My University Days [英漢對照〕

By James Thurber

I passed all the other courses that I took at my University, but I could have never pass botany. This was because all botany students had to spend several hours a week in a laboratory looking through a microscope at plant cells, and I could never see through a microscope. I never once saw a cell through a microscope. This used to enrage my instructor. He would wander around the laboratory pleased with the progress all the students were making in drawing the involved and, so I am told, interesting structure of flower cells, until he came to me. I would just be standing there. "I can‘t see anything," I would say. He would begin patiently enough, explaining how anybody can see through a microscope, but he would always end up in a fury; claiming that I could too see through a microscope but just pretended that I couldn‘t. "It takes away from the beauty of flowers anyway," I used to tell him. "We are not concerned with beauty in this course," he would say. "We are concerned solely with what I may call the mechanics of flars." "Well," I‘d say. "I can‘t see anything." "Try it just once again," he‘d say, and I would put my eye to the microscope and see nothing at all, except now and again a nebulous milky substance.----a phenomenon of maladjustment. You were supposed to see a vivid, restless clockwork of sharply defined plant cells. "I see what looks like a lot of milk," I would tell him. This, he claimed, was the result of my not having adjusted the microscope properly, so he would readjust it for me, or rather, for himself. And I would look again and see milk.

I finally took a deferred pass, as they called it, and waited a year and tried again. (You had to pass one of the biological sciences or you couldn‘t graduate.) The professor had come back from vacation brown as a berry, bright-eyed, and eager to explain cell-structure again to his classes. "Well," he said to me, cheerily, when we met in the first laboratory hour the semester, "we‘re going to see cells this time, aren‘t we?" "Yes, sir," I said. Students to the right of me and left of me and in front of me were seeing cell, what‘s more, they were quietly drawing pictures of them in their notebooks. Of course, I didn‘t see anything.

"We‘ll try it," the professor said to me, grimly, "with every adjustment of the microscope known to man. As God is my witness, I‘ll arrange this glass so that you see cells through it or I‘ll give up teaching. In twenty-two years of botany, I----" He cut off abruptly for he was beginning to quiver all over, like Lionel Barrymore, and he genuinely wished to hold onto his temper; his scenes with me had taken a great deal out of him.

So we tried it with every adjustment of the microscope known to man. With only one of them did I see anything but blackness or the familiar lacteal opacity, and that time I saw, to my pleasure and amazement, a variegated constellation of flecks, specks, and dots. These I hastily drew. The instructor, noting my activity, came from an adjoining desk, a smile on his lips and his eyebrows high in hope. He looked at my cell drawing. "What‘s that?" he demanded, with a hint of squeal in his voice. "That‘s what I saw," I said. "You didn‘t, you didn‘t, you didn‘t!" he screamed, losing control of his temper instantly, and he bent over and squinted into the microscope. His head snapped up. "That‘s your eye!" he shouted. "You‘ve fixed the lens so that it reflects! You‘ve drawn your eye!"

Another course I didn‘t like, but somehow managed to pass, was economics. I went to that class straight from the botany class, which didn‘t help me any in understanding either subject. I used to get them mixed up. But not as mixed up as another student in my economics class who came there direct from a physics laboratory. He was a tackle on the football team, named Bolenciecwcz. At that time had one of the best football teams in the country, and Bloenciecwcz was one of its outstanding stars. In order to be eligible to play it was necessary for him to keep up in his studies, a very difficult matter, for while he was not dumber than an ox he was not any smarter. Most of his professors were lenient and helped him along. None gave him more hints, in answering questions, or asked him simpler ones than the economics professor, a thin, timid man named Bassum. One day when we were on the subject of transportation and distribution, it came Bolenciecwcz‘s turn to answer a question, "Name one means of transportation," the professor said to him. No light came into the big tackle‘s eyes. "Just any means of transportation," said the professor. Bolenciecwcz sat staring at him. "That is" pursued the professor, "any medium, agency, or method of going form one place to another," Bolenciecwcz had the look of a man who is being led into a trap. "You may choose among steam, horse-drawn, or electrically propelled vehicles," said the instructor. "I might suggest the one which we commonly take in making long journeys across land." There was a profound silence in which everybody stirred uneasily, including Bolenciecwcz and Mr. Bassum. Mr. Bassum abruptly broke this silence in an amazing manner. "Choo-choo-choo," he said, in a low voice, and turned instantly scarlet. He glanced appealingly around the room. All of us, of course, shared Mr. Bassum‘s desire that Bolenciecwcz should stay abreast of the class in economics. For the game, one of the hardest and most important of the season, was only a week off. "Toot, toot, too-toooooot!" some student with a deep voice moaned, and we all looked encouragingly at Bolenciecwcz. Somebody else gave a fine imitation of a locomotive letting off steam. Mr. Bassum himself rounded off the little show. "Ding, dong, ding, dong," he said, hopefully. Bolenciecwcz was staring at the floor now, trying to think, his great brow furrowed, his huge hands rubbing together, his face red.

