好人难寻原文a good man is hard to find

2021年1月22日发(作者：阎宝航)
A Good Man Is Hard To Find
by Flannery O
’
Connor
The
grandmother
didn't
want
to
go
to
Florida.
She
wanted
to
visit
some
of
her
connections
in
east
Tennes-
see
and
she
was
seizing
at
every
chance
to
change
Bailey's mind. Bailey was the son she lived with, her only boy. He was sitting on the
edge of his chair at the table, bent over the orange sports section of the Journal.
look here, Bailey,
thin hip and the other rattling the newspaper at his bald head.
calls himself The Misfit is aloose from the Federal Pen and headed toward Florida and
you read here what it says he did to these people. Just you read it. I wouldn't take my
children in any direction with a criminal like that aloose in it. I couldn't answer to my
conscience if I did.

Bailey
didn't
look
up
from
his
reading
so
she
wheeled
around
then
and
faced
the
children's mother, a young woman in slacks, whose face was as broad and innocent as
a cabbage and was tied around with a green head-kerchief that had two points on the
top like rabbit's ears. She was sitting on the sofa, feeding the baby his apricots out of a
jar.
take them somewhere else for a change so they would see different parts of the world
and be broad. They never have been to east Tennessee.

The children's mother didn't seem to hear her but the eight-year-old boy, John Wesley,
a stocky child with glasses, said,
at home?


yellow head.


asked.




she'd miss
something. She has to go everywhere we go.


me to curl your hair.

June Star said her hair was naturally curly.

The next morning the grandmother was the first one in the car, ready to go. She had
her big black valise that looked like the head of a hippopotamus in one corner, and
underneath it she was hiding a basket with Pitty Sing, the cat, in it. She didn't intend
for the cat to be left alone in the house for three days because he would miss her too
much
and
she
was
afraid
he
might
brush
against
one
of
her
gas
burners
and
accidentally asphyxiate himself. Her son, Bailey, didn't like to arrive at a motel with a
cat.

She sat in the middle of the back seat with John Wesley and June Star on either side
of her. Bailey and the children's mother and the baby sat in front and they left Atlanta
at eight forty-five with the mileage on the car at 55890. The grandmother wrote this
down because she thought
it would be interesting to
say how many miles
they
had
been when they
got
back.
It took
them twenty
minutes to
reach the outskirts of the
city.

The
old
lady
settled
herself
comfortably,
removing
her
white
cotton
gloves
and
putting
them
up
with
her
purse
on
the
shelf
in
front
of
the
back
window.
The
children's mother still had on slacks and still had her head tied up in a green kerchief,
but the grandmother had on a navy blue straw sailor hat with a bunch of white violets
on the brim and a navy blue dress with a small white dot in the print. Her collars and
cuffs
were
white
organdy
trimmed
with
lace
and
at
her
neckline
she
had
pinned
a
purple spray of cloth violets containing a sachet. In case of an accident, anyone seeing
her dead on the highway would know at once that she was a lady.

She said she thought it was going to be a good day for driving, neither too hot nor too
cold, and she cautioned Bailey that the speed limit was fifty-five miles an hour and
that
the
patrolmen
hid
themselves
behind
billboards
and
small
clumps
of
trees
and
sped out after you before you had a chance to slow down. She pointed out interesting
details of the scenery: Stone Mountain; the blue granite that in some places came up
to both sides of the highway; the brilliant red clay banks slightly streaked with purple;
and
the
various
crops
that
made
rows
of
green
lace-work
on
the
ground.
The
trees
were full of silver-white sunlight and the meanest of them sparkled. The children were
reading comic magazines and their mother and gone back to sleep.


go
through
Georgia
fast
so
we
won't
have
to
look
at
it
much,
John
Wesley
said.


that way. Tennessee has the mountains and Georgia has the hills.


lousy state too.




the
grandmother, folding her
thin veined fingers,
more respectful of their native states and their parents and everything else. People did
right then. Oh look at the cute little pickaninny!
standing in the door of a shack.
they all turned and looked at the little Negro out of the back window. He waved




probably
didn't
have
any,
the
grandmother
explained.

riggers
in
the
country don't have things like we do. If I could paint, I'd paint that picture,

The children exchanged comic books.

The grandmother offered to hold the baby and the children's mother passed him over
the front seat to her. She set him on her knee and bounced him and told him about the
things they were passing. She rolled her eyes and screwed up her mouth and stuck her
leathery
thin
face
into
his
smooth
bland
one.
Occasionally
he
gave
her
a
faraway
smile. They passed a large cotton field with five or fix graves fenced in the middle of
it, like a small island.






