At the Bookstall在书报摊旁

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.

我经常渴望能成为一个食品杂货商。让身边环绕着如此多有趣的东西——沙丁鱼、瓶装覆盆子、砂糖饼干、腌生姜、火腿、玻璃罩扣肉冻，以及一切使生活有意义的东西。一会儿爬上梯子去找肉豆蔻，一会儿钻到柜台下去寻肉桂;给小姑娘提供值半便士的梨形糖果，给你我这样的体面人提供一品脱的樱桃杜松子酒。做这些事，不算是从事最好的行当吗？总有一天我会开家食品杂货店。你会发现，在空闲的傍晚，我身着围裙，站在柜台后面。当你进来时，小心别碰到橱窗里的葡萄干——我把它们摆成了很有艺术性的图案。不过，既然你爱我，就不要去买它们了。我们杂货商摆出葡萄干只是为了好看，以便在生意清淡时尽情地抓弄几把。女士，我给你找找装酥饼的盒子，我的奶油甜酥饼是很不错的，但是我请求你，在这个傍晚不要买葡萄干。

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，当杂货商就会活得快乐，但是，这样毕竟见不到世面。一个食品杂货商，一个卖香皂和沙丁鱼的人，他的眼光会变得狭窄。除了通过出售罐装龙虾看一看他人，我们同外部世界接触得不多，将龙虾卖给别人并没有让我们的手指触摸到他的脉搏。罐装龙虾不能定义一个人。对于杂货商而言，只要顾客用的是真钞，所有的顾客都是一样的。我意识到，打算当杂货商的决定下得太匆忙。那份工作更适合老年人。当人年轻时，对人比对事物更感兴趣的时候，只有一个可以从事的职业——书报摊伙计。

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.

站在书报摊后面确实能见到世面。上个星期一，我在火车站的一家书报摊前站着，想着什么人会买领带夹，突然，我感受到了这份工作的魅力。我一登上火车，便想到了答案——问问书报摊后面的人吧。他知道的。是的，他知道谁买了他的报纸、图书、小册子，知晓这一点便是对世人有所了解。你不能从一个人吃的龙虾中了解到他是个怎样的人，但从他读的文学作品中，可以对他有所了解。

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.

举个例子吧。我曾与其他乘客共坐东线的一节车厢，其中有一位中年女子。我们一离开利物浦大街，她就拿出一包虾，一只接一只地吃上了，吃时紧紧抓住虾的头尾。吃完后，她将残余扔出窗外，擦擦手，舒舒服服专心看起报纸。是什么报纸呢？你根本猜不到，得让我来告诉你——《晨邮报》。这是不是让你对这个女子了解了几分呢？只看虾看不出来，只看报纸也看不出来，得都观察一番。想象一下，当她带着那包虾——是的，书报摊伙计可以立刻说出那包东西是虾——走过来，要买《晨邮报》时，想象一下那个伙计是多么高兴呀。

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！

对于书报摊伙计来说，日子永远不会无聊。我猜，他在心中会为每一位顾客分配好合适的报纸。这个男子会买《高尔夫运动》——不对，他想要《笼中鸟》;那边那个人想买《赛车》——好吧，是《汽车》杂志，差不多嘛。他很快会开始了解到不同类型的人，他会学会如何分辨买《舞蹈时报》的顾客与买《投票》《纪元报》《神殿》的顾客。他还会时不时地感到莫大的惊喜，在所有大型火车站的喜庆日子里，一位身穿格子马甲的绅士会同时购买《霍纳的一便士小说》和《旁观者》。在那种（非常少见的）时刻，他对人性的信念会开始逐渐消失，直到他突然激动地告诉自己，那人显然是一个乔装打扮过头的逃犯。之后，伙计会怀着无比的敬畏，把《胜利邮报》和《动物之友》递到追踪犯人的侦探手上。这样的生活真精彩！

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.”

除了报纸，他还卖其他东西。他知道哪些人会买那些小小的、值六便士的笑话书——这个问题经常会难住其他人。他现在知道有种人想要读上几个不错的笑话，然后在周末到老罗宾森酒吧，把笑话讲给别人听。我们的书报摊伙计不等顾客询问便开始行动了。这位先生一走近，他就赶紧抽出书来，掸掸灰，把它放在这健谈的人的面前。他也能一眼认出那种总是丢印度橡胶伞环的傻子，隔着半个车站瞧见他来了，便赶快拿出一张缀满伞环的新卡。（“先生，或者我们就卖你六便士七个。”）即使一个更难以被猜透的人走近时，伙计一时不可能判断出他是要带盒子的钢笔还是克莱门特·巴尔杰少将（三等巴斯勋章获得者）的《人生和信》（减价到三先令六便士），此时他也不会不知所措。如果他第一次判断错了，第二次一定会弥补回来。“先生，这是巴尔杰少将的书。他是我们最伟大的军人之一。”

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.

上个星期一，我想到这些事，便明确地放弃了当食品杂货商的想法。我在书报摊那儿闲逛，思考着，看到了一本小书，布面本的价格为六便士，皮面本的价格为一先令，书名叫做《俗语和格言》。其中包含了所有语言中数千种最优秀的思想。这些思想自创世以来，便引领着人们走在寻求真理的路上。其中有“What ho， she bumps”“Ich dien”，不一而足。我想到可以从中获取写一篇有趣文章的灵感，便买下了它。不幸的是，我还没来得及熟悉内容，它已被我忘在了火车上。下个星期一我还会去书报摊，得再买一本了。没关系，不会错过它的。

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，书报摊伙计会怎么揣测我这个总是买《俗语和格言》的男人呢。就像我说过的，他们是见过世面的。

1 raconteur善于讲故事的人。

2 d是古罗马货币便士denarius的缩写，在以前的英国用1d表示1便士（penny）。 3 = Companion of the Order of the Bath（三等巴斯勋章）的缩写。 4原是一首歌曲的名字，意思是“嘿，它在颠簸！”歌曲内容是关于船只在波涛翻滚的海上航行。 5 Ich dien〈德语〉= I serve（我侍奉）