The lottery 中英文版

Recently, I've got a chance to read a shortstory by Shirley

Jackson named The Lottery. Shirley Jackson(Dec 14, 1916 -

Aug 8, 1965) was an American author and published this

shortstory in is the story. I hope that you can enjoy

it with a cup of your favorite tea.

The Lottery

The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh

warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming

profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the

village began to gather in the square, between the post office

and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were

so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be

started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only

about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than

two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and

still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for

noon dinner.

The children assembled first, of course. School was recently

over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on

most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a

while before they broke into boisterous play. and their talk

was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and

reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full

of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example,

selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and

Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced

this name

in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of

the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among

themselves, looking over their shoulders at the boys. and the

very small children rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of

their older brothers or sisters.

Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children,

speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood

together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their

jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The

women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came

shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and

exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands.

Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to

their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be

called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his

mother's grasping hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of

stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly

and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.

The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the

teen club, the Halloween program--by Mr. Summers. who had

time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a

round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and

people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his

wife was a scold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the

black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation

among the villagers, and he waved and called.

today, folks.

carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the

center of the square and Mr. Summers set the black box down

on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space

between themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers

said,

a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son,

Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while

Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.

The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long

ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put

into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town,

was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers

about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as

much tradition as was represented by the black box. There

was a story that the present box had been made with some

pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been

constructed when the first people settled down to make a

village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began

talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was

allowed to fade off without anything's being done. The black

box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer

completely black but splintered badly along one side to show

the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.

Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box

securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers

thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had

been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been

successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of

wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr.

Summers had argued. had been all very well when the village

was tiny, but now that the population was more than three

hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use

something that would fit more easily into he black box. The

night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made

up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then

taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked

up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square next

morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way,

sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one

year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the

post office. and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin

grocery and left there.

There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr.

Summers declared the lottery open. There were the lists to

make up--of heads of families. heads of households in each

family. members of each household in each family. There was

the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as

the official of the lottery; at one time, some people

remembered, there had been a recital of some sort,

performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless

chant that had been rattled off duly each year; some people

believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so

when he said or sang it, others believed that he was supposed

to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of

the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a

ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in

addressing each person who came up to draw from the box,

but this also had changed with time, until now it was felt

necessary only for the official to speak to each person

approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his

clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand resting

carelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and

important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the

Martins.

Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the

assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along

the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders,

and slid into place in the back of the crowd.

day it was,

and they both laughed softly.

back stacking wood,

looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I

remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running.

She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said,

Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd

and found her husband and children standing near the front.

She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began

to make her way through the crowd. The people separated

good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said.

in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd,

comes your, Missus, Hutchinson,

all.

who had been waiting, said cheerfully.

going to have to get on without you, Tessie.

said. grinning,

now, would you. Joe?,

crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs.

Hutchinson's arrival.

started, get this over with, so's we can go back to work.

Anybody ain't here?

Mr. Summers consulted his list.

him?

at her.

Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the

answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the

lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited

with an expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar

answered.

holding. Then he asked,

A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand.

drawing for my mother and me.

nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd

said thin#s like

mother's got a man to do it.

Warner make it?

A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his

throat and looked at the list.

read the names--heads of families first--and the men come up

and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your

hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn.

Everything clear?

The people had done it so many times that they only half

listened to the directions: most of them were quiet. wetting

their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one

hand high and said,

the crowd and came forward.

and Mr. Adams said.

humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the

black box and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one

corner as he turned and went hastily back to his place in the

crowd. where he stood a little apart from his family. not

looking down at his hand.

Mrs. Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row.

breath while her husband went forward.

to the box while one of the women said.

another said,

came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers

gravely and selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all

through the crowd there were men holding the small folded

papers in their large hand. turning them over and over

nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs.

Dunbar holding the slip of paper.

her laughed.

next to him,

giving up the lottery.

Old Man Warner snorted.

Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to go back to living in

caves, nobody work any more, live hat way for a while. Used

to be a saying about 'Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.'

First thing you know, we'd all be eating stewed chickweed and

acorns. There's always been a lottery,

everybody.

wish they'd hurry.

Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward

precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called,

said as he went through the crowd.

Someone said,

said,

After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until

Mr. Summers. holding his slip of paper in the air, said,

right, fellows.

slips of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the women began to

speak at once, saving.

Dunbars?,

People began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill

Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down at the paper in

his hand. Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr.

Summers.

he wanted. I saw you. It wasn't fair!

Graves said,

fast, and now we've got to be hurrying a little more to get

done in time.

draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any other households

in the Hutchinsons?

take their chance!

Summers said gently.

daughter draws with her husband's family; that's only fair.

And I've got no other family except the kids.

Summers said in explanation,

households is concerned, that's you, too. Right?

me.

tickets back?

Mr. Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper.

the box, then,

in.

quietly as she could.

him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that.

Mr. Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box.

and he dropped all the papers but those onto the ground.

where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.

around her.

one quick glance around at his wife and children. nodded.

them folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help

little Dave.

came willingly with him up to the box.

box, Davy.

and laughed.

and removed the folded paper from the tight fist and held it

while little Dave stood next to him and looked up at him

wonderingly.

school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching

her skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box