"How did you come to college this year, Mr. Bolenciecwcz?" asked the professor. "Chuffa chuffa, chuffa chuffa."

"M‘father sent me," said the football player.

"What‘s on?" asked Bassum.

"I git an ‘lowance," said the tackle, in a low, husky voice, obviously embarrassed.

"No, no." said Bassum, "Name a means of transportation. What did you ride here on?"

"Train," said Bolenciecwcz.

"Quite right," said the professor. "Now, Mr. Nugent, will you tell us----"

If I went through anguish in botany and economics----for different reasons----gymnasium work was even worse. I don‘t even like to think about it. They wouldn‘t let you play games or join in the exercises with your glasses on and I couldn‘t see with mine off. I bumped into professors, horizontal bars, agricultural students, and swinging iron rings. Not being able to see, I could take it but I couldn‘t dish it out. Also, in order to pass gymnasium (and you had to pass it to graduate) you had to learn to swim if you didn‘t know how. I didn‘t like the swimming instructor, and after all these years I still don‘t. I never swam but I passed my gym work anyway, by having another student give my gymnasium number (978) and swim across the pool in my place. He was a quiet, amiable blonde youth, number 473, and he would have seen through a microscope for me if we could have got away with it, but we couldn‘t get away with it. Another thing I didn‘t like about gymnasium work was that they made your strip the day you registered. It is impossible for me to be happy when I am stripped and being asked a lot of questions. Still, I did better than a lanky agricultural student who was cross-examined just before I was. They asked each student what college he was in----that is, whether Arts, Engineering, Commerce, or Agriculture. "What college are you in?" the instructor snapped at the youth in front of me. "

It wasn‘t that agricultural student but it was another a whole lot like him who decided to take up journalism, possibly on the ground that when farming went to hell he could fall bake on newspaper work. He didn‘t realize, of course, that that would be very much like falling back full-length on a kit on carpenter‘s tools. Haskins didn‘t seem cut out for journalism, being too embarrassed to talk to anybody and unable to use a typewriter, but the editor of the college paper assigned him to the cow barns, the sheep house, the horse pavilion, and the animal husbandry department generally. This was a genuinely big "beat," for it took up five times as much ground and got ten times as great a legislative appropriation as the . The agricultural student knew animals, but nevertheless his stories were dull and colorlessly written. He took all afternoon on each one of them, on account of having to hunt for each letter on the typewriter. Once in a while he had to ask somebody to help him hunt. "C" and "L", in particular, were hard letters for him to find. His editor finally got pretty much annoyed at the farmer-journalist because his pieces were so uninteresting. "See here, Haskins," he snapped at him one day, "why is it we never have anything hot from you on the horse pavilion? Here we have two hundred head of horses on this campus----more than any other university in the Western Conference except Purdue----and yet you never get any real low down on them. Now shoot over to the horse barns and dig up something lively." Haskins shambled out and came back in about an hour; he said something. "Well, start it off snappily," said the editor. "Something people will read." Haskins set to work and in a couple of hours brought a sheet of typewritten paper to the desk; it was a two-hundred word story about some disease that had broken out among the horses. Its opening sentence was simple but arresting. It read:" Who has noticed the sores on the tops of the horses in the animal husbandry building?"

