作者：(美)马克·吐温
出版社：清华大学出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
竞选州长(插图·中文导读英文版)试读：
前言
马克·吐温（Mark Twain，1835—1910），美国著名作家，被誉为“美国文学界的林肯”、“美国文学之父”。
1835年11月30日，马克·吐温出生于美国密西西比河畔小城汉尼拔一个贫穷的律师家庭，原名塞缪尔·朗荷恩·克列门斯，马克·吐温是他的笔名。他从小离家独立谋生，当过排字工人、密西西比河水手、士兵和记者，还从事过木材、矿产和出版等行业的工作，但他最出色的工作是从事文学创作。
马克·吐温一生著作颇丰，代表作有《汤姆·索亚历险记》、《哈克贝利·费恩历险记》、《竞选州长》、《百万英镑》等。他的创作大致可分为三个时期：早期作品表现了对美国民主所存的幻想，以短篇小说为主，幽默与讽刺结合，如《竞选州长》、《哥尔斯密的朋友再度出洋》等；中期作品以长篇小说为主，讽刺性加强，如《镀金时代》、《哈克贝利·费恩历险记》及《傻瓜威尔逊》等；后期作品则由幽默讽刺转到愤怒的揭发、谴责，甚至带有悲观的情绪，如《赤道环行记》、《败坏了哈德莱堡的人》、《神秘来客》等。他的作品对后来的美国文学产生了深远的影响，人们普遍认为马克·吐温是美国文学史上里程碑式的人物。他的主要作品大多已有中文译本。
本书精选了马克·吐温的短篇小说10篇，采用中文导读英文版的形式出版。在中文导读中，我们尽力使其贴近原作的精髓，也尽可能保留原作的故事主线。我们希望能够编出为当代中国读者所喜爱的经典读本。读者在阅读英文故事之前，可以先阅读中文导读，这样有利于了解故事背景，从而加快阅读速度。同时，为了读者更好地理解故事内容，书中加入了大量插图。我们相信，该经典著作的引进对加强当代中国读者，特别是青少年读者的人文修养是非常有帮助的。
本书主要内容由王勋、纪飞编译。参加本书故事素材搜集整理及编译工作的还有郑佳、刘乃亚、赵雪、熊金玉、李丽秀、熊红华、王婷婷、孟宪行、胡国平、李晓红、贡东兴、陈楠、邵舒丽、冯洁、王业伟、徐鑫、王晓旭、周丽萍、熊建国、徐平国、肖洁、王小红等。限于我们的科学、人文素养和英语水平，书中难免会有不当之处，衷心希望读者朋友批评指正。竞选州长/Running For Governor导读
数月前，我被提名为纽约州州长候选人，代表独立党同约翰·特·史密斯和布兰克竞选。我的名声要比他们俩好得多，一想到自己的名字将和他们俩的秽名混在一块到处宣扬，我的心里着实不安；但既然卷进来了，只好战斗下去。
这天早晨，我一边吃早餐，一边抄起手边的报纸来读，看到一条令我惶恐的报道：“伪证罪——1863年，在交趾支那的瓦卡瓦克，有34人指出马克·吐温先生犯有伪证罪。他还企图侵占一块香蕉地，这是一位寡妇和一群孩子的唯一生活来源。不知道马克·吐温先生能否对此事做一合理解释。”
这是多么阴险的陷害，我根本就不知道支那，从来没有听说什么瓦卡瓦克。我不知道怎么办才好，那天我什么都没做。第二天早晨，这家报纸留下这样一句话：“意味深长——马克·吐温对伪证罪保持缄默。”
接着，《新闻报》刊登了这样一段话：“需要查证——马克·吐温先生在蒙大拿住宿的时候，经常小偷小摸，同宿旅伴常常丢失东西，而往往能在他的背包中找到它们。”
天哪，我根本就没有去过蒙大拿州！
此后我对报纸产生了畏惧之心，一天，我偶然又发现了这样一条消息：“揭穿谎言——马克·吐温先生曾经恶意地诽谤布兰克先生的祖父因拦路抢劫而被判绞刑。他以如此恶毒的手段试图达到政治上的胜利，实在卑劣至极（公众可以对其进行人身伤害，以抚平愤怒的情绪）。”
当晚，就有“义愤填膺”的公众从我家前门冲进来，将我家能搬动的财产统统掠去。然而，我可以手抚《圣经》发誓，我绝对没有诽谤过布兰克的祖父。
还有一则报道，如是写道：“好个候选人——马克·吐温先生正打算做一次恶语中伤对手的演讲，他的私人医生打电话说，马克·吐温被飞驰的马车撞到，此时正卧床不起。不过，昨晚有人看见一个喝得醉醺醺的酒鬼走进马克·吐温先生的住所，公众疾呼：‘那人是谁？’”
三年以来，我从来是滴酒不沾，现如今，我却与酒鬼联系在了一起。
那时，我还接二连三地收到匿名恐吓信。共和党和民主党的主要报纸找来各种罪名来诬陷我。我们党的报刊主编和领导者都劝我说，如果我再保持缄默，政治前途将毁于一旦。不久，一家报纸刊登了下面的一段话：“独立党的候选人马克·吐温，犯下的累累罪行陆续被公布于世，而他却缄默不语，说明他没有证据来翻案。谁还心甘情愿地将选票投给这样一位如此劣迹斑斑的候选人？”一边吃早餐，一边读报纸
在一系列诽谤、诬陷事件的压力下，我最终退出了竞选，宣布投降。一八七零年
few months ago I was nominated for Governor of the great state
of New York，to run against Mr. John T.Smith and Mr.Blank A
J.Blank on an independent ticket.I somehow felt that I had one prominent advantage over these gentlemen，and that was—good character.It was easy to see by the newspapers that if ever they had known what it was to bear a good name，that time had gone by.It was plain that in these latter years they had become familiar with all manner of shameful crimes.But at the very moment that I was exalting my advantage and joying in it in secret，there was a muddy undercurrent of discomfort“riling”the deeps of my happiness，and that was—the having to hear my name bandied about in familiar connection with those of such people.I grew more and more disturbed.Finally I wrote my grandmother about it.Her answer came quick and sharp.She said：
“You have never done one single thing in all your life to be ashamed of—not one. Look at the newspapers—look at them and comprehend what sort of characters Messrs.Smith and Blank are，and then see if you are willing to lower yourself to their level and enter a public canvass with them.”
It was my very thought！I did not sleep a single moment that night. But，after all，I could not recede.
I was fully committed，and must go on with the fight. As I was looking listlessly over the papers at breakfast I came across this paragraph，and I may truly say I never was so confounded before.
“PERJURY.—Perhaps，now that Mr. Mark Twain is before the people as a candidate for Governor，he will condescend to explain how he came to be convicted of perjury by thirty-four witnesses in Wakawak，Cochin China，in 1863，the intent of which perjury being to rob a poor native widow and her helpless family of a meager plantain-patch，their only stay and support in their bereavement and desolation.Mr.Twain owes it to himself，as well as to the great people whose suffrages he asks，to clear this matter up.Will he do it？”
I thought I should burst with amazement！Such a cruel，heartless charge！I never had seen Cochin China！I never had heard of Wakawak！I didn't know a plantain-patch from a kangaroo！I did not know what to do. I was crazed and helpless.I let the day slip away without doing anything at all.The next morning the same paper had this—nothing more：
“SIGNIFICANT.—Mr. Twain，it will be observed，is suggestively silent about the Cochin China perjury.”
[Mem.—During the rest of the campaign this paper never referred to me in any other way than as“the infamous perjurerTwain.”]
Next came the Gazette，with this：
“WANTED TO KNOW.—Will the new candidate for Governor deign to explain to certain of his fellow-citizens（who are suffering to vote for him！）the little circumstance of his cabin-mates in Montana losing small valuables from time to time，until at last，these things having been invariably found on Mr. Twain's person or in his“trunk”（newspaper he rolled his traps in），they felt compelled to give him a friendly admonition for his own good，and so tarred and feathered him，and rode him on a rail；and then advised him to leave a permanent vacuum in the place he usually occupied in the camp.Will he do this？”
Could anything be more deliberately malicious than that？For I never was in Montana in my life.
