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仪式结束了，准备把棺木放入墓穴。一阵喧闹吵嚷那么粗暴地打断了母亲的哀痛和慈爱之情。牧师的口气冷冷的，例行公事地下了指令，人们用铁锨铲起沙石；站在自己深爱的至亲的墓穴前，这种撞击声是最让人受不了的声音。周围的喧闹似乎把这位母亲从痛苦的出神回想中唤醒。她抬起呆滞的眼睛，有些狂乱地环顾周围。看到有人拿着绳子走过来准备把棺木放入墓穴，她绞着双手，恸哭失声。在一边照顾她的穷妇人抓住她的胳膊，使劲地想把她从地上拽起来，低声地劝慰道：“不要这样，好啦。不要这样，好啦。不要太伤心啦。”她只能摇摇头，绞着双手，就像那些谁也安慰不了的人一样。
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他们把棺木慢慢放进墓穴，绳子嘎吱嘎吱地响着，似乎让她肝肠寸断。但是，棺木意外地撞到了什么阻碍物，母亲的全部慈爱一下子爆发了，好像她的儿子会受到了伤害似的，却不知，人世间的一切痛苦绝对不会降临到他身上了。
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我实在不忍继续围观了，我的心胀到了喉咙，我热泪盈眶。我感到自己好像正扮演着一个残忍的角色，袖手旁观孤儿寡母骨肉分离的哀痛。于是，我信步走向教堂墓地的另一边，一直等到葬礼散了才离开。
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看到这位母亲拖着沉重的脚步吃力地离开了墓地，把仅存的心爱——自己的儿子留在黄土中，回到沉寂而贫穷的生活中去，我为她而心痛不已。我想，富人们会有什么痛楚呢？他们有朋友的安慰，可以追欢卖笑，拥有一个可以转移注意力、消解痛苦的世界。年轻人会有什么忧伤呢？他们正值成长期，他们开朗的精神会很快冲破所承受的压力，充满活力和弹性的眷恋很快就会缠绕到新的对象身上。可是，那些穷人呢？他们没有外在的疏解途径。那些老人呢？他们的生命往好了说不过是人生的冬季，已经无法再有成长的快乐。一个寡妇呢？她已经是风烛残年，孤苦无助，一贫如洗，刚刚在葬礼上与自己晚年最后的慰藉——独子生离死别。这些苦痛确实是我们感觉爱莫能助的。
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（张白桦 译）
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19 THE CHAMPION SNORER
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From the “Burlington Hawkeye”
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The CHAMPION SNORER, by an anonymous writer, taken from the Burlington Hawkeye .
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It was the Cedar Rapids sleeper. Outside, it was as dark as the inside of an ink-bottle. In the sleeping car people slept. Or tried it.
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Some of them slept like Christian men and women, peacefully, sweetly, and quietly.
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Others slept like demons, malignantly, hideously, fiendishly, as though it was their mission to keep everybody else awake.
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Of these the man in lower number three was the worst.
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We never heard anything snore like him. It was the most systematic snoring that was ever done, even on one of these tournaments of snoring, a sleeping car. He didn’t begin as soon as the lamps were turned down and everybody was in bed. O, no! There was more cold-blooded diabolism in his system than that. He waited until everybody had had a taste of sleep, just to see how nice and pleasant it was; and then he broke in on their slumbers like a winged, breathing demon, and they never knew what peace was again that night.
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He started out with a terrific
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“Gu-r-r-rt!”
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that opened every eye in the car. We all hoped it was an accident, however; and, trusting that he wouldn’t do it again, we all forgave him. Then he blasted our hopes and curdled the sweet serenity of our forgiveness by a long-drawn
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“Gw-a-h-h-hah!”
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that sounded too much like business to be accidental. Then every head in that sleepless sleeper was held off the pillow for a minute, waiting in breathless suspense to hear the worst; and the sleeper in “lower three” went on in long-drawn, regular cadences that indicated good staying qualities,
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“Gwa-a-a-h! Gwa-a-a-h! Gahwayway! Gahway-wah! Gahwa-a-ah!”
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Evidently it was going to last all night; and the weary heads dropped back on the sleepless pillows, and the swearing began. It mumbled along in low, muttering tones, like the distant echoes of a profane thunderstorm. Pretty soon “lower three” gave us a little variation. He shot off a spiteful
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“Gwook!”
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which sounded as though his nose had got mad at him and was going to strike. Then there was a pause, and we began to hope he had either awakened from sleep or strangled to death, —nobody cared very particularly which. But he disappointed everybody with a guttural
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“Gurroch!”
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Then he paused again for breath; and when he had accumulated enough for his purpose he resumed business with a stentorious
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“Kowpff!”
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