Chapter 3 the third part

banquet Late one night, Chester the Cricket was very busy at the newsstand.No sooner had the Bellinis left the newsstand than he jumped out of the matchbox and started cleaning.First he pushed the open matchbox in so that the ends were aligned, and then he pushed it next to the alarm clock.Then he dragged a paper handkerchief out of the paper handkerchief box and dragged it up and down the shelf.He swept the shelf spotless, and hugging the paper handkerchief between his front legs, he polished every grate of the cricket cage to shine.He wiped down the glass of the alarm clock and the radio until he could see himself.The clock face of this clock is luminous, it emits a very soft green light.On this unusual night, Chester wants to make everything around him perfect.There is going to be a party here tonight.

After Chester arrived in New York, until tonight, exactly two months, the three animals will celebrate the two-month anniversary.You know, the celebration is informal, just a little feast for each of them.Tucker the Mouse offered to let them use the drainpipe as a place for their party, but Chester would not eat and drink among the piles of waste paper and rags his friend had collected.So, after much discussion, they decided to hold the banquet at the newsstand.The newsstands are insulated and spacious, and the radios provide a good soundtrack. The mouse Tucker jumped to Chester's side, and Chester asked him, "Tuck, how are the food preparations?" Tucker was elected by everyone to take care of the snacks.

"Hee-hee-hee," Tucker the mouse laughed, and said while rubbing his front feet, "Wait a minute, let me tell you." He held up one foot: "I have two A piece of sausage stuffed with liver, a slice of ham, three slices of bacon, some lettuce and tomato from a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, and crumbs of parma, brown or white Bread. And a big strip of shredded cabbage, and two bars of chocolate, and a lollipop with walnuts. Best of all—" Tucker paused, and said, "Iced soft drink!" "How did you get the ice?" Chester said to him. "Wait a minute, I'll tell you," Tucker said. "I've been hiding at the lunch counter all day. When the soda counter clerk is making a Coca-Cola, I grab the ice cubes they spill and send them back to the In the drainpipe, right there," Tucker went on, with great glee, "I just happen to have a cooler bag that I keep for that sort of thing. I put the ice in it, and seal the bag—and so, We've got ice! Wonderful, eh?"

Tucker knelt down and looked at Chester with a smile. "Brilliant," said Chester, "where do you keep your drinks?" "It's in a paper cup," Tucker said, "and it's not mixed, there's a separate paper cup for each soft drink." "That's great," said the Cricket appreciatively. "It's not really a big deal," Tucker said, waving a foot. "I mean, it's all good, but it's not great." He looked around, looked at the shelves, the alarm clock and everything . "Everything is so clean. Congratulations. Of course, cleaning is not as important as getting food, but it's nice to have everything clean."

While they were talking, Harry the Cat came in through the opening in the side of the newsstand.Chester jumped off the shelf and greeted his new guest like a good host. "How was the concert?" he asked.Harry went to an open-air chamber concert in Washington Square.How can one play chamber music in the open air?Chester didn't understand this—but, this was New York, anything could happen. (Translator's Note: Chamber music refers to music played by a small number of people, such as quartets, etc., and can also be played outdoors. The contradiction between indoors and open air is deliberately proposed here to describe the "psychological state" of this cricket who came to New York from the countryside. Explain that he is a "countryman".)

"Very good," replied Harry, "but I don't think the violinist can play as well as you. Chester was very pleased to hear Harry say this, but had to turn his head away lest Harry should see him blushing. "Harry, go get me something to eat," said Tucker.He jumped to the floor and sprinted for the drainpipe. Mouse and Cat put various dishes and soft drinks on one side of the shelf, so that all three of them could jump on it and eat what they wanted.This is a buffet type banquet.Tucker and Chester sat on a shelf, and Harry, who was taller than them, sat on a stool, his head just as tall as theirs.

