightofstepswhichledtotheentrancelookedlikeabowercoveredwithrosesandbroad-leavedplants.Thelawnwasasgreenasifeachbladeofgrasswascleanedseparatelymorningandevening.Inside，inthehall，valuableoilpaintingswerehangingonthewalls.Herestoodchairsandsofascoveredwithsilkandvelvet，whichcouldbeeasilyrolledaboutoncastors；thereweretableswithpolishedmarbletops，andbooksboundinmoroccowithgiltedges.Indeed，well-to-doanddistinguishedpeoplelivedhere；itwasthedwellingofthebaronandhisfamily.Eacharticlewasinkeepingwithitssurroundings.“Everythingintherightplace”wasthemottoaccordingtowhichtheyalsoactedhere，andthereforeallthepaintingswhichhadoncebeenthehonourandgloryoftheoldmansionwerenowhungupinthepassagewhichledtotheservants’rooms.Itwasalloldlumber，especiallytwoportraits—onerepresentingamaninascarletcoatwithawig，andtheotheraladywithpowderedandcurledhairholdingaroseinherhand，eachofthembeingsurroundedbyalargewreathofwillowbranches.Bothportraitshadmanyholesinthem，becausethebaron’ssonsusedthetwooldpeopleastargetsfortheircrossbows.Theyrepresentedthecounsellorandhiswife，fromwhomthewholefamilydescended.“Buttheydidnotproperlybelongtoourfamily，”saidoneoftheboys；“hewasapedlarandshekeptthegeese.Theywerenotlikepapaandmamma.”Theportraitswereoldlumber，and“everythinginitsrightplace.”Thatwaswhythegreat-grandparentshadbeenhungupinthepassageleadingtotheservants’rooms.
Thesonofthevillagepastorwastutoratthemansion.Onedayhewentforawalkacrossthefieldswithhisyoungpupilsandtheireldersister，whohadlatelybeenconfirmed.Theywalkedalongtheroadwhichpassedbytheoldwillowtree，andwhiletheywereontheroadshepickedabunchoffield-flowers.“Everythingintherightplace，”andindeedthebunchlookedverybeautiful.Atthesametimeshelistenedtoallthatwassaid，andsheverymuchlikedtohearthepastor’ssonspeakabouttheelementsandofthegreatmenandwomeninhistory.Shehadahealthymind，nobleinthoughtanddeed，andwithaheartfullofloveforeverythingthatGodhadcreated.Theystoppedattheoldwillowtree，astheyoungestofthebaron’ssonswishedverymuchtohaveaflutefromit，suchashadbeencutforhimfromotherwillowtrees；thepastor’ssonbrokeabranchoff.“Oh，praydonotdoit！”saidtheyounglady；butitwasalreadydone.“Thatisourfamousoldtree.Iloveitverymuch.Theyoftenlaughatmeathomeaboutit，butthatdoesnotmatter.Thereisastoryattachedtothistree.”Andnowshetoldhimallthatwealreadyknowaboutthetree—theoldmansion，thepedlarandthegoose-girlwhohadmetthereforthefirsttime，andhadbecometheancestorsofthenoblefamilytowhichtheyoungladybelonged.
“Theydidnotliketobeknighted，thegoodoldpeople，”shesaid；“theirmottowas’everythingintherightplace，’anditwouldnotberight，theythought，topurchaseatitleformoney.Mygrandfather，thefirstbaron，wastheirson.Theysayhewasaverylearnedman，agreatfavouritewiththeprincesandprincesses，andwasinvitedtoallcourtfestivities.Theothersathomelovehimbest；but，Idonotknowwhy，thereseemedtometobesomethingabouttheoldcouplethatattractsmyheart！Howhomely，howpatriarchal，itmusthavebeenintheoldmansion，wherethemistresssatatthespinning-wheelwithhermaids，whileherhusbandreadaloudoutoftheBible！”
“Theymusthavebeenexcellent，sensiblepeople，”saidthepastor’sson.Andwiththistheconversationturnednaturallytonoblemenandcommoners；fromthemannerinwhichthetutorspokeaboutthesignificanceofbeingnoble，itseemedalmostasifhedidnotbelongtoacommoner’sfamily.
“Itisgoodfortunetobeofafamilywhohavedistinguishedthemselves，andtopossessasitwereaspurinoneselftoadvancetoallthatisgood.Itisasplendidthingtobelongtoanoblefamily，whosenameservesasacardofadmissiontothehighestcircles.Nobilityisadistinction；itisagoldcointhatbearsthestampofitsownvalue.Itisthefallacyofthetime，andmanypoetsexpressit，tosaythatallthatisnobleisbadandstupid，andthat，onthecontrary，theloweronegoesamongthepoor，themorebrilliantvirtuesonefinds.Idonotsharethisopinion，foritiswrong.Intheupperclassesoneseesmanytouchinglybeautifultraits；myownmotherhastoldmeofsuch，andIcouldmentionseveral.Onedayshewasvisitinganobleman’shouseintown；mygrandmother，Ibelieve，hadbeenthelady’snursewhenshewasachild.Mymotherandthenoblemanwerealoneintheroom，whenhesuddenlynoticedanoldwomanoncrutchescomelimpingintothecourtyard；shecameeverySundaytocarryagiftawaywithher.
