Hooking Watermelons, by 
Edward Bellamy 
 
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Title: Hooking Watermelons 1898 
Author: Edward Bellamy 
Release Date: September 21, 2007 [EBook #22703] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOOKING 
WATERMELONS *** 
 
Produced by David Widger 
 
HOOKING WATERMELONS 
By Edward Bellamy 
1898
The train slackened, a brakeman thrust his head in at the door and 
shouted "Bah,"--a mysterious formality observed on American trains as 
they enter towns,--and an elderly lady, two drummers, and a young 
man with a satchel got out, followed by the languid envy of the other 
passengers, who had longer or shorter penances of heat and dust before 
them. The train got under way again, while the knot of loafers about the 
station proceeded to eye the arrivals as judicially as if they were a 
committee of safety to protect the village from invasion by doubtful 
characters. The old lady, apparently laboring under some such 
impression, regarded them deferentially, as nervous travelers on 
arriving in strange places generally do regard everybody who seems to 
feel at home. The drummers briskly disappeared down the main street, 
each anxious to anticipate the other at the stores. The young man with 
the satchel, however, did not get away till he had shaken hands and 
exchanged a few good-natured inquiries with one of the loungers. 
"Who's that, Bill?" asked one of the group, staring after the retreating 
figure with lazy curiosity. 
"Why, did n't you know him? Thought everybody knew him. That's 
Arthur Steele," replied the one who had shaken hands, in a tone of 
cordiality indicating that his politeness had left a pleasant impression 
on his mind, as Arthur Steele's politeness generally did. 
"Who is he, anyhow?" pursued the other. 
"Why, he 's a Fairfield boy" (the brakeman pronounced it "Bah"), "born 
and brought up here. His folks allers lived right next to mine, and now 
he's doin' a rushin' lawyer trade down New York, and I expect he's just 
rakin' the stamps. Did yer see that diamond pin he wore?" 
"S'pose it's genooine?" asked a third loafer, with interest. 
"Course it was. I tell you he's on the make, and don't you forgit it. 
Some fellers allers has luck. Many 's the time he 'n' I 've been in 
swim-min' and hookin' apples together when we wuz little chaps," 
pursued Bill, in a tone implying a mild reproach at the deceitfulness of 
an analogy that after such fair promise in early life had failed to
complete itself in their later fortunes. 
"Why, darn it all, you know him, Jim," he continued, dropping the tone 
of pensive reminiscence into which he had momentarily allowed 
himself to fall. "That pretty gal that sings in the Baptis' choir is his 
sister." 
After a space of silent rumination and jerking of peanut shells upon the 
track, the group broke up its session, and adjourned by tacit 
understanding till the next train was due. 
Arthur Steele was half an hour in getting to his father's house, because 
everybody he met on the street insisted on shaking hands with him. 
Everybody in Fairfield had known him since he was a boy, and had 
seen him grow up, and all were proud of him as a credit to the village 
and one of its most successful representatives in the big outside world. 
The young man had sense and sentiment enough to feel that the place 
he held in the esteem of his native community was a thing to feel more 
just pride in than any station he could win in the city, and as he walked 
along hand-shaking with old friends on this side and that, it was about 
his idea of a triumphal entry. 
There was the dear old house, and as he saw it his memory of it started 
out vividly in his mind as if to attest how faithfully it had kept each 
detail. It never would come out so clearly at times when he was far 
away and needed its comfort. He opened the door softly. The 
sitting-room was empty, and darkened to keep out the heat and flies. 
The latched door stood open, and, hearing voices, he tiptoed across the 
floor with a guileful smile and, leaning through the doorway, saw his 
mother and sister sitting by the cool, lilac-shaded window, picking over 
currants for tea, and talking tranquilly. Being a provident young man, 
he paused a minute to let the pretty, peaceful scene impress itself upon 
his mind, to be remembered afterward    
    
		
	
	
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