《夏洛的网》 Charlotte's Web【中英对照】（完结）_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《夏洛的网》 Charlotte's Web【中英对照】（完结）

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夏洛的网 Charlotte's Web
作者： 怀特    标签： 儿童英文小说 夏洛的网
Charlotte's Web is an award-winning children's novel by acclaimed American author E. B. White, about a pig named Wilbur who is saved from being slaughtered by an intelligent spider named Charlotte. The book was first published in 1952, with illustrations by Garth Williams.
The novel tells the story of a pig named Wilbur and his friendship with a barn spider named Charlotte. When Wilbur is in danger of being slaughtered by the farmer, Charlotte writes messages praising Wilbur (such as "Some Pig") in her web in order to persuade the farmer to let him live.
Written in White's dry, low-key manner, Charlotte's Web is considered a classic of children's literature, enjoyable to adults as well as children. The description of the experience of swinging on a rope swing at the farm is an often cited example of rhythm in writing, as the pace of the sentences reflects the motion of the swing. Publishers Weekly listed the book as the best-selling children's paperback of all time as of 2000.
Charlotte's Web was made into an animated feature by Hanna-Barbera Productions and Paramount Pictures in 1973. Paramount released a direct-to-video sequel, Charlotte's Web 2: Wilbur's Great Adventure, in the US in 2003 (Universal released the film internationally). A live-action film version of E. B. White's original story was released on December 15, 2006. A video game based on this adaption was also released on December 12.
[ 此帖被asnowtea在2014-01-05 18:46重新编辑 ]
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我有，我可以
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马住，谢谢
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中文是准翻译的呢？
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非常感谢楼主的分享，刚买了实体书，早知道有分享就可以直接阅读了
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谢谢~~~
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这个很有名气的读物啊
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散文家E.B.怀特的三部曲之一。
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Chapter 22 A Warm Wind

And so Wilbur came home to his beloved manure pile in the barn cellar. His was a strange homecoming. Around his neck he wore a medal of honor; in his mouth he held a sac of spider's eggs. There is no place like home, Wilburn thought, as he placed Charlotte's five hundred and fourteen unborn children carefully in a safe corner. The barn smelled good. His friends the sheep and the geese were glad to see him back.
　　The geese gave him a noisy welcome.
　　"Congratu-congratu-congratulations!" they cried. "Nice work."Mr. Zuckerman took the medal from Wilburn's neck and hung it on a nail over the pigpen, where visitors could examine it. Wilbur himself could look at it whenevere he wanted to.
　　In the days that followed, he was very happy. He grew to a great size. He no longer worried about being killed, for he knew that Mr. Zuckerman would keep him as long as he lived. Wilbur often thought of Charlotte. A few strands of her old web still hung in the doorway. Every day Wilburn would stand and look at the torn, empty web, and a lump would come to his throat. No one had ever had such a friend-so affectionate, so loyal, and so skillful.
　　The autumn days grew shorter, Lurvy brought the squashes and pumpkins in from the garden and piled them on the barn floor, where they wouldn't get nipped on frosty nights. The maples and birches turned bright colors and the wind shook them and they dropped their leaves one by one to the ground. Under the wild apple trees in the pasture, the red little apples lay thick on the ground, and the sheep gnawed them and foxes came in the night and sniffed them. One evening, just before Christmas, snow began falling. It covered house and barn and fields and woods. Wilbur had never seen snow before. When morning came he went out and plowed the drifts in his yard, for the fun of it. Fern and Avery arrived, dragging a sled. They coasted down the lane and out onto the frozen pond in the pasture.
　　"Coasting is the most fun there is," said Avery.
　　"The most fun there is," retorted Fern, "is when the Ferris wheel stops and Henry and I are in the top car and Henry makes the car swing and we can see everything for miles and miles and miles.""Goodness, are you still thinking about that ol'Ferris wheel?" said Avery in disgust. "The Fair was weeks and weeks ago.""I think about it all the time," said Fern, picking snow from her ear.
　　After Christmas the thermometer dropped to ten below zero. Cold settled on the world. The pasture was bleak and frozen. The cows stayed in the barn all the time now, except on sunny mornings when they went out and stood in the barnyard in the lee of the straw pile. The sheep stayed near the barn, too, for protection. When they were thirsty they ate snow. The geese hung around the barnyard the way boys hang around a drug store, and Mr. Zuckerman fed them corn and turnips to keep them cheerful.
　　"Many, many, many thanks!" they always said, when they saw food coming.
　　Templeton moved indoors when winter came. His ratty home under the pig trough was too chilly, so he fixed himself a cozy nest in the barn behind the grain bins. He lined it with bits of dirty newspapers and rags, and whenever he found a trinket or a keepsake he carried it home and stored it there. He continued to visit Wilbur three times a day, exactly at mealtime, and Wilbur kept the promise he had made. Wilbur let the rat eat first. Then, when Templeton couldn't hold another mouthful, Wilbur would eat. As a result of overeating, Templeton grew bigger and fatter than any rat you ever saw. He was gigantic. he was as big as a young woodchuck.
　　the old sheep spoke to him about his size one day. 鈥淵ou would live longer," said the old sheep, "if you ate less.""Who wants to live forever?" sneered the rat. "I am naturally a heavy eater and I get untold satisfaction from the pleasures of the feast." He patted his stomach, grinned at the sheep, and crept upstairs to lie down.
　　All winter Wilbur watched over Charlotte's egg sac as though he were guarding his own children. He had scooped out a special place in the manure for the sac, next to the board fence. On very cold nights he lay so that his breath would warm it. For Wilbur, nothing in life was so important as this small round object--nothing else mattered. Patiently he awaited the end of winter and coming of the little spiders. Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch. The winter ended at last.
　　"I heard the frogs today," said the old sheep one evening. "Listen! You can hear them now."Wilbur stood still and cocked his ears. From the pond, in shrill chorus, came the voices of hundreds of little frogs.
　　"Springtime," said the old sheep, thoughtfully. "Another spring." As she walked away, Wilbur saw a new lamb following her. It was only a few hours old.
　　The snows melted and ran away. The streams and ditches bubbled and chattered with rushing water. A sparrow with a streaky breast arrived and sang. The light strengthened, the mornings came sooner. Almost every morning there was another new lamb in the sheepfold. the goose was sitting on nine eggs. The sky seemed wider and a warm wind blew. The last remaining strands of Charlotte's old web floated away and vanished.
　　One fine sunny morning, after breakfast, Wilbur stood watching his precious sac. He wasn't thinking of anything much. As he stood there, he noticed something move. He stepped closer and stared. A tiny spider crawled from the sac. It was no bigger than a grain of sand, no bigger than the head of a pin. Its body was grey with a black stripe underneath. Its legs were grey and tan. It looked just like Charlotte.
　　Wilbur trembled all over when he saw it. The little spider waved at him. Then Wilbur looked more closely. Two more little spiders crawled out and waved. They climbed round and round on the sac, exploring their new world. Then three more little spiders. Then eight. Then ten. Charlotte's children were here at last.
　　Wilbur's heart pounded. he began to squeal. Then he raced in circles, kicking manure into the air. Then he turned a back flip. Then he planted his front feet and came to a stop in front of Charlotte's children.
　　"Hello, there!" he said.
　　The first spider said hello, but its voice was so small Wilbur couldn't hear it.
　　"I am an old friend of your mother's," said Wilbur. "I'm glad to see you. are you all right? Is everything all right?"The little spiders waved their forelegs at him. Wilbur could see by the way they acted that they were glad to see him.
　　"Is there anything I can get you? Is there anything you need?"The young spiders just waved. For several days and several nights they crawled here and there, up and down, around and about, waving at Wilbur, trailing tiny draglines behind them, and exploring their home. There were dozens and dozens of them. Wilbur couldn't count them, but he knew that he had a great many new friends. They grew quite rapidly. Soon each was as big as a BB shot. They made tiny webs near the sac.
　　Then came a quiet morning when Mr. Zuckerman opened a door on the north side. A warm draft of rising air blew softly through the barn cellar. The air smelled of the damp earth, of the spruce woods, of the sweet springtime. The baby spiders felt the warm updraft. One spider climbed to the top of the fence. Then it did something that came as a great surprise to Wilbur. The spider stood on its head, pointed its spinnerets in the air, and let loose a cloud of fine silk. The silk formed a balloon. As Wilbur watched, the spider let go of the fence and rose into the air.
　　"Good-bye!" it said, as it sailed through the doorway.
　　"Wait a minute!" screamed Wilbur. "Where do you think you're going?"But the spider was already out of sight. Then another baby spider crawled to the top of the fence, stood on its head, made a balloon, and sailed away. Then another spider. Then another. the air was soon filled with tiny balloons, each balloon carrying a spider.
　　Wilbur was frantic. Charlotte's babies were disappearing at a great rate.
　　"Come back, children!" he cried.
　　"Good-bye!" they called. "Good-bye, good-bye!"At last one little spider took time enough to stop and talk to Wilbur before making its balloon.
　　"We're leaving here on the warm updraft. This is our moment for setting forth. We are aeronauts and we are going out into the world to make webs for ourselves.""But where?" asked Wilbur.
　　"Wherever the wind takes us. High, low. Near, far. East, west. North, south. We take to the breeze, we go as we please.""Are all of you going?" asked Wilbur. "You can't all go. I would be left alone, with no friends. Your mother wouldn't want that to happen, I'm sure."The air was now so full of balloonists that the barn cellar looked almost as though a mist had gathered. Balloons by the dozen were rising, circling, and drifting away through the door, sailing off on the gentle wind. Cries of "Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye!" came weakly to Wilbur's ears. He couldn't bear to watch any more. In sorrow he sank to the ground and closed his eyes. This seemed like the end of the world, to be deserted by Charlotte's children. Wilbur cried himself to sleep.
　　When he woke it was late afternoon. He looked at the egg sac. It was empty. He looked into the air. The balloonists were gone. Then he walked drearily to the doorway, where Charlotte's web used to be. He was standing there, thinking of her, when he heard a small voice.
　　"Salutations!" it said. "I'm up here.""So am I," said another tiny voice.
　　"So am I,"said a third voice. "Three of us are staying. We like this place, and we like you."Wilbur looked up. At the top of the doorway three small webs were being constructed. On each web, working busily was one of Charlotte's daughters.
　　"Can I take this to mean," asked Wilbur, "that you have definitely decided to live here in the barn cellar, and that I am going to have three friends?""You can indeed," said the spiders.
　　"What are your names, please?" asked Wilbur, trembling with joy.
　　"I'll tell you my name," replied the first little spider,if you'll tell me why you are trembling.""I'm trembling with joy," said the first spider.
　　"Then my name is Joy," said the first spider.
　　"What was my mother's middle initial?" asked the second spider.
　　"A," said Wilbur.
　　"Then my name is Aranea," said the spider.
　　"How about me?" asked the third spider. "Will you just pick out a nice sensible name for me--something not too long, not too fancy, and not too dumb?"Wilbur thought hard.
　　"Nellie?" he suggested.
　　"Fine, I like that very much," said the third spider."You may call me Nellie." She daintily fastened her orb line to the next spoke of the web.
　　Wilbur's heart brimmed with happiness. He felt that he should make a short speech on this very important occasion.
　　"Joy! Aranea! Nellie!" he began. "Welcome to the barn cellar. You have chosen a hallowed doorway from which to string your webs. I think it is only fair to tell you that I was devoted to your mother. I owe my very life to her. She was brilliant, beautiful, and loyal to the end. I shall always treasure her memory. To you, her daughters, I pledge my friendship, forever and ever.""I pledge mine," said Joy.
　　"I do, too," said Aranea.
　　"And so do I," said Nellie, who had just managed to catch a small gnat.
　　It was a happy day for Wilbur. And many more happy, tranquil days followed.
　　As time went on, and the months and years came and went, he was never without friends. Fern did not come regularly to the barn any more. She was growing up, and was careful to avoid childish things, like sitting on a milk stool near a pigpen. But Charlotte's children and grandchildren and great grandchildren, year after year, lived in the doorway. Each spring there were new little spiders hatching out to take the place of the old. Most of them sailed away, on their balloons. But always two or three stayed and set up housekeeping in the doorway.
　　Mr. Zuckerman took fine care of Wilbur all the rest of his days, and the pig was often visited by friends and admirers, for nobody ever forgot the year of his triumph and the miracle of the web. Life in the barn was very good--night and day, winter and summer, spring and fall, dull days and bright days. It was the best place to be, thought Wilbur, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of manure, and the glory of everything.
　　Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both.