“’Thereisthepooroldwoman，’saidthenobleman；’itissodifficultforhertowalk.’
“Mymotherhadhardlyunderstoodwhathesaidbeforehedisappearedfromtheroom，andwentdownstairs，inordertosaveherthetroublesomewalkforthegiftshecametofetch.Ofcoursethisisonlyalittleincident，butithasitsgoodsoundlikethepoorwidow’stwomitesintheBible，thesoundwhichechoesinthedepthofeveryhumanheart；andthisiswhatthepoetoughttoshowandpointout—moreespeciallyinourowntimeheoughttosingofthis；itdoesgood，itmitigatesandreconciles！Butwhenaman，simplybecauseheisofnoblebirthandpossessesagenealogy，standsonhishindlegsandneighsinthestreetlikeanArabianhorse，andsayswhenacommonerhasbeeninaroom：’Somepeoplefromthestreethavebeenhere，’therenobilityisdecaying；ithasbecomeamaskofthekindthatThespiscreated，anditisamusingwhensuchapersonisexposedinsatire.”
Suchwasthetutor’sspeech；itwasalittlelong，butwhilehedeliveredithehadfinishedcuttingtheflute.
Therewasalargepartyatthemansion；manyguestsfromtheneighbourhoodandfromthecapitalhadarrived.Therewereladieswithtastefulandwithtastelessdresses；thebighallwasquitecrowdedwithpeople.Theclergymenstoodhumblytogetherinacorner，andlookedasiftheywerepreparingforafuneral，butitwasafestival—onlytheamusementhadnotyetbegun.Agreatconcertwastotakeplace，andthatiswhythebaron’syoungsonhadbroughthiswillowflutewithhim；buthecouldnotmakeitsound，norcouldhisfather，andthereforetheflutewasgoodfornothing.
Therewasmusicandsongsofthekindwhichdelightmostthosethatperformthem；otherwisequitecharming！
“Areyouanartist？”saidacavalier，thesonofhisfather；“youplayontheflute，youhavemadeityourself；itisgeniusthatrules—theplaceofhonourisduetoyou.”
“Certainlynot！Ionlyadvancewiththetime，andthatofcourseonecan’thelp.”
“Ihopeyouwilldelightusallwiththelittleinstrument—willyounot？”Thussayinghehandedtothetutortheflutewhichhadbeencutfromthewillowtreebythepool；andthenannouncedinaloudvoicethatthetutorwishedtoperformasoloontheflute.Theywishedtoteasehim—thatwasevident，andthereforethetutordeclinedtoplay，althoughhecoulddosoverywell.Theyurgedandrequestedhim，however，solong，thatatlasthetookupthefluteandplacedittohislips.
Thatwasamarvellousflute！Itssoundwasasthrillingasthewhistleofasteamengine；infactitwasmuchstronger，foritsoundedandwasheardintheyard，inthegarden，inthewood，andmanymilesroundinthecountry；atthesametimeastormroseandroared；“Everythingintherightplace.”Andwiththisthebaron，asifcarriedbythewind，flewoutofthehallstraightintotheshepherd’scottage，andtheshepherdflew—notintothehall，thitherhecouldnotcome—butintotheservants’hall，amongthesmartfootmenwhowerestridingaboutinsilkstockings；thesehaughtymenialslookedhorror-struckthatsuchapersonventuredtositattablewiththem.Butinthehallthebaron’sdaughterflewtotheplaceofhonourattheendofthetable—shewasworthytositthere；thepastor’ssonhadtheseatnexttoher；thetwosatthereasiftheywereabridalpair.AnoldCount，belongingtooneoftheoldestfamiliesofthecountry，remaineduntouchedinhisplaceofhonour；theflutewasjust，anditisone’sdutytobeso.Thesharp-tonguedcavalierwhohadcausedtheflutetobeplayed，andwhowasthechildofhisparents，flewheadlongintothefowl-house，butnothealone.
Theflutewasheardatthedistanceofamile，andstrangeeventstookplace.Arichbanker’sfamily，whoweredrivinginacoachandfour，wereblownoutofit，andcouldnotevenfindroombehinditwiththeirfootmen.Tworichfarmerswhohadinourdaysshotuphigherthantheirowncorn-fields，wereflungintotheditch；itwasadangerousflute.Fortunatelyitburstatthefirstsound，andthatwasagoodthing，forthenitwasputbackintoitsowner’spocket—“itsrightplace.”
Thenextday，nobodyspokeawordaboutwhathadtakenplace；thusoriginatedthephrase，“topockettheflute.”Everythingwasagaininitsusualorder，exceptthatthetwooldpicturesofthepeddlarandthegoose-girlwerehanginginthebanqueting-hall.Theretheywereonthewallasifblownupthere；andasarealexpertsaidthattheywerepaintedbyamaster’shand，theyremainedthereandwererestored.“Everythingintherightplace，”andtothisitwillcome.Eternityislong，muchlongerindeedthanthisstory.