[After this，this journal customarily spoke of me as，“Twain，the Montana Thief.”]
I got to picking up papers apprehensively—much as one would lift a desired blanket which he had some idea might have a rattlesnake under it. One day this met my eye：“THE LIE NAILED.—By the sworn affidavits of Michael O'Flanagan，Esq.，of the Five Points，and Mr. Snub Rafferty and Mr.Catty Mulligan，of Water Street，it is established that Mr.Mark Twain's vile statement that the lamented grandfather of our noble standard-bearer，Blank J.Blank，was hanged for highway robbery，isa brutal and gratuitous LIE，without a shadow of foundation in fact.It is disheartening to virtuous men to see such shameful means resorted to to achieve political success as the attacking of the dead in their graves，and defiling their honored names with slander.When we think of the anguish this miserable falsehood must cause the innocent relatives and friends of the deceased，we are almost driven to incite an outraged and insulted public to summary and unlawful vengeance upon the traducer.But no！let us leave him to the agony of a lacerated conscience（though if passion should get the better of the public，and in its blind fury they should do the traducer bodily injury，it is but too obvious that no jury could convict and no court punish the perpetrators of the deed）。”
The ingenious closing sentence had the effect of moving me out of bed with despatch that night，and out at the back door also，while the“outraged and insulted public”surged in the front way，breaking furniture and windows in their righteous indignation as they came，and taking off such property as they could carry when they went. And yet I can lay my hand upon the Book and say that I never slandered Mr.Blank's grandfather.More：I had never even heard of him or mentioned him up to that day and date.
[I will state，in passing，that the journal above quoted from always referred to me afterward as“Twain，the BodySnatcher.”]
The next newspaper article that attracted my attention was the following：
“A SWEET CANDIDATE.—Mr. Mark Twain，who was to make such a blighting speech at the mass-meeting of the Independents last night，didn't come to time！A telegram from his physician stated that he had been knocked down by a run away team，and his leg broken in two places—sufferer lying in great agony，and so forth，and so forth，and a lot more bosh of the same sort.And the Independents tried hard to swallow the wretched subterfuge，and pretend that they did not know what was the real reason of the absence of the abandoned creature whom they denominate their standard-bearer.A certain man was seen to reel into Mr.Twain's hotel last night in a state of beastly intoxication.It is the imperative duty of the Independents to prove that this besotted brute was not Mark Twain himself.We have them at last！This is a case that admits of no shirking.The voice of the people demands in thunder tones，‘WHO WAS THAT MAN？'”
It was incredible，absolutely incredible，for a moment，that it was really my name that was coupled with this disgraceful suspicion. Three long years had passed over my head since I had tasted ale，beer，wine or liquor or any kind.
[It shows what effect the times were having on me when I say that I saw myself，confidently dubbed“Mr. Delirium Tremens Twain”in the next issue of that journal without a pang—notwithstanding I knew that with monotonous fidelity the paper would go on calling me so to the very end.]
By this time anonymous letters were getting to be an important part of my mail matter. This form was common.
How，about that old woman you kiked of your premises which was beging.POL. PRY.And this：There is things which you Have done which is unbeknowens to anybody but me. You better trot out a few dots，to yours truly，or you'll hear through the papers from.HANDY ANDY.
This is about the idea. I could continue them till the reader was surfeited，if desirable.
Shortly the principal Republican journal“convicted”me of wholesale bribery，and the leading Democratic paper“nailed”an aggravated case of blackmailing to me.
[ln this way I acquired two additional names：“Twain the Filthy Corruptionist”and“Twain the Loathsome Embracer.”]
By this time there had grown to be such a clamor for an“answer”to all the dreadful charges that were laid to me that the editors and leaders of my party said it would be political ruin for me to remain silent any longer. As if to make their appeal the moreimperative，the following appeared in one of the papers the very next day：
“BEHOLD THE MAN！—The independent candidate still maintains silence. Because he dare not speak.Every accusation against him has been amply proved，and they have been indorsed and reindorsed by his own eloquent silence，till at this day he stands forever convicted.Look upon your candidate，Independents！Look upon the Infamous Perjurer！the Montana Thief！the Body-Snatcher！Contemplate your incarnate Delirium Tremens！your Filthy Corruptionist！your Loathsome Embracer！Gaze upon him—ponder him well—and then say if you can give your honest votes to a creature who has earned this dismal array of titles by his hideous crimes，and dares not open his mouth in denial of any one of them！”
There was no possible way of getting out of it，and so，in deep humiliation，I set about preparing to“answer”a mass of baseless charges and mean and wicked falsehoods. But I never finished the task，for the very next morning a paper came out with a new horror，a fresh malignity，and seriously charged me with burning a lunatic asylum with all its inmates，because it obstructed the view from my house.This threw me into a sort of panic.Then came the charge of poisoning my uncle to get his property，with an imperative demand that the grave should be opened.This drove me to the verge of distraction.On top of this I was accused of employing toothless and incompetent old relatives to prepare the food for the foundlinghospital when I was warden.I was wavering—wavering.And at last，as a due and fitting climax to the shameless persecution that party rancor had inflicted upon me，nine little toddling children，of all shades of color and degrees of raggedness，were taught to rush onto the platform at a public meeting，and clasp me around the legs and call me PA！
I gave it up. I hauled down my colors and surrendered.I was not equal to the requirements of a Gubernatorial campaign in the state of New York，and so I sent in my withdrawal from the candidacy，and in bitterness of spirit signed it，“Truly yours，once a decent man，but now MARK TWAIN，LP.，M.T.，B.S.，D.T.，F.C.，and L.E.”[Written about 1870]败坏了哈德莱堡的人/The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg导读一
那是多年以前的事情了。哈德莱堡是邻近一带最诚实、最正直、最忠厚的一个小镇。每一个哈德莱堡人，从襁褓开始，就被灌输诚实的原则。拒绝诱惑是哈德莱堡保持诚实美德的不二法宝。
一个外乡人，在哈德莱堡遭受了耻辱，于是他想到一个自认为绝妙的好点子，企图破坏哈德莱堡的声誉。
六个月后的一个傍晚，这个外乡人来到哈德莱堡，将一个口袋放到银行老出纳员理查兹先生家，请理查兹夫人帮忙做一件事情，并且告诉她，袋子上系着的一张纸条写明了所有情况。
外乡人走后，理查兹夫人打开纸条，其内容大概如下：
我曾因赌输得倾家荡产，乞讨路过哈德莱堡，幸遇一位先生给我二十元钱，并且叮嘱了我一句刻骨铭心的话。之后，我靠那二十元发了迹，如今我已改邪归正，走上正途，我要用这袋价值四万元的金币报答我的恩人。谁能说出那位先生当年跟我说的话，谁就是我的恩人。口袋中有一封密信，上面写有这句话。你可以私访，也可以登报公开寻找。如果公开寻找，请申请人于一个月内将那句话密封交给牧师伯杰斯，并请牧师于即日起第四个星期五晚八点在镇公所拆开钱袋核对。
十一点钟，理查兹先生回来了。太太迫不及待地将此事告诉了他，忠厚的老出纳员没有过多考虑，便疾步走向报馆，打算登报公开此事，寻找外乡人的恩人。理查兹遇见报馆主编考克斯，告知他这一重大新闻。
理查兹回到家，和太太猜测到底是谁能够做出这样的事情呢？思来想去，觉得哈德莱堡能够给一个外乡人二十元的人，非巴克利·古德森莫属，不过这个人已经去世六个月了。
接着，夫妻俩又谈起了伯杰斯牧师，他曾经做了错事，遭到全镇人的恼恨。实际上，理查兹知道伯杰斯是清白的，当初只有他能够为伯杰斯洗脱污名，但是出于怯懦，他没有这样做。可能是由于内疚的缘故，后来，理查兹救了伯杰斯一次，令伯杰斯深为感激。
两个人又把话题引到钱袋里的金子上面。老两口没有子女，生活十分艰苦，面对这样残酷的诱惑，夫妻俩辗转反侧，不能入睡。理查兹甚至责备自己太心急了，不该这么快就把这个消息传出去。于是，一个念头在心头盘绕着。
与此同时，考克斯从办公室回到了家，把这件蹊跷的事情告诉了太太。两个人也像理查兹夫妇一样，无法入眠，一个行动计划在考克斯脑海中渐渐形成。
于是，理查兹和考克斯从相反的方向急急忙忙地赶到一块，他们都希望这个消息至此而止，两人平分金币。但是已经晚了，这个消息已经登报了。第二天早晨，几乎所有的美国人都在谈论着那个外乡人和他的那袋金币，并且期待看到接受报酬的恩人到底是谁。将一个口袋放在理查兹先生家Ⅰt was many years ago. Hadleyburg was the most honest and upright town in all the region round about.It had kept that reputation Iunsmirched during three generations，and was prouder of it than of any other of its possessions.It was so proud of it，and so anxious to insure its perpetuation，that it began to teach the principles of honest dealing to its babies in the cradle，and made the like teachings the staple of their culture thenceforward through all the years devoted to their education.Also，throughout the formative years temptations were kept out of the way of the young people，so that their honesty could have every chance to harden and solidify，and become a part of their very bone.The neighbouring towns were jealous of this honourable supremacy，and affected to sneer at Hadleyburg's pride in it and call it vanity；but all the same they were obliged to acknowledge that Hadleyburg was in reality an incorruptible town；and if pressed they would also acknowledge that the mere fact that a young man hailed from Hadleyburg was all the recommendation he needed when he went forth from his natal town to seek for responsible employment.
