Short stories by Mark Twain
The Californian's Tale 1
When I was young, I went looking for gold in California. I never found
enough to make me rich.
But I did discover a beautiful part of the country. It was called \\
The Stanislau was like Heaven on Earth. It had bright green hills and deep forests where soft winds touched the trees.
Other men, also looking for gold, had reached the Stanislau hills of California many years before I did.
They had built a town in the valley with sidewalks and stores, banks and schools.
They had also built pretty little houses for their families.
At first, they found a lot of gold in the Stanislau hills. But their good luck did not last.
After a few years, the gold disappeared. By the time I reached the Stanislau, all the people were gone, too.
Grass now grew in the streets. And the little houses were covered by wild rose bushes.
Only the sound of insects filled the air as I walked through the empty town that summer day so long ago.
Then, I realized I was not alone after all.
A man was smiling at me as he stood in front of one of the little houses. This house was not covered by wild rose bushes. A nice little garden in front of the house was full of blue and yellow flowers.
White curtains hung from the windows and floated in the soft summer wind.
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Short stories by Mark Twain
Still smiling, the man opened the door of his house and motioned to me. I went inside and could not believe my eyes.
I had been living for weeks in rough mining camps with other gold miners. We slept on the hard ground, ate canned beans from cold metal plates and spent our days in the difficult search for gold.
Here in this little house, my spirit seemed to come to life again.
I saw a bright rug on the shining wooden floor. Pictures hung all around the room.
And on little tables there were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers. A woman had made this house into a home.
The pleasure I felt in my heart must have shown on my face. The man read my thoughts.
\Everything in this room has felt the touch of her hand.\
One of the pictures on the wall was not hanging straight.
He noticed it and went to fix it. He stepped back several times to make sure the picture was really straight.
Then he gave it a gentle touch with his hand.
\It is like the finishing pat a 2
Short stories by Mark Twain
mother gives her child's hair after she has brushed it.
I have seen her fix all these things so often that I can do it just the way she does. I don't know why I do it. I just do it.\
As he talked, I realized there was something in this room that he wanted me to discover.
The Californian's Tale 2
I looked around.
When my eyes reached a corner of the room near the fireplace, he broke into a happy laugh and rubbed his hands together. \!\cried out. \picture.\
I went to a little black shelf that held a small picture of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
There was a sweetness and softness in the woman's expression that I had never seen before.
The man took the picture from my hands and stared at it.
\
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Short stories by Mark Twain
When you see her…oh, just wait until you meet her!\\
\sighed, putting the picture back on the little black shelf.
\been gone two weeks today.\\
\ evening.\
I felt a sharp sense of regret. \by then,\said.
\likes to have people come and stay with us.\\ firmly.
He picked up her picture and held it before my eyes.
\Now you tell her to her face that you could have stayed to meet her and you would not.\
Something made me change my mind as I looked at the picture for a second time. I decided to stay.
The man told me his name was Henry.
That night, Henry and I talked about many different things, but mainly about her.
The next day passed quietly.
Thursday evening we had a visitor. He was a big, grey-haired miner named Tom.
\\
\He took a yellowed letter out of his shirt pocket and read it to us.
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Short stories by Mark Twain
It was full of loving messages to him and to other people — their close friends and neighbors.
When the man finished reading it, he looked at his friend.
\her. I'm going to tell her this time!\\haired miner said. \any little sorrow makes me cry. I really was hoping she would be here tonight.\The next day, Friday, another miner came to visit.
He asked to hear the letter. The message in it made him cry, too. \
The Californian's Tale 3
Saturday finally came. I found I was looking at my watch very often.
Henry noticed this. \ he asked me.
I smiled and said that I was sure she was just fine. But he did not seem satisfied.
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马克吐温短篇故事集 - 图文