Mouse Tucker takes pride in the cooling of soft drinks.There are four glasses, one for Coca-Cola, one for Pepsi, one for root beer, and one for orange soda.Tucker put a chunk of ice in each glass, and made a big show of it by stirring it, stirring it, with a straw he found that afternoon. "Ah," he said with a sigh, "where else but New York can a rat keep ice in his Coca-Cola?" "We should also listen to music," Harry said.He leaned over and snapped on the radio. What they heard at first was a news report, which didn't go well with the banquet.Harry retuned, catching quizzes, amateur activities, and Southern dramas before he finally got what he needed.Music is ideal for parties because it gives you time to eat your fill without talking to each other.

Harry the cat, who was eating his second Henry's lollipop, stopped chewing suddenly and began to shake his head from side to side as he listened to the music on the radio. "This is my favorite song," he said, humming along to the radio. "Sing it, Harry," said Chester Cricket. "I don't know what kind of trouble you're going to get into by doing this," the mouse Tucker said casually, with his mouth stuffed with bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. But Harry, in the midst of the festivities of the feast, cleared his throat and sang: "When I call you—you

Oh oh oh Oh oh oh--" Harry's cheery cry fits perfectly with the lyrics. "Look, didn't I tell you?" Tucker hummed. Harry, however, went on to sing: "Would you answer-- Oh oh oh Oh oh oh? " "Maybe we might as well put the radio back on the amateur program," said Tucker the Mouse, as he ate his chocolate. "I think Harry sang very well," Chester said. "Sing it, Chester," said Harry the Cat. Chester really wanted to play for them, but he had to get their encouragement first.He flapped his wings and said to them: "You know, I can't really call my singing—"

"Sing it or play it—who cares, as long as it doesn't sing like Harry," said Tucker the Mouse.He gulped down the orange soda, and he was all still. It's late August, the season that crickets all over the world love.This summer, because he was living in New York, Chester didn't sing as much as he used to, but tonight he played as much as he could.He thought of his meadows and tree stumps and brook and the old willow.The singing spread from his wings and filled the newsstand. After the performance, Tucker and Harry applauded and congratulated Chester.Cat Harry suggested: "Now, please play us the familiar music."

"Oh, I don't know if I can do it," Chester said. "My songs are all my own." "Listen to the radio, you play to the radio," said Harry.He turned on the radio. Chester tilted his head to one side.The "Blue Danube Waltz" was playing on the radio.Chester listened, and when he memorized the melody of the piece, he played along.How well he plays!This cricket is a born musician, so he can not only play this piece of music, but also conjure up different coloraturas in the performance after a few minutes, and keep the melody of the waltz all the time, without getting out of tune at all.He discovered that as long as he tilted his wings up and down, he could make the pitch of his voice rise and fall as he pleased. Chester won warm applause from my friend.Harry the Cat, who had slipped into the Metropolitan Opera several times before, knew how the audience applauded at the Opera House, yelling, "Croak, Chester! Crow!" After this talent for imitating songs, two of his friends insisted that he continue playing.As for Chester, he was also happy to play.Nothing motivates a performer like good listening. The radio followed with a set of Italian folk songs.Chester selected several different tunes and played them with the orchestra.After the Italian folk songs were sung, the radio played a set of operatic arias.Compared with playing soprano, alto, and bass singers, Chester is most comfortable playing tenor songs.However, he played all the pieces very well. After each new song, Chester stopped, and the cat and the mouse shouted in unison: "One more! One more! One more!" So Chester played one song after another.At this time, a piece of South American rumba music came on the radio.The melody of this dance music was so weird that it took Cricket several minutes to figure it out.But, once he got the hang of it, he never