But at last，in the drift of time，Hadleyburg had the ill luck to offend a passing stranger—possibly without knowing it，certainly without caring，for Hadleyburg was sufficient unto itself，and cared not a rap for strangers or their opinions. Still，it would have beenwell to make an exception in this one's ease，for he was a bitter man，and revengeful.All through his wanderings during a whole year he kept his injury in mind，and gave all his leisure moments to trying to invent a compensating satisfaction for it.He contrived many plans，and all of them were good，but none of them was quite sweeping enough；the poorest of them would hurt a great many individuals，but what he wanted was a plan which would comprehend the entire town，and not let so much as one person escape unhurt.At last he had a fortunate idea，and when it fell into his brain it lit up his whole head with an evil joy.He began to form a plan at once，saying to himself，“That is the thing to do—I will corrupt the town.”
Six months later he went to Hadleyburg，and arrived in a buggy at the house of the old cashier of the bank about ten at night. He got a sack out of the buggy，shouldered it，and staggered with it through the cottage yard，and knocked at the door.A woman's voice said“Come in，”and he entered，and set his sack behind the stove in the parlour，saying politely to the old lady who sat reading the“Missionary Herald”by the lamp：
“Pray keep your seat，madam，I will not disturb you. There—now it is pretty well concealed；one would hardly know it was there.Can I see your husband a moment，madam？”
No，he was gone to Brixton，and might not return before morning.
“Very well，madam，it is no matter. I merely wanted to leave that sack in his care，to be delivered to the rightful owner when he shall be found.I am a stranger；he does not know me；I am merely passing through the town tonight to discharge a matter which has been long in my mind.My errand is now completed，and I go pleased and a little proud，and you will never see me again.There is a paper attached to the sack which will explain everything.Good night，madam.”
The old lady was afraid of the mysterious big stranger，and was glad to see him go. But her curiosity was roused，and she went straight to the sack and brought away the paper.It began as follows：
“TO BE PUBLISHED，or，the right man sought out by private inquiry—either will answer. This sack contains gold coin weighing a hundred and sixty pounds four ounces—”
“Mercy on us，and the door not locked！”
Mrs. Richards flew to it all in a tremble and locked it，then pulled down the window-shades and stood frightened，worried，and wondering if there was anything else she could do toward making herself and the money more safe.She listened awhile for burglars，then surrendered to curiosity，and went back to the lamp and finished reading the paper：
“I am a foreigner，and am presently going back to my owncountry，to remain there permanently. I am grateful to America for what I have received at her hands during my long stay under her flag；and to one of her citizens—a citizen of Hadleyburg—I am especially grateful for a great kindness done me a year or two ago.Two great kindnesses in fact.I will explain.I was a gambler.I say I WAS.I was a ruined gambler.I arrived in this village at night，hungry and without a penny.I asked for help—in the dark.I was ashamed to beg in the light.I begged of the right man.He gave me twenty dollars—that is to say，he gave me life，as I considered it.He also gave me fortune；for out of that money I have made myself rich at the gaming-table.And finally，a remark which he made to me has remained with me to this day，and has at last conquered me；and in conquering has saved the remnant of my morals：I shall gamble no more.Now I have no idea who that man was，but I want him found，and I want him to have this money，to give away，throw away，or keep，as he pleases.It is merely my way of testifying my gratitude to him.If I could stay，I would find him myself；but no matter，he will be found.This is an honest town，an incorruptible town，and I know I can trust it without fear.This man can be identified by the remark which he made to me；I feel persuaded that he will remember it.
“And now my plan is this：If you prefer to conduct the inquiry privately，do so. Tell the contents of this present writing to anyone who is likely to be the right man.If he shall answer，‘I am the man；the remark I made was so—and—so，'apply the test—to wit：open the sack，and in it you will find a sealed envelope containing that remark.If the remark mentioned by the candidate tallies with it，give him the money，and ask no further questions，for he is certainly the right man.
“But if you shall prefer a public inquiry，then publish this present writing in the local paper—with these instructions added，to wit：Thirty days from now，let the candidate appear at the town-hall at eight in the evening（Friday），and hand his remark，in a sealed envelope，to the Rev. Mr.Burgess（if he will be kind enough to act）；and let Mr.Burgess there and then destroy the seals of the sack，open it，and see if the remark is correct：if correct，let the money be delivered，with my sincere gratitude，to my benefactor thus identified.”
Mrs. Richards sat down，gently quivering with excitement，and was soon lost in thinkings—after this pattern：“What a strange thing it is！……And what a fortune for that kind man who set his bread afloat upon the waters！……If it had only been my husband that did it！—for we are so poor，so old and poor！……”Then，with a sigh—“But it was not my Edward；no，it was not he that gave a stranger twenty dollars.It is a pity too；I see it now……”Then，with a shudder—“But it is GAMBLERS'money！the wages of sin；we couldn't take it；we couldn't touch it.I don't like to be near it；it seems a defilement.”She moved to a farther chair……“I wish Edward would come，and take it to the bank；a burglar might come at any moment；it is dreadful to be here all alone with it.”
At eleven Mr. Richards arrived，and while his wife was saying“I am so glad you've come！”he was saying，“I am so tired—tired clear out；it is dreadful to be poor，and have to make these dismal journeys at my time of life.Always at the grind，grind，grind，on a salary—another man's slave，and he sitting at home in his slippers，rich and comfortable.”
“I am so sorry for you，Edward，you know that；but be comforted；we have our livelihood；we have our good name—”
“Yes，Mary，and that is everything. Don't mind my talk—it's just a moment's irritation and doesn't mean anything.Kiss me—there，it's all gone now，and I am not complaining any more.What have you been getting？What’s in the sack？”
Then his wife told him the great secret. It dazed him for a moment；then he said：
“It weighs a hundred and sixty pounds？Why，Mary，it's forty thousand dollars—think of it—a whole fortune！Not ten men in this village are worth that much. Give me the paper.”
He skimmed through it and said：
“Isn't it an adventure！Why，it's a romance；it's like the impossible things one reads about in books，and never sees in life.”He was well stirred up now；cheerful，even gleeful. He tapped hisold wife on the cheek，and said humorously，“Why，we're rich，Mary，rich；all we've got to do is to bury the money and burn the papers.If the gambler ever comes to inquire，we’ll merely look coldly upon him and say：‘What is this nonsense you are talking？We have never heard of you and your sack of gold before；’and then he would look foolish，and—”
“And in the meantime，while you are running on with your jokes，the money is still here，and it is fast getting along toward burglar-time.”
“True. Very well，what shall we do—make the inquiry private？No，not that；it would spoil the romance.The public method is better.Think what a noise it will make！And it will make all the other towns jealous；for no stranger would trust such a thing to any town but Hadleyburg，and they know it.It's a great card for us.I must get to the printing-office now，or I shall be too late.”
“But stop—stop—don't leave me here alone with it，Edward！”
But he was gone. For only a little while，however.Not far from his own house he met the editor—proprietor of the paper，and gave him the document，and said“Here is a good thing for you，Cox—put it in.”
