At the Bookstall在書報攤旁

I have often longed to be a grocer. To be surrounded by so many interesting things—sardines， bottled raspberries， biscuits with sugar on the top， preserved ginger， hams， brawn under glass， everything in fact that makes life worth living; at one moment to walk up a ladder in search of nutmeg， at the next to dive under a counter in pursuit of cinnamon; to serve little girls with a ha’porth of pear drops and lordly people like you and me with a pint of cherry gin—is not this to follow the king of trades？ Some day I shall open a grocer’s shop， and you will find me in my spare evenings aproned behind the counter. Look out for the currants in the window as you come in—I have an idea for something artistic in the way of patterns there; but， as you love me， do not offer to buy any. We grocers only put the currants out for show， and so that we may run our fingers through them luxuriously when business is slack. I have a good line in shortbreads， madam， if I can find the box， but no currants this evening， I beg you.

我經常渴望能成為一個食品雜貨商。讓身邊環繞著如此多有趣的東西——沙丁魚、瓶裝覆盆子、砂糖餅干、腌生姜、火腿、玻璃罩扣肉凍，以及一切使生活有意義的東西。一會兒爬上梯子去找肉豆蔻，一會兒鉆到柜臺下去尋肉桂;給小姑娘提供值半便士的梨形糖果，給你我這樣的體面人提供一品脫的櫻桃杜松子酒。做這些事，不算是從事最好的行當嗎？總有一天我會開家食品雜貨店。你會發現，在空閑的傍晚，我身著圍裙，站在柜臺后面。當你進來時，小心別碰到櫥窗里的葡萄干——我把它們擺成了很有藝術性的圖案。不過，既然你愛我，就不要去買它們了。我們雜貨商擺出葡萄干只是為了好看，以便在生意清淡時盡情地抓弄幾把。女士，我給你找找裝酥餅的盒子，我的奶油甜酥餅是很不錯的，但是我請求你，在這個傍晚不要買葡萄干。

Yes， to be a grocer is to live well; but， after all， it is not to see life. A grocer， in as far as it is possible to a man who sells both scented soap and pilchards， would become narrow. We do not come into contact with the outside world much， save through the medium of potted lobster， and to sell a man potted lobster is not to have our fingers on his pulse. Potted lobster does not define a man. All customers are alike to the grocer， provided their money is good. I perceive now that I was over-hasty in deciding to become a grocer. That is rather for one’s old age. While one is young， and interested in persons rather than in things， there is only one profession to follow—the profession of bookstall clerk.

是的，當雜貨商就會活得快樂，但是，這樣畢竟見不到世面。一個食品雜貨商，一個賣香皂和沙丁魚的人，他的眼光會變得狹窄。除了通過出售罐裝龍蝦看一看他人，我們同外部世界接觸得不多，將龍蝦賣給別人并沒有讓我們的手指觸摸到他的脈搏。罐裝龍蝦不能定義一個人。對于雜貨商而言，只要顧客用的是真鈔，所有的顧客都是一樣的。我意識到，打算當雜貨商的決定下得太匆忙。那份工作更適合老年人。當人年輕時，對人比對事物更感興趣的時候，只有一個可以從事的職業——書報攤伙計。

To be behind a bookstall is indeed to see life. The fascination of it struck me suddenly as I stood in front of a station bookstall last Monday and wondered who bought the tie-clips. The answer came to me just as I got into my train—Ask the man behind the bookstall. He would know. Yes， and he would know who bought all his papers and books and pamphlets， and to know this is to know something about the people in the world. You cannot tell a man by the lobster he eats， but you can tell something about him by the literature he reads.

站在書報攤后面確實能見到世面。上個星期一，我在火車站的一家書報攤前站著，想著什么人會買領帶夾，突然，我感受到了這份工作的魅力。我一登上火車，便想到了答案——問問書報攤后面的人吧。他知道的。是的，他知道誰買了他的報紙、圖書、小冊子，知曉這一點便是對世人有所了解。你不能從一個人吃的龍蝦中了解到他是個怎樣的人，但從他讀的文學作品中，可以對他有所了解。

For instance， I once occupied a carriage on an eastern line with， among others， a middle-aged woman. As soon as we left Liverpool Street she produced a bag of shrimps， grasped each individual in turn firmly by the head and tail， and ate him. When she had finished， she emptied the ends out of the window， wiped her hands， and settled down comfortably to her paper. What paper？ You’ll never guess; I shall have to tell you—The Morning Post. Now doesn’t that give you the woman？ The shrimps alone， no; the paper alone， no; but the two together. Conceive the holy joy of the bookstall clerk as she and her bag of shrimps—yes， he could have told at once they were shrimps—approached and asked for The Morning Post.

舉個例子吧。我曾與其他乘客共坐東線的一節車廂，其中有一位中年女子。我們一離開利物浦大街，她就拿出一包蝦，一只接一只地吃上了，吃時緊緊抓住蝦的頭尾。吃完后，她將殘余扔出窗外，擦擦手，舒舒服服專心看起報紙。是什么報紙呢？你根本猜不到，得讓我來告訴你——《晨郵報》。這是不是讓你對這個女子了解了幾分呢？只看蝦看不出來，只看報紙也看不出來，得都觀察一番。想象一下，當她帶著那包蝦——是的，書報攤伙計可以立刻說出那包東西是蝦——走過來，要買《晨郵報》時，想象一下那個伙計是多么高興呀。