　　威伯就这样回到他在谷仓地窖里的，牛粪堆旁的家。他回来时的样子很奇特：脖子上挂着一枚荣誉奖章，嘴里含着一个蜘蛛的卵囊。没有一个地方像家里这么温暖，当他把夏洛的514个没出世的孩子小心地放到安全的角落后，他想。谷仓里的味道真好。他的朋友们，绵羊和鹅们都很高兴看到他回来。
　　鹅们以他们特有的方式表示欢迎了。
　　“恭-恭-恭喜！”他们喊着，“干得漂亮。”
　　祖克曼先生把奖牌从威伯脖子上摘下来，挂到猪圈上方的一根钉子上，这里很容易被参观者看到，威伯也可以随时看到它。
　　往后的日子里，他过得非常幸福。他长得出奇的大。他不再担心被杀掉了，因为他知道祖克曼先生会让他一直活下去的。威伯也经常想到夏洛。她旧网里的几根残丝仍然在门框上挂着。每天威伯都会走到那里站一会儿，望望那张残破不堪的空网，这时他就会哽噎起来。从没有人有过这样一个朋友——这样亲密的，这样忠诚的，这样聪慧的朋友。
　　秋天过得很快，鲁维把丝瓜，南瓜们从园子里堆藏到谷仓里面，在这里它们才不会被霜夜的寒冷冻坏。枫树和桦树们变得分外鲜艳，在秋风的吹动下，它们的红叶子一片，一片地落到了地上。草场里的野苹果树下，可爱的小红苹果躺得满地都是，绵羊和鹅们都来吃它们，夜里狐狸们也会来吞食它们。圣诞节前的一个夜里，开始下雪了。房子上，谷仓里，田野间，树林中，到处都覆盖着雪。威伯以前从没见过雪。当他早晨起来后，就到院子里去拱雪堆，感觉这特别有趣。芬和埃弗里拖着雪橇走过来了。他们顺着小路往外滑去，一直滑到草场那边结冰的池塘上。
　　“坐雪橇是最有意思的了。”埃弗里说。
　　“最有意思的是，”芬反驳，“是在费里斯大转轮停在那里，我和亨利走进最高的位子，然后亨利就让我们的座位摇晃着往前走的时候。那时我们能看到每一件东西，不管它是在多么远，多么远的地方。”
　　“老天，你还在想着那个大转轮呀？”埃弗里不屑地说，“展览会是很多很多星期前的事了。”
　　“我可是时刻都在想着。”芬说着，掸了掸耳朵上的雪。
　　圣诞节后，温度计上的指数落到零下十度了。寒冷统治了世界。草场上变得一片凄清。母牛们现在整日呆在谷仓里了，除非在阳光充足的早上，他们才会走出来，在院子里稻草堆旁的避风处站一会儿。为了取暖，绵羊们也呆在谷仓里，很少出去了。渴了他们就吃雪。鹅们就就像男孩子们在药店里一样，在院子里无精打采地走着。为了让他们高兴，祖克曼先生给他们喂玉米和芜菁。
　　“非常，非常，非常感谢！”当他们看到送来的食物时总是这么说。
　　冬天来时，坦普尔曼搬到屋里来住了。他在猪食槽下的家已经变得太冷了，因此他在谷仓后的粮仓里给自己造了一个安乐窝。他往那里垫上了碎报纸和破布条，还把任何他能找到的东西都储存在那里。他仍是每天拜访威伯三次，都正好在吃饭的时候出现，威伯也一直遵守他许下的诺言，让老鼠先吃。等到老鼠撑得不能往嘴里塞任何东西时，威伯才过来吃。由于吃得太多的缘故，坦普尔曼长得越来越大，比你见过的任何一只老鼠都要肥。他简直成了一只“庞然大鼠”了，几乎和一只小土拨鼠不相上下。
　　一天， 老羊对他说起了他的个头。“你可能活久一点的，”老羊说，“如果你少吃一点的话。”
　　“谁想永远活下去？”老鼠轻蔑地说，“我天生就是个特别能吃的，正是从吃喝上面我才得到了无穷的满足。”他拍拍肚子，对绵羊冷笑了一声，爬上楼躺下了。
　　整个的冬天威伯都在照看着夏洛的卵囊，好像在呵护他自己的孩子一样。他在离栅栏不远处的牛粪堆旁，给卵囊腾出了一个特别的地方。每个寒冷的夜晚，他都躺在那里，让自己的呼吸使它温暖。对威伯来说，他的生命中没有一件东西比这个小圆球更重要。他耐心地等着冬天的结束，小蜘蛛们的到来。当你在等待什么发生或被孵出来时，生活总是变得漫长而又单调。可冬天终于还是过去了。
　　“我今天听到青蛙叫了，”老羊一天晚上说，“听！现在你就能听到他们。”
　　威伯静静地站着，竖起了耳朵。从池塘那边，传来了数百只小青蛙的高声合唱。
　　“春天，”老羊深思着说，“又一个春天。”当她走开时，威伯看到她身后跟着一只新羊羔。它才被生下来一小时。
　　积雪融尽了。小溪和壕沟被潺潺的流水填满了。一只胸脯下带着美丽条纹的雀儿，跳过来开始唱歌。天光渐亮，早晨不久就到来了。几乎每天一早都有一只新生的羊羔降生到羊圈里。母鹅正坐在九个蛋上。天空似乎更宽广了，到处都是和畅的风。夏洛的旧网里剩下的最后几缕丝线也被吹得无影无踪了。
　　一个阳光遍地的早晨，吃过早饭的威伯又在观察他那珍贵的卵囊了。他本来没有抱太大的期望的，可是当他静静地站在那里观望时，居然发现有什么在那里动。他便走近一些盯着它看。一只很小的蜘蛛从卵囊里爬出来了。它还没有一颗沙粒大，也并不比一根大头针的针头大。它的身体是灰的，下面带有黑色的斑纹，它的腿是灰褐色的。它看起来就像夏洛一样。
　　当他看到它时，威伯惊喜得浑身颤抖起来。这只小动物向他爬过来。威伯朝卵囊走得更近了。两只更小的蜘蛛也爬了出来，在空中漂浮着。他们在卵囊周围爬了一圈又一圈，探索着他们的新世界。接着又出来三只更小的蜘蛛。接着是八个。然后是十个。夏洛的孩子们最后都在这儿了。
　　威伯心里充满了骄傲。他幸福地狂叫起来。接着他开始转着圈儿的跑，把牛粪向空中踢去。然后他又跑回来，抬起他的前脚，停到了夏洛的孩子们面前。
　　“你们好！”他说。
　　第一只小蜘蛛也说了你好，但它的声音太小了，威伯根本没听到。
　　“我是你们妈妈的一个老朋友，”威伯说，“我很高兴能看到你们。你们都好吗？什么都好吗？”
　　小蜘蛛们对他挥动着他们的前腿。威伯见了知道他们也很高兴看到他。
　　“我能为你们做任何事吗？你们有任何需要帮忙的吗？”
　　年轻的蜘蛛们只是朝他挥挥脚。一连几天几夜，他们就这么这里那里，上下左右地爬着，对威伯挥着脚，从身后扯出细小的丝线，在他们的家里探险。这里足有几百只蜘蛛。威伯虽然数不过来，却知道他有了无数的新朋友。他们长得很快。不久就都像弹丸那么大了。他们在卵囊附近还织了很多小网。
　　一个寂静的早晨，当祖克曼先生打开北边的门时，有件事情发生了。从谷仓地窖里轻轻吹出一股温暖的上升气流。空气中满是泥土的清芬，树木的香味，甘甜的春天气息。小蜘蛛们感受到了这温暖的上升气流。一只蜘蛛爬到了栅栏上面，然后他做了件令威伯非常惊奇的事。这只蜘蛛把腿放到头上，把身后的丝囊对向天空，开始放出云一样的游丝。这些丝线形成了一个大汽球。就在威伯看着的时候，这只蜘蛛让自己离开栅栏往天空飞去。
　　“再-见！”当它飞过门口时说。
　　“等一等！”威伯尖叫，“你想去哪里？”
　　但是这只蜘蛛已经远得看不见了。然后另一只蜘蛛也爬上了栅栏，站在头上，做了一个汽球，向天空飞去。然后是又一只。又是一只。空中不久就充满了无数的小汽球，每个汽球下都挂着一只蜘蛛。
　　威伯已经发狂了。夏洛的宝宝们都以惊人的速度消失了。
　　“回来吧，孩子们！”他哭喊。
　　“再-见！”他们回答，“再-见，再-见！”
　　最后一只飞去的小蜘蛛在造它的汽球之前和威伯谈了一会儿。
　　“我们要随着这温暖的上升气流离开这里了。这是我们起航的时刻。我们是汽球驾驶员，我们要到世界各地，为我们自己织网。”
　　“可你们去哪里呢？”威伯问。
　　“风把我们带到的任何地方。不管是高处，矮处，近处，远处，东边，西边，北边还是南边。我们乘着微风，我们开心地离去。”
　　“你们都要走吗？”威伯问，“你们不能都走，我一个人在这里，会没有朋友的，你们的妈妈不想发生这种事，我能肯定。”
　　空中满是汽球驾驶员，谷仓的地窖里现在看起来就像起了一层大雾。汽球们一个接一个地升起，盘旋，从门口飘远，在和畅的蕙风里航行着。无数声的“再-见，再-见，再-见！”轻轻地不断传进威伯的耳朵。他受不了再这么看下去了。他悲痛地沉到地上，闭上了眼。被夏洛的孩子们遗弃之后，威伯感觉就像到了世界的末日。威伯孤独地痛哭着睡了过去。
　　当他醒来时，已经快到傍晚了。他看看卵囊，它已经空了。他朝空中望去，汽球驾驶员们也都走了。他凄伤地走到门口，来到夏洛的网曾经存在过的地方。他正站在那里，追怀着她时，他听到了一个细小的声音。
　　“致敬！”那声音说，“我在这上面。”
　　“我也是。”另一个细微的声音说。
　　“我也是，”第三种声音说，“我们三个留下来了。我们喜欢这里，我们也喜欢你。”
　　威伯抬头望去。在门框的上方有三个小蜘蛛正在那里织网呢。每一个网里，都有一个正在忙碌地工作着的夏洛的女儿。
　　“我可以这么想，”威伯问，“你们决定住在这谷仓地窖里，而我也将有了三个新朋友了吗？”
　　“你可以这么想。”蜘蛛们说。
　　“请问，你们都叫什么？”威伯带着狂喜问。
　　“我将把我的名字告诉你，”第一只小蜘蛛回答，“如果你告诉我你为何颤抖的话。”
　　“我在颤抖是因为极度的快乐（Joy）。”威伯说。
　　“那么我的名字就叫乔利（Joy）吧。”第一只小蜘蛛说。
　　“我妈妈的中间名字是什么？” 第二只小蜘蛛问。
　　“A。”威伯说。
　　“那么我的名字就叫阿兰娜吧（Aranea）。” 这只小蜘蛛说。
　　“那么我呢？” 第三只小蜘蛛问，“你能给我一个好名字吗——不太长，不太夸张，也不要太沉闷的？”
　　威伯使劲儿想起来。
　　“内利（Nellie）？”他建议。
　　“很好，我非常喜欢，” 第三只蜘蛛说，“你可以叫我内利。”她动作优雅地把她的一根圆线织到了身边的网里。
　　威伯的心里盛满了幸福。他感到应该为这个重要时刻发表一场简短的演说。
　　“乔利！阿兰娜！内利！”他开始说，“欢迎你们到谷仓地窖来。你们已经选择了在一个神圣的门口拉你们的网。我只想告诉你们，我非常热爱你们的母亲。我的生命就是她挽救的。她是卓越的，美丽的，对朋友的忠诚直到生命的最后一刻。我将永远珍藏着对她的回忆。对你们，她的女儿们，我要发誓，我们的友谊，将永远不变。”
　　“我发誓。”乔利说。
　　“我也发誓。”阿兰娜说。
　　“我也是。”刚设法捉到了一只小咬儿的内利说。
　　对威伯来说，这是个幸福的一天。以后，也是一连串幸福，宁静的日子。
　　随着时间的推移，很多月，很多年过去了，威伯再没缺少过朋友。芬不再定期来看他了。她正在长大，不再让自己去做那些诸如坐在猪圈旁的挤奶凳上一类的孩子气的事情了。但是夏洛的孩子们和孙女们，重孙女们，都年复一年地生活在地窖门口。每年春天都有一些新的小蜘蛛被孵出来，代替那些老去的蜘蛛，他们中的大多数都乘着他们的汽球飞去了，但总有两三只会留下来，在这门口安家。
　　祖克曼先生在威伯的余生里对他照顾得很好。他经常被朋友们和崇拜者参观，因为没有人会忘记他取得胜利的那一年和那些蜘蛛网里的奇迹，谷仓里的生活总是非常愉快的——不管是在白天黑夜，冬夏春秋，还是阴天晴天。它是最好的地方，威伯想，这个温暖宜人的地窖里，有絮叨的鹅们，变幻的季节，温暖的阳光，迁徙的燕子，自私的老鼠，固执的绵羊，可爱的蜘蛛，好闻的牛粪，还有一切值得赞美的东西。
　　威伯从来没有忘记过夏洛。尽管他是那么的爱她的孩子们和孙女们，但没有一只新来的蜘蛛能代替夏洛在他心中的位置。她是独一无二的。很少有人能同时既是真正的朋友，又是天才的织网家。而夏洛也是。

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青鸟不传云外信，丁香空结雨中愁
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Chapter 21 Last Day


Charlotte and Wilbur were alone. The families had gone to look for Fern. Templeton was asleep. Wilbur lay resting after the excitement and strain of the ceremony. His medal still hung from his neck; by looking out of the corner of his eye he could see it.
　　"Charlotte," said Wilbur after a while, "why are you so quiet?""I like to sit still," she said. "I've always been rather quiet.""Yes, but you seem specially so today. Do you feel all right?""A little tired, perhaps. But I feel peaceful. Your success in the ring this morning was, to a small degree, my success. Your future is assured. You will live, secure and safe, Wilbur. Nothing can harm you now. These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall. Christmas will come, then the snows of winter. You will live to enjoy the beauty of the frozen world, for you mean a great deal to Zuckerman and he will not harm you, ever. Winter will pass, the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. Then song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur--this lovely world, these precious days..."Charlotte stopped. a moment later a tear came to Wilbur's eye. "Oh, Charlotte," he said. "To think that when I first met you I thought you were cruel and bloodthirsty!"When he recovered from his emotion, he spoke again.
　　"Why did you do all this for me?" he asked. "I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you.""You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. "That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that.""Well," said Wilbur. "I'm no good at making speeches. I haven't got your gift for words. But you have saved me, Charlotte, and I would gladly give my life for you--I really would.""I'm sure you would. And I thank you for your generous sentiments.""Charlotte," said Wilbur. "We're all going home today. The Fair is almost over. Won't it be wonderful to be back home in the barn cellar again with the sheep and the geese? Aren't you anxious to get home?"For a moment Charlotte said nothing. Then she spoke in a voice so low Wilbur could hardly hear the words.
　　"I will not be going back to the barn," she said.
　　Wilbur leapt to his feet. "Not going back?" he cried. "Charlotte, what are you talking about?
　　"I'm done for," she replied. "In a day or two I'll be dead. I haven't even strength enough to climb down into the crate. I doubt if I have enough silk in my spinnerets to lower me to the ground."Hearing this, Wilbur threw himself down in an agony of pain and sorrow. Great sobs racked his body. He heaved and grunted with desolation. "Charlotte," he moaned. "Charlotte! My true friends!""Come now, let's not make a scene," said the spider. "Be quiet, Wilbur. Stop thrashing about!""But I can't stand it," shouted Wilbur. "I won't leave you here alone to die. If you're going to stay here I shall stay, too.""Don't be ridiculous," said Charlotte. "You can't stay here. Zuckerman and Lurvy and John Arable and the others will be back any minute now, and they'll shove you into that crate and away you'll go. Besides, it wouldn't make any sense for you to stay. There would be no one to feed you. The fair Grounds will soon be empty and deserted."Wilbur was in a panic. he raced round and round the pen. Suddenly he had an idea--he thought of the egg sac and the five hundred and fourteen little spiders that would hatch in the spring. If Charlotte herself was unable to go home to the barn, at least he must take her children along.
　　Wilbur rushed to the front of his pen. He put his front feet up on the top board and gazed around. In the distance he saw the Arables and the Zuckermans approaching. He knew he would have to act quickly.
　　"Where's Templeton?" he demanded.
　　"He's in that corner, under the straw, asleep," said Charlotte.
　　Wilbur rushed over, pushed his strong snout under the rat, and tossed him into the air.
　　"Templeton!" screamed Wilbur. "Pay attention!"The rat, surprised out of a sound sleep, looked first dazed then disgusted.
　　"What kind of monkeyshine is this?" he growled. "Can't a rat catch a wink of sleep without being rudely popped into the air?""Listen to me!" cried Wilbur. "Charlotte is very ill. She has only a short time to live. She cannot accompany us home, because of her condition. Therefore, it is absolutely necessary that I take her egg sac with me. I can't reach it, and I can't climb. You are the only one that can get it. There's not a second to be lost. The people are coming--they'll be here in no time. Please, please, please, Templeton, climb up and get the egg sac."The rat yawned. He straightened his whiskers. Then he looked up at the egg sac.
　　"So!" he said, in disgust. "So it's old Templeton to the rescue again, is it? Templeton do this, Templeton do that, Templeton please run down to the dump and get me a magazine clipping, Templeton please lend me a piece of string so I can spin a web.""Oh, hurry!" said Wilbur. "Hurry up, Templeton!"But the rat was in no hurry. He began imitating Wilbur's voice.
　　"So it's 'Hurry up, Temple,' is it?" he said. "Ho, ho. and what thanks do I ever get for these services, I would like to know? Never a kind word for old Templeton, only abuse and wisecracks and side remarks. Never a kind word for a rat.""Templeton," said Wilbur in desperation, "if you don't stop talking and get busy, all will be lost, and I will die of a broken heart. Please climb up!"Templeton lay back in the straw. Lazily he placed his forepaws behind his head and crossed his knees, in an attitude of complete relaxation.
　　"Die of a broken heart," he mimicked. "How touching! My, my! I notice that it's always me you come to when in trouble. But I've never heard of anyone's heart breaking on my account. Oh, no. Who cares anything about old Templeton?""Get up!" screamed Wilbur. "Stop acting like a spoiled child1"Templeton grinned and lay still. "Who made trip after trip to the dump?" he asked. "Why, it was old Templeton! Who saved Charlotte's life by scaring that Arable boy away with a rotten goose egg? Bless my soul, I believe it was old Templeton. Who bit your tail and got you back on your feet this morning after you had fainted in front of the crowd? Old Templeton. Has it ever occurred to you that I'm sick of running errands and doing favors? What do you think I am, anyway, a rat-of-all-work?"Wilbur was desperate. The people were coming. And the rat was failing him. Suddenly he remembered Templeton's fondness for food.
　　"Templeton," he said, "I will make you a solemn promise. get Charlotte's egg sac for me, and from now on I will let you eat first, when Lurvy slops me. I will let you have your choice of everything in the trough and I won't touch a thing until you're through."The rat sat up. "You mean that?" he said.
　　"I promise. I cross my heart.""All right, it's a deal," said the rat. He walked to the wall and started to climb. His stomach was still swollen from last night's gorge. Groaning and complaining, he pulled himself slowly to the ceiling. He crept along till he reached the egg sac. Charlotte moved aside for him. She was dying, but she still had strength enough to move a little. Then Templeton bared his long ugly teeth and began snipping the threads that fastened the sac to the ceiling. Wilbur watched from below.
　　"Use extreme care!" he said. "I don't want a single one of those eggs harmed.""Thith thruff thticks in my mouth," complained the rat. "It'th worth than caramel candy."But Templeton worked away at the job, and managed to cut the sac adrift and carry it to the ground, where he dropped it in front of Wilbur. Wilbur heaved a great sigh of relief.
　　"Thank you, Templeton," he said. "I will never forget this as long as I live.""Neither will I," said the rat, picking his teeth. "I feel as though I'd eaten a spool of thread. Well, home we go!"Templeton crept into the crate and buried himself in the straw. He got out of sight just in time. Lurvy and John Arable and Mr. Zucherman came along at that moment, followed by Mrs. Arable and Mrs. Zuckerman and Avery and Fern. Wilbur had already decided how he would carry the egg sac--there was only one way possible. He carefully took the little bundle in his mouth and held it there on top of his tongue. He remembered what Charlotte had told him--that the sac was waterproof and strong. It felt funny on his tongue and made him drool a bit. And of course he couldn't say anything. But as he was being shoved into the crate, he looked up at Charlotte and gave her a wink. She knew he was saying good-bye in the only way he could. And she knew her children were safe.
　　"Good-bye!" she whispered. Then she summoned all her strength and waved one of her front legs at him.
　　She never moved again. Next day, as the Ferris wheel was being taken apart and the race horses were being loaded into vans and the entertainers were packing up their belongings and driving away in their trailers, Charlotte died. The Fair Grounds were soon deserted. The sheds and buildings were empty and forlorn. The infield was littered with bottles and trash. Nobody, of the hundreds of people that has visited the Fair, knew that a grey spider had played the most important part of all. No one was with her when she died.