“It may be too late，Mr. Richards，but I'll see.”
At home again，he and his wife sat down to talk the charming mystery over；they were in no condition for sleep. The first question was，Who could the citizen have been who gave the stranger thetwenty dollars？It seemed a simple one；both answered it in the same breath—
“Barclay Goodson.”
“Yes，”said Richards，“he could have done it，and it would have been like him，but there's not another in the town.”
“Everybody will grant that，Edward—grant it privately，anyway. For six months，now，the village has been its own proper self once more—honest，narrow，self-righteous，and stingy.”
“It is what he always called it，to the day of his death—said it right out publicly，too.”
“Yes，and he was hated for it.”
“Oh，of course；but he didn't care. I reckon he was the best-hated man among us，except the Reverend Burgess.”
“Well，Burgess deserves it—he will never get another congregation here. Mean as the town is，it knows how to estimate HIM.Edward，doesn't it seem odd that the stranger should appoint Burgess to deliver the money？”
“Well，yes—it does. That is—that is—”
“Why so much that-IS-ing？Would YOU select him？”
“Mary，maybe the stranger knows him better than this village does.”
“Much THAT would help Burgess！”
The husband seemed perplexed for an answer；the wife kept a steady eye upon him，and waited. Finally Richards said，with thehesitancy of one who is making a statement which is likely to encounter doubt，
“Mary，Burgess is not a bad man.”
His wife was certainly surprised.
“Nonsense！”she exclaimed.
“He is not a bad man. I know.The whole of his unpopularity had its foundation in that one thing—the thing that made so much noise.”
“That‘one thing，'indeed！As if that‘one thing'wasn't enough，all by itself.”
“Plenty. Plenty.Only he wasn't guilty of it.”
“How you talk！Not guilty of it！Everybody knows he WAS guilty.”
“Mary，I give you my word—he was innocent.”
“I can't believe it and I don't. How do you know？”
“It is a confession. I am ashamed，but I will make it.I was the only man who knew he was innocent.I could have saved him，and—and—well，you know how the town was wrought up—I hadn't the pluck to do it.It would have turned everybody against me.I felt mean，ever so mean；but l didn't dare；I hadn't the manliness to face that.”
Mary looked troubled，and for a while was silent. Then she said stammeringly：
“I—I don't think it would have done for you to—to—Onemustn't—er—public opinion—one has to be so careful—so—”It was a difficult road，and she got mired；but after a little she got started again.“It was a great pity，but—why，we couldn't afford it，Edward—we couldn't indeed. Oh，I wouldn't have had you do it for anything！”
“It would have lost us the good-will of so many people，Mary；and then—and then—”
“What troubles me now is，what HE thinks of us，Edward.”
“He？HE doesn't suspect that I could have saved him.”
“Oh，”exclaimed the wife，in a tone of relief，“I am glad of that. As long as he doesn't know that you could have saved him，he—he—well that makes it a great deal better.Why，I might have known he didn't know，because he is always trying to be friendly with us，as little encouragement as we give him.More than once people have twitted me with it.There's the Wilsons，and the Wilcoxes，and the Harknesses，they take a mean pleasure in saying‘YOUR FRIEND Burgess，'because they know it pesters me.I wish he wouldn't persist in liking us so；I can’t think why he keeps it up.”
“I can explain it. It's another confession.When the thing was new and hot，and the town made a plan to ride him on a rail，my conscience hurt me so that I couldn't stand it，and I went privately and gave him notice，and he got out of the town and stayed out till it was safe to come back.”
“Edward！If the town had found it out—”
“DON'T！It scares me yet，to think of it. I repented of it the minute it was done；and I was even afraid to tell you lest your face might betray it to somebody.I didn't sleep any that night，for worrying.But after a few days I saw that no one was going to suspect me，and after that I got to feeling glad I did it.And I feel glad yet，Mary—glad through and through.”
“So do I，now，for it would have been a dreadful way to treat him. Yes，I'm glad；for really you did owe him that，you know.But，Edward，suppose it should come out yet，some day！”
“It won't.”
“Why？”
“Because everybody thinks it was Goodson.”
“Of course they would！”
“Certainly. And of course HE didn't care.They persuaded poor old Sawlsberry to go and charge it on him，and he went blustering over there and did it.Goodson looked him over，like as if he was hunting for a place on him that he could despise the most；then he says，‘So you are the Committee of Inquiry，are you？'Sawlsberry said that was about what he was.‘H'm.Do they require particulars，or do you reckon a kind of a GENERAL answer will do？'‘If they require particulars，I will come back，Mr.Goodson；I will take the general answer first.'‘Very well，then，tell them to go to hell—I reckon that’s general enough.And I’ll give you some advice，Sawlsberry；when you come back for the particulars，fetch a basketto carry what is left of yourself home in.’”
“Just like Goodson；it's got all the marks. He had only one vanity；he thought he could give advice better than any other person.”
“It settled the business，and saved us，Mary. The subject was dropped.”
“Bless you，I'm not doubting THAT.”
Then they took up the gold-sack mystery again，with strong interest. Soon the conversation began to suffer breaks—interruptions caused by absorbed thinkings.The breaks grew more and more frequent.At last Richards lost himself wholly in thought.He sat long，gazing vacantly at the floor，and by-and-by he began to punctuate his thoughts with little nervous movements of his hands that seemed to indicate vexation.Meantime his wife too had relapsed into a thoughtful silence，and her movements were beginning to show a troubled discomfort.Finally Richards got up and strode aimlessly about the room，ploughing his hands through his hair，much as a somnambulist might do who was having a bad dream.Then he seemed to arrive at a definite purpose；and without a word he put on his hat and passed quickly out of the house.His wife sat brooding，with a drawn face，and did not seem to be aware that she was alone.Now and then she murmured，“Lead us not into t……but—but—we are so poor，so poor！……Lead us not into……Ah，who would be hurt by it？—and no one would ever know……Leadus……”The voice died out in mumblings.After a little she glanced up and muttered in a half-frightened，half-glad way—
“He is gone！But，oh dear，he may be too late—too late……Maybe not—maybe there is still time.”She rose and stood thinking，nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. A slight shudder shook her frame，and she said，out of a dry throat，“God forgive me—it's awful to think such things—but……Lord，how we are made—how strangely we are made！”
She turned the light low，and slipped stealthily over and knelt down by the sack and felt of its ridgy sides with her hands，and fondled them lovingly；and there was a gloating light in her poor old eyes. She fell into fits of absence；and came half out of them at times to mutter“If we had only waited！—oh，if we had only waited a little，and not been in such a hurry！”
Meantime Cox had gone home from his office and told his wife all about the strange thing that had happened，and they had talked it over eagerly，and guessed that the late Goodson was the only man in the town who could have helped a suffering stranger with so noble a sum as twenty dollars. Then there was a pause，and the two became thoughtful and silent.And by-and-by nervous and fidgety.At last the wife said，as if to herself，
“Nobody knows this secret but the Richardses……and us……nobody.”
The husband came out of his thinkings with a slight start，andgazed wistfully at his wife，whose face was become very pale；then he hesitatingly rose，and glanced furtively at his hat，then at his wife—a sort of mute inquiry. Mrs.Cox swallowed once or twice，with her hand at her throat，then in place of speech she nodded her head.In a moment she was alone，and mumbling to herself.
And now Richards and Cox were hurrying through the deserted streets，from opposite directions. They met，panting，at the foot of the printing-office stairs；by the nightlight there they read each other's face.Cox whispered：
“Nobody knows about this but us？”
The whispered answer was：
“Not a soul—on honour，not a soul！”
“If it isn't too late to—”
The men were starting upstairs；at this moment they were overtaken by a boy，and Cox asked，
“Is that you，Johnny？”
“Yes，sir.”
“You needn't ship the early mail—nor ANY mail；wait till I tell you.”
“It's already gone，sir.”
“GONE？”It had the sound of an unspeakable disappointment in it.
“Yes，sir. Time table for Brixton and all the towns beyond changed today，sir—had to get the papers in twenty minutes earlierthan common.I had to rush；if I had been two minutes later—”
The men turned and walked slowly away，not waiting to hear the rest. Neither of them spoke during ten minutes；then Cox said，in a vexed tone，
“What possessed you to be in such a hurry，I can't make out.”