missed a beat.He played it smoothly, like a pair of living castanets beating. "How wonderful!" exclaimed Tucker the mouse. "He plays popular music as well as classical music." Because of drinking so many sodas, Tucker himself felt particularly excited.The tempo of the South American rumba began to excite him.He jumped up and danced around the frame. Harry the Cat couldn't help laughing, but it didn't bother Tucker.He's a carefree, nonchalant guy. "Chester can play—I can dance," he said breathlessly. "We two shall do vaudeville." "If you can dance as well as he can play, you can perform," said Harry. "So I'm learning," Tucker said, making a wild twirl around Papa Bellini's pipe. He didn't see where he turned, and suddenly fell on the matchbox.The matchbox popped up with a snap.Matches fell around the shelves and onto the concrete floor.There was a few wisps of yellow smoke and a few squeals, like striking a match.Most of the lit matches fell far enough from the plank walls that they could burn themselves out without danger.But, unfortunately, a match fell right in front of the pile of morning papers, and its flame caught the rough edges of the papers, and the flames soon spread to the whole bundle. "Attention!" Chester yelled.Harry the Cat hopped on to the rack and burned his tail any slower.The cricket was the first to realize what had happened, and the first to realize what might happen if the fire was not put out. "Bring a Coca-Cola," he said, "and throw it on the fire." "I drank it all," Tucker said loudly. "You!" said Chester, "Is there any more ice?" Harry and Tucker dumped all the ice left in the cooler bag over the flames, but there wasn't enough ice.The flames crackled for a while, died out, and then flared up again, hotter than before. "We might be able to smother the fire," Harry said. There was a stack of magazines on the side shelf, over the fire.With all his strength, Harry pushed the magazine down as hard as he could, until he managed to push the magazine down, right on top of the fire.They all looked around to see if the fire was out. "Oh, that's great!" said Tucker. "The fire's still burning, and you've blocked the way out again!" They have nowhere to go.Harry and Tucker jumped off the shelves and tried to drag the magazine away, but the flames were so close that they had to back away. "What the heck," said Tucker, "I'm supposed to stay on Tenth Avenue." For a moment, Chester panicked.However, he forced his mind to calm down and carefully assessed the situation.Suddenly, he had an idea.He hopped on the alarm clock, just right on the button of the alarm bell.The old clock was beeping loudly and vibrating wildly.Chester hurried back to his two friends. "Call the fire department," he said. They waited, huddled against the wooden wall.Tongues of fire were licking the opposite wooden wall, and the paint on the wall was beginning to bubble. Chester could hear voices outside the newsstand.Even at this late night, there were always a few people in the station.Someone said: "What's going on?" "I smell smoke," said another.Chester recognized who was speaking, it was Paul, the conductor on the local train.Footsteps running away, footsteps running back, and then the sound of hammers beginning to strike.The whole newsstand shook. "Anyone go and hold that side," Paul said. The cover of the newsstand was unscrewed, and the smoke billowed upward.People standing around watched in amazement as a cat, a mouse, and a cricket jumped and ran, rushing out of the smoke and flames to safety. unlucky ghost From the drainpipe, these few watched as Paul put out the fire.With all his might, Paul dragged the papers out of the newsstand, fetched another bucket of water, and poured them over the rest of the papers.He drenched the newsstand's wood-paneled walls to make sure the fire didn't reignite.When the danger passed, he called Bellini. "Damn it," said Tucker the Mouse, looking at the smoking, dripping piles of newspapers and magazines. No one knows what to say. "Chester, what are you going to do?" said Harry the Cat at last. "I'll go back to the stall," said Chester. "If the Bellinis find out I'm gone, they'll think I set fire and run away." "How can you be sure they don't think you were set on fire?" said Tucker. "I had to take the risk," Chester said.Before cat and mouse could