When
the
children
finished
all
the
comic
books
they
had
brought,
they
opened
the
lunch
and
ate
it.
The
grandmother
ate
a
peanut
butter
sandwich
and
an
olive
and
would not let the children throw the box and the paper napkins out the window. When
there was nothing else to do they played a game by choosing a cloud and making the
other two guess what shape it suggested. John Wesley took one the shape of a cow
and June Star guessed a cow and John Wesley said, no, an automobile, and June Star
said he didn't play fair, and they began to slap each other over the grandmother.

The grandmother said she would tell them a story if they would keep quiet. When she
told a story, she rolled her eyes and waved her head and was very dramatic. She said
once
when
she
was
a
maiden
lady
she
had
been
courted
by
a
Mr.
Edgar
Atkins
Teagarden
from
Jasper,
Georgia.
She
said
he
was
a
very
good-looking
man
and
a
gentleman and that he brought
her a watermelon every Saturday afternoon with
his
initials
cut
in
it,
E.
A.
T.
Well,
one
Saturday,
she
said,
Mr.
Teagarden
brought
the
watermelon
and
there
was
nobody
at
home
and
he
left
it
on
the
front
porch
and
returned in his buggy to Jasper, but she never got the watermelon, she said, because a
nigger boy ate it when he saw the initials, E. A. T. ! This story tickled John Wesley's
funny bone and he giggled and giggled but June Star didn't think it was any good. She
said she wouldn't marry a man that just brought her a watermelon on Saturday. The
grandmother said she would have done well to marry Mr. Teagarden because he was a
gentle man and had bought Coca-Cola stock when it first came out and that he had
died only a few years ago, a very wealthy man.

They stopped at The Tower for barbecued sand- wiches. The Tower was a part stucco
and part wood filling station and dance hall set in a clearing outside of Timothy. A fat
man named Red Sammy Butts ran it and there were signs stuck here and there on the
building
and
for
miles
up
and
down
the
highway
saying,
TRY
RED
SAMMY'S
FAMOUS BARBECUE. NONE LIKE FAMOUS RED SAMMY'S! RED SAM! THE
FAT
BOY
WITH
THE
HAPPY
LAUGH.
A
VETERAN!
RED
SAMMY'S
YOUR
MAN!

Red Sammy was lying on the bare ground outside The Tower with his head under a
truck
while
a
gray
monkey
about
a
foot
high,
chained
to
a
small
chinaberry
tree,
chattered nearby. The monkey sprang back into the tree and got on the highest limb as
soon as he saw the children jump out of the car and run toward him.

Inside, The Tower was a long dark room with a counter at one end and tables at the
other and dancing space in the middle. They all sat down at a board table next to the
nickelodeon and Red Sam's wife, a tall burnt-brown woman with hair and eyes lighter
than
her
skin,
came
and
took
their
order.
The
children's
mother
put
a
dime
in
the
machine
and
played

Tennessee
Waltz,
and
the
grandmother
said
that
tune
always made her want to dance. She asked Bailey if he would like to dance but he
only glared at her. He didn't have a naturally sunny disposition like she did and trips
made him nervous. The grandmother's brown eyes were very bright. She swayed her
head from side to side and pretended she was dancing in her chair. June Star said play
something she could tap to so the children's mother put in another dime and played a
fast number and June Star stepped out onto the dance floor and did her tap routine.


come be my little girl?


this for a million bucks!





Red Sam came in and told his wife to quit lounging on the counter and hurry up with
these people's order. His khaki trousers reached just to his hip bones and his stomach
hung over them like a sack of meal
swaying under his
shirt.
He came over and sat
down at a table nearby and let out a combination sigh and yodel.
said.

can't
win,
and
he
wiped
his
sweating
red
face
off
with
a
gray
handkerchief.

days
you
don't
know
who
to
trust,
he
said.

that
the
truth?




old beat- up car but it was a good one and these boys looked all right to me. Said they
worked at the mill and you know I let them fellers charge the gas they bought? Now
why did I do that?





His wife brought the orders, carrying the five plates all at once without a tray, two in
each hand and one balanced on her arm.
that you can trust,
repeated, looking at Red Sammy.


you
read
about
that
criminal,
The
Misfit,
that's
escaped?
asked
the
grandmother.



it's two cent in the cash register, I wouldn't be a tall surprised if he . . .


went off to get the rest of the order.


good
man
is
hard
to
find,
Red
Sammy
said.

is
getting
terrible.
I
remember
the
day
you
could
go
off
and
leave
your
screen
door
unlatched.
Not
no
more.