The answer was humble enough：
“I see it now，but somehow I never thought，you know，until it was too late. But the next time—”
“Next time be hanged！It won't come in a thousand years.”
Then the friends separated without a good-night，and dragged themselves home with the gait of mortally stricken men. At their homes their wives sprang up with an eager“Well？”—then saw the answer with their eyes and sank down sorrowing，without waiting for it to come in words.In both houses a discussion followed of a heated sort—a new thing；there had been discussions before，but not heated ones，not ungentle ones.The discussions tonight were a sort of seeming plagiarisms of each other.Mrs.Richards said：
“If you had only waited，Edward—if you had only stopped to think；but no，you must run straight to the printing-office and spread it all over the world.”
“It SAID publish it.”
“That is nothing；it also said do it privately，if you liked. There，now—is that true，or not？”
“Why，yes—yes，it is true；but when I thought what a stir itwould make，and what a compliment it was to Hadleyburg that a stranger should trust it so—”
“Oh，certainly，I know all that；but if you had only stopped to think，you would have seen that you COULDN'T find the right man，because he is in his grave，and hasn't left chick nor child nor relation behind him；and as long as the money went to somebody that awfully needed it，and nobody would be hurt by it，and—and—”
She broke down，crying. Her husband tried to think of some comforting thing to say，and presently came out with this：
“But after all，Mary，it must be for the best—it must be；we know that. And we must remember that it was so ordered—”
“Ordered！Oh，everything's ORDERED，when a person has to find some way out when he has been stupid. Just the same，it was ORDERED that the money should come to us in this special way，and it was you that must take it on yourself to go meddling with the designs of Providence—and who gave you the right？It was wicked，that is what it was—just blasphemous presumption，and no more becoming to a meek and humble professor of—”
“But，Mary，you know how we have been trained all our lives long，like the whole village，till it is absolutely second nature to us to stop not a single moment to think when there's an honest thing to be done—”
“Oh，I know it，I know it—it's been one everlasting trainingand training and training in honesty—honesty shielded，from the very cradle，against every possible temptation，and so it's ARTIFICIAL honesty，and weak as water when temptation comes，as we have seen this night. God knows I never had shade nor shadow of a doubt of my petrified and indestructible honesty until now—and now，under the very first big and real temptation，I—Edward，it is my belief that this town's honesty is as rotten as mine is；as rotten as yours.It is a mean town，a hard，stingy town，and hasn't a virtue in the world but this honesty it is so celebrated for and so conceited about；and so help me，I do believe that if ever the day comes that its honesty falls under great temptation，its grand reputation will go to ruin like a house of cards.There，now，I've made confession，and I feel better；I am a humbug，and I’ve been one all my life，without knowing it.Let no man call me honest again—I will not have it.”
“I—Well，Mary，I feel a good deal as you do：I certainly do. It seems strange，too，so strange.I never could have believed it—never.”
A long silence followed；both were sunk in thought. At last the wife looked up and said：
“I know what you are thinking，Edward.”
Richards had the embarrassed look of a person who is caught.
“I am ashamed to confess it，Mary，but—”
“It's no matter，Edward，I was thinking the same questionmyself.”
“I hope so. State it.”
“You were thinking，if a body could only guess out WHAT THE REMARK WAS that Goodson made to the stranger.”
“It's perfectly true. I feel guilty and ashamed.And you？”
“I'm past it. Let us make a pallet here；we've got to stand watch till the bank vault opens in the morning and admits the sack……Oh dear，oh dear—if we hadn't made the mistake！”
The pallet was made，and Mary said：
“The open sesame—what could it have been？I do wonder what that remark could have been. But come；we will get to bed now.”
“And sleep？”
“No；think.”
“Yes；think.”
By this time the Coxes too had completed their spat and their reconciliation，and were turning in—to think，to think，and toss，and fret，and worry over what the remark could possibly have been which Goodson made to the stranded derelict；that golden remark；that remark worth forty thousand dollars，cash.
The reason that the village telegraph-office was open later than usual that night was this：The foreman of Cox's paper was the local representative of the Associated Press. One might say its honorary representative，for it wasn't four times a year that he could furnish thirty words that would be accepted.But this time it was different.His despatch stating what he had caught got an instant answer：
“Send the whole thing—all the details—twelve hundred words.”
A colossal order！The foreman filled the bill；and he was the proudest man in the State. By breakfast-time the next morning the name of Hadleyburg the Incorruptible was on every lip in America，from Montreal to the Gulf，from the glaciers of Alaska to the orange-groves of Florida；and millions and millions of people were discussing the stranger and his money-sack，and wondering if the right man would be found，and hoping some more news about the matter would come soon—right away.二
理查兹夫人同丈夫吵了一夜，第二天他们将钱袋送到了银行。邻近乡镇的人排着长队到银行看那只装着黄金的钱袋，四面八方的记者争先恐后地涌入哈德莱堡，跟踪报道这一稀奇事件的来龙去脉。
哈德莱堡人沉浸于这样喜气洋洋的气氛之中，不过一周过去了，小镇又恢复了平静。大家开始变得闷闷不乐，每个人都郁郁寡欢、若有所思。在这个阶段，镇上那十九户首要人家的户主在临睡前总是反复念叨着这样一句话：“古德森究竟说的什么话呢？”
三个星期就这样过去了，只剩下最后一周了。哈德莱堡的每个人都在猜想着古德森对外乡人说的那句刻骨铭心的忠告，理查兹夫妇当然也不例外。星期六晚上，他们收到一封署名为史蒂文森的信，信的内容让年迈的理查兹夫妇欣喜若狂。信的内容大致如下：
我听到了古德森对那个外乡人所说的话。古德森还说，全镇人他只欣赏一个人，那就是你理查兹，因为你曾经帮过他的大忙。他说，如果他有一笔遗产，一定会留给你作为报答。我觉得，这袋金币既然是古德森的，他已经去世了，那么现在它当之无愧是你的。所以我决定把这句话告诉你：“你绝不是一个坏蛋，去吧，改了就好。”
理查兹在欣喜之余，开始从脑海里搜罗他对古德森的恩惠。结果绞尽脑汁，也想不到他什么时候帮助过古德森。与此同时，理查兹夫人正盘算如何来花销这样一笔巨额财产。
而就在这个星期六晚上，其他十八户每家都收到了署名为史蒂文森的、内容雷同的信。每对夫妇都像理查兹夫妇一样，辛苦地想象着、盘算着。
第二天，他们都表现出愉悦的神情。
伯杰斯牧师陆续收到信函，一共有十九封。Ⅱ adleyburg village woke up world-celebrated—astonished—happy—vain. Vain beyond imagination.Its nineteen principal citizens Hand their wives went about shaking hands with each other，and beaming，and smiling，and congratulating，and saying THIS thing adds a new word to the dictionary—HADLEYBURG，synonym for INCORRUPTIBLE—destined to live in dictionaries for ever！And the minor and unimportant citizens and their wives went around acting in much the same way.Everybody ran to the bank to see the gold-sack；and before noon grieved and envious crowds began to flock in from Brixton and all neighbouring towns；and that afternoon and next day reporters began to arrive from everywhere to verify the sack and its history and write the whole thing up anew，and make dashing free-hand pictures of the sack，and of Richards's house，and the bank，and the Presbyterian church，and the Baptist church，and the public square，and the town-hall where the test would be applied and the money delivered；and damnable portraits of the Richardses，and Pinkerton the banker，and Cox，and the foreman，and Reverend Burgess，and the postmaster—and even of Jack Halliday，who was the loafing，good-natured，no-account，irreverent fisherman，hunter，boys'friend，stray-dogs'friend，typical“Sam Lawson”of the town.The little mean，smirking，oily Pinkerton showed the sack to all comers，and rubbed his sleek palms together pleasantly，and enlarged upon the town's fine old reputation for honesty and upon this wonderful endorsement of it，and hoped and believed that the example would now spread far and wide over the American world，and be epoch-making in the matter of moral regeneration.And so on，and so on.