　　夏洛和威伯又单独在一起了。这两家人都去找芬了。坦普尔曼睡着了。参加完激动而紧张的庆典的威伯正躺在那里休息。他的奖章还在脖子上挂着；他的眼睛正望着从他躺的位置可以看到的角落。
　　“夏洛，”过了一会儿，威伯说，“你为什么这么安静？”
　　“我喜欢静静地呆着，”她说，“我一向喜欢安静。”
　　“我知道，不过你今天似乎有些特别，你感觉还好吧？”
　　“可能有一点点累吧。但是我感到很满足。你今早在裁判场上的成功，在很小的程度上，也可以算是我的成功。你的将来没危险了。你会无忧无虑地活下去的，威伯。现在没什么能伤害你的了。这个秋天会变短，也会变冷。叶子们也会从树上摇落的。圣诞节会来，然后就是飘飘的冬雪。你将活着看到那个美丽的冰雪世界的，因为你对祖克曼有很重大的意义，他再也不会想伤害你了。冬天将过去，白天又会变长，草场池塘里的冰也会融化的。百灵鸟又会回来唱歌，青蛙也将醒来，又会吹起暖暖的风。所有的这些美丽的景色，所有的这些动听的声音，所有的这些好闻的气味，都将等着你去欣赏呢，威伯——这个可爱的世界，这些珍贵的日子……”
　　夏洛沉默了。片刻之后，泪水模糊了威伯的眼。“哦，夏洛，”他说，“记得刚遇到你的那一天，我还认为你是个残忍嗜血的动物！”
　　等情绪稳定下来后，他又继续说起来。
　　“为什么你要为我做这一切？”他问，“我不值得你帮我。我从来也没有为你做过任何事情。”
　　“你一直是我的朋友，”夏洛回答，“这本身就是你对我最大的帮助。我为你织网，是因为我喜欢你。然而，生命的价值是什么，该怎么说呢？我们出生，我们短暂的活着，我们死亡。一个蜘蛛在一生中只忙碌着捕捉、吞食小飞虫是毫无意义的。通过帮助你，我才可能试着在我的生命里找到一点价值。老天知道，每个人活着时总要做些有意义的事才好吧。”
　　“噢，”威伯说，“我并不善于说什么大道理。我也不能像你说得那么好。但我要说，你已经拯救了我，夏洛，而且我很高兴能为你奉献我的生命——我真的很愿意。”
　　“我相信你会的。我要感谢你这无私的友情。”
　　“夏洛，”威伯说，“我们今天就要回家了。展览会快结束了。再回到谷仓地窖的家，和绵羊、母鹅们在一起不是很快活吗？你不盼着回家吗？”
　　夏洛沉默了好一会儿。然后她用一种低得威伯几乎都听不到的声音说：
　　“我将不回谷仓了。”她说。
　　威伯吃惊得跳了起来。“不回去？”他叫，“夏洛，你在说什么？”
　　“我已经不行了，”她回答，“一两天内我就要死去了。我现在甚至连爬下板条箱的力气都没有了。我怀疑我的丝囊里是否还有足够把我送到地面上的丝了。”
　　听到这些话，威伯立刻沉浸到巨大的痛苦和忧伤之中。他痛苦地绞动着身子，哭叫起来。“夏洛，”他呻吟道，“夏洛！我真诚的朋友！”
　　“好了，不要喊了，”夏洛说，“安静，威伯。别哭了！”
　　“可是我忍不住，”威伯喊，“我不会让你在这里孤独地死去的。如果你要留在这里，我也要留下。”
　　“别胡说了，”夏洛说，“你不能留在这里。祖克曼和鲁维还有约翰·阿拉贝尔以及其他人现在随时都会回来，他们会把你装到箱子里，带你离开的。此外，你留在这里也没什么好处，这里不会有人喂你的。展览会不久就会空无一人的。”
　　威伯陷入了恐慌之中。他在猪圈里转着圈子跑来跑去。突然他想起了一件事——他想到了卵囊和明年春天里将要出世的那514只小蜘蛛。如果夏洛不能回到谷仓里的家，至少他要把她的孩子们带回去。
　　威伯向猪圈前面冲去。他把前腿搭在木板上，四处察看着。他看到阿拉贝尔一家和祖克曼一家正从不远处走过来。他知道他必须赶快行动了。
　　“坦普尔曼在哪里？”他问。
　　“他在稻草下面的角落里睡着呢。”夏洛说。
　　威伯奔过去，用他有力的鼻子把老鼠拱上了天。
　　“坦普尔曼！”威伯尖叫，“醒醒！”
　　从美梦中惊醒的老鼠，开始看起来还迷迷糊糊的，随即就变得气愤起来。
　　“你这是搞什么恶作剧？”他怒吼，“一只老鼠挤个时间安静地睡一小会儿时，就不能不被粗暴地踢上天？”
　　“听我说！”威伯叫，“夏洛快死了，她只能活很短的一段时间了。因此她不能陪我们一起回家了。所以，我只能把她的卵囊带回去了。可我上不去，我不会爬。你是唯一能帮我的人了。再等一秒种就来不及了，人们就要走过来了——他们一到就没时间了。请，请，请帮帮我，坦普尔曼，爬上去把卵囊带下来吧。”
　　老鼠打了一个哈欠。他梳了梳他的胡子，才抬头朝卵囊望去。
　　“所以！”他厌恶地说，“所以又是老坦普尔曼来救你，对吧？坦普尔曼做这个，坦普尔曼做那个，请坦普尔曼去垃圾堆为我找破杂志，请坦普尔曼借我一根绳子，我好织网。”
　　“噢，快点！”威伯说，“快去，坦普尔曼！”
　　可老鼠却一点儿也不急。他开始模仿起威伯的声音来。
　　“所以现在该说‘快去，坦普尔曼’了，对不对呀？”他说，“哈，哈。我很想知道，我为你们提供了这么多的特别服务后，都得到了什么感谢呀？从没有人给过老坦普尔曼一句好听的话，除了谩骂，风凉话和旁敲侧击之外。从没有人对老鼠说过一句好话。”
　　“坦普尔曼，”威伯绝望地说，“如果你不停止你的议论，马上忙起来的话，什么就都完了，我也会心碎而死的，请你爬上去吧！”
　　坦普尔曼反而躺到了稻草里。他懒洋洋地把前爪枕到脑后，翘起了二郎腿，一副完全与己无关的自得模样。
　　“心碎而死，”他模仿，“多么感人呀！啊唷，啊唷！我发现当你有麻烦时总是我来帮你。可我却从没听说谁会为了我而心碎呢。哦，没人会的。谁在乎老坦普尔曼？”
　　“站起来！”威伯尖叫，“别装得跟一个惯坏了的孩子似的！”
　　坦普尔曼咧嘴笑笑，还是躺着没动。“是谁一趟趟的往垃圾堆跑呀？”他问，“为什么，总是老坦普尔曼！是谁用那个坏鹅蛋把阿拉贝尔家的男孩子臭跑，救了夏洛一命呀？为我的灵魂祈祷吧，我相信这件事又是老坦普尔曼做的。是谁咬了你的尾巴尖儿，让今早昏倒在人们面前的你站起来的呀？还是老坦普尔曼。你就没想过我已经厌倦了给你跑腿，为你施恩吗？你以为我是什么，一个什么活都得干的老鼠奴仆吗？”
　　威伯绝望了。人们就要来了，可老鼠却在忙着奚落他。突然，他想起了老鼠对食物的钟爱。
　　“坦普尔曼，”他说，“我将给你一个郑重的承诺。只要你把夏洛的卵囊给我拿下来，那么从现在起每当鲁维来喂我时，我都将让你先吃。我会让你先去挑选食槽里的每一样食物，在你吃饱之前，我绝不碰里面的任何东西。”
　　老鼠腾地坐了起来。“真的吗？”他说。
　　“我保证。我在胸口划十字保证。”
　　“好极了，这是个划得来的交易。”老鼠说。他走到墙边开始往上爬。可是他的肚子里还存着许多昨天吃的好东西呢，因此他只好边抱怨边慢慢地把自己往上面拉。他一直爬到卵囊那里。夏洛为他往边上挪了挪。她就要死了，但她还有动一动的力气。然后坦普尔曼张开他丑陋的长牙，去咬那些把卵囊绑在棚顶的线。威伯在下面看着。
　　“要特别小心！”他说，“我不想让任何一个卵受伤。”
　　“它粘到我嘴上了，”老鼠抱怨，“它比胶皮糖还黏。”
　　但是老鼠还是设法把卵囊拉下来，带到地面，丢到威伯面前。威伯大大松了一口气。
　　“谢谢你，坦普尔曼，”他说，“我这一辈子也不会忘记的。”
　　“我也是，”老鼠说着，剔剔他的牙，“我感觉好像吞下了满满一线轴的线。好吧，我们回家吧！”
　　坦普尔曼爬进板条箱，把自己埋到稻草下面。他消失得正是时候。鲁维和约翰·阿拉贝尔，祖克曼先生那一刻正好走过来，身后跟着阿拉贝尔太太和祖克曼太太，还有芬和埃弗里。威伯已经想好怎么带走卵囊了——这只有一种可能的方法。他小心翼翼地把这个小东西吞到嘴里，放到了舌头尖上。他想起了夏洛告诉过他的话——这个卵囊是防水的，结实的。可这让他的舌头觉得痒痒的，口水开始流了出来。这时他什么也不能说了，但当他被推进板条箱时，他抬头望了一眼夏洛，对她眨了眨眼。她知道他在用他所能用的唯一方式，在对自己说再见。她也知道她的孩子们都很安全。
　　“再-见！”她低语。然后她鼓起全身仅剩的一丝力气，对威伯挥起一只前腿。
　　她再也不能动了。第二天，当费里斯大转轮被拆走，那些赛马被装进货车拉走，游乐场的摊主们也收拾起他们的东西，把他们的活动房搬走时，夏洛死了。这个展览会不久就被人遗忘了。那些棚屋与房子只好空虚地，孤单单地留在那里。地上堆满了空瓶子之类的废物和垃圾。没有一个人，参加过这次展览会的几百人中，没有一个人知道：那只大灰蜘蛛在这次展览会上扮演了一个最重要的角色。当她死亡时，没有一个人陪在她的身旁。
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青鸟不传云外信，丁香空结雨中愁
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Chapter 20 The Hour of Triumph

