马克·吐温短篇小说选

科学，一定要读*前沿的书；
文学，一定要读*经典的书。
名家名译：在精妙的语句中学习经典文学语言的艺术，深入体悟世界名著精髓。
“名著名译汉英双语文库”甄选八部英语文学史上的传世经典，诚邀孙致礼、唐慧心、王永年、董衡巽、黄健人等翻译大家倾力打造，字里行间闪烁才华与睿智的永恒光芒，为您奉献中英双语的文学盛宴。

董衡巽，我国著名翻译家、外国文学研究专家。毕业于北京大学西语系英语专业，导师朱光潜。曾先后任职于北京大学文学研究所，中国科学院文学研究所，中国社会科学院外国文学研究所，并任“全国美国文学研究会”名誉会长。著作及译著包括：《美国文学简史》《美国现代作家论》、《美国现代小说风格》、《海明威评传》、《海明威研究》、《美国十九世纪文论选》、《马克?吐温画像》、《竞选州长》、《一个迷途的女人》、《苹果树》、《小红马》、《月亮下去了》等。

 《马克?吐温短篇小说选》（名著名译汉英双语文库）文约事丰，言简意深既有幽默讽刺的诙谐又有悲天悯人的严肃著名翻译家董衡巽先生经典译文。

 “名著名译汉英双语文库”（**辑）包括八本：《傲慢与偏见》、《理智与情感》、《呼啸山庄》、《德伯维尔家的苔丝》
、《老人与海》、《欧?亨利短篇小说选》、《马克?吐温短篇小说选》、《简?爱》。

名著名译汉英双语文库：

《马克?吐温短篇小说选》收录了马克吐温的多篇短篇小说，其中不乏一些经典作品。他的作品折射出马克?吐温那个时代美国人民丰富的精神世界和物质生活的风貌。文笔犀利幽默，文字清新自然，被誉为“美国文学领域的林肯”。

董衡巽，我国著名翻译家、外国文学研究专家。毕业于北京大学西语系英语专业，导师朱光潜。曾先后任职于北京大学文学研究所，中国科学院文学研究所，中国社会科学院外国文学研究所，并任“全国美国文学研究会”名誉会长。著作及译著包括：《美国文学简史》《美国现代作家论》、《美国现代小说风格》、《海明威评传》、《海明威研究》、《美国十九世纪文论选》、《马克?吐温画像》、《竞选州长》、《一个迷途的女人》、《苹果树》、《小红马》、《月亮下去了》等。

卡拉维拉斯县驰名的跳蛙

坏孩子的故事

田纳西的新闻界

我怎样编辑农业报

好孩子的故事

稀奇的经验

一个真实的故事

百万英镑

狗的自述

三万元的遗产

我近辞职的事实经过

竞选州长

神秘的访问

败坏了赫德莱堡的人

和移风易俗者一起上路

火车上的嗜人事件

大宗牛肉合同的事件始末

他是否还在人间？

加利福尼亚人的故事

我给参议员当秘书的经历

卡拉维拉斯县驰名的跳蛙

我的一个朋友从东部写信给我，我按照他的嘱咐访问了性情随和、唠唠叨叨的老西蒙?惠勒，去打听我那位朋友的朋友利奥尼达斯?斯迈利的下落，我在此说说结果吧。我暗地里有点疑心这个利奥尼达斯?斯迈利是编出来的。也许我的朋友从来不认得这么一个人，他不过揣摩着如果我向老惠勒去打听，那大概会使他回想起他那个丢脸的吉姆?斯迈利，他会鼓劲儿唠叨着什么关于吉姆的该死的往事，又长又乏味，对我又毫无用处，倒把我腻烦得要死。如果安的这种心，那可真是成功了。

在古老的矿区安吉尔小镇上那家又破又旧的小客栈里，我发现西蒙?惠勒正在酒吧间火炉旁边舒舒服服打盹，我注意到他是个胖子，秃了顶，安详的面容上带着引人欢喜的温和质朴的表情。他惊醒过来，向我问好。我告诉他我的一个朋友委托我打听一位童年的挚友，名叫利奥尼达斯?斯迈利，也就是利奥尼达斯?斯迈利牧师，听说这位年轻的福音传道士一度是安吉尔镇上的居民。我又说，如果惠勒先生能够告诉我任何关于这位利奥尼达斯?斯迈利牧师的情况，我会十分感激他的。