By the end of a week things had quieted down again；the wild intoxication of pride and joy had sobered to a soft，sweet，silent delight—a sort of deep，nameless，unutterable content. All faces bore a look of peaceful，holy happiness.
Then a change came. It was a gradual change；so gradual that its beginnings were hardly noticed；maybe were not noticed at all，except by Jack Halliday，who always noticed everything；and always made fun of it，too，no matter what it was.He began to throw out chaffing remarks about people not looking quite so happy as they did a day or two ago；and next he claimed that the new aspect was deepening to positive sadness；next，that it was taking on a sick look；and finally he said that everybody was become so moody，thoughtful，and absent-minded that he could rob the meanest man in town of a cent out of the bottom of his breeches pocket and not disturb his reverie.
At this stage—or at about this stage—a saying like this was dropped at bedtime—with a sigh，usually—by the head of each of the nineteen principal households：
“Ah，what COULD have been the remark that Goodson made？”
And straightway—with a shudder—came this，from the man's wife：
“Oh，DON'T！What horrible thing are you mulling in your mind？Put it away from you，for God's sake！”
But that question was wrung from those men again the next night—and got the same retort. But weaker.
And the third night the men uttered the question yet again—with anguish，and absently. This time—and the following night—the wives fidgeted feebly，and tried to say something.But didn't.
And the night after that they found their tongues and responded—longingly：
“Oh，if we COULD only guess！”
Halliday's comments grew daily more and more sparklingly disagreeable and disparaging. He went diligently about，laughing at the town，individually and in mass.But his laugh was the only one left in the village，it fell upon a hollow and mournful vacancy and emptiness.Not even a smile was findable anywhere.Halliday carried a cigar-box around on a tripod，playing that it was a camera，and halted all passers and aimed the thing and said“Ready！—now look pleasant，please，”but not even this capital joke could surprise the dreary faces into any softening.
So three weeks passed—one week was left. It was Saturday evening after supper.Instead of the aforetime Saturdayevening flutter and bustle and shopping and larking，the streets were empty and desolate.Richards and his old wife sat apart in their little parlour—miserable and thinking.This was become their evening habit now：the life-long habit which had preceded it，of reading，knitting，and contented chat，or receiving or paying neighbourly calls，was dead and gone and forgotten，ages ago—two or three weeks ago；nobody talked now，nobody read，nobody visited—the whole village sat at home，sighing，worrying，silent.Trying to guess out that remark.
The postman left a letter. Richards glanced listlessly at the superscription and the post-mark—unfamiliar，both—and tossed the letter on the table and resumed his might-have-beens and hishopeless dull miseries where he had left them off.Two or three hours later his wife got wearily up and was going away to bed without a good-night—custom now—but she stopped near the letter and eyed it a while with a dead interest，then broke it open，and began to skim it over.Richards，sitting there with his chair tilted back against the wall and his chin between his knees，heard something fall.It was his wife.He sprang to her side，but she cried out：
“Leave me alone，I am too happy. Read the letter—read it！”
He did. He devoured it，his brain reeling.The letter was from a distant State，and it said：
“I am a stranger to you，but no matter I have something to tell. I have just arrived home from Mexico，and learned about that episode.Of course you do not know who made that remark，but I know，and I am the only person living who does know.It was GOODSON.I knew him well，many years ago.I passed through your village that very night，and was his guest till the midnight train came along.I overheard him make that remark to the stranger in the dark—it was in Hale Alley.He and I talked of it the rest of the way home，and while smoking in his house，he mentioned many of your villagers in the course of his talk—most of them in a very uncomplimentary way，but two or three favourably：among these latter yourself.I say‘favourably'—nothing stronger.I remember his saying he did not actually LIKE any person in the town—not one；but that you—I THINK he said you—am almost sure—had done him a very greatservice once，possibly without knowing the full value of it，and he wished he had a fortune，he would leave it to you when he died，and a curse apiece for the rest of the citizens.Now，then，if it was you that did him that service，you are his legitimate heir，and entitled to the sack of gold.I know that I can trust to your honour and honesty，for in a citizen of Hadleyburg these virtues are an unfailing inheritance，and so I am going to reveal to you the remark，well satisfied that if you are not the right man you will seek and find the right one and see that poor Goodson's debt of gratitude for the service referred to is paid.This is the remark‘YOU ARE FAR FROM BEING A BAD MAN：GO，AND REFORM.'
“HOWARD L. STEPHENSON.”
“Oh，Edward，the money is ours，and I am so grateful，OH，so grateful，—kiss me，dear，it's for ever since we kissed—and we needed it so—the money—and now you are free of Pinkerton and his bank，and nobody's slave any more；it seems to me I could fly for joy.”
It was a happy half-hour that the couple spent there on the settee caressing each other；it was the old days come again—days that had begun with their courtship and lasted without a break till the stranger brought the deadly money. By-and-by the wife said：
“Oh，Edward，how lucky it was you did him that grand service，poor Goodson！I never liked him，but I love him now. And it was fine and beautiful of you never to mention it or brag about it.”Then，with a touch of reproach，“But you ought to have told ME，Edward，you ought to have told your wife，you know.”
“Well，I—er—well，Mary，you see—”
“Now stop hemming and hawing，and tell me about it，Edward. I always loved you，and now I'm proud of you.Everybody believes there was only one good generous soul in this village，and now it turns out that you—Edward，why don't you tell me？”
“Well—er—er—Why，Mary，I can't！”
“You CAN'T？WHY can't you？”
“You see，he—well，he—he made me promise I wouldn't.”
The wife looked him over，and said，very slowly：
“Made—you—promise？Edward，what do you tell me that for？”
“Mary，do you think I would lie？”
She was troubled and silent for a moment，then she laid her hand within his and said：
“No……no. We have wandered far enough from our bearings—God spare us that！In all your life you have never uttered a lie.But now—now that the foundations of things seem to be crumbling from under us，we—we—”She lost her voice for a moment，then said，brokenly，“Lead us not into temptation……I think you made the promise，Edward.Let it rest so.Let us keep away from that ground.Now—that is all gone by；let us be happy again it is no time for clouds.”
Edward found it something of an effort to comply，for his mind kept wandering—trying to remember what the service was that he had done Goodson.
The couple lay awake the most of the night，Mary happy and busy，Edward busy，but not so happy. Mary was planning what she would do with the money.Edward was trying to recall that service.At first his conscience was sore on account of the lie he had told Mary—if it was a lie.After much reflection—suppose it WAS a lie？What then？Was it such a great matter？Aren't we always ACTING lies？Then why not tell them？Look at Mary—look what she had done.While he was hurrying off on his honest errand，what was she doing？Lamenting because the papers hadn't been destroyed and the money kept.Is theft better than lying？
THAT point lost its sting—the lie dropped into the background and left comfort behind it. The next point came to the front：HAD he rendered that service？Well，here was Goodson's own evidence as reported in Stephenson's letter；there could be no better evidence than that—it was even PROOF that he had rendered it.Of course.So that point was settled……No，not quite.He recalled with a wince that this unknown Mr.Stephenson was just a trifle unsure as to whether the performer of it was Richards or some other—and，oh dear，he had put Richards on his honour！He must himself decide whither that money must go—and Mr.Stephenson was not doubting that if he was the wrong man he would go honourably and find theright one.Oh，it was odious to put a man in such a situation—ah，why couldn't Stephenson have left out that doubt？What did he want to intrude that for？
Further reflection. How did it happen that RICHARDS'S name remained in Stephenson's mind as indicating the right man，and not some other man's name？That looked good.Yes，that looked very good.In fact it went on looking better and better，straight along—until by-and-by it grew into positive PROOF.And then Richards put the matter at once out of his mind，for he had a private instinct that a proof once established is better left so.