"Special announcement!" said the loud speaker in a pompous voice. "The management of the Fair takes great pleasure in presenting Mr. Homer L. Zuckerman and his famous pig. The truck bearing this extraordinary animal is now approaching the infield. Kindly stand back and give the truck room to proceed! In a few moments the pig will be unloaded in the special judging ring in front of the grandstand, where a special award will be made. Will the crowd please make way and let the truck pass. Thank you."Wilbur trembled when he heard this speech. He felt happy but dizzy. The truck crept along slowly in low speed. Crowds of people surrounded it, and Mr. Arable had to drive very carefully in order not to run over anybody. At last he managed to reach the judges' stand. Avery jumped out and lowered the tailgate.
　　"I'm scared to death," whispered Mrs. Zuckerman. "Hundreds of people are looking at us.
　　"Cheer up," replied Mrs. Arable,"this is fun.""Unload your pig, please!" said the loud speaker.
　　"All together, now, boys!" said Mr. Zuckerman. Several men stepped forward from the crowd to help lift the crate. Avery was the busiest helper of all.
　　"Tuck your shirt in, Avery!" cried Mrs. Zuckerman. "And tighten your belt. Your pants are coming down.""Can't you see I'm busy?" replied Avery in disgust.
　　"Look!" cried Fern, pointing. "There's Henry!""Don't shout, Fern!" said her mother. "And don't point!""Can't I please have some money?" asked Fern. "Henry invited me to go on the Ferris wheel again, only I don't think he has any money left. he ran out of money."Mrs. Arable opened her handbag. "Here," she said. "Here is forty cents. Now don't get lost! And be back at our regular meeting place by the pigpen very soon!"Fern raced off, ducking and dodging through the crowd, in search of Henry.
　　"The Zuckerman pig is now being taken from his crate," boomed the voice of the loud speaker. "Stand by for an announcement!"Templeton crouched under the straw at the bottom of the crate. "What a lot of nonsense!" muttered the rat. "What a lot of fuss about nothing!"Over in the pigpen, silent and alone, Charlotte rested. Her two front legs embraced the egg sac. Charlotte could hear everything that was said on the loud speaker. The words gave her courage. This was her hour of triumph.
　　As Wilbur came out of the crate, the crowd clapped and cheered. Mr. Zuckerman took off his cap and bowed. Lurvy pulled his big handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. Avery knelt in the dirt by Wilbur's side, busily stroking him and showing off. Mrs. Zuckerman and Mrs. Arable stood on the running board of the truck.
　　"Ladeez and gentlemen," said the loud speaker, "we now present Mr. Homer L. Zuckerman's distinguished pig. The fame of this unique animal has spread to the far corners of the earth, attracting many valuable tourists to our great State. Many of you will recall that never-to-be-forgotten day last summer when the writing appeared mysteriously on the spider's web in Mr. Zuckerman's barn, calling the attention of all and sundry to the fact that this pig was completely out of the ordinary. This miracle has never been fully explained, although learned men have visited the Zuckerman pigpen to study and observe the phenomenon. In the last analysis, we simply know that we are dealing with supernatural forces here, and we should all feel proud and grateful. In the words of the spider's web, ladies and gentlemen, this is some pig."Wilbur blushed. He stood perfectly still and tried to look his best.
　　"This magnificent animal," continued the loud speaker, "is truly terrific. Look at him, ladies and gentlemen! Note the smoothness and whiteness of the coat, observe the spotless skin, the healthy pink glow of ears and snout.""It's the buttermilk," whispered Mrs. arable to Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　"Note the general radiance of this animal! Then remember the day when the word 'radiant' appeared clearly on the web. Whence came this mysterious writing? Not from the spider, we can rest assured of that. Spiders are very clever at weaving their webs, but needless to say spiders cannot write.""Oh, they can't, can't they?" murmured Charlotte to herself.
　　"Ladeez and gentlemen," continued the loud speaker, "I must not take any more of your valuable time. On behalf of he governors of the Fair, I have the honor of awarding a special prize of twenty-five dollars to Mr. Zuckerman, together with a handsome bronze medal suitably engraved, in token of our appreciation of the part played by this pig--this radiant, this terrific, this humble pig--in attracting so many visitors to our great County Fair."Wilbur had been feeling dizzier and dizzier through this long, complimentary speech. When he heard the crowd begin to cheer and clap again, he suddenly fainted away. His legs collapsed, his mind went blank, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
　　"What's wrong?" asked the loud speaker. "What's going on, Zuckerman?" What's the trouble with your pig?"Avery was kneeling by Wilbur's head, stroking him. Mr. Zuckerman was dancing about, fanning him with his cap.
　　"He's all right," cried Mr. Zuckerman. "He gets these spells. He's modest and can't stand praise.""Well, we can't give a prize to a dead pig," said the loud speaker. "It's never been done.""He isn't dead," hollered Zuckerman. "He's fainted. He gets embarrassed easily. Run for some water, Lurvy!"Lurvy sprang from the judges' ring and disappeared.
　　Templeton poked his head from the straw. He noticed that the end of Wilbur's tail was within reach. Templeton grinned. "I'll tend to this," he chuckled. He took Wilbur's tail in his mouth and bit it, just as hard as he could bite. The pain revived Wilbur. In a flash he was back on his feet.
　　"Ouch!" he screamed.
　　"Hoorray!" yelled the crowd. "He's up! The pig's up! Good word, zuckerman! That's some pig!" Everyone was delighted. Mr. Zuckerman was the most pleased of all. He sighed with relief. Nobody had seen Templeton. The rat had done his work well.
　　And now one of the judges climbed into the ring with the prizes. He handed Mr. Zuckerman two ten dollar bills and a five dollar bill. then he tied the medal around Wilbur's neck. Then he shook hands with Mr. Zuckerman while Wilbur blushed. Avery put out his hand and the judge shook hands with him, too. The crowd cheered. A photographer took Wilbur's picture.
　　A great feeling of happiness swept over the Zuckermans and the Arables. This was the greatest moment in Mr. Zuckerman's life. It is deeply satisfying to win a prize in front of a lot of people.
　　As Wilbur was being shoved back into the crate, Lurvy came charging through the crowd carrying a pail of water. His eyes had a wild look. Without hesitating a second, he dashed the water at Wilbur. In his excitement he missed his aim, and the water splashed all over Mr. Zuckerman and Avery. They got soaking wet.
　　"for goodness' sake!" bellowed Mr. Zuckerman, who was really drenched. "What ails you, Lurvy? Can't you see the pig is all right?""You asked for water," said Lurvy meekly.
　　"I didn't ask for a shower bath," said Mr. Zuckerman. The crowd roared with laughter. Finally Mr. Zuckerman had to laugh, too. And of course Avery was tickled to find himself so wet, and he immediately started to act like a clown. He pretended he was taking a shower bath; he made faces and danced around and rubbed imaginary sop under his armpits. Then he dried himself with an imaginary towel.
　　"Avery, stop it!" cried his mother. "Stop showing off!"But the crowd loved it. Avery heard nothing but the applause. He liked being a clown in a ring, with everybody watching, in front of a grandstand. When he discovered there was still a little water left in the bottom of the pail, he raised the pail high in the air and dumped the water on himself and made faces. The children in the grandstand screamed with appreciation.
　　At last things calmed down. Wilbur was loaded into the truck. Avery was led from the ring by his mother and placed on the seat of the truck to dry off. The truck, driven by Mr. Arable, crawled slowly back to the pigpen. Avery's wet trousers made a big wet spot on the seat.

　　“特别消息！”广播喇叭里以一种炫耀的声音说，“展览会的主办者正在非常荣幸地为各位介绍霍默·L·祖克曼先生和他的名猪。装着这头非凡的动物的卡车现在正朝我们开过来。请往后退，让卡车开过来！这头猪马上就要被送到大看台前的特别裁判场来，并在那里被授予特别奖。请大家后退，让卡车通过。谢谢你们。”
　　当听到这些报道时，威伯颤抖起来，他幸福得都要晕过去了。卡车慢慢地往前开着，周围挤满了人。阿拉贝尔先生不得不开得很小心，以免压到人。最后他终于设法开到了裁判场前。埃弗里跳下车，打开后车门。
　　“我要吓死了，”祖克曼太太低语，“几百人在看着我们呢。”
　　“振作些，”阿拉贝尔先生回答，“那不是很有趣嘛。”
　　“请把你们的猪抬下来！”扩音器里说。
　　“现在，一起用力，孩子们！”祖克曼先生说，几个男人抬起箱子从人流中穿过去。埃弗里是几个人中最棒的一个。
　　“把你的衬衫掖进去，埃弗里！”祖克曼太太喊，“再紧紧你的裤带。你的裤子要掉下来了。”
　　“你没看见我正忙着吗？”埃弗里不高兴地回答。
　　“看，”芬叫着指去，“那是亨利！”
　　“别喊，芬！”她妈妈说，“不许指指点点！”
　　“能给我点儿钱吗？”芬问，“亨利又请我去坐大转轮了，可我想他没钱了，他把钱都花光了。”
　　阿拉贝尔太太打开她的手袋。“给，”她说，“这是四毛钱。别跑丢了！一会儿到猪圈那里的老地方等我们！”
　　芬跑进了人群，挤来挤去的寻找着亨利。
　　“祖克曼家的猪现在正被从板条箱里带出来，”扩音器里嗡嗡地喊着，“请大家静等通告！”
　　坦普尔曼趴在板条箱底的稻草下面。“都在胡说什么呀！”他嘟囔着，“吵死了！”
　　夏洛正在猪圈上方，一个人静静地休息。她的两条前腿还在紧紧地抱着卵囊。夏洛能听到扩音器里说的每一句话。那些话为她增添了不少勇气。这是她的胜利时刻。
　　当威伯从板条箱里走出来时，人们开始鼓掌喝彩。祖克曼先生脱帽鞠躬致谢。鲁维从口袋里拽出他的大手绢，擦着脖子后面的汗。埃弗里跪在威伯身边，不停地抚摩着他，炫耀着。祖克曼太太和阿拉贝尔太太正站在卡车的脚踏板上。
　　“女士们先生们，”扩音器里说，“我们现在向诸位介绍霍默·L·祖克曼先生的杰出的猪。这头不寻常的动物的名声早已经传到了地球最远的角落，他为我们这个伟大的国家吸引了很多尊贵的游客。你们中的很多人可能仍然记得今年夏天早些时候的那个永-不-会-忘-记-的日子，那天，在祖克曼先生的谷仓里，有一个词被神秘地织在那里的蜘蛛网上面，它令所有人都注意到了这个事实，即那头猪完全是卓越不凡的。这个奇迹从未被完全地解释清楚，尽管学者们已经到祖克曼家的猪圈参观过，并观察、研究过这一现象。最近的分析表明，我们目前只知道我们在这里讨论的是一种超自然的力量，我们都应该为此而自豪和感恩。那张蜘蛛网里的写的词，女士们先生们，就是‘好猪’。”
　　威伯脸红了。他完美地静立着，让自己站得像最好的猪。
　　“这个壮美的动物，”扩音器里继续说，“真的是很棒。看看他，女士们先生们！请注意他那雪白、光滑的毛皮，观赏他那一尘不染的皮肤，还有他那耳朵与鼻子上散发出的健康的，粉红色的光辉。”
　　“那是酸奶的缘故。”阿拉贝尔太太对祖克曼太太耳语道。
　　“请注意这个动物身上无处不在的光辉！这会让人想起‘闪光’这个词清晰地出现在蜘蛛网里的那一天。这个神秘的字迹从何而来呢？它不是来自于蜘蛛，我们完全能保证这一点。蜘蛛虽然有织网的本能，但它却不能写字，这一点是无须多说的。”
　　“噢，他们不能这么说！怎么能这么说？”夏洛自言自语。
　　“女士们先生们，”扩音器里继续说，“我不必再浪费你们的宝贵时间了。作为展览会主办者的代表，我有幸向祖克曼先生颁发一笔二十五美元的特别奖金，同时颁发的还有一块漂亮的花纹精美的青铜奖章，它将用来象征我们对这头猪的赏识——这是一头闪光的，很棒的，谦恭的猪——正是他把这么多的参观者吸引到我们这伟大的展览会上来。”
　　这些无休止的恭维使威伯越来越承受不住了。当他听到人们再次开始欢呼和鼓掌时，他突然幸福得昏了过去。他的腿瘫了，大脑一片空白，毫无知觉地躺到了地上。
　　“出什么毛病了？”扩音器里问，“发生了什么事情，祖克曼？你的猪有麻烦了吗？”
　　埃弗里跪到威伯的头前，抚摸着威伯。祖克曼先生也跃过来，用他的帽子给威伯扇凉。
　　“他没事，”祖克曼先生喊，“他被这些话弄晕了。他是最谦虚的，受不了夸奖。”
　　“很好，可我们不能给一头死猪发奖，”扩音器说，“这是从没有过的事。”
　　“他没死，”祖克曼高喊，“他只是晕了。他很容易被夸倒。拿点水来，鲁维！”
　　鲁维跑下裁判场，不见了。
　　坦普尔曼从稻草里探出了头。他发现威伯的尾巴尖就在他的眼前。坦普尔曼呲呲牙。“我要这样帮他，”他咯咯地笑起来。他把威伯的尾巴塞到嘴里，尽自己最大的力气狠狠咬了一口。威伯一下子就疼醒了。他猛地站了起来。
　　“嗷！”他尖叫。
　　“万岁！”人们狂叫，“他站起来了，这头猪站起来了！干得好，祖克曼！那是头好猪！”每个人都兴奋起来。祖克曼先生是最高兴的。他放心地吁了一口气。没人看到坦普尔曼。老鼠的活儿干得太漂亮了。
　　现在，一个裁判带着奖金进了裁判场。他递给祖克曼先生两张十美元的钞票与一张五美元的钞票，然后又把奖章挂到了威伯的脖子上。当威伯变成大红脸时，他和祖克曼先生握了握手。埃弗里伸出手来，裁判也和他握了握手。人们欢呼起来。一个摄影师给威伯照了一张像。
　　一股无比幸福的暖流席卷了祖克曼一家与阿拉贝尔一家。这是祖克曼先生一生中最美的时刻。在这么多人面前获得奖金，令他深深地感到满足。
　　当威伯被送回板条箱时，鲁维拎着一桶水从人群挤出来。他的眼发疯地搜寻了一会儿，就毫不犹豫地把水向威伯泼去。由于太紧张，他瞄错了地方，于是水都泼到了祖克曼先生和埃弗里身上。他们全都淋湿了。
　　“看在上帝的份上！”完全被淋透的祖克曼先生咆哮起来，“你有病吗，鲁维？你看不见那头猪已经没事了吗？”
　　“你要我淋的水。”鲁维怯怯地嘀咕。
　　“可我没要淋浴。”祖克曼先生说。人们哄笑起来。后来，祖克曼先生也笑起来。发现自己身上湿了的埃弗里可乐坏了，立刻开始扮起小丑来。他假装自己正在洗淋浴；他做着鬼脸，转圈跳着，往他的腋窝下打着并不存在的肥皂。然后他又用了一条根本就没有的毛巾给自己擦身。
　　“埃弗里，停下来！”他的母亲喊，“别丢人现眼了！”
　　可人们却爱看。埃弗里除了人们的喝彩外也什么都没听到。他喜欢在大看台前的裁判场里做一个人人注目的小丑。当他发现桶里还剩了些水，便把桶高高举起，把剩下的水也泼到自己身上，同时又做了许多鬼脸。大看台旁的孩子们都赞赏地尖叫起来。
　　最后，一切都平静下来。威伯被装上了卡车，埃弗里被他的母亲领下了裁判场，带到卡车里的座位上。阿拉贝尔先生开着卡车慢慢往猪圈的方向去。埃弗里的湿裤子在座位里留下了一大滩水迹。
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青鸟不传云外信，丁香空结雨中愁
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Chapter 19 The Egg Sac