西蒙?惠勒让我退到一个角落里，用他的椅子把我封锁在那儿，这才让我坐下，滔滔不绝地絮叨着从下一段开始的单调的情节。他从来不笑，从来不皱眉，从来不改变声调，他的句话用的就是细水长流的腔调，他从来不露丝毫痕迹让人以为他热衷此道；可是在没完没了的絮叨之中却始终流露着一种诚挚感人的语气，直率地向我表明，他想也没有想过他的故事有哪一点显得荒唐或者离奇；在他看来，这个故事倒真是事关重大，其中的两位主角也都是在钩心斗角上出类拔萃的天才人物。对我来说，看到一个人安闲自得地信口编出这样古怪的奇谈，从不露笑，这种景象也是荒谬绝伦的了。我先前说过，我要他告诉我他所了解的利奥尼达斯?斯迈利牧师的情况，他回答如下。我随他按他自己的方式讲下去，一次也没有打断他的话。

“从前，这儿有一个人，名叫吉姆?斯迈利，那时候是一八四九年冬天，也许是五年春天，我记不准了。不知怎么的，我怎么会想到冬又想到春呢，因为我记得他初来矿区的时候，大渠还没有完工。反正，不管怎么样吧，他是你从来没见过的古怪的人，总是找到一点什么事就来打赌，如果他能找到什么人跟他对赌的话；要是他办不到，他情愿换个个儿。只要对方称意，哪一头都适合，只要他赌上了一头，他就称心了。可是他很走运，出奇地走运，多少次总是他赢。他总是准备好了，单等机会；随便提起哪个茬，他没有不能打赌的，正像我刚才跟你说的，你可以随便挑哪一头。如果遇到赛马，赛完时你会发现他发了财，或者输得精光；遇到狗打架，他要打赌；遇到猫打架，他要打赌；遇到小鸡打架，他要打赌；哎，即使遇到两只小鸟停在篱笆上，他也要跟你赌哪一只先飞走；要是遇上野营布道会，那他是经常要到的，他会在沃克牧师身上打赌，他认为沃克牧师是这一带擅长劝善布道的，可也真是的，真是位善心的人。甚至如果他看见一个金龟子在走，他也会跟你打赌要多久它才会走到它要去的地方，如果你答应他了，他会跟着那个金龟子走到墨西哥，不过他不会去弄清楚它要到哪儿去或者在路上走多久。这儿的许多小伙子都见过这个斯迈利，都能跟你谈起他的事情。哎，对他这个人，这都从来没有关系，他什么都要赌，这个倒霉透了的家伙。有一回，沃克牧师的老婆得重病，躺了好久，仿佛他们都救不了她了；可是有一天早晨，牧师来了，斯迈利问起她身体怎样，牧师说她好多了，感谢上帝无限慈悲，身子轻松多了，靠老天保佑，她还会好的。斯迈利想也没想就说，‘唔，我愿意赌上两块半，她不会好，怎么也不会。’

“这个斯迈利有一匹牝马，小伙子们管它叫作十五分钟驽马，不过这是闹着玩的，你知道，因为，当然啦，它总比这个快点。尽管它这么慢，又总是得气喘啦，马腺疫啦，要不就是肺病啦，还有这个那个毛病的，斯迈利倒常在它身上赢钱。他们常常开头先让它二三百码，然后算它在比赛，可是到了比赛临了儿那一截，它总是会激动起来，不要命似的，欢腾着迈步过来啦，它会柔软灵活地撒开四蹄，一会儿腾空，一会儿跑到栅栏那边，踹起好多灰尘，而且要闹腾一大阵，又咳嗽，又打喷嚏，又擤鼻涕，可它总是正好先出一头颈到达看台，跟你计算下来的差不离儿。