He was feeling reasonably comfortable now，but there was still one other detail that kept pushing itself on his notice：of course he had done that service—that was settled；but what WAS that service？He must recall it—he would not go to sleep till he had recalled it；it would make his peace of mind perfect. And so he thought and thought.He thought of a dozen things—possible services，even probable services—but none of them seemed adequate，none of them seemed large enough，none of them seemed worth the money—worth the fortune Goodson had wished he could leave in his will.And besides，he couldn't remember having done them，anyway.Now，then—now，then—what KIND of a service would it be that would make a man so inordinately grateful？Ah—the saving of his soul！That must be it.Yes，he could remember，now，how he once set himself the task of converting Goodson，and laboured at it asmuch as—he was going to say three months；but upon closer examination it shrunk to a month，then to a week，then to a day，then to nothing.Yes，he remembered now，and with unwelcome vividness，that Goodson had told him to go to thunder and mind his own business—HE wasn't hankering to follow Hadleyburg to heaven！
So that solution was a failure—he hadn't saved Goodson's soul. Richards was discouraged.Then after a little came another idea：had he saved Goodson's property？No，that wouldn't do—he hadn't any.His life？That is it！Of course.Why，he might have thought of it before.This time he was on the right track，sure.His imagination-mill was hard at work in a minute，now.
Thereafter，during a stretch of two exhausting hours，he was busy saving Goodson's life. He saved it in all kinds of difficult and perilous ways.In every case he got it saved satisfactorily up to a certain point；then，just as he was beginning to get well persuaded that it had really happened，a troublesome detail would turn up which made the whole thing impossible.As in the matter of drowning，for instance.In that case he had swum out and tugged Goodson ashore in an unconscious state with a great crowd looking on and applauding，but when he had got it all thought out and was just beginning to remember all about it，a whole swarm of disqualifying details arrived on the ground：the town would have known of the circumstance，Mary would have known of it，it wouldglare like a limelight in his own memory instead of being an inconspicuous service which he had possibly rendered“without knowing its full value.”And at this point he remembered that he couldn't swim anyway.
Ah—THERE was a point which he had been overlooking from the start：it had to be a service which he had rendered“possibly without knowing the full value of it.”Why，really，that ought to be an easy hunt—much easier than those others. And sure enough，by-and-by he found it.Goodson，years and years ago，came near marrying a very sweet and pretty girl，named Nancy Hewitt，but in some way or other the match had been broken off；the girl died，Goodson remained a bachelor，and by-and-by became a soured one and a frank despiser of the human species.Soon after the girl's death the village found out，or thought it had found out，that she carried a spoonful of negro blood in her veins.
Richards worked at these details a good while，and in the end he thought he remembered things concerning them which must have gotten mislaid in his memory through long neglect.He seemed to dimly remember that it was HE that found out about the negro blood；that it was he that told the village；that the village told Goodson where they got it；that he thus saved Goodson from marrying the tainted girl；that he had done him this great service“without knowing the full value of it，”in fact without knowing that he WAS doing it；but that Goodson knew the value of it，and what a narrow escape he hadhad，and so went to his grave grateful to his benefactor and wishing he had a fortune to leave him.It was all clear and simple，now，and the more he went over it the more luminous and certain it grew；and at last，when he nestled to sleep，satisfied and happy，he remembered the whole thing just as if it had been yesterday.In fact，he dimly remembered Goodson's TELLING him his gratitude once.Meantime Mary had spent six thousand dollars on a new house for herself and a pair of slippers for her pastor，and then had fallen peacefully to rest.
That same Saturday evening the postman had delivered a letter to each of the other principal citizens—nineteen letters in all. No two of the envelopes were alike，and no two of the superscriptions were in the same hand，but the letters inside were just like each other in every detail but one.They were exact copies of the letter received by Richards—handwriting and all—and were all signed by Stephenson，but in place of Richards's name each receiver's own name appeared.
All night long eighteen principal citizens did what their caste-brother Richards was doing at the same time—they put in their energies trying to remember what notable service it was that they had unconsciously done Barclay Goodson. In no case was it a holiday job；still they succeeded.
And while they were at this work，which was difficult，their wives put in the night spending the money，which was easy. Duringthat one night the nineteen wives spent an average of seven thousand dollars each out of the forty thousand in the sack—a hundred and thirty-three thousand altogether.
Next day there was a surprise for Jack Halliday. He noticed that the faces of the nineteen chief citizens and their wives bore that expression of peaceful and holy happiness again.He could not understand it，neither was he able to invent any remarks about it that could damage it or disturb it.And so it was his turn to be dissatisfied with life.His private guesses at the reasons for the happiness failed in all instances，upon examination.When he met Mrs.Wilcox and noticed the placid ecstasy in her face，he said to himself，“Her cat has had kittens”—and went and asked the cook；it was not so，the cook had detected the happiness，but did not know the cause.When Halliday found the duplicate ecstasy in the face of“Shadbelly”Billson（village nickname），he was sure some neighbour of Billson's had broken his leg，but inquiry showed that this had not happened.The subdued ecstasy in Gregory Yates's face could mean but one thing—he was a mother-in-law short；it was another mistake.“And Pinkerton—Pinkerton—he has collected ten cents that he thought he was going to lose.”And so on，and so on.In some cases the guesses had to remain in doubt，in the others they proved distinct errors.In the end Halliday said to himself，“Anyway it roots up that there's nineteen Hadleyburg families temporarily in heaven：I don't know how it happened；I only know Providence isoff duty today.”
An architect and builder from the next State had lately ventured to set up a small business in this unpromising village，and his sign had now been hanging out a week. Not a customer yet；he was a discouraged man，and sorry he had come.But his weather changed suddenly now.First one and then another chief citizen's wife said to him privately：
“Come to my house Monday week—but say nothing about it for the present. We think of building.”
He got eleven invitations that day. That night he wrote his daughter and broke off her match with her student.He said she could marry a mile higher than that.
Pinkerton the banker and two or three other well-to-do men planned country-seats—but waited. That kind don't count their chickens until they are hatched.
The Wilsons devised a grand new thing—a fancy-dress ball. They made no actual promises，but told all their acquaintanceship in confidence that they were thinking the matter over and thought they should give it—“and if we do，you will be invited，of course.”People were surprised，and said，one to another，“Why，they are crazy，those poor Wilsons，they can't afford it.”Several among the nineteen said privately to their husbands，“It is a good idea，we will keep still till their cheap thing is over，then WE will give one that will make it sick.”
The days drifted along，and the bill of future squanderings rose higher and higher，wilder and wilder，more and more foolish and reckless. It began to look as if every member of the nineteen would not only spend his whole forty thousand dollars before receiving-day，but be actually in debt by the time he got the money.In some cases light-headed people did not stop with planning to spend，they really spent—on credit.They bought land，mortgages，farms，speculative stocks，fine clothes，horses，and various other things，paid down the bonus，and made themselves liable for the rest—at ten days.Presently the sober second thought came，and Halliday noticed that a ghastly anxiety was beginning to show up in a good many faces.Again he was puzzled，and didn't know what to make of it.“The Wilcox kittens aren't dead，for they weren't born；nobody's broken a legs；there's no shrinkage in mother-in-laws；NOTHING has happened—it is an insolvable mystery.”