Next morning when the first light came into the sky and the sparrows stirred in the trees, when the cows rattled their chains and the rooster crowed and the early automobiles went whispering along the road, Wilbur awoke and looked for Charlotte. He saw her up overhead in a corner near the back of his pen. she was very quiet. Her eight legs were spread wide. She seemed to have shrunk during the night. Next to her, attached to the ceiling, Wilbur saw a curious object. It was a sort of sac, or cocoon. It was peach-colored and looked as though it were made of cotton candy.
　　"Are you awake, Charlotte?" he said softly.
　　"Yes," came the answer.
　　"What is that nifty little thing? Did you make it?""I did indeed," replied Charlotte in a weak voice.
　　"Is it a plaything?""Plaything? I should say not. It is my egg sac, my magnum opus.""I don't know what a magnum opus is," said Wilbur.
　　"That Latin," explained Charlotte. "It means 'great work.' This egg sac i smy great work--the finest thing I have ever made.""What's inside it?" asked Wilbur. "Eggs?""Five hundred and fourteen of them," she replied.
　　"Five hundred and fourteen? said Wilbur. "You're kidding.""No, I'm not. I counted them. I got started counting, so I kept on--just to keep my mind occupied.""It's a perfectly beautiful egg sac," said Wilbur, feeling as happy as though he had constructed it himself.
　　"Yes, it is pretty," replied Charlotte, patting the sac with her two front legs. "Anyway, I can guarantee that it is strong. It's made out of the toughest material I have. It's made out of the toughest material I have. It is also waterproof. The eggs are inside and will be warm and dry.""Charlotte," said Wilbur dreamily, "are you really going to have five hundred and fourteen children?""If nothing happens, yes," she said. "Of course, they won't show up till next spring." Wilbur noticed that Charlotte's voice sounded sad.
　　"What makes you sound so down-hearted? I should think you'd be terribly happy about this.""Oh, don't pay any attention to me," said Charlotte. "I just don't have much pep any more. I guess I feel sad because I won't ever see my children.""What do you mean you won't see your children! Of course you will. We'll all see them. It's going to be simply wonderful next spring in the barn cellar with five hundred and fourteen baby spiders running around all over the place. and the geese will have a new set of goslings, and the sheep will have their new lambs...""Maybe," said Charlotte quietly. "However, I have a feeling I'm not going to see the results of last night's efforts. I don't feel good at all. I think I'm languishing, to tell you the truth."Wilbur didn't understand the word "languish" and he hated to bother Charlotte by asking her to explain. But he was so worried he felt he had to ask.
　　"What does 'languishing' mean?""It means I'm slowing up, feeling my age. I'm not young any more, Wilbur. But I don't want you to worry about me. This is your big day today. Look at my web--doesn't it show up well with the dew on it?""Charlotte's web never looked more beautiful than it looked this morning. Each strand held dozens of bright drops of early morning dew. The light from the east struck it and made it plain and clear. It was a perfect piece of designing and building. In another hour or two, a steady stream of people would pass by, admiring it, and reading it, and looking at Wilbur, and marveling at the miracle.
　　As Wilbur was studying the web, a pair of whiskers and a sharp face appeared. Slowly Templeton dragged himself across the pen and threw himself down in a corner.
　　"I'm back," he said in a husky voice. "What a night!"The rat was swollen to twice his normal size. His stomach was as big around as a jelly jar.
　　"What a night!" he repeated, hoarsely. "What feasting and carousing! A real gorge! I must have eaten the remains of thirty lunches. Never have I seen such leavings, and everything well-ripened and seasoned with the passage of time and the heat of the day. Oh, it was rich, my friends, rich!""You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Charlotte in disgust. "It would serve you right if you had an acute attack of indigestion.""Don't worry about my stomach," snarled Templeton. "It can handle anything. and by the way, I've got some bad news. As I came past that pig next door--the one that calls himself Uncle--I noticed a blue tag on the front of his pen. That means he has won first prize. I guess you're licked, Wilbur. You might as well relax--nobody is going to hang any medal on you. Furthermore, I wouldn't be surprised if Zuckerman changes his mind about you. wait till he gets hankering for some fresh pork and smoked ham and crisp bacon! He'll take the knife to you, my boy.""Be still, Templeton!" said Charlotte. "You're too stuffed and bloated to know what you're saying. Don't pay any attention to him, Wilbur!"Wilbur tried not to think about what the rat had just said. He decided to change the subject.
　　"Templeton," said Wilbur, "if you weren't so dopey, you would have noticed that Charlotte has made an egg sac. She is going to become a mother. For your information, there are five hundred and fourteen eggs in that peachy little sac.""Is this true?" asked the rat, eyeing the sac suspiciously.
　　"Yes, it's true," sighed Charlotte.
　　"Congratulations1" murmured Templeton. "This has been a night!" He closed his eyes, pulled some straw over himself, and dropped off into a deep sleep. Wilbur and Charlotte were glad to be rid of him for a while.
　　At nine o'clock, Mr. Arable's truck rolled into the Fair Grounds and came to a stop at Wilbur's pen. Everybody climbed out.
　　"Look!" cried Fern. "Look at Charlotte's web1 Look what it says!"The grownups and the children joined hands and stood there, studying the new sign.
　　"'Humble,'" said Mr. Zuckerman. "Now isn't that just the word for Wilbur!"Everyone rejoiced to find that the miracle of the web had been repeated. Wilbur gazed up lovingly into their faces. He looked very humble and very grateful. Fern winked at Charlotte. Lurvy soon got busy. He poured a bucket of warm slops into the trough, and while Wilbur ate his breakfast Lurvy scratched him gently with a smooth stick.
　　"Wait a minute!" cried Avery. "Look at this!" he pointed to the blue tag on Uncle's pen. "this pig has won first prize already."The Zuckermans and the Arables stared at the tag. Mrs. Zuckerman began to cry. Nobody said a word. the just stared at the tag. Then they stared at Uncle. Then they stared at the tag again. Lurvy took out an enormous handkerchief and blew his nose very loud--so loud, in fact, that the noise was heard by stableboys over at the horse barn.
　　"Can I have some money?" asked Fern. "I want to go out on the midway.""You stay right where you are1" said her mother. Tears came to Fern's eyes.
　　"What's everybody crying about?" asked Mr. Zuckerman. "Let's get busy! Edith, bring the buttermilk!"Mrs. Zuckerman wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. She went to the truck and came back with a gallon jar of buttermilk.
　　"Bath time!" said Zuckerman, cheerfully. He and Mrs. Zuckerman and Avery climbed into Wilbur's pen. Avery slowly poured buttermilk on Wilbur's head and back, and as it trickled down his sides and cheeks, Mr. and Mrs. Zuckerman rubbed it into his hair and skin. Passersby stopped to watch. Pretty soon quite a crowd had gathered. Wilbur grew beautifully white and smooth. The morning sun shone through his pink ears.
　　"He isn't as big as that pig next door," remarked one bystander, "but he's cleaner. That's what I like.""So do I," said another man.
　　"He's humble, too," said a woman, reading the sign on the web.
　　"Everybody who visited the pigpen had a good word to say about Wilbur. Everyone admired the web. And of course nobody noticed Charlotte.
　　Suddenly a voice was heard on the loud speaker.
　　"Attention, please!" it said. "Will Mr. Homer Zuckerman bring his famous pig to the judges' booth in promptly!"For a moment after this announcement, the Arables and the Zuckermans were unable to speak or move. Then Avery picked up a handful of straw and threw it high in the air and gave a loud yell. The straw fluttered sown like confetti into Fern's hair. Mr. Zuckerman hugged Mrs. Zuckerman. Mr. Arable kissed Mrs. Avery kissed Wilbur. Lurvy shook hands with everybody. Fern hugged her mother. Avery hugged Fern. Mrs. Arable hugged Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　Up overhead, in the shadows of the ceiling, Charlotte crouched unseen, her front legs encircling her egg sac. Her heart was not beating as strongly as usual and she felt weary and old, but she was sure at last that she had saved Wilbur's life, and she felt peaceful and contented.
　　"We have no time to lose!" shouted Mr. Zuckerman. "Lurvy, help with the crate!""Can I have some money?" asked Fern.
　　"You wait!" said Mrs. Arable. "Can't you see everybody is busy?""Put that empty buttermilk jar into the truck!" commanded Mr. Arable. Avery grabbed the jar and rushed to the truck.
　　"Does my hair look all right?" asked Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　"Looks fine," snapped Mr. Zuckerman, as he and Lurvy set the crate down in front of Wilbur.
　　"You didn't even look at my hair!" said Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　"You're all right, Edith," said Mrs. Arable. "Just keep calm."Templeton, asleep in the straw, heard the commotion and awoke. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but when he saw the men shoving Wilbur into the crate he made up his mind to go along. He watched his chance and when no one was looking he crept into the crate and buried himself in the straw at the bottom.
　　"All ready, boys!" cried Mr. Zuckerman. "Let's go!" He and Mr. Arable and Lurvy and Avery grabbed the crate and boosted it over the side of the pen and up into the truck. Fern jumped aboard and sat on top of the crate. She still had straw in her hair and looked very pretty and excited. Mr. Arable started the motor. Everyone climbed in, and off they drove to the judge's booth in front of the grandstand.
　　As they passed the Ferris wheel, Fern gazed up at it and wished she were in the topmost car with Henry Fussy at her side.

　　第二天早晨，当第一缕晨光从天空出现，麻雀们开始在树上叫时；当母牛把身上的链子摇得直响，公鸡也开始啼叫时；当早行的汽车从路边呼啸而过时，威伯醒了，开始寻找夏洛。他在猪圈后面上方的一个角落里看到了她。她显得很安详，八条腿都松松地张在那里。她似乎在一夜之间缩小了。在她身旁，威伯看到了一个奇怪的东西，就粘在猪圈的顶层上。那是一种囊，或者说是茧。看起来是桃红色的，好像是用棉花糖做出来的。
　　“你醒了吗，夏洛？”他轻声问。
　　“是的。”她回答。
　　“那漂亮的小东西是什么？是你造的吗？”
　　“是我造的。”夏洛用微弱的声音回答。
　　“那是个玩具吗？”
　　“玩具？应该说不是。这是我的卵囊，我的Magnum opus。”
　　“我不懂Magnum opus 是什么意思。”威伯说。
　　“那是一句拉丁语，”夏洛解释说，“它的意思就像'最伟大的作品'。这个卵囊就是我最伟大的作品——是我曾经造出的最好的东西。
　　“里面装的是什么？”威伯问，“卵吗？”
　　“514枚卵。”她回答。
　　“514枚？”威伯说，“你在骗我。”
　　“不，我没有，我数过的。我先是一个一个地数着，然后就一直数到完——这正好可以消磨时间。”
　　“这是一个完美的卵囊。”威伯骄傲地说，好像这个卵囊是他自己造的一样。
　　“是的，它是很完美，”夏洛用她的两条前腿拍着卵囊说，“此外，我还能保证，它是非常结实的。它是用我最粗的丝线造出来的。它还能防水。这些卵在里面会时刻保持温暖、干燥的。”
　　“夏洛，”威伯做梦般地说，“你真的会有514个孩子吗？”
　　“如果没有意外的话，会有的，”她说，“可是，他们得明年春天才会孵出来。”
　　威伯注意到夏洛的语调显得很悲伤。
　　“是什么使你的声音听起来那么伤心？我想你该为此狂喜才对。”
　　“噢，不用在意我，”夏洛说，“我只是没有力气了。我感到悲伤，是因为我将看不到我的孩子们了，我想。”
　　“你为什么认为你看不到你的孩子们！你当然能了。我们都会看见他们的。到了明天春天，看着514只小蜘蛛在谷仓地窖跑来跑去，一定是很开心的。那时，母鹅将孵出又一群小鹅，绵羊也会生出新的羊羔来……"
　　“可能吧，”夏洛轻轻地说，“不管怎样，我都有一个预感，我将不会看到我昨夜努力的成果了。我现在的感觉很糟。告诉你实话吧，我想我正在衰残下去。”
　　威伯不明白“衰残”的意思，也不好意思总请夏洛来做解释。但由于极度的担心，他觉得还是有必要问个清楚。
　　“‘衰残’是什么意思？”
　　“就是说我的行动正在变得迟缓，岁月已经不饶人了。我不再年轻了，威伯。但我不要你为我担忧。今天是你的好日子。看我的网——在里面有露珠时，看起来效果不是很好吗？”
　　夏洛今天早上织的网，看起来比以往任何时候织出来的都要美。每根丝线上都缀饰着光闪闪的晨露。从东边照过来的阳光使里面的字显得格外的清晰、美丽。那是一张无论构思还是织工都十分完美的网。一、两个小时后，如流的人群将会涌过来，赞美着，读着，对威伯看着，为眼中出现的奇迹而惊叹。
　　当威伯正在观赏那张网时，几缕小胡子和一张尖尖的面孔出现了。坦普尔曼慢慢地蹭回猪圈，躺到了角落里。
　　“我回来了，”他哑着嗓子说，“多美的一夜！”
　　老鼠胀得比平时足足胖了两倍。他的肚子就像一个大圆果酱瓶子。
　　“多美的一夜！”他沙哑地重复道，“多么丰盛的酒宴！真正的狂吃！我一定吃下了整整三十份剩下来的午餐。我从没见过这么好的剩饭，白天的火热和这么长时间的烘烤恰好使得这些东西变得格外的够味。噢，太丰盛了，我的朋友，太丰盛了！”
　　“你该为你的行为感到羞耻，”夏洛厌恶地说，“如果你得了严重的消化不良，那可是活该。”
　　“用不着你为我的肚子操心，”坦普尔曼咆哮，“它可以容纳任何东西。顺便说一句，我得到一个坏消息。当我从那头猪旁边经过时——就是叫伯伯的那头猪——我看到他的猪圈前面贴着一个蓝标签。那表示他得了头奖。我猜你输了，威伯。你可要尽量想开呀——没人会来给你挂什么奖章了。此外，如果祖克曼先生对你改了主意，我也不会吃惊的。活到他想吃鲜猪肉和薰火腿、脆腌肉的时候为止吧！那时他会对你挥舞起刀子来的，我的宝贝。”
　　“住嘴，坦普尔曼！”夏洛说，“你吃得太多了吧，撑得你都开始说胡话了。别听他的，威伯！”
　　威伯尽力使自己不去回想刚才老鼠说过的话。他决定换个话题，来分散注意力。
　　“坦普尔曼，”威伯说，“如果你不是吃傻了，就该注意到夏洛已经造了个卵囊。她要做妈妈了。告诉你一个消息，那个桃色的小卵囊里有514枚卵呢。”
　　“那是真的吗？”老鼠的眼睛好奇地盯着卵囊问。
　　“是的，真的。”夏洛轻声道。
　　“恭喜！”坦普尔曼嘟囔道，“这是个不平凡的夜晚！”他闭上眼，拖过一些稻草盖到身上，美美地睡了。威伯和夏洛很高兴能暂时摆脱老鼠的纠缠。