dissuade him, he had hopped back into the newsstand. Paul had told the train driver that he would be delayed a few trains and would stay here to wait for the Bellinis.Now that the cover of the newsstand was off, he couldn't let anyone mess with the cash register.He thought Mario or Bellini had left the cups and bags from the animal feast just now.While he was packing them all into the trash can, Chester jumped onto the shelf.The stuff on the shelves wasn't burnt, but everything smelled of smoke.The cricket jumped into the cage sullenly, determined to deal with anything that might happen. It didn't take long for the Bellinis to reach the newsstand.They called a taxi.You can tell by the fact that the Bellinis actually called a taxi that it was an emergency.Chester heard the family of three hurrying down the stairs in the street.Dad is trying to comfort mom.My mother was wheezing and wheezing because of anxiety and asthma.She shook her head and whimpered as soon as she saw the piles of charred newspapers and magazines.Dad helped her sit on the stool, but the stool was still full of water.She stood up again, and her skirt was also wet. "It's ruined—we're all ruined," she sobbed. "Everything is burned." Papa did his best to reassure her, telling her that it was only stacks of Ladies' Home Magazines that had been burned.But Mamma believed in nothing else than utter devastation. In this mournful parade, Mario walked last, and his first thought was the safety of the crickets.But, seeing the cricket in the cage, he decided that it was best to keep silent and let this fit of grief subside from his mother. Paul told them what had happened: how he smelled smoke, how he heard the alarm clock go off.Then he talked about mice, cats, and crickets escaping from a burning newsstand. "That's what it is—!" said Mama Bellini, her sorrow turned to anger: "The cat and the mouse are at the newsstand again! Didn't I tell you?" He raised his index finger, pointed at Mario and said, "Didn't I say that Cricket would invite all his friends in? He might set fire. He's an arsonist!" Mario couldn't talk at all.He wanted to defend Chester, but before he could say anything, his words were all drowned in his mother's endless scolding.Mom found someone to blame for her misfortune and babbled on endlessly. When Mama stopped to catch her breath, Mario said timidly, "My cricket would never do something like set fire to a newsstand." "It's so obvious," said mother, "we've been caught in a fire!" "But crickets are good luck—" Mario began. "Good luck!" said mother furiously. "He eats money--he sets fire! He's an unlucky wretch, that's what it is. He brings bad luck, and he's got to get out of here." Mother folded her hands, Stacked on the chest.Mama's gesture, Mario understood, meant everything was absolutely over. "I can put him somewhere else," Mario made the request. "No," said Mama, shaking her head as firmly as a closed door. "He's a wretch. He's got to go." Papa put his finger on his lips to signal Mario to stop talking, and the father and son started to clean up.They cart away the burnt magazines and try to trim the slightly burnt ones.Mario mopped the floor of the newsstand while Mom spread the papers to dry.By the time they're done, the commuter's first orgasm will come again. Chester was lying on the floor of the cricket cage.He felt guilty because even if he didn't start the fire, it was somehow his fault.If he hadn't invited people to the newsstand, the fire wouldn't have happened.Besides, it was his playing the rumba that made Tucker want to dance and knock the match out.That two-dollar bill was indeed the one he ate.He began to believe that he was really unlucky. During the early morning rush hour, Mario yelled, "Buy the newspaper, sir!" "Buy Time, buy Life, sir!" vigorously.However, my mother sat on the chair sadly, with a gloomy face and a determined expression.Even though the newsstand was doing well that morning, Mom wouldn't change her mind.After rush hour passed, Dad went out to buy a new lock. Chester heard rustling behind the tissue box, and a familiar face peered out from there. "What's the matter?" whispered Tucker the Mouse. "Are you crazy?" Chester lowered his voice, "They're going to catch you." "I have to figure out what you do now," Tucker said. "They're going to throw me