大學生涯

詹•瑟伯

　 　我大學所修各門課程都通過了，但就是過不了植物學這一關，這是因為，凡是修植物學課程的學生都必須每周在實驗室裡呆上若幹小時，透過顯微鏡觀看植物細 胞，而我卻總是看不透顯微鏡。我從未透過顯微鏡看見過一個細胞，這每每令我的老師勃然大怒。他總是在實驗室踱來踱去，為所有學生在繪畫有關的花朵細胞的結 構上所取得的進步而高興，大家告訴我那是很有意思的結構。最後他來到我面前，我則往往站在那兒，說道：“我什麼也看不見。”他開始說話時總是很耐心，說明誰都能看顯微鏡，但又總是以怒不可遏告終。他宣稱，我也能看透顯微鏡，隻是假裝不能而已。我對他說：“不管怎樣，這都剝奪了花的美。”他則說：“這門課程講的不是美，而主要是姑妄稱之為花的結構。”“唔，”我說，“我什麼也看不見。”“再試一次，”他說，于是我便把眼睛放在顯微鏡上，除了偶爾看見一種模糊的乳狀物質之外，根本什麼也看不見，而這種模糊的乳狀物質則是一種調試失當的現象。你應該看見輪廓醒目的植物細胞，它們形似時鐘機構，生動鮮明，動作不停。“我看到的就象大量牛奶。”我告訴他，而他則聲稱，這是由于我沒能調好顯微鏡所緻，因而他就為我調試，更确切的說是為他自己調試，而我再次觀看，又看見牛乳。
　　最後我得了個延期及格，他們是這樣稱呼的，我又等了一年再試一次。（你必須通過一門生物學類的課程，否則不予畢業。）教授度假後歸來，臉曬得黝黑象個漿果，眼睛發亮，一片熱誠要向各班學生再次講解細胞的結構。我們在開學後第一堂試驗課上見了面，他興高采烈地對我說，“唔，這次我們會看見細胞的，對嗎？”“對，先生，”我說道。在我的右方、左方和前方的學生正在看到細胞，不僅如此，他們還在靜靜地在筆記本上繪制細胞圖畫。當然，我什麼也沒有看見。
　　教授嚴厲的對我說，“我們将用人類所知的每一種調試顯微鏡的方法再試一次。上帝作證，我要為你調試這個顯微鏡，讓你透過它看見細胞，若不然這個書我就不教了。我教了22年的植物學----”他突然緘口不言，因為他全身顫抖了起來，就向萊昂内爾•巴裡莫爾一樣。他确實想控制住自己的情緒，他跟我發的那些脾氣已使他大傷元氣。
　 　因而我們嘗試着用人類所知的每一種調試顯微鏡的方法進行調試。隻有一次我沒有看見漆黑一片或者那種熟悉的乳狀混濁物。那一次我看見由斑斑點點組成的燦爛 群星，不禁驚喜交加，于是匆匆把這燦爛群星畫了下來。老師見我忙個不停，于是從鄰座走來，笑容可掬，眉開眼笑，滿懷希望。他看了看我畫的細胞。“這是什麼？”他诘問道，埋怨之情溢于言表。“這是我看到的。”我說道。“不是，不是的，不是！”他尖叫着，頓時大發雷霆，并且彎下身來，迷着眼睛朝顯微鏡裡望去。他猛地擡起頭來。“這是你的眼睛！”他喊道，“你調的鏡頭反射了！你畫的是你的眼睛！”
　 　還有一門課程我不喜歡，卻又終得通過，那就是經濟學。我上完植物學課後直接去上經濟學課，不過這對于我理解這兩門科目都毫無幫助。我每每把這兩門課混淆 起來。但跟直接從物理實驗室來經濟學班上課的另一個學生相比，我的混淆程度倒也略遜一籌。他是校橄榄球隊的一名後衛，名叫博倫虬茨威克茲。那時俄亥俄州立 大學擁有一支國内最好的球隊，博倫虬茨威克茲又是它的一名最傑出的球星。要獲得打球的資格，他的學習就必須跟上趟，這可是一件極其困難的事情，因為他雖說 并不必公牛苯，卻也聰明不到哪裡去。他的教授大都對他寬宏大量，始終助他一臂之力。而在教授當中，經濟學教授又在他回答問題時給他最多的暗示，問他的問題 也最簡單。經濟學教授是一個瘦削、膽小的人，名叫巴瑟姆。一天，我們學習有關運輸和分配的問題，又輪到博倫虬茨威克茲回答問題了。“說出一種運輸工具的名稱。”教授對他說。這位大個子後衛的眼睛裡并未出現什麼光彩。“什麼運輸工具都行。”教授說道，博倫虬茨威克茲坐着幹瞪眼。“也就是說，”教授循循善誘，“是從一個地方到另一個地方的任何手段、媒介或方法。”博倫虬茨威克茲的表情就象被引入陷阱一般。“你可以在蒸汽、馬拉或者電力驅動的運載工具當中進行選擇，”老師說道，“我建議你說說我們陸路長途旅行通常使用的那一種。”