　　九点钟，阿拉贝尔先生的卡车开回展览会场，停到威伯的猪圈旁。每个人都下了车。
　　“看！”芬叫，“看夏洛的网！看上面说什么！”
　　大人和孩子们手牵着手站在那里，观察着这个新织的字。
　　“谦恭，”祖克曼先生说，“这个词对威伯太合适了！”
　　每个人都说蜘蛛网里又出现了奇迹。威伯神情可爱地望着人们的脸。他看起来既谦恭，又讨人喜欢。芬会意地朝夏洛眨了眨眼。不久鲁维开始忙起来。他把一桶温乎的猪食倒进食槽，又在威伯吃早饭时，用一根光滑的小棍子轻轻地给他抓痒。
　　“等一下！”埃弗里说，“看这个！”他指着“伯伯”的猪圈上的蓝标签说：”这头猪已经赢得了大奖。”
　　祖克曼一家与阿拉贝尔一家盯住了那张标签。祖克曼太太开始哭起来。没人再说一句话。他们只是呆呆地看着那标签。然后他们看看“伯伯”，再看看标签。鲁维掏出一方特别大的手绢大声地擤着鼻子——这声音很大，大得连那边马厩里的马夫都听见了。
　　“能给我点儿钱吗？”芬问，“我想去游乐场。”
　　“你就在这儿呆着！”她的母亲说。泪水开始在芬的眼里打转。
　　“你们都哭什么？”祖克曼先生说，“让我们忙起来！伊迪丝，拿酸奶来！”
　　祖克曼太太用手绢擦擦眼睛。她走向卡车，带回一个装着一加仑酸奶的瓶子。
　　“洗澡时间！”祖克曼先生欢叫。他和祖克曼太太，埃弗里走进威伯的猪圈。埃弗里慢慢地往威伯的头和背上倒着酸奶，当酸奶流到威伯身上时，祖克曼夫妇就把它往威伯的毛发和皮肤上抹。过路的人都停下来参观。不久，一头漂亮的猪出现了。威伯又白又光滑，变得非常漂亮。早晨的阳光映过了他粉红色的耳朵。
　　“他不像那个圈里的猪那么大，”一个旁观者说，“但他更干净。这就是我喜欢他的地方。”
　　“我也这么想。”另一个男人说。
　　“他也很谦恭。”一个女人读着网里的字说。
　　每个来参观的人都对威伯说了些赞美的话。大家都对那张网感到惊奇。当然，没人注意到夏洛。
　　突然，扩音器里传出了声音。
　　“请注意！”那里面说，“请霍默·祖克曼先生把他的名猪带到大看台上的裁判场来。二十分钟后，将在那里颁发一项特别奖。每个人都被邀请参加。请把你的猪装进箱子，祖克曼先生，立即向裁判场报到！”
　　在这通告发布完的一瞬间里，阿拉贝尔一家与祖克曼一家几乎什么也说不出，也不能动了。然后，埃弗里抓起一大把稻草兴奋地大叫着向空中撒去。这些稻草就像婚礼上撒的五彩纸般，飘上了芬的头发。阿拉贝尔先生吻了阿拉贝尔太太。埃弗里吻了威伯。鲁维对大家挥手示意。芬紧紧抱住了她的母亲。埃弗里抱住了芬。阿拉贝尔太太抱住了祖克曼太太。
　　在猪圈顶层上的阴影里，无人察觉的夏洛正蹲在那里，前腿激动地紧抱着她的卵囊。她的心不象以前跳得那么有力了，她感觉自己现在既衰老又无力，但她相信，最后她终于救了威伯的命，所以她的心里非常的满足。
　　“我们不要浪费时间了！”祖克曼先生喊，“鲁维，帮我抬箱子！”
　　“可以给我点钱吗？”芬问。
　　“你等等！”阿拉贝尔说，“你看不到大家都在忙着吗？”
　　“把空酸奶瓶送回卡车上去！”阿拉贝尔先生命令。埃弗里抱着瓶子冲上了卡车。
　　“我的头发看起来还好吧？”祖克曼太太说。
　　“还好。”祖克曼先生敷衍道，在他和鲁维把板条箱放到威伯面前的时候。
　　“你根本就没看我的头发！”祖克曼太太说。
　　“你很好，伊迪丝，”阿拉贝尔先生说，“只要你保持镇静。”
　　睡在稻草里的坦普尔曼，听到响动，醒了过来。他根本就不知道发生了什么事，但他看到男人们正在把威伯往板条箱里抬，就也决定跟着去。他找个没人看到的时机溜进了板条箱，藏到稻草的最下面。
　　“孩子们，准备！”祖克曼先生喊，“我们走！”他和阿拉贝尔先生、鲁维、埃弗里扛起箱子往卡车走去。芬跳上车，坐到了箱子上。她的头发上还粘着稻草，显得格外的俏皮可爱。阿拉贝尔先生发动了引擎。大家都上了车，往裁判场那里驶去。
　　当他们经过费里斯大转轮时，芬望了大转轮一眼，希望她能和亨利一起坐到大转轮最高处的座位里。
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举报 只看该作者 18楼  发表于: 2014-01-04 0

Chapter 18 The Cool of the Evening

In the cool of the evening, when shadows darkened the Fair Grounds, Templeton crept from the carte and looked around. Wilbur lay asleep in the straw. Charlotte was building a web. Templeton's keen nose detected many fine smells in the air. The rat was hungry and thirsty. He decided to go exploring. Without saying anything to anybody, he started off.
　　"Bring me back a word!" Charlotte called after him. "I shall be writing tonight for the last time."The rat mumbled something to himself and disappeared into the shadows. He did not like being treated like a messenger boy.
　　After the heat of the day, the evening came as a welcome relief to all. The Ferris wheel was lighted now. It went round and round in the sky and seemed twice as high as by day. There were lights on the midway, and you could hear the crackle of the gambling machines and the music of the merry-go-round and the voice of the man in the beano booth calling numbers.
　　The children felt refreshed after their nap. Fern met her friend Henry Fussy, and he invited her to ride with him in the Ferris wheel. He even bought a ticket for her, so it didn't cost her anything. When Mrs. Arable happened to look up into the starry sky and saw here little daughter sitting with Henry Fussy and going higher and higher into the air, and saw how happy Fern looked, she just shook her head. "My, my!" she said. "Henry Fussy. Think of that!"Templeton kept out of sight. In the tall grass behind the cattle barn he found a folded newspaper. Inside it were leftleftovers from somebody's lunch: a deviled ham sandwich, a piece of Swiss cheese, part of a hard-boiled egg, and the core of a wormy apple. The rat crawled in and ate everything. Then he tore a word out of the paper, rolled it up, and started back to Wilbur's pen.
　　Carlotte had her web almost finished when Templeton returned, carrying the newspaper clipping. She had left a space in the middle of the web. At this hour, no people were around the pigpen, so the rat and the spider and the pig were by themselves.
　　"I hope you brought a good one," Charlotte said. "It's the last word I shall ever write.""Here," said Templeton, unrolling the paper.
　　"What does it say?" asked Charlotte. "You'll have to read it for me.""It says 'Humble'" replied the rat.
　　"Humble?" said Charlotte. "'Humble' has two meanings. It means 'not proud' and it means 'near the ground.' That's Wilbur all over. He's not proud and he's near the ground.""Well, I hope you're satisfied," sneered the rat. "I'm not going to spend all my time fetching and carrying. I came to this Fair to enjoy myself, not to deliver papers.""You've been very helpful," Charlotte said. "Run along, if you want to see more of the Fair."The rat grinned. "I'm going to make a night of it," he said. "The old sheep was right--this Fair is a rat's paradise. What eating! And what drinking! And everywhere good hiding and good hunting. Bye, bye, my humble Wilbur! Fare thee well, charlotte, you old schemer! This will be a night to remember in a rat's life."He vanished into the shadows.
　　Charlotte went back to her work. It was quite dark now. In the distance, fireworks began going off--rockets, scattering fiery balls in the sky. By the time the Arables and the Zuckermans and Lurvy returned from the grandstand, Charlotte had finished her web. The word HUMBLE was woven neatly in the center. Nobody noticed it in the darkness. Everyone was tired and happy.
　　Fern and Avery climbed into the truck and lay down. They pulled the Indian blanket over them. Lurvy gave Wilbur a forkful of fresh straw. Mr. Arable patted him. "Time for us to go home," he said to the pig. "See you tomorrow."The grownups climbed slowly into the truck and Wilbur heard the engine start and then heard the truck moving away in low speed. He would have felt lonely and homesick, had Charlotte not been with him. He never felt lonely when she was near. In the distance he could still hear the music of the merry-go-round.
　　As he was dropping off to sleep he spoke to Charlotte.
　　"Sing me that song again, about the dung and the dark," he begged.
　　"Not tonight," she said in a low voice. "I'm too tired." Her voice didn't seem to come from her web.
　　"Where are you?" asked Wilbur. "I can't see you. Are you on your web?""I'm back here," she answered."Up in this back corner.""Why aren't you on your web?" asked Wilbur. "You almost never leave your web.""I've left it tonight," she said.
　　Wilbur closed his eyes. "Charlotte," he said, after a while," do you really think Zuckerman will let me live and not kill me when the cold weather comes? Do you really think so?""Of course," said Charlotte. "You are a famous pig and you are a good pig. Tomorrow you will probably win a prize. The whole world will hear about you. Zuckerman will be proud and happy to own such a pig. You have nothing to fear, Wilbur--nothing to worry about. Maybe you'll live forever--who knows? and now, go to sleep."For a while there was no sound. Then Wilbur's voice:
　　"What are you doing up there, Charlotte?""Oh, making something," she said. "Making something, as usual.""Is it something for me?" asked Wilbur.
　　"No," said Charlotte. "It's something for me, for a change.""Please tell me what it is," begged Wilbur.
　　"I'll tell you in the morning," she said. "When the first light comes into the sky and the sparrows stir and the cows rattle their chains, when the rooster crows and the stars fade, when early cars whisper along the highway, you look up here and I'll show you something. I will show you my masterpiece."Before she finished the sentence, Wilbur was asleep. She could tell by the sound of his breathing that he was sleeping peacefully, deep in the straw.
　　Miles away, at the Arables' house, the men sat around the kitchen table eating a dish of canned peaches and talking over the events of the day. Upstairs, Avery was already in bed and asleep. Mrs. Arable was tucking Fern into bed.
　　"Did you have a good time at the Fair?" she asked as she kissed her daughter.
　　Fern nodded. "I had the best time I have ever had anywhere or any time in all of my whole life.""Well!" said Mrs. Arable. "Isn't that nice!"

　　黑暗模糊了展览会场后，凉爽的傍晚来临了。坦普尔曼从板条箱里爬出来，开始四处观望。威伯还在稻草中间睡着。夏洛正在织一张网。坦普尔曼那敏锐的鼻子在空气中嗅到很多好闻的味道。老鼠又饿又渴，决定出去探险了。他没和任何人打招呼，就往外溜去。
　　“给我带一个字回来！”夏洛在他的身后喊，“今晚我要最后一次往网里织字！”
　　老鼠嘴里嘟囔了一句什么，消失在黑暗里了。他一点儿也不愿意被看成一个小搬运工。
　　忙碌的白天过去后，夜晚对所有人来说，都是放松的好时候。费里斯大转轮上现在轻松多了。它一圈圈地在空中转着，好像比白天时转得还要高两倍。游乐场里灯火通明，能听到从里面传出的游戏机的响声，还有旋转木马旁的音乐声，电话亭里的男人呼叫电话号码的声音。
　　孩子们在小睡之后又恢复了活力。芬遇到了她的朋友亨利·富塞。他邀请她一同去坐费里斯大转轮，还送了她一张票，这样她就不必花钱去买了。阿拉贝尔太太偶然望向繁星点点的夜空，看到她的小女儿正和亨利·富塞坐在一起，往天上转得越来越高。当看到芬那幸福的样子，她不相信地摇了摇头。“看，看呐！”她说，“那不是亨利·富塞吗？真没想到！”
　　坦普尔曼始终躲避着灯光。在牲口棚后面的高草丛里，他发现了一张折叠起来的报纸。里面包着某个人吃剩的午餐：油煎火腿三明治，一块瑞士奶酪，一点儿煮鸡蛋，一个有蛀虫的苹果核。老鼠爬进去把这些全吃光了。然后他从报纸上撕下一个字，卷起来，往威伯的猪圈叼去。
　　当老鼠带着那片报纸回来时，夏洛的网几乎快织成了。她事先在网中间留了一个空。这时，猪圈四周并没有人，只除了老鼠，蜘蛛和那头猪。
　　“我希望你给我带来一个好词儿，”夏洛说，“那将是我织的最后一个词了。”
　　“这就是。”坦普尔曼说着，打开了纸卷儿。
　　“上面说什么？”夏洛问，“你最好读给我听。”
　　“上面写的是‘谦恭’。”老鼠回答。
　　“谦恭？”①夏洛说，“‘谦恭’有两个意思。一个意思是‘不骄傲’，一个意思是‘贴近大地’，这词对威伯太合适了。他不骄傲，而且他也和土壤非常亲近。”
　　“很好，我希望你能满意，”老鼠讽刺，“我要去把我所有的时间都用到拿和搬上了。我到展览会来是为了使自己开心的，而不是为了送报纸的。”
　　“你帮了很大的忙，”夏洛说，“快去吧，如果你想在展览会上找到更多的好东西的话。”
　　老鼠咧开嘴笑了。“我要去狂吃一整夜，”他说，“老羊说得对——这个展览会是老鼠的天堂。那么多吃的！那么多喝的！到处都有可以攫取的好东西。再见，再见，我谦恭的威伯！也对你说声再见吧，夏洛，你这个老阴谋家！这将是一只老鼠一生中最难忘的夜晚。”
　　他在黑暗中消失了。
　　夏洛回到她的工作上来。现在，天已经很黑了。不远处，焰火开始升空了——无数灿烂的火球笔直地喷洒进夜空中。等阿拉贝尔一家与祖克曼夫妇，还有鲁维从大看台那里回来时，夏洛已经织完了她的网，“谦恭”这个词被整齐地织在网中央。在黑暗中，没有人注意到它。每个人都玩得又累又尽兴。
　　芬和埃弗里爬进卡车躺下来，把那条印第安毛毯盖到身上。鲁维给威伯加了一叉新鲜的稻草。阿拉贝尔先生拍了拍他。“我们该回家了，”他对那头猪说，“明天见。”
　　大人们悄悄地进了卡车。威伯先听到了引擎开动的声音，继而又听到了卡车慢慢离去的声音。如果夏洛此刻不陪在身边的话，他一定会孤独和想家的。只要有夏洛在身边，他就永远不会感到孤独。不远处传来旋转木马旁的音乐声。
　　就在快要入睡时，他对夏洛说了起来。
　　“再给我唱一遍那支歌吧，就是关于粪堆和黑夜的那支。”他央求道。
　　“今晚不能了，”她用一种微弱的声音说，“我太累了。”她的声音好像不是从她的网里传出来的。
　　“你在哪儿？”威伯问，“我看不到你。你在网里吗？”
　　“我在后面，”她回答，“猪圈后的一个角落上面。”
　　“你为什么不在你的网里？”威伯问，“你可是从不离开你的网的。”
　　“我今晚得离开了。”她说。
　　威伯闭上眼。“夏洛，”他过了一会儿说，“你真的认为祖克曼会让我活下去，冬天来时也不杀我吗？你真的这么认为吗？”
　　“当然，”夏洛说，“你是头名猪，也是头好猪。明天你可能会得大奖的。整个世界将会知道你的名字的。祖克曼会为拥有你这样一头猪而骄傲、幸福的，你不要害怕，威伯——什么也不必担心。你大概会永远活下去的——谁知道呢？现在去睡吧。”
　　静了一会儿，又听到了威伯的声音：
　　“你在那上面做什么呢，夏洛？”
　　“哦，造一样东西，”她说，“造一样东西，像往常那样。”
　　“那是给我造的吗？”威伯问。
　　“不，”夏洛说，“这次不同，这次是为我自己造的。”
　　“请告诉我那是什么吧。”威伯请求。
　　“我会在明天早晨告诉你，”她说，“等到天空中出现第一道晨光，麻雀们开始喳喳叫，母牛把他们的身上的链子弄得嘎嘎作响的时候；等到公鸡啼叫，星光黯淡的时候；等到早起的汽车在高速公路上奔跑的时候，你再抬头看我要你看的东西。我将给你看我的一件杰作。”
　　在她说完之前，威伯已经睡着了。威伯从稻草里传出的呼噜声告诉了她这一点。
　　数里外的阿拉贝尔家，父亲正围坐在厨房的餐桌旁，吃着桃子罐头，想着白天发生的事情。埃弗里已经在楼上睡着了。阿拉贝尔太太正在给芬掖被子。
　　“你在展览会上玩得开心吗？”她问着，吻了女儿一下。
　　芬点点头。“在我一生中，不管在哪里，在什么时候，都没有在那里时玩得开心。”
　　“好极了！”阿拉贝尔太太说，“那真是太好了！”