There was another puzzled man，too—the Rev. Mr.Burgess.For days，wherever he went，people seemed to follow him or to be watching out for him；and if he ever found himself in a retired spot，a member of the nineteen would be sure to appear，thrust an envelope privately into his hand，whisper“To be opened at the town-hall Friday evening，”then vanish away like a guilty thing.He was expecting that there might be one claimant for the sack—doubtful，however，Goodson being dead—but it never occurred to him that all this crowd might be claimants.When the great Fridaycame at last，he found that he had nineteen envelopes.三
第四周的星期五晚上，镇公所装扮得富丽堂皇，全场爆满。装满金币的钱袋被放在主席台上，在场的大多数人都以羡慕的目光注视着它，只有那十九对夫妇以拥有者的神情凝望着它，十九户的户主还在反复地默诵着答谢词。
大会开始了，伯杰斯牧师首先致开幕辞，接着他在全场期待眼神的关注下，打开了第一封信函，并大声读出来：“我对那位落难的外乡人说的话是：‘你绝对不是一个坏蛋，去吧，改了就好。’——比尔逊”。全场没有发出狂风暴雨般的欢呼声，反而一片嘘声，人们窃窃私语，他们不相信这样一个一毛不拔的铁公鸡会慷慨地给一个外乡人二十元。这时，威尔逊律师站起来，他指责比尔逊偷看了他的纸条，做好事的哈德莱堡人是他而不是比尔逊。伯杰斯拆开威尔逊的信函，内容与前一封几乎一样，只是它用的是“绝”而不是“绝对”。两人针锋相对地吵嚷起来，会场喧闹不止。这时，皮匠站起来，他建议只要拆开外乡人留在袋子里的信函，比对一下，就可以知道谁是绅士、谁是骗子。伯杰斯撕开口袋，拿出信函，其中有两张纸条，一张上面写着，等所有字条被读完了再查看；一张写着“对证词”。伯杰斯展开后一张，大声读出来：“恩公对我说的前一半话比较平淡，后三十字则非常醒目，令我没世难忘：‘你绝不是一个坏人，去吧，改了就好。否则，记住我的话：你做了孽，死后不是去地狱，就是去哈德莱堡，还是想办法去前一个地方吧。’”
两个人都落掉了最重要的三十字。
伯杰斯接下来依次拆开另外十七家的信，结果除了签名不一样外，内容完全一致。伯杰斯每读完一封，全场就大笑一次，后来变成了肆无忌惮的嘲弄和挖苦。十九对夫妇个个胆战心惊，臊得无地自容。理查兹夫妇恨不得找一条地缝钻进去，他们心慌意乱地等待审判的到来，结果伯杰斯始终没有公布理查兹的信函，这令夫妇二人悲喜交加。
这时，有人高呼，为全镇最忠厚的理查兹欢呼，理查兹一下子就成为了哈德莱堡忠厚、诚实的化身。面对这样的夸赞，夫妇二人面红耳赤、羞愧难当。
伯杰斯最后展开钱袋里的另一张纸条，上面写明了这一事件的来龙去脉，袋子里装的根本不是金币，而是镀金的铅币。十九个首要人家都愤怒不止，他们都被这巨大的诱惑冲昏了头脑，而哈德莱堡的真面目也完全因此事展现在世人面前。
会场喧闹过后，大家开始商量怎么处理这袋铅币。有人提议现场公开拍卖铅币，拍卖所得奖励给理查兹先生。理查兹几次想向大伙说明真相，但是他始终都没有勇气站起来。于是，一场激烈的拍卖会由此展开。
与此同时，那个外乡人乔装打扮成英国伯爵，也混在会场之中，静静地享受着胜利的喜悦。他也参加到竞拍之中，希望抬高这袋铅币的价钱，逼迫虚伪的十八家高价买下，然后将钱奖励给忠厚的理查兹——他觉得自己当初对理查兹看走了眼，他还以此同自己打了一次赌，结果，现在证实他输了，理应给理查兹一笔钱。
没想到，这袋铅币经过拍卖，最终落到外乡人的手里。不过，他想到一个十分绝妙的点子，将铅币以四万元的价格转让给了正在竞选议员的哈克尼斯，而另一个候选人平克顿是十九家中的一分子。竞选那天，每个选民手中都发了一枚刻有平克顿名字和“对证词”前半句话的铅币，结果哈克尼斯顺利当选。Ⅲ he town-hall had never looked finer. The platform at the end of it was backed by a showy draping of flags；at intervals along the Twalls were festoons of flags；the gallery fronts were clothed in flags；the supporting columns were swathed in flags；all this was to impress the stranger，for he would be there in considerable force，and in a large degree he would be connected with the press.The house was full.The 412 fixed seats were occupied；also the 68 extra chairs which had been packed into the aisles；the steps of the platform were occupied；some distinguished strangers were given seats on the platform；at the horseshoe of tables which fenced the front and sides of the platform sat a strong force of special correspondents who had come from everywhere.It was the bestdressed house the town had ever produced.There were some tolerably expensive toilets there，and in several cases the ladies who wore them had the look of being unfamiliar with that kind of clothes.At least the town thought they had that look，but the notion could have arisen from the town's knowledge of the fact that these ladies had never inhabited such clothes before.
The gold-sack stood on a little table at the front of the platform where all the house could see it. The bulk of the house gazed at it with a burning interest，a mouth-watering interest，a wistful and pathetic interest；a minority of nineteen couples gazed at it tenderly，lovingly，proprietarily，and the male half of this minority kept saying over to themselves the moving little impromptu speeches of thankfulness for the audience's applause and congratulations which they were presently going to get up and deliver.Every now and then one of these got a piece of paper out of his vest pocket and privately glanced at it to refresh his memory.
Of course there was a buzz of conversation going on—there always is；but at last，when the Rev. Mr.Burgess rose and laid his hand on the sack，he could hear his microbes gnaw，the place was so still.He related the curious history of the sack，then went on to speak in warm terms of Hadleyburg's old and well-earned reputation for spotless honesty，and of the town's just pride in this reputation.He said that this reputation was a treasure of priceless values that under Providence its value had now become inestimably enhanced，for the recent episode had spread this fame far and wide，and thus had focussed the eyes of the American world upon this village，and made its name for all time，as he hoped and believed，a synonym for commercial incorruptibility.[Applause.]“And who is to be the guardian of this noble fame—the community as a whole？No！The responsibility is individual，not communal.From this day forth each and every one of you is in his own person its special guardian，and individually responsible that no harm shall come to it.Do you—does each of you—accept this great trust？[Tumultuous assent.]Then all is well.
Transmit it to your children and to yourchildren's children.To day your purity is beyond reproach—see to it that it shall remain so.To day there is not a person in your community who could be beguiled to touch a penny not his own—see to it that you abide in this grace.[“We will！we will！”]This is not the place to make comparisons between ourselves and other communities—some of them ungracious towards us；they have their ways，we have ours；let us be content.[Applause.]I am done.Under my hand，my friends，rests a stranger's eloquent recognition of what we are；through him the world will always henceforth know what we are.We do not know who he is，but in your name I utter your gratitude，and ask you to raise your voices in indorsement.”
The house rose in a body and made the walls quake with the thunders of its thankfulness for the space of a long minute. Then it sat down，and Mr.Burgess took an envelope out of his pocket.The house held its breath while he slit the envelope open and took from it a slip of paper.He read its contents—slowly and impressively—the audience listening with tranced attention to this magic document，each of whose words stood for an ingot of gold：
“‘The remark which I made to the distressed stranger was this：“You are very far from being a bad man；go，and reform.”'”Then he continued：—“We shall know in a moment now whether the remark here quoted corresponds with the one concealed in the sack；and if that shall prove to be so—and it undoubtedly will—this sack of gold belongs to a fellow-citizen who will henceforth stand beforethe nation as the symbol of the special virtue which has made our town famous throughout the land—Mr. Billson！”
The house had gotten itself all ready to burst into the proper tornado of applause；but instead of doing it，it seemed stricken with a paralysis；there was a deep hush for a moment or two，then a wave of whispered murmurs swept the place—of about this tenor：“BILLSON！oh，come，this is TOO thin！Twenty dollars to a stranger—or ANYBODY—BILLSON！Tell it to the marines！”And now at this point the house caught its breath all of a sudden in a new access of astonishment，for it discovered that whereas in one part of the hall Deacon Billson was standing up with his head meekly bowed，in another part of it Lawyer Wilson was doing the same. There was a wondering silence now for a while.Everybody was puzzled，and nineteen couples were surprised and indignant.
Billson and Wilson turned and stared at each other. Billson asked，bitingly：
“Why do YOU rise，Mr. Wilson？”
“Because I have a right to. Perhaps you will be good enough to explain to the house why YOU rise.”
“With great pleasure. Because I wrote that paper.”
“It is an impudent falsity！I wrote it myself.”
It was Burgess's turn to be paralysed. He stood looking vacantly at first one of the men and then the other，and did not seem to know what to do.The house was stupefied.Lawyer Wilson spokeup now，and said：
“I ask the Chair to read the name signed to that paper.”
That brought the Chair to itself，and it read out the name：
“John Wharton BILLSON.”
“There！”shouted Billson，“what have you got to say for yourself now？And what kind of apology are you going to make to me and to this insulted house for the imposture which you have attempted to play here？”
“No apologies are due，sir；and as for the rest of it，I publicly charge you with pilfering my note from Mr. Burgess and substituting a copy of it signed with your own name.There is no other way by which you could have gotten hold of the test-remark；I alone，of living men，possessed the secret of its wording.”
There was likely to be a scandalous state of things if this went on；everybody noticed with distress that the shorthand scribes were scribbling like mad；many people were crying“Chair，chair！Order！order！”Burgess rapped with his gavel，and said：
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