酷兔英语
    当前位置:
  1. 首页
  2. 文章
  3. 娱乐英语
  4. 原版小说
  5. 正文

Moon-Face and Other Stories-Part4_JACK LONDON(1876-1916)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

0 收藏 0 分享 0 赞

章节正文
文章总共2页
"And so it went, with the monotony of clockwork, fifteen seconds to the man,



four men to the minute, the mugs bobbing up and down in turn like marionettes.

The clerk called the name, the bailiff the offence, the judge the sentence,



and the man sat down. That was all. Simple, eh? Superb!

"Chi Slim nudged me. 'Give'm a SPIEL, Cinders. You kin do it.'



"I shook my head.

"'G'wan,' he urged. 'Give 'm a ghost story The mugs'll take it all right. And



you kin throw yer feet fer tobacco for us till we get out.'

"'L. C. Randolph!' the clerk called.



"I stood up, but a hitch came in the proceedings. The clerk whispered to the

judge, and the bailiff smiled.



"'You are a newspaper man, I understand, Mr. Randolph?' his Honor remarked

sweetly.



"It took me by surprise, for I had forgotten the COWBELL in the excitement of

succeeding events, and I now saw myself on the edge of the pit I had digged.



"'That's yer GRAFT. Work it,' Slim prompted.

"'It's all over but the shouting,' I groaned back, but Slim, unaware of the



article, was puzzled.

"'Your Honor,' I answered, 'when I can get work, that is my occupation.'



"'You take quite an interest in local affairs, I see.' (Here his Honor took up

the morning's COWBELL and ran his eye up and down a column I knew was mine.)



'Color is good,' he commented, an appreciativetwinkle in his eyes; 'pictures

excellent, characterized by broad, Sargent-like effects. Now this . . . this



judge you have depicted . . . you, ah, draw from life, I presume?'

"'Rarely, your I Honor,' I answered. 'Composites, ideals, rather . . . er,



types, I may say.'

"'But you have color, sir, unmistakable color,' he continued.



"'That is splashed on afterward,' I explained.

"'This judge, then, is not modelled from life, as one might be led to



believe?'

"'No, your Honor.'



"'Ah, I see, merely a type of judicial wickedness?'

"'Nay, more, your Honor,' I said boldly, 'an ideal.'



"'Splashed with local color afterward? Ha! Good! And may I venture to ask how

much you received for this bit of work?'



"'Thirty dollars, your Honor.'

"'Hum, good!' And his tone abruptly changed. 'Young man, local color is a bad



thing. I find you guilty of it and sentence you to thirty days' imprisonment,

or, at your pleasure, impose a fine of thirty dollars.'



"'Alas!' said I, 'I spent the thirty dollars in riotous living.'

"'And thirty days more for wasting your substance.'



"'Next case!' said his Honor to the clerk.

"Slim was stunned. 'Gee!' he whispered. 'Gee the push gets ten days and you



get sixty. Gee!'"

Leith struck a match, lighted his dead cigar, and opened the book on his



knees. "Returning to the original conversation, don't you find, Anak, that

though Loria handles the bipartition of the revenues with scrupulous care, he



yet omits one important factor, namely--"

"Yes," I said absently; "yes."



AMATEUR NIGHT

THE elevator boy smiled knowingly to him self. When he took her up, he had



noted the sparkle in her eyes, the color in her cheeks. His little cage had

quite warmed with the glow of her repressed eagerness. And now, on the down



trip, it was glacier-like. The sparkle and the color were gone. She was

frowning, and what little he could see of her eyes was cold and steel-gray.



Oh, he knew the symptoms, he did. He was an observer, and he knew it, too, and

some day, when he was big enough, he was going to be a reporter, sure. And in



the meantime he studied the procession of life as it streamed up and down

eighteen sky-scraper floors in his elevator car. He slid the door open for her



sympathetically and watched her trip determinedly out into the street.

There was a robustness in her carriage which came of the soil rather than of



the city pavement. But it was a robustness in a finer than the wonted sense, a

vigorous daintiness, it might be called, which gave an impression of virility



with none of the womanly left out. It told of a heredity of seekers and

fighters, of people that worked stoutly with head and hand, of ghosts that



reached down out of the misty past and moulded and made her to be a doer of

things.



But she was a little angry, and a great deal hurt. "I can guess what you would

tell me," the editor had kindly but firmly interrupted her lengthy preamble in



the long-looked-forward-to interview just ended. "And you have told me

enough," he had gone on (heartlessly, she was sure, as she went over the



conversation in its freshness). "You have done no newspaper work. You are

undrilled, undisciplined, unhammered into shape. You have received a



high-school education, and possibly topped it off with normal school or




文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文
Copyright © 2023 Qeto All rights reserved.
商务合作 | 联系我们 | 关于我们 | 版权声明 | 隐私条款 | 如果智培

京ICP备05059198号-1 京公网安备 11011202003401号