马克吐温最佳短篇小说 06 How I Edited an Agricultural Paper Once

 　　I did not take the temporary editorship of an agriculture paper without misgivings 1. Neither would a landsman take, command of a ship without misgivings. But I was in circumstances that made the salary an object. The regular editor of the paper was going off for a holiday, and I accepted the terms he offered, and took his place.

　　The sensation of being at work again was luxurious 2, and I wrought 3 all the week with unflagging pleasure. We went to press, and I waited a day with some solicitude 4 to see whether my effort was going to attract any notice. As I left the office, toward sundown, a group of men and boys at the foot of the stairs dispersed 5 with one impulse, and gave me passage-way, and I heard one or two of them say: "That's him!" I was naturally pleased by this incident. The next morning I found a similar group at the foot of the stairs, and scattering 6 couples and individuals standing 7 here and there in the street, and over the way, watching me with interest. The group separated and fell back as I approached, and I heard a man say: "Look at his eye!" I pretended not to observe the notice I was attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, and was purposing to write an account of it to my aunt. I went up the short flight of stairs, and heard cheery voices and a ringing laugh as I drew near the door, which I opened, and caught a glimpse of two young, rural-looking men, whose faces blanched 8 and lengthened 9 when they saw me, and then they both plunged 10 through the window, with a great crash. I was surprised.
　　In about half an hour an old gentleman, with a flowing beard and a fine but rather austere 11 face, entered, and sat down at my invitation. He seemed to have something on his mind. He took off his hat and set it on the floor, and got out of it a red silk handkerchief and a copy of our paper. He put the paper on his lap, and, while he polished his spectacles with his handkerchief, he said:
　　"Are you the new editor?"I said I was.
　　"Have you ever edited an agricultural paper before?""No," I said; "this is my first attempt.""Very likely. Have you had any experience in agriculture, practically?" "No, I believe I have not." "Some instinct told me so," said the old gentleman, putting on his spectacles and looking over them at me with asperity 12, while he folded his paper into a convenient shape. "I wish to read you what must have made me have that instinct. It was this editorial. Listen, and see if it was you that wrote it:
　　"Turnips 13 should never be pulled -- it injures them. It is much better to send a boy up and let him shake the tree.
　　"Now, what do you think of that? -- for I really suppose you wrote it?""Think of it? Why, I think it is good. I think it is sense. I have no doubt that, every year, millions and millions of bushels of turnips are spoiled in this township alone by being pulled in a half-ripe condition, when, if they had sent a boy up to shake the tree ---""Shake your grandmother! Turnips don't grow on trees!""Oh, they don't, don't they? Well, who said they did? The language was intended to be figurative, wholly figurative. Anybody, that knows anything, will know that I meant that the boy should shake the vine."Then this old person got up and tore his paper all into small shreds 14, and stamped on them, and broke several things with his cane 15, and said I did not know as much as a cow; and then went out, and banged the door after him, and, in short, acted in such a way that I fancied he was displeased 16 about something But, not knowing what the trouble was, I could not be any help to him.
　　Pretty soon after this a long, cadaverous creature, with lanky 17 locks hanging down to his shoulders and a week's stubble bristling 18 from the hills and valleys of his face, darted 19 within the door, and halted, motionless, with finger on lip, and head and body bent 20 in listening attitude. No sound was heard. Still he listened. No sound. Then he turned the key in the door, and came elaborately tip-toeing toward me, till he was within long reaching distance of me, when he stopped, and, after scanning my face with intense interest for a while, drew a folded copy of our paper from his bosom 21, and said:
　　"There -- you wrote that. Read it to me, quick! Relieve, me -- I suffer."I read as follows -- and as the sentences fell from my lips I could see the relief come -- I could see the drawn 22 muscles relax, and the anxiety go out of the face, and rest and peace steal over the features like the merciful moonlight over a desolate 23 landscape:
　　The guano is a fine bird, but great care is necessary in rearing it. It should not be imported earlier than June nor later than September. In the winter it should be kept in a warm place, where it can hatch out its young. It is evident that we are to have a backward season for grain. Therefore, it will be well for the farmer to begin setting out his corn-stalks and planting his buckwheat cakes in July instead of August.
　　Concerning the Pumpkin 24. -- This berry is a favorite with the natives of the interior of NewEngland, who prefer it to the gooseberry for the making of fruit cake, and who likewise give itthe preference over the raspberry for feeding cows, as being more filling and fully 25 as satisfying.
　　The pumpkin is the only esculent of the orange family that will thrive in the North, except thegourd and one or two varieties of the squash. But the custom of planting it in the front !yardwith the shrubbery is fast going out of vogue 26, for it is now generally conceded that thepumpkin, as a shade tree, is a failure.
　　Now, as the warm weather approaches, and the ganders begin to spawn 27 --The excited listener sprang toward me, to shake hands, and said:
　　"There, there -- that will do! I know I am all right now because you have read it just as I did, word for word. But, stranger, when I first read it this morning I said to myself I never, never believed it before, notwithstanding my friends kept me under watch so strict, but now I believe I am crazy; and with that I fetched a howl that you might have heard two miles, and started out to kill somebody -- because, you know, I knew it would come to that sooner or later, and so I might as well begin. I read one of them paragraphs over again, so as to be certain, and then I burned my house down and started I have crippled several people, and have got one fellow up a tree, where I can get him if I want him. But I thought I would call in here as I passed along, and make the thing perfectly 28 certain; and now it is certain, and I tell you it is lucky for the chap that is in the tree. I should have killed him, sure, as I went back. Good-by, sir, good-by -- you have taken a great load off my mind. My reason has stood the strain of one of your agricultural articles, and I know that nothing can ever unseat it now . Good-by, sir."I felt a little uncomfortable about the cripplings and arsons this person had been entertaining himself with, for I could not help feeling remotely accessory to them; but these thoughts were quickly banished 29, for the regular editor walked in! [I thought to myself, Now if you had gone to Egypt, as I recommended you to, I might have had a chance to get my hand in; but you wouldn't do it, and here you are. I sort of expected you.]
　　The editor was looking sad, and perplexed 30, and dejected. He surveyed the wreck 31 which that old rioter and these two young farmers had made, and then said:
　　"This is a sad business -- a very sad business. There is the mucilage bottle broken, and sixpanes of glass, and a spittoon and two candlesticks. But that is not the worst. The reputation of the paper is injured, and permanently 32, I fear. True, there never was such a call for the paper before, and it never sold such a large edition or soared to such celebrity 33; but does one want to be famous for lunacy, and prosper 34 upon the infirmities of his mind? My friend, as I am an honest man, the street out here is full of people, and others are roosting on the fences, waiting to get a glimpse of you, because they think you are crazy. And well they might, after reading your editorials. They are a disgrace to journalism 35. Why, what put it into your head that youcould edit a paper of this nature? You do not seem to know the first rudiments 36 of agriculture.
　　You speak of a furrow 37 and a harrow as being the same thing; you talk of the moulting season for cows; and you recommend the domestication 38 of the pole-cat on account of its playfulness and its excellence 39 as a ratter. Your remark that clams 40 will lie quiet if music be played to them, was superfluous 41 -- entirely 42 superfluous. Nothing disturbs clams. Clams always lie quiet. Clams care nothing whatever about music. Ah, heavens and earth, friend, if you had made the acquiring of ignorance the study of your life, you could not have graduated with higher honor than you could to-day. I never saw anything like it. Your observation that the horse-chestnut, as an article of commerce, is steadily 43 gaining in favor.