He and the grandmother discussed better times. The old lady said that in her opinion
Europe was entirely to blame for the way things were now. She said the way Europe
acted
you
would
think
we
were
made
of
money
and
Red
Sam
said
it
was
no
use
talking about it, she was exactly right. The children ran outside into the white sunlight
and looked at the monkey in the lacy chinaberry tree. He was busy catching fleas on
himself and biting each one carefully between his teeth as if it were a delicacy.

They drove off again into the hot afternoon. The grandmother took cat naps and woke
up every few minutes with her own snoring. Outside of Toombsboro she woke up and
recalled an old plantation that she had visited in this neighborhood once when she was
a young lady. She said the house had six white columns across the front and that there
was an avenue of oaks leading up to it and two little wooden trellis arbors on either
side
in
front
where
you
sat
down
with
your
suitor
after
a
stroll
in
the
garden.
She
recalled exactly which road to turn off to get to it. She knew that Bailey would not be
willing to lose any time looking at an old house, but the more she talked about it, the
more she wanted to see it once again and find out if the little twin arbors were still
standing.
secret:-panel
in
this house,
craftily, not
telling the
truth
but
wishing
that
she
were,

the
story
went
that
all
the
family
silver
was
hidden in it when Sherman came through but it was never found . . .


and find it! Who lives there? Where do you turn off at? Hey Pop, can't we turn off
there?


house
with
the
secret
panel!
Hey
Pop,
can't
we
go
see
the
house
with
the
secret
panel!


minutes.

Bailey was looking straight ahead. His jaw was as rigid as a horseshoe.

The
children
began
to
yell
and
scream
that
they
wanted
to
see
the
house
with
the
secret panel. John Wesley kicked the back of the front seat and June Star hung over
her mother's shoulder and whined desperately into her ear that they never had any fun
even on their vacation, that they could never do what THEY wanted to do. The baby
began to scream and John Wesley kicked the back of the seat so hard that his father
could feel the blows in his kidney.


shut up? Will you all just shut up for one second? If you don't shut up, we won't go
anywhere.




right,
Bailey
said,

get
this:
this
is
the
only
time
we're
going
to
stop
for
anything like this. This is the one and only time.


dirt
road
that
you
have
to
turn
down
is
about
a
mile
back,
the
grandmother
directed.



After they had turned around and were headed toward the dirt road, the grandmother
recalled other points about the house, the beautiful glass over the front doorway and
the candle-lamp in the hall. John Wesley said that the secret panel was probably in the
fireplace.




John Wesley suggested.



They turned onto the dirt road and the car raced roughly along in a swirl of pink dust.
The grandmother recalled the times when there were no paved roads and thirty miles
was a day's journey. The dirt road was hilly and there were sudden washes in it and
sharp curves on dangerous embankments. All at once they would be on a hill, looking
down over the blue tops of trees for miles around, then the next minute, they would be
in a red depression with the dust- coated trees looking down on them.



The road looked as if no one had traveled on it in months.


came to her. The thought was so embarrassing that she turned red in the face and her
eyes dilated and her feet jumped up, upsetting her valise in the corner. The instant the
valise moved, the newspaper top she had over the basket under it rose with a snarl and
Pitty Sing, the cat, sprang onto Bailey's shoulder.

The
children
were
thrown
to
the
floor
and
their
mother,
clutching
the
baby,
was
thrown out the door onto the ground; the old lady was thrown into the front seat. The
car
turned
over
once
and
landed
right-side-up
in
a
gulch
off
the
side
of
the
road.
Bailey remained in the driver's seat with the cat gray-striped with a broad white face
and an orange nose clinging to his neck like a caterpillar.

As soon as the children saw they could move their arms and legs, they scrambled out
of
the
car,
shouting,

had
an
ACCIDENT!
The
grandmother
was
curled
up
under the dashboard, hoping she was injured so that Bailey's wrath would not come
down on her all at once. The horrible thought she had had before the accident was that
the house she had remembered so vividly was not in Georgia but in Tennessee.

Bailey removed the cat from his neck with both hands and flung it out the window
against the side of a pine tree. Then he got out of the car and started looking for the
children's mother. She was sitting against the side of the red gutted ditch, holding the
screaming baby, but she only had a cut down her face and a broken shoulder.
had an ACCIDENT!


out of the car, her hat still pinned to her head but the broken front brim standing up at
a jaunty angle and the violet spray hanging off the side. They all sat down in the ditch,
except the children, to recover from the shock. They were all shaking.