　　注释① 谦恭，原文humble。我的朋友筋斗云告诉我，它有两个意思：1.having or showing a consciousness of one's defector shortcomings,not proud; not self-assertive;modest 2. low in condition,rank or position;lowly ;unpretentious.它的词根来源是Humilis ,(low ,small ,soil ,earth)。所以它有土壤与土地之意。humble　有差点、低级点的意思，也有做谦词的，以前见过"蓬壁增辉"有译成"in　my　humble　house　"。另外"In　my　humble opinion　"也常见。
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青鸟不传云外信，丁香空结雨中愁
举报 只看该作者 17楼  发表于: 2014-01-04 0

Chapter 17 Uncle
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When they pulled into the Fair Grounds, they could hear music and see the Ferris wheel turning in the sky. They could smell the dust of the race track where the sprinkling cart had moistened it; and they could smell hamburgers frying and see balloons aloft. They could hear sheep blatting in their pens. An enormous voice over the loudspeaker said:"Attention, please! Will the owner of a Pontiac car, license number H-2439, please move your car away from the fireworks shed!""Can I have some money?" asked Fern.
　　"Can I, too?" asked Avery.
　　"I'm going to win a doll by spinning a wheel and it will stop at the right number," said Fern.
　　"I'm going to steer a jet plane and make it bump into another one.""Can I have a balloon?" asked Fern.
　　"Can I have a frozen custard and a cheeseburger and some raspberry soda pop?" asked Avery.
　　"You children be quiet till we get the pig unloaded," said Mrs. Arable.
　　"Let's let the children go off by themselves," suggested Mr. Arable. "The Fair only comes once a year." Mr. Arable gave Fern two quarters and tow dimes. He gave Avery five dimes and four nickels. "Now run along1" he said. "And remember, the money has to last all day. Don't spend it all the first few minutes. And be back here at the truck at noontime so we can all have lunch together. And don't eat a lot of stuff that's going to make you sick to your stomachs.""And if you go in those swings," said Mrs. Arable,"you hang on tight! You hang on very tight. Hear me?""And don't get lost!" said Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　"And don't get dirty!""Don't get overheated!" said their mother.
　　"Watch out for pickpockets!" cautioned their father.
　　"And don't cross the race track when the horses are coming!" cried Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　The children grabbed each other by the hand and danced off in the direction of the merry-go-round, toward the wonderful music and the wonderful adventure and the wonderful excitement, into the wonderful midway where there would be no parents to guard them and guide them, and where they could be happy and free and do as they pleased. Mrs. arable stood quietly and watched them go. Then she sighed. Then she blew her nose.
　　"Do you really think it's all right?" she asked.
　　"Well, they've got to grow up some time," said Mr. Arable. "And a fair is a good place to start, I guess."While Wilbur was being unloaded and taken out of his crate and into his new pigpen, crowds gathered to watch. They stared at the sign ZUCKERMAN'S FAMOUS PIG. Wilbur stared back and tried to look extra good. He was pleased with his new home. The pen was grassy, and it was shaded from the sun by a shed roof.
　　Charlotte, watching her chance, scrambled out of the crate and climbed a post to the under side of the roof. Nobody noticed her.
　　Templeton, not wishing to come out in broad daylight, stayed quietly under the straw at the bottom of the crate. Mr. Zuckerman poured some skim milk into Wilbur's trough, pitched clean straw into his pen, and then he and Mrs. Zuckerman and the Arables walked away toward the cattle barn to look at purebred cows and to see the sights. Mr. Zuckerman particularly wanted to look at tractors. Mrs. Zuckerman wanted to see a deep freeze. Lurvy wandered off by  himself, hoping to meet friends and have some fun on the midway.
　　As soon as the people were gone, Charlotte spoke to Wilbur.
　　"It's a good thing you can't see what I see," she said.
　　"What do you see?" asked Wilbur.
　　"There's a pig in the next pen and he's enormous. I'm afraid he's much bigger than you are.""Maybe he's older than I am, and has had more time to grow," suggested Wilbur. Tears began to come to his eyes.
　　"I'll drop down and have a closer look," Charlotte said. Then she crawled along a beam till she was directly over the next pen. She let herself down on a dragline until she hung in the air just in front of the big pig's snout.
　　"May I have your name?" she asked, politely.
　　The pig stared at her. "No name," he said in a big, hearty voice. "Just call me uncle.""Very well, Uncle," replied Charlotte. "What is the date of your birth? Are you a spring pig?""Sure I'm a spring pig," replied Uncle. "What did you think I was, a spring chicken? Haw, haw--that's a good one, eh, Sister?""Mildly funny," said Charlotte. "I've heard funnier ones, though. Glad to have met you, and now I must be going."She ascended slowly and returned to Wilbur's pen.
　　"He claims he's a spring pig," reported Charlotte," and perhaps he is. One thing is certain, he has a most unattractive personality. He is too familiar, too noisy, and he cracks weak jokes. Also, he's not anywhere near as clean as you are, nor as pleasant. I took quite a dislike to him in our brief interview. He's going to be a hard pig to beat, though, Wilbur, on account of his size and weight. But with me helping you, it can be done.""When are you going to spin a web?" asked Wilbur.
　　"This afternoon, late, if I'm not too tired," said Charlotte. "The least thing tires me these days. I don't seem to have the energy I once had. My age, I guess."Wilbur looked at his friend. She looked rather swollen and she seemed listless.
　　"I'm awfully sorry to hear that you're feeling poorly, Charlotte," he said." Perhaps if you spin a web and catch a couple of flies you'll feel better.""Perhaps," she said, wearily. "But I feel like the end of a long day." Clinging upside down to the ceiling, she settled down for a nap, leaving Wilbur very much worried.
　　All morning people wandered past Wilbur's pen. Dozens and dozens of strangers stopped to star at him and to admire his silky white coat, his curly tail, his kind and radiant expression. Then they would move on to the next pen where the bigger pig lay. Wilbur heard several people make favorable remarks about uncle's great size. He couldn't help worrying. "And now, with Charlotte not feeling well..." he thought. "Oh, dear!"All morning Templeton slept quietly under the straw. The day grew fiercely hot. At noon the Zuckermans and the Arables returned to the pigpen. Then, a few minutes later, Fern and Avery showed up. Fern had a monkey doll in her arms and was eating Cracker-jack. Avery had a balloon tied to his ear and was chewing a candied apple. The children were hot and dirty.
　　"Isn't it hot?" said Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　"It's terribly hot," said Mrs. Arable, fanning herself with an advertisement of a deep freeze.
　　One by one they climbed into the truck and opened lunch boxes. The sun beat down on everything. Nobody seemed hungry.
　　"When are the judges going to decide about Wilbur?" asked Mrs. Zuckerman.
　　"Not till tomorrow," said Mr. Zuckerman.
　　Lurvy appeared, carrying an Indian blanket that he had won.
　　"That's just what we need," said Avery. "A blanket.""Of course it is," replied Lurvy. And he spread the blanket across the sideboards of the truck so that it was like a little tent. The children sat in the shade, under the blanket, and felt better.
　　After lunch, they stretched out and fell asleep.

　　当他们一到展览会场，就听到音乐声，看到在天空中的费里斯大转轮。他们能闻到洒水车喷出的道道水迹里散发出的尘土气息，闻到油煎三明治的香味，看到徐徐升起的大汽球。他们还能听到绵羊们在圈里咩咩地叫。扩音器里有个很大的声音喊道：请注意！请车牌为H-2349号的庞蒂亚克的车主把你的车从放焰火的地方开走！
　　“能给我点儿钱吗？”芬问。
　　“也能给我点儿吗？”埃弗里问。
　　“我要去玩旋转轮，让它停到正确的数码上，好赢回一个小娃娃。”芬说。
　　“我要去开喷气式飞机，用它去撞别的飞机。”
　　“我可以买个汽球吗？”芬问。
　　“我能买一个牛奶果冻，一张干酪肉饼，一瓶蔗莓汽水吗？”埃弗里问。
　　“在那头猪被卸下来之前，让你的孩子们都闭嘴！”阿拉贝尔太太说。
　　“我说还是让孩子们自己去玩吧，”阿拉贝尔先生建议，“展览会一年可是只有一次。”阿拉贝尔先生给了芬两枚两毛五分的银币，两枚一角的银币①。
　　他又给了埃弗里五角银币和四枚五分钱的镍币。“现在玩去吧！”他说，“记住，这些钱是留给你们一整天花的！不要在几分钟内就轻易的花光。下午回到卡车这里来，那时我们要一起吃午饭了。不要吃太多的零食，不然开饭时你们就什么也吃不下了。”
　　“如果你们去坐那大转轮，”阿拉贝尔太太说，“一定要抓紧！抓得非常紧。听到了吗？”
　　“不要跑丢了！”祖克曼太太说。
　　“不要把身上弄脏了！”
　　“不要玩得太疯！”他们的妈妈说。
　　“留心扒手！”他们的父亲警告。
　　“马跑过来时不要横穿赛道！”祖克曼太太叫。
　　孩子们手挽手蹦跳着向旋转木马那边跑去，跑向那充满迷人音乐，精彩冒险与神奇刺激的奇妙的游乐场。那里没有父母的阻拦和唠叨，可以尽情地玩个痛快。阿拉贝尔太太默默地看着他们的背影，轻叹了一声。接着，她又吁了一口气。
　　“你真的以为他们会没事吗？”她问。
　　“哎呀，他们早晚要长大的，”阿拉贝尔先生说，“展览会里是一个很好的锻炼地方，我想。”
　　当威伯被抬下车，从板条箱里带到他的新猪圈时，好多人都围过来看。他们看到了“祖克曼家的名猪”那行字。威伯回看着人们，试图让自己显得格外的出众。他对他的新家很满意。那里面有很多草，可以为他遮挡从棚顶上照过来的阳光。
　　夏洛找个机会溜出板条箱，爬到棚顶下的一根杆子上。没人注意到她。
　　坦普尔曼可不想在白天露面，就悄悄地在箱子里的稻草间躲着。祖克曼先生往威伯的食槽里倒了些脱脂奶，又往里添了些干净的稻草，然后和祖克曼太太，阿拉贝尔夫妇到牲口棚去看纯种奶牛，并四处观光去了。祖克曼先生特别想去看拖拉机。祖克曼太太想去看电冰箱。鲁维闲逛着，希望会遇到朋友，在游乐场里找点儿乐事。
　　人们刚一离开，夏洛便对威伯说起来。
　　“还好，你没看到我刚才看见的。”她说。
　　“你看到什么了？”威伯问。
　　“你旁边的猪圈里有一头特别大的猪，恐怕要比你大得多。”
　　“可能他的年纪比我大，有更多的时间来往大里长吧。”威伯说着，泪水不禁涌上了眼眶。
　　“我要荡过去仔细看一下。”夏洛说。她顺着杆子往那个猪圈爬去。她拖着一条丝线往空中飘去，正好飘到了那头猪的鼻子上方。
　　“我可以问你的名字吗？”她礼貌地问。
　　那头猪看了看她。“我没名字，”他用很粗的嗓门说，“你就叫我伯伯吧。”
　　“好的，伯伯，”夏洛回答，“你是何时出生的？你是一头春猪吗？”
　　“我就是春猪，”伯伯回答，“你以为我是什么，一只春天生的小鸡吗？呵，呵——这笑话不错吧，呃，小妹妹？”
　　“有点儿意思，”夏洛说，“不过我还听过更有意思的笑话。很高兴认识你，现在我要走了。”
　　她慢慢地收起丝线，往上退回去，不久就回到了威伯的猪圈。
　　“他说他是头春猪，”夏洛说，“可能他真的是。不过，他非常的不讨人喜欢。他也太冒失，太吵，而且他讲的粗俗笑话也一点都不可笑。还有，他并没有你这么干净，更没你这么有礼貌。经过刚才的简短交谈，我发现我非常讨厌他。不过，威伯，考虑到他的个头和体重，他可能会是一个很难击败的对手。但如果有我帮你，你就能赢他。”
　　“那你要在什么时候织网呢？”威伯问。
　　“下午晚些时候吧，如果那时我不太累的话，”夏洛说，“这些天里，就是最轻的活儿也会使我疲倦的。我好像不再有以前那样的精力了。可能是我老了吧。”
　　威伯看着他的朋友。她看起来相当的憔悴，一脸倦容。
　　“听到你说感觉不好，我非常难过，夏洛，”他说，“也许你织一张网，抓到几只苍蝇后就能感觉好一点儿。”
　　“也许，”她无力地说，“但是我感觉那些漫长的日子快结束了。”她爬上猪圈的顶层睡着了，把忧心忡忡的威伯留在下面。
　　整个早上人们都从威伯的猪圈旁走过。无数的陌生人在此驻足，羡慕地看着威伯那丝绸一样光滑的白皮肤，卷曲的尾巴，还有他那善意的表情，光彩照人的样子。然后他们去看下一个猪圈里的那头更大的猪。威伯听到好几个人在赞美那个伯伯的个头。他忍不住去偷听那些评论，并情不自禁地担心起来。“现在，夏洛的感觉又不好……”他想，“唉，天呐！”
　　坦普尔曼一早上都在稻草里熟睡。天气像火一样热。下午祖克曼夫妇和阿拉贝尔夫妇回到了猪圈。几分钟后，芬和埃弗里也出现了。芬的胳膊下夹着一个玩具猴，嘴里嚼着琥珀爆米花②。埃弗里的耳朵上系着一个汽球，嘴里吃着苹果蜜饯。孩子们的身上都是汗，看起来很脏。
　　“很热吧？”祖克曼太太问。
　　“热死了。”阿拉贝尔太太说着，用手里的那份冰箱广告当扇子扇起来。
　　他们一个又一个地走进卡车，打开午餐盒。到处都是热辣辣的阳光，晒得人都没有兴致吃饭了。
　　“裁判什么时候能宣布威伯的名次？”祖克曼太太问。
　　“明天吧。”祖克曼先生说。
　　鲁维走了过来，扛着刚才赢来的印第安毛毯。
　　“那正是我们需要的，”埃弗里说，“一条毛毯。”
　　“当然了。”鲁维回答。他把毛毯围在卡车护栏的四周，使后车厢看起来就像个小帐篷。孩子们坐在毛毯围出的阴影里，感觉舒服多了。
　　午餐后，他们都躺下来，睡了。