“他还有一只小不点儿的小巴儿狗，瞧那样子，你会认为一钱不值，只好随它摆出要打架的神气，冷不防偷点什么东西。可是只要在它身上压下赌注，它就是另外一种狗了，它的下巴会伸出来，像轮船的前甲板似的，牙齿也龇出来，像火炉似的闪着凶光。别的狗也许要来对付它，吓唬它，咬它，让它摔倒两三跤，可是安德鲁?杰克逊，这是那条狗的名字，安德鲁?杰克逊从来不露声色，像是心安理得，也不指望有什么别的，那一面的赌注于是一个劲地加倍呀加倍，直到钱全拿出来了，这时候，猛然间，它会正好咬住另外那条狗的后腿弯，啃紧了不放，不只是咬上，你明白，而是咬紧了不放，直到他们认输，哪怕要等上一年。斯迈利拿这条狗打赌，后总是赢家，直到有一回他套上了一条狗，这条狗压根没有后腿，因为都给圆锯锯掉了，等到事情闹得够瞧的了，钱都拿出来了，它要施展得意的招数了，它这才一下子看出它怎么上了当，这条狗怎么，打个比方说，被诓进门了，于是露出诧异的样子，后来就有点像泄气了，它再也不想打赢了，终于给弄得凄惨地脱了一层皮。它朝斯迈利望了一眼，仿佛说它的心都碎了，这完全是斯迈利的错，不该弄出这么一条没后腿的狗让它来施展招数，它打架主要依靠这一招，于是它一瘸一拐了一会儿，躺下死了。它是条好狗，这个安德鲁?杰克逊，它要是活下去，它会给自己扬名的，因为它有本事，它有天才——我知道它有才，因为它从来没有得到过好机会，可是像它这样在那种条件下能用这种办法打架的狗，如果说它没有才气，那也说不过去。我一想到它后的一仗，想到打成了那个样子，我总是觉得难过。