The day can never be dull to the bookstall clerk. I imagine him assigning in his mind the right paper to each customer. This man will ask for Golfing—wrong， he wants Cage Birds; that one over there wants The Motor—ah， well， The Auto-Car， that’s near enough. Soon he would begin to know the different types; he would learn to distinguish between the patrons of The Dancing Times and of The Vote， The Era and The Athenaeum. Delightful surprises would overwhelm him at intervals; as when—a red-letter day in all the great stations—a gentleman in a check waistcoat makes the double purchase of Horner’s Penny Stories and The Spectator. On those occasions， and they would be very rare， his faith in human nature would begin to ooze away， until all at once he would tell himself excitedly that the man was obviously an escaped criminal in disguise， rather overdoing the part. After which he would hand over The Winning Post and The Animals’ Friend to the pursuing detective in a sort of holy awe. What a life！

對于書報攤伙計來說，日子永遠不會無聊。我猜，他在心中會為每一位顧客分配好合適的報紙。這個男子會買《高爾夫運動》——不對，他想要《籠中鳥》;那邊那個人想買《賽車》——好吧，是《汽車》雜志，差不多嘛。他很快會開始了解到不同類型的人，他會學會如何分辨買《舞蹈時報》的顧客與買《投票》《紀元報》《神殿》的顧客。他還會時不時地感到莫大的驚喜，在所有大型火車站的喜慶日子里，一位身穿格子馬甲的紳士會同時購買《霍納的一便士小說》和《旁觀者》。在那種（非常少見的）時刻，他對人性的信念會開始逐漸消失，直到他突然激動地告訴自己，那人顯然是一個喬裝打扮過頭的逃犯。之后，伙計會懷著無比的敬畏，把《勝利郵報》和《動物之友》遞到追蹤犯人的偵探手上。這樣的生活真精彩！

But he has other things than papers to sell. He knows who buys those little sixpenny books of funny stories—a problem which has often puzzled us others; he understands by now the type of man who wants to read up a few good jokes to tell them down at old Robinson’s， where he is going for the week-end. Our bookstall clerk doesn’t wait to be asked. As soon as this gentleman approaches， he whips out the book， dusts it， and places it before the raconteur1. He recognizes also at a glance the sort of silly ass who is always losing his India rubber umbrella ring. Half-way across the station he can see him， and he hastens to get a new card out in readiness. （“Or we would let you have seven for sixpence， sir.”） And even when one of those subtler characters draws near， about whom it is impossible to say immediately whether they require a fountain pen with case or the Life and Letters， reduced to 3s. 6d.2， of Major-General Clement Bulger， C.B.3， even then the man behind the bookstall is not found wanting. If he is wrong the first time， he never fails to recover with his second. “Bulger， sir. One of our greatest soldiers.”

除了報紙，他還賣其他東西。他知道哪些人會買那些小小的、值六便士的笑話書——這個問題經常會難住其他人。他現在知道有種人想要讀上幾個不錯的笑話，然后在周末到老羅賓森酒吧，把笑話講給別人聽。我們的書報攤伙計不等顧客詢問便開始行動了。這位先生一走近，他就趕緊抽出書來，撣撣灰，把它放在這健談的人的面前。他也能一眼認出那種總是丟印度橡膠傘環的傻子，隔著半個車站瞧見他來了，便趕快拿出一張綴滿傘環的新卡。（“先生，或者我們就賣你六便士七個。”）即使一個更難以被猜透的人走近時，伙計一時不可能判斷出他是要帶盒子的鋼筆還是克萊門特·巴爾杰少將（三等巴斯勛章獲得者）的《人生和信》（減價到三先令六便士），此時他也不會不知所措。如果他第一次判斷錯了，第二次一定會彌補回來。“先生，這是巴爾杰少將的書。他是我們最偉大的軍人之一。”

I thought of these things last Monday， and definitely renounced the idea of becoming a grocer; and as I wandered round the bookstall， thinking， I came across a little book， sixpence in cloth， a shilling in leather， called Proverbs and Maxims. It contained some thousands of the best thoughts in all languages， such as have guided men along the path of truth since the beginning of the world， from “What ho， she bumps！”4 to “Ich dien5，” and more. The thought occurred to me that an interesting article might be extracted from it， so I bought the book. Unfortunately enough I left it in the train before I had time to master it. I shall be at the bookstall next Monday and I shall have to buy another copy. That will be all right; you shan’t miss it.

上個星期一，我想到這些事，便明確地放棄了當食品雜貨商的想法。我在書報攤那兒閑逛，思考著，看到了一本小書，布面本的價格為六便士，皮面本的價格為一先令，書名叫做《俗語和格言》。其中包含了所有語言中數千種最優秀的思想。這些思想自創世以來，便引領著人們走在尋求真理的路上。其中有“What ho， she bumps”“Ich dien”，不一而足。我想到可以從中獲取寫一篇有趣文章的靈感，便買下了它。不幸的是，我還沒來得及熟悉內容，它已被我忘在了火車上。下個星期一我還會去書報攤，得再買一本了。沒關系，不會錯過它的。

But I am wondering now what the bookstall clerk will make of me. A man who keeps on buying Proverbs and Maxims. Well， as I say， they see life.

可我在想，書報攤伙計會怎么揣測我這個總是買《俗語和格言》的男人呢。就像我說過的，他們是見過世面的。

1 raconteur善于講故事的人。

2 d是古羅馬貨幣便士denarius的縮寫，在以前的英國用1d表示1便士（penny）。 3 = Companion of the Order of the Bath（三等巴斯勛章）的縮寫。 4原是一首歌曲的名字，意思是“嘿，它在顛簸！”歌曲內容是關于船只在波濤翻滾的海上航行。 5 Ich dien〈德語〉= I serve（我侍奉）