　　注释① 此处的原文是 two quarters and two dimes。这美国钱是什么模样我哪里知道？中国钱我都没见全呢。只好请教新语丝的朋友。虎子，筋斗云，亦歌等朋友告诉我说，Quarters，是美国最常用的硬币，是镍币，面值为二十五美分，是日常生活中使用最频繁的硬币，搭车洗衣服打公用电话都少不了它。如果到过LASVAGAS就会知道二十五美分的老虎机支撑了一半的赌城。Dime，是十美分的硬币。据说也是美国硬币中唯一含银的。

　　注释②：这本书里提到很多吃的，但我都多数不知道是什么，除了这个琥珀爆米花，因为我的朋友，尤其是暮紫给了我非常详尽的介绍，让我格外惊喜。他说，琥珀爆米花（原文是Cracker-Jack），是美国Frito-Lay食品公司的食品系列之一，这种零食在学校的小店，平常的市场市场里都有，在垒球赛场上也和花生、热狗一样常见。下面的话是我从他给我提供的一段英文中译出来的：
　　Cracker-Jack是用一种特别的，红罂粟般颜色的玉米加工而成的，这种玉米最早由美国印地安人在公元800年左右杂交而成。某些新英格兰的部族曾把这种玉米涂上一层枫糖浆，制成蜜饯。第一种具有独特口味的Cracker-Jack，是F.W. Rueckheim在芝加哥举办的第一届世界工业博览会发明的。F.W. Rueckheim 与其兄弟Louis Rueckheim组建了一家F.W. Rueckheim兄弟公司。
　　Louis Rueckheim 发现了防止蜜糖粘到爆米花上的办法。这个秘方今天还在使用，而且至今仍是个秘密。Louis Rueckheim在1896年对推销员推销这产品时，推销员喊道："那是Cracker Jack！”这就给他的产品说出了一个不朽的商标。
　　Cracker-Jack这个商标，被1908年的一首叫"带我去参加棒球赛"流行歌唱成了不朽，因为那歌里曾反复唱道："给我买点儿花生和Cracker-Jack"。”每盒都有奖品"的口号在1912年被提出，当时每件玩具的包装盒里都装着Cracker-Jack。1918年，动画明星大力水手杰克和他的叫BINGO的狗的形象第一次出现在Cracker-Jack包装盒上，只是杰克的脸被换成了F.W. Rueckheim的小孙子Robert的。
　　总部在美国俄亥俄州首府的哥伦布的一家公司购买了Cracker Jack公司，使它在1964年成了一家分公司。Frito-Lay在1997年购买了Cracker-Jack的商标权。
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Chapter 16 Off to the Fair

The night before the County Fair, everybody went to bed early. Fern and Avery were in bed by eight. Avery lay dreaming that the Ferris wheel had stopped and that he was in the top car. Fern lay dreaming that she was getting sick in the swings.
　　Lurvy was in bed by eight-thirty. He lay dreaming that he was throwing baseballs at a cloth cat and winning a genuine Navajo blanket. Mr. and Mrs. Zuckerman were in bed by nine. Mrs. Zuckerman lay dreaming about a deep freeze unit. Mr. Zuckerman lay dreaming about Wilbur. He dreamt that Wilbur had grown until he was one hundred and sixteen feet long and ninety-tow feet high and that he had won all the prizes at the Fair and was covered with blue ribbons and even had a blue ribbon tied to the end of his tail.
　　Down in the barn cellar, the animals, too, went to sleep early, all except Charlotte. Tomorrow would be Fair Day. Every creature planned to get up early to see Wilbur off on his great adventure.
　　When morning came, everybody got up at daylight. The day was hot. Up the road at the Arables' house, Fern lugged a pail of hot water to her room and took a sponge bath. Then she put on her prettiest dress because she knew she would see boys at the Fair. Mrs. Arable scrubbed the back of Avery's neck, and wet his hair, and parted it, and brushed it down hard till it stuck to the top of his head--all but about six hairs that stood straight up. Avery put on clean underwear, clean blue jeans, and a clean shirt. Mr. Arable dressed, ate breakfast, and then went out and polished his truck. He had offered to drive everybody to the Fair, including Wilbur.
　　Bright and early, Lurvy put clean straw in Wilbur's crate and lifted it into the pigpen. The crate was green. In gold letters it said:
　　ZUCKERMAN'S FAMOUS PIGCharlotte had her web looking fine for the occasion. Wilbur ate his breakfast slowly. He tried to look radiant without getting food in his ears.
　　In the kitchen, Mrs. Zuckerman suddenly made an announcement.
　　"Homer," she said to her husband, "I am going to give that pig a buttermilk bath.""A what?" said Mr. Zuckerman.
　　"A buttermilk bath. My grandmother used to bathe her pig with buttermilk when it got dirty--I just remembered.""Wilbur's not dirty," said Mr. Zuckerman proudly.
　　"He's filthy behind the ears," said Mrs. Zuckerman. "Every time Lurvy slops him, the food runs down around the ears. Then it dries and forms a crust. He also has a smudge on one side where he lays in the manure.""He lays in clean straw," corrected Mr. Zuckerman.
　　"Well, he's dirty, and he's going to have a bath."Mr. Zuckerman sat down weakly and ate a doughnut. His wife went to the woodshed. When she returned, she wore rubber boots and an old raincoat, and she carried a bucket of buttermilk and a small wooden paddle.
　　"Edith, you're crazy," mumbled Zuckerman.
　　But she paid no attention to him. Together they walked to the pigpen. Mrs. Zuckerman wasted no time. She climbed in with Wilbur and went to work. Dipping her paddle in the buttermilk, she rubbed him all over. The geese gathered around to see the fun, and so did the sheep and lambs. Even Templeton poked his head out cautiously, to watch Wilbur get a buttermilk bath. Charlotte got so interested, she lowered herself on a dragline so she could see better. Wilbur stood still and closed his eyes. He could feel the buttermilk trickling down his sides. he opened his mouth and some buttermilk ran in. it was delicious. He felt radiant and happy. When Mrs. Zuckerman got through and rubbed him dry, he was the cleanest, prettiest pig you ever saw. He was pure white, pink around the ears and snout, and smooth as silk.
　　The Zuckermans went up to change into their best clothes. Lurvy went to shave and put on his plaid shirt and his purple necktie. The animals were left to themselves in the barn.
　　The seven goslings paraded round and round their mother.
　　"Please, please, please take us to the Fair!" begged a gosling. Then all seven began teasing to go.
　　"Please, Please, Please, Please, Please, Please..." They made quite a racket.
　　"Children!" snapped the goose. "We're staying quietly-ietly-ietly at home. Only Wilbur-ilbur-ilbur is going to the Fair."Just then Charlotte interrupted.
　　"I shall go, too," she said, softly. "I have decided to go with Wilbur. He may need me. We can't tell what may happen at the Fair Grounds. Somebody's got to go along who knows how to write. And I think Templeton better come, too--I might need somebody to run errands and do general work.""I'm staying right here," grumbled the rat. "I haven't the slightest interest in fairs.""That's because you've never been to one," remarked the old sheep. "A fair is a rat's paradise. Everybody spills food at a fair. A rat can creep out late at night and have a feast. In the horse barn you will find oats that the trotters and pacers have spilled. In the trampled grass of the infield you will find old discarded lunch boxes containing the foul remains of peanut butter sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, cracker crumbs, bits of doughnuts, and particles of cheese. In the hard-packed dirt of the midway, after the glaring lights are out and the people have gone home to bed, you will find a veritable treasure of popcorn fragments, frozen custard dribblings, candied apples abandoned by tired children, sugar fluff crystals, salted almonds, popsicles, partially gnawed ice cream cones, and the wooden sticks of lollypops. Everywhere is loot for a rat--in tents, in booths, in hay lofts--why, a fair has enough disgusting leftover food to satisfy a whole army of rats."Templeton's eyes were blazing.
　　"Is this true?" he asked. "Is this appetizing yarn of yours true? I like high living, and what you say tempts me.""It is true," said the old sheep. "Go to the Fair, Templeton. You will find that the conditions at a fair will surpass your wildest dreams. Buckets with sour mash sticking to them, tin cans containing particles of tuna fish, greasy paper bags stuffed with rotten...""That's enough!" cried Templeton. "Don't tell me any more. I'm going.""Good," said Charlotte, winking at the old sheep. "Now then--there is no time to be lost. Wilbur will soon be put into the crate. Templeton and I must get in the crate right now and hide ourselves."The rat didn't waste a minute. He scampered over to the crate, crawled between the slats, and pulled straw up over him so he was hidden from sight.
　　"All right," said Charlotte, "I'm next." She sailed into the air, let out a dragline, and dropped gently to the ground. then she climbed the side of the crate and hid herslef inside a knothole in the top board.
　　The old sheep nodded. "What a cargo!" she said. "That sign ought to say 'Zuckerman's Famous Pig and Two Stowaways'.""Look out, the people are coming-oming-oming!" shouted the gander. "Cheese it, cheese it, cheese it!"The big truck with Mr. Arable at the wheel backed slowly down toward the barnyard. Lurvy and Mr. Zuckerman walked alongside. Fern and Avery were standing in the body of the truck hanging on to the sideboards.
　　"Listen to me," whispered the old sheep to Wilbur. "When they open the crate and try to put you in, struggle! Don't go without a tussle. Pigs always resist when they are being loaded.""If I struggle I'll get dirty," said Wilbur.
　　"Never mind that--do as I say! Struggle! If you were to walk into the crate without resisting, Zuckerman might think you were bewitched. He'd be scared to go to the Fair."Templeton poked his head up through the straw. "Struggle if you must," said he, " but kindly remember that I'm hiding down here in this crate and I don't want to be stepped on, or kicked in the face, or pummeled, or crushed in any way, or squashed, or buffeted about, or bruised, or lacerated, or scarred, or biffed. Just watch what you're doing, Mr. Radiant, when they get shoving you in!""Be quiet, Templeton!" said the sheep. "Pull in you head--they're coming. Look radiant, Wilbur! Lay low, Charlotte! Talk it up, geese!"The truck backed slowly to the pigpen and stopped. Mr. arable cut the motor, got out, walked around to the rear, and lowered the tailgate. The geese cheered. Mrs. Arable got out of the truck. Fern and Avery jumped to the ground. Mrs. Zuckerman came walking down from the house. Everybody lined up at the fence and stood for a moment admiring Wilbur and the beautiful green crate. Nobody realized that the crate already contained a rat and a spider.
　　"That's some pig!" said Mrs. Arable.
　　"He's terrific," said Lurvy.
　　"He's very radiant," said Fern, remembering the day he was born.
　　"Well," said Mrs. Zuckerman, "he's clean, anyway. The buttermilk certainly hepled."Mr. Arable studied Wilbur carefully. "Yes, he's a wonderful pig," he said. "It's hard to believe that he was the runt of the litter. You'll get some extra good ham and bacon, Homer, when it comes time to kill that pig."Wilbur heard these words and his heart almost stopped. "I think I'm going to faint," he whispered to the old sheep, who was watching.
　　"Kneel down." whispered the old sheep. "Let the blood rush to you head!"Wilbur sank to his knees, all radiance gone. His eyes closed.
　　"Look!" screamed Fern. "He's fading away!""Hey, watch me!" yelled Avery, crawling on all fours into the crate. "I'm a pig! I'm a pig!"Avery's foot touched Templeton under the straw. "What a mess!" thought the rat. "What fantastic creatures boys are! why did I let myself in for this?"The geese saw Avery in the crate and cheered.
　　"Avery, you get out of that crate this instant!" commanded his mother. "What do you think you are?""I'm a pig1" cried Avery, tossing handfuls of straw into the air. "Oink, oink, oink!""The truck is rolling away, Papa," said Fern.
　　The truck, with no one at the wheel, had started to roll downhill. Mr. Arable dashed to the driver's seat and pulled on the emergency brake. The truck stopped. The geese cheered. Charlotte crouched and made herself as small as possible in the knothole, so Avery wouldn't see her.
　　"Come out at once!" cried Mrs. Arable. Avery crawled out of the crate on hands and knees, making faces at Wilbur. Wilbur fainted away.
　　"The pig has passed out," said Mrs. Zuckerman. "Throw water on him!""Throw buttermilk!" suggested Avery.
　　The geese cheered.
　　Lurvy ran for a pail of water. Fern climbed into the pen and knelt by Wilbur's side.
　　"It's sunstroke," said Zuckerman. "The heat is too much for him.""Maybe he's dead," said Avery.
　　"Come out of that pigpen immediately1" cried Mrs. Arable. Avery obeyed his mother and climbed into the back of the truck so he could see better. Lurvy returned with cold water and dashed it on Wilbur.
　　"Throw some on me!" cried Avery. "I'm hot, too.""Oh, keep quiet!" hollered Fern. "Keep qui-ut!" Her eyes were brimming with tears.
　　Wilbur, feeling the cold water, came to. He rose slowly to his feet, while the geese cheered.
　　He's up!" said Mr. Arable. "I guess there's nothing wrong with him.""I'm hungry," said Avery. "I want a candied apple.""Wilbur's all right now," said Fern. "We can start. I want to take a ride in the Ferris wheel."Mr. Zuckerman and Mr. Arable and Lurvy grabbed the pig and pushed him headfirst toward the crate. Wilbur began to struggle. The harder the men pushed, the harder he held back. Avery jumped down and joined the men. Wilbur kicked and thrashed and grunted. "Nothing wrong with this pig," said Mr. Zuckerman cheerfully, pressing his knee against Wilbur's behind. "All together, now, boys! Shove!"With a final heave they jammed him into the crate. The geese cheered. Lurvy nailed some boards across the end, so Wilbur couldn't back out. Then, using all their strength, the men picked up the crate and heaved it aboard the truck. They did not know that