Selected Short Stories of Mark Twain

Calaveras County
In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote
mefrom the East, I called on good-natured, garrulous old
SimonWheeler, and inquired after my friend’s friend, Leonidas W.
Smiley, asrequested to do, and I hereunto append the result. I have
a lurkingsuspicion that Leonidas W. Smiley is a myth; that my
friend neverknew such a personage; and that he only conjectured
that if I askedold Wheeler about him, it would remind him of his
infamous JimSmiley, and he would go to work and bore me to death
with someexasperating reminiscence of him as long and as tedious as
it shouldbe useless to me. If that was the design, it
succeeded.
I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the barroom stoveof the
dilapidated tavern in the decayed mining camp of Angel’s, andI
noticed that he was fat and baldheaded, and had an expression
ofwinning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil
countenance.He roused up, and gave me good day. I told him that a
friend of minehad commissioned me to make some inquiries about a
cherishedcompanion of his boyhood named Leonidas W. Smiley—Rev.
LeonidasW. Smiley, a young minister of the Gospel, who he had heard
was atone time a resident of Angel’s Camp. I added that if Mr.
Wheeler couldtell me anything about this Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, I
would feelunder many obligations to him.
Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me therewith
his chair, and then sat down and reeled off the monotonousnarrative
which follows this paragraph. He never smiled, he neverfrowned, he
never changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key towhich he
tuned his initial sentence, he never betrayed the
slightestsuspicion of enthusiasm; but all through the interminable
narrativethere ran a vein of impressive earnestness and sincerity,
whichshowed me plainly that, so far from his imagining that there
wasanything ridiculous or funny about his story, he regarded it asa
really important matter, and admired its two heroes as men
oftranscendent genius in finesse. I let him go on in his own way,
andnever interrupted him once.
“Rev. Leonidas W. H’m, Reverend Le—well, there was a fellerhere
once by the name of Jim Smiley, in the winter of ’49—or maybeit was
the spring of ’50—I don’t recollect exactly, somehow, thoughwhat
makes me think it was one or the other is because 1 remember the
big flume warn’t finished when he first come to the camp;
butanyway, he was the curiousest man about always betting on
anythingthat turned up you ever see, if he could get anybody to bet
on theother side; and if he couldn’t he’d change sides. Any way
that suitedthe other man would suit him—any way just so’s he got a
bet, he wassatisfied. But still he was lucky, uncommon lucky; he
most alwayscome out winner. He was always ready and laying for a
chance; there couldn’t be no solit’ry thing mentioned but that
feller’d offer to bet onit, and take any side you please, as I was
just telling you. If there wasa horse-race, you’d find him flush or
you’d find him busted at the endof it; if there was a dog-fight,
he’d bet on it; if there was a cat-fight, he’dbet on it; if there
was a chicken-fight, he’d bet on it; why, if there wastwo birds
setting on a fence, he would bet you which one would flyfirst; or
if there was a camp-meeting, he would be there reg’lar tobet on
Parson Walker, which he judged to be the best exhorter abouthere,
and so he was too, and a good man. If he even see a straddle
bugstart to go anywheres, he would bet you how long it would
takehim to get to—to wherever he was going to, and if you took him
up, he would foller that straddle-bug to Mexico but what he would
find outwhere he was bound for and how long he was on the road.
Lots of theboys here has seen that Smiley, and can tell you about
him. Why, itnever made no difference to him—he’d bet on
anything—the dangdest feller. Parson Walker’s wife laid very sick
once, for a good while, andit seemed as if they warn’t going to
save her; but one morning hecome in, and Smiley up and asked him
how she was, and he said shewas considerable better—thank the Lord
for his inf’nite mercy—and coming on so smart that with the
blessing of Prov’dence she’d get well yet; and Smiley, before he
thought, says, ‘Well, I’ll resk two-and-a-half she don’t
anyway.’
“Thish-yer Smiley had a mare—the boys called her the fifteen minute
nag, but that was only in fun, you know, because of courseshe was
faster than that—and he used to win money on that horse,for all she
was so slow and always had the asthma, or the distemper,or the
consumption, or something of that kind. They used to give hertwo or
three hundred yards’ start, and then pass her under way; but always
at the fag end of the race she’d get excited and desperate like,and
come cavorting and straddling up, and scattering her legs
aroundlimber, sometimes in the air, and sometimes out to one side
amongthe fences, and kicking up m-o-r-e dust and raising m-o-r-e
racketwith her coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose—and
alwaysfetch up at the stand just about a neck ahead, as near as you
couldcipher it down.
“And he had a little small bull-pup, that to look at him you’d
think he warn’t worth a cent but to set around and look ornery
andlay for a chance to steal something. But as soon as money was up
onhim he was a different dog; his under-jaw’d begin to stick out
like the fo’castle of a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover and
shine likethe furnaces. And a dog might tackle him and bully-rag
him, andbite him, and throw him over his shoulder two or three
times, andAndrew Jackson—which was the name of the pup—Andrew
Jacksonwould never let on but what he was satisfied, and hadn’t
expectednothing else—and the bets being doubled and doubled on the
otherside all the time, till the money was all up; and then all of
a suddenhe would grab that other dog jest by the j’int of his hind
leg and freezeto it—not chaw, you understand, but only just grip
and hang on till they throwed up the sponge, if it was a year.
Smiley always come outwinner on that pup, till he harnessed a dog
once that didn’t have nohind legs, because they’d been sawed off in
a circular saw, and whenthe thing had gone along far enough, and
the money was all up, andhe come to make a snatch for his pet holt,
he see in a minute howhe’d been imposed on, and how the other dog
had him in the door,so to speak, and he ’peared surprised, and then
he looked sorterdiscouraged-like, and didn’t try no more to win the
fight, and so he got shucked out bad. He give Smiley a look, as
much as to say hisheart was broke, and it was his fault, for
putting up a dog that hadn’tno hind legs for him to take holt of,
which was his main dependence ina fight, and then he limped off a
piece and laid down and died. It wasa good pup, was that Andrew
Jackson, and would have made a namefor himself if he’d lived, for
the stuff was in him and he had genius—I know it, because he hadn’t
no opportunities to speak of, and it don’tstand to reason that a
dog could make such a fight as he could under them circumstances if
he hadn’t no talent. It always makes me feelsorry when I think of
that last fight of his’n, and the way it turned out.