中国式英语高中生经典英文小说阅读与欣赏系列 A Baby Tramp

2021年1月20日发(作者：delphine)
A Baby Tramp
by Ambrose Bierce
If
you
had
seen
little
Jo
standing
at
the
street
corner
in
the
rain,
you
would
hardly have admired him. It was apparently an ordinary autumn rainstorm, but the
water which fell upon Jo (who was hardly old enough to be either just or unjust,
and so perhaps did not come under the law of impartial distribution) appeared to
have some property peculiar to itself: one would have said it was dark and adhesive
-- sticky. But that could hardly be so, even in Blackburg, where things certainly did
occur that were a good deal out of the common.
For example, ten or twelve years before, a shower of small frogs had fallen, as
is credibly attested by a contemporaneous chronicle, the record concluding with a
somewhat
obscure
statement
to
the
effect
that
the
chronicler
considered
it
good
growing-weather for Frenchmen.
Some years later Blackburg had a fall of crimson snow; it is cold in Blackburg
when winter is on, and the snows are frequent and deep. There can be no doubt of it
-- the snow in this instance was of the colour of blood and melted into water of the
same hue, if water it was, not blood. The phenomenon had attracted wide attention,
and science had as many explanations as there were scientists who knew nothing
about it. But the men of Blackburg -- men who for many years had lived right there
where
the
red
snow
fell,
and
might
be
supposed
to
know
a
good
deal
about
the
matter -- shook their heads and said something would come of it.
And
something
did,
for
the
next
summer
was
made
memorable
by
the
prevalence of a mysterious disease -- epidemic, endemic, or the Lord knows what,
though
the
physicians
didn't
--
which
carried
away
a
full
half
of
the
population.
Most of the other half carried themselves away and were slow to return, but finally
came back, and were now increasing and multiplying as before, but Blackburg had
not since been altogether the same.
Of quite another kind, though equally 'out of the common,' was the incident of
Hetty
Parlow's
ghost.
Hetty
Parlow's
maiden
name
had
been
Brownon,
and
in
Blackburg that meant more than one would think.
The Brownons had from time immemorial -- from the very earliest of the old
colonial days -- been the leading family of the town. It was the richest and it was
the
best,
and
Blackburg
would
have
shed
the
last
drop
of
its
plebeian
blood
in
defence of the Brownon fair fame. As few of the family's members had ever been
known
to
live
permanently
away
from
Blackburg,
although
most
of
them
were
educated elsewhere and nearly all had travelled, there was quite a number of them.
The men held most of the public offices, and the women were foremost in all good

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works. Of these latter, Hetty was most beloved by reason of the sweetness of her
disposition,
the
purity
of
her
character
and
her
singular
personal
beauty.
She
married
in
Boston
a
young
scapegrace
named
Parlow,
and
like
a
good
Brownon
brought him to Blackburg forthwith and made a man and a town councillor of him.
They
had
a
child
which
they
named
Joseph
and
dearly
loved,
as
was
then
the
fashion among parents in all that region. Then they died of the mysterious disorder
already mentioned, and at the age of one whole year Joseph set up as an orphan.
Unfortunately for Joseph the disease which had cut off his parents did not stop
at
that;
it
went
on
and
extirpated
nearly
the
whole
Brownon
contingent
and
its
allies by marriage; and those who fled did not return. The tradition was broken, the
Brownon estates passed into alien hands, and the only Brownons remaining in that
place
were
underground
in
Oak
Hill
Cemetery,
where,
indeed,
was
a
colony
of
them
powerful
enough
to
resist
the
encroachment
of
surrounding
tribes
and
hold
the best part of the grounds. But about the ghost:
One night, about three years after the death of Hetty Parlow, a number of the
young people of Blackburg were passing Oak Hill Cemetery in a wagon -- if you
have been there you will remember that the road to Greenton runs alongside it on
the south. They had been attending a May Day festival at Greenton; and that serves
to fix the date. Altogether there may have been a dozen, and a jolly party they were,
considering the legacy of gloom left by the town's recent sombre experiences. As
they
passed
the
cemetery
the
man
driving
suddenly
reined
in
his
team
with
an
exclamation of surprise. It was sufficiently surprising, no doubt, for just ahead, and
almost at the roadside, though inside the cemetery, stood the ghost of Hetty Parlow.
There could be no doubt of it, for she had been personally known to every youth
and maiden in the party. That established the thing's identity; its character as ghost
was signified by all the customary signs
-- the shroud, the long, undone hair, the
'far-away look' -- everything. This disquieting apparition was stretching out its arms
toward the west, as if in supplication for the evening star, which, certainly, was an
alluring object, though obviously out of reach. As they all sat silent (so the story
goes) every member of that party of merrymakers -- they had merrymade on coffee
and
lemonade
only
--
distinctly
heard
that
ghost
call
the
name
'Joey,
Joey!'
A
moment later nothing was there. Of course one does not have to believe all that.
Now, at that moment, as was afterward ascertained, Joey was wandering about
in
the
sagebrush
on
the
opposite
side
of
the
continent,
near
Winnemucca,
in
the
State of Nevada. He had been taken to that town by some good persons distantly
related to his dead father, and by them adopted and tenderly cared for. But on that
evening the poor child had strayed from home and was lost in the desert.
His after history is involved in obscurity and has gaps which conjecture alone
can fill. It is known that he was found by a family of Piute Indians, who kept the

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