out," sighed Chester. "Ah, ah, ah," Tucker sighed, "I'm the one who made it happen. If I gave you all my life savings left over from last time, we might be able to bribe them not to lose you." .” Chester leaned his little black head against the bars of the cricket cage. "It's not going to work this time," he said. "Mama Bellini's got her way. I don't blame her. I wish I hadn't come to New York at all." "Oh, Chester," moaned Tucker the Mouse, "don't talk like that! You make me feel like a big mouse when I'm really just a little mouse." "It's not your fault, Tucker," said Chester, "I've been nothing but bad luck to their family since I came here." Because he didn't know what to do, the cricket began to cry to calm his emotions.He felt that if he sang his sorrow, it would be better.Evidently he hadn't thought it through, and just happened to hit the first notes of an Italian folk song he'd heard the night before.This folk song is so melancholy and sad, but also so sweet and beautiful, it just suits his current mood. Mama Bellini was unpacking a bundle of the Herald Tribune when she heard crickets playing.At the beginning, she didn't know what was going on, and said in Italian: "Che cos'e questa?" (What is this?) Chester stopped playing. "Chi cantava?" Mom said again, "Who is singing?" Mario looked at his mother.Usually, when my mother speaks Italian, it means she is in a good mood.However, this cannot be the case today. Tucker the mouse is very good at judging the character of others - be it animals or humans.He thought he heard tender emotion in Mama Bellini's voice just now. "Play some more," he whispered to Chester. "She hates me," said Chester, "to play on, only to make her angrier." "Just do as I say!" the Mouse commanded the Cricket anxiously. So, the crickets started playing again.Anyway, he had already lost enough of his embarrassment, so what did it matter if he made another embarrassment?Now, he is playing a piece called "Return to Sorrento".This time, luck was particularly good, and this happened to be Mama Bellini's most heartfelt song.Before Mom and Dad came to America, in Naples, Italy, Dad courted Mom and would come to her window on moonlit nights, playing an old guitar and singing this folk song.When the crickets played, Mom was intoxicated by the scene again: the night was quiet and warm, a bright moon shone on the swan-like Naples harbor, and Dad sang to her.She thought of those gone years, tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't help humming the lyrics softly. Never before had Chester the cricket played so well.When he heard Mama Bellini start singing, he quickly slowed down the performance so that she could keep up without effort.When she sang loudly, the music of the crickets rose in the same way.Sometimes, she swallowed her throat with excitement, and her voice became quieter, and the sound of the music played by the crickets also became quieter.However, the cricket playing always allowed her to sing smoothly, keeping her in the right tempo and intonation.Crickets are ideal accompanists. Mario was stunned.He looked in surprise at the cricket cage, then at his mother.The fact that the mother could sing and that the cricket could play a familiar song was an unthinkable miracle.Mother sometimes whistled when she was particularly happy.Once or twice Mario heard her hum.But this time, here, mother sang tremblingly like an Italian nightingale. Chester finished "Back to Sorrento." "Play it on! Play it on!" screamed Tucker the Mouse. "She's a fan of melancholy." Before Mama Bellini's ecstasy had faded away, Chester resumed the piece from the opera he had played at the banquet last night.Mama Bellini didn't know the lyrics of these operas, but she still hummed some tunes from the operas while the crickets played.Mario was silent as a stone. Papa Bellini came back from the locksmith's shop.When he went down the stairs, he felt strange because he didn't hear his wife and son shouting to sell newspapers.But when he approached the newsstand, he heard the melody of the Grand March from the opera "Akita" coming from the cricket cage, and he was even more surprised. "Does he play opera?" Pa yelled.His startled eyes widened like hard-boiled eggs. "Hush—" Mom waved to Dad. Chester's ability to memorize music is very strong.He only needs to listen