班上一片沉寂，大家都不安地移動着身子，博倫虬茨威克茲和巴瑟姆先生也不例外。巴瑟姆先生突然他破了這種寂靜，那幅樣子讓人大吃一驚。“噗-噗-鋪。”他小聲說道，登時滿臉绯紅。他懇求地瞥了全班同學一眼。當然，我們都與巴瑟姆先生懷有同樣的願望，希望博倫虬茨威克茲能與這個經濟學班上的同學并肩前進，因為這個賽季的一場最為艱巨、最為重要的比賽，也就是那場伊利諾斯比賽，一個星期以後就要舉行了。“嘟，嘟，嘟-嘟......！”有個學生低吟道，我們都用鼓勵的目光看着博倫虬茨威克茲，又有一個人模仿了火車頭放氣的聲音，模仿得惟妙惟肖。巴瑟姆先生本人則圓滿地完成了這個小小的演出。“叮當，叮當。”他說道，滿懷着希望。此刻博倫虬茨威克茲正盯着地闆，盡力在思考，巨大的前額緊鎖着，兩隻大手揉來揉去，滿臉通紅。
　　“今年你是怎麼來學校的，博倫虬茨威克茲先生？”教授問道，“咔嚓，咔嚓，咔嚓。”
　　“我爸爸送我來的，”這位橄榄球隊員說道。
　　“靠的是什麼？”巴瑟姆說道。
　　“我得到了一筆津貼，”這位後衛說道，嗓音低沉、沙啞，顯然困窘不安。
　　“不，不，”巴瑟姆說道，“說出一種運輸工具的名稱，你是乘坐什麼來的？”
　　“火車，”博倫虬茨威克茲說道。
　　“完全正确，”教授說道，“現在，紐金特先生，你能不能告訴我們----”
　　如果說我是極度痛苦地上了植物學和經濟學課----痛 苦的原因不同，那麼體育課就痛苦愈甚。真是不堪回首。他們不讓你帶着眼鏡打球跑步或者做體操，可是我一摘了眼鏡就兩眼一團黑。我撞上了教練，撞上單杠，撞 上農科學生，撞上擺動着的鐵環。由于看不見，因而我可以上這門課，但卻不能執行它。而且，為了通過體育課（你須通過方可畢業），你如果不會遊泳就得學會。 我不喜歡遊泳池，不喜歡遊泳，不喜歡遊泳老師，而且過了這麼多年還是不喜歡。我從未遊過泳，卻又終究通過了體育課，那時讓另一位學生用我的體育課号碼（978），代替我又過了遊泳池。他是個沉默寡言、性情溫和的金發青年，473号， 要是我們能不被發現的話，他也會替我看顯微鏡的，但我們做不到不被發現。體育課的另一件讨厭事就是注冊時得脫光衣服。我脫光衣服又被詢問許多問題，自然是 高興不起來的。盡管如此，但我還是沒有差到那位就在我前面被盤诘的瘦高個子農科學生那種程度。他們問每一個學生是哪個學院的----也就是說，到底是藝術學院，工學院，商學院，還是農學院。“你是哪個學院的？”老師猛地詢問我前面那位青年。“俄亥俄州立大學。”他沖口而出。
　 　作出學新聞的決定的，并不是那位農科學生，而是另外一個十分象他的學生，也許是基于下述理由，即一旦農業垮台他就可轉而從事報業。當然，他并沒有意識 到，那樣做與向後倒在一套木工工具箱上沒有什麼兩樣。哈斯金斯似乎天生就不是搞新聞的材料，他與人交談時手足無措，也不會打字，不過校刊編輯還是派他去牛 棚、羊舍、馬廄及一般的畜牧部門進行報道。這是一個真正巨大的“采訪領域”，因為上述畜牧部門占地面積是文學院的五倍，所獲得的立法機關的撥款是文學院的十倍。這為農科學生了解動物，但他的文筆單調而毫無色彩。他每寫一篇都花上整整一個下午的時間，因為他得在打字機上尋找每一個字母。每過一會兒他就得請人幫他尋，“C”和“L”這兩個字母他尤難覓到。他的編輯終于對這位農夫記者不勝其煩，因為他的文章太索然乏味了。“我說，哈斯金斯，”有一天編輯對他厲聲說道，“我們怎麼從未從你那兒得到有關馬廄的有滋有味的報道呢？咱們學校有200匹馬----比加入西部聯合會的哪一所大學都多，除了普渡大學之外----可你從未真正把它們寫進去。喂喂，趕快到馬棚去，挖掘出點活生生的東西。”哈金斯金踉跄地出去了，大約一個小時以後又返回，他說他已有所得。“唔，趕快動手，”編輯說道，“寫出點人家樂意看的東西。”哈斯金斯開始寫作，幾個小時後帶來一張打好字的紙，放在桌上。這是一篇200字的文章，講的是馬群當中爆發的一種疾病。文章開頭的那句話簡單卻又頗為醒目。那句子是：“有誰注意到，畜牧樓裡馬的頭頂上長了瘡。"