to the music once to remember it.He paused after all the opera pieces and whispered to Tucker the Mouse, who was still hiding behind the tissue box, "Should I go on to the pops?" "Wait a minute," Tucker said, "and see what happens?" Mother Bellini's eyes were dreamy, and she put her arms around her son and said: "Mario, a cricket that can sing such touching Italian music cannot be set on fire, he can stay for a while." Mario put his hands out and put them around his mother's neck. "Did you hear that? Did you hear that?" squealed Tucker the Mouse. "You can stay! Fool--fool--fool! This is just the beginning. I'll be your manager, ok." ?" "Good," Chester said. And thus began the most extraordinary week of Chester the cricket's (or any cricket's) life. mr smedley At two o'clock in the morning, Chester the Cricket's new manager, Tucker the Mouse, was pacing up and down in front of the Cricket's cage.Harry the Cat was lying on the shelf, his tail dangling lazily.Chester himself lay casually in the matchbox. "I have been seriously considering this new situation," said Tucker the Mouse gravely. "As a matter of fact, I can't think of anything else all day. This is the first thing to understand: Chester Cricket is a very talented man." "Yes! Yes!" said Harry.Chester smiled at him.Harry the Cat was a wonderful fellow indeed. "Secondly, talent is a rare, wonderful, and precious thing, and it must not be wasted." Tucker the mouse cleared his throat, and continued: "Thirdly, there may be—who can tell? What? Maybe a little money." "I've known for a long time that it comes down to money," Harry said. "Well, please wait. Harry, I beg you, just stop calling me a money-grubbing mouse, and listen to me for a minute," Tucker continued, sitting down next to Chester and Harry, "This family Newsstand business sucks—isn't it? Right! If the Bellinis were happy, Mama Bellini wouldn't keep chasing Chester away—wasn't she? Right! She I like Chester because Chester played her favorite song, but who can say that she will like Chester tomorrow?" "I'd love to help them too, they've been so nice to me," Chester chimed in. "Of course!" said Tucker, "in the rewards of success, if a little money fell into that drainpipe where lived an old and trustworthy friend of Chester's, well, that's not a thing. Bad!" "I still don't understand how we're going to make any money," Chester said. "I haven't laid out a detailed plan yet," Tucker said, "but I can tell you this: New York is a place where people are willing to pay for talent. So it's pretty clear. Well, Chester has more music to learn. Personally I prefer Chester's own compositions—you won't be offended, Chester." "No wonder," said Cricket, "I think the same as you." "But people," continued Tucker, "people are people—who can blame them?—they'd rather hear their own music." "But how can I learn new songs?" asked Chester. "It's so easy," said Tucker the Mouse.He rushed to the radio, put his weight on a knob, and snapped it on. "Don't drive too loudly," said Harry the Cat, "people outside will be suspicious." Tucker turned the knob until the radio came out with steady, soft music. "Just play along silently in your own mind," he said to Chester. This was the beginning of Chester's formal music education.On the night of the feast he had played only for jest, but now he was seriously studying the music of men.The night was never over. He had memorized three movements from different symphonies, six songs from musical comedies, and a solo part from a piano concerto.In addition, he memorized four hymns from religious evening ceremonies. The next day, the last Sunday morning in August, the three Bellinis came to lift the cover of the newsstand.They couldn't believe what had happened yesterday and were anxious to see if Chester would continue playing the familiar song.Mario brought the cricket the usual breakfast: mulberry leaves and water.Chester ate slowly and leisurely. He could see that the three members of the Bellini family were very excited. He felt a little complacent, and deliberately asked them to wait.After breakfast, he stretched out comfortably and stretched his wings. Since it was Sunday, Chester felt that it would be best to play a hymn first, so he began his concert with the hymn "Jesus Christ".Mom, Dad, and Mario all burst into smiles as soon as they heard the first note.The three of you looked at me and I looked at you, with very happy expressions in their eyes, but no one dared to say a word. Chester finished "Jesus Christ" and paused.Just then, Mr. Smedley approached Tweet.He came again for the October issue of American Music.His umbrella, as usual, was well rolled up and hung over his arm. "Hey, Mr. Smedley, welcome to my cricket playing!" Mario burst out before the music teacher could say good morning. "And opera!" said Pa. "It's still playing Italian songs!" Mom said. "Oh, oh, oh," said Mr. Smedley, of course, not believing a word.He said: "I see we all love our crickets very much, but aren't we getting a little fancy?" "Well, it's not like we're talking nonsense," Mario said, "Listen, he'll play again in a minute." Chester took a sip of water, ready to play again.He did not play "Jesus Christ" this time, but played the exciting "Christian Warriors, Go Ahead". Mr. Smedley's eyes widened, his tongue fell open, and his face grew pale. "Would you like to sit down, Mr. Smedley?" Pa asked. "You don't look very well." "I think you'd better sit down," said Mr. Smedley, wiping his brow with a silk handkerchief. on the stool so his face was inches from the cricket cage.Chester played the second verse of the hymn "March, Christian Warriors," ending with a loud "Amen." (Translator's Note: "Amen" is the end of Christ's prayer or hymn.) "Why, the organist in the church played that hymn this morning," gasped the music teacher, "not half as good as the cricket! Of course the cricket won't play as loudly as the organ, but it's beautiful, That makes up for the lack of volume." "That's nothing," Papa Bellini said proudly. "You should hear him play Akita." "May I do an experiment?" asked Mr. Smedley. The whole Bellini family immediately said in unison: "Yes." Then, the music teacher whistled out the scales-do, come, m, fa, so, la, xi, and many.Chester's legs flexed and stretched as quickly as your fingers flick the strings of a harp, and he's hit the whole scale. Mr. Smedley took off his glasses, and his eyes were wet with tears. "He sings the highest note," he said in a trembling voice. "I've only ever seen one person who could do that, and that was a soprano named Arabella Hefferfen." grid." Chester began to play again, two other hymns he had already learned—the Rosary and God Is a Strong Fortress—and then the piano concerto.Without an orchestra to support him, Cricket certainly couldn't play this concerto exactly to the score, but all things considered, he was indeed a great man. Gradually, Mr. Smedley realized that he was listening to a cricket-starred concert, and highly appreciated the cricket's performance.He especially praises the cricket's "manipulation of short phrases", that is to say, the cricket plays all the notes of a passage, crisp and clear, never letting the notes slip together.Sometimes, when a passage moved Mr. Smedley deeply, the music teacher would touch his chest and say, "The cricket has moved me here!" By the time Chester played the show, a large crowd had gathered around the newsstand.After each new piece, the crowd cheered and congratulated the Bellinis on their unusual cricket.Mom and Dad were triumphant.Mario was also very happy, but he had thought Chester was a very great man all summer long. When the performance was over, Mr. Smedley stood up and shook hands with Papa, Mama, and Mario. "I've never experienced such a wonderful moment and I want to thank you," he said. "The whole world should know about this cricket." His face suddenly lit up. “哎呀！我看我应该写封信给《纽约时报》的音乐编辑，”他说：“他们一定会感兴趣。” 下面就是斯梅德利先生写的信： 《纽约时报》音乐编辑和纽约市的市民们： 高兴吧，啊，纽约人，因为我们的城市里出现了音乐奇迹！就是今天，8月28日，星期天，肯定是音乐史上将要记载下来的一天。就在这一天，我愉快而又荣幸地出席了平生听到的最美妙的一次个人演奏会，而我自己一生就是致力于音乐这个崇高艺术的。我本人是研究音乐的，以优异成绩毕业于本市一所著名的音乐学院，因此我感到自己有资格判断音乐方面的事。我毫不退疑地说，纽约从来没有听到过这样美妙的旋律！ “可是，这位艺术家究竟是谁呢？”热心的音乐受好者一定要问。“也许是某一位在欧洲各国首都轰动一时的新歌星刚刚载誉来到纽约吧？” 不，音乐爱好者们，不是什么新歌星！ “那么，也许是某一位小提琴家在演奏中将受情倾注到他心爱的小提琴里面了吧？” 又说错了，音乐爱好者们！ “难道是一位钢琴家，他的长长的敏感的手指在颤抖着的象牙键盘上弹出了神奇的声音吗？” 啊——音乐受好者们，你们怎么也不会猜中的。这位艺术家是一只蟋蟀！一只地地道道的蟋蟀，没有我的半个小指头长——我的小指头是相当长的，因为我弹钢琴。可是，这只蟋蟀却能演奏歌剧乐曲，交响乐曲和流行乐曲。我说这是奇迹，我难道说错了吗？ 这位非凡的演奏家在哪儿呢？音乐爱好者们啊，他既不在卡内奇音乐厅，也不在大都会歌剧院。你们可以在时报广场地下车站的一家报摊里找到他，那报摊是贝利尼先生一家开的。每一个从心坎里喜爱音乐的男人、女人和孩子，我劝你们——我恳求你们！——决不要错过他的出色的音乐会——不，应该说是辉煌的音乐会！ 霍雷肖·P·斯梅德利谨启 附言：我也教授钢琴课程，欲知详情，请写信到： New York 63街西1578号 霍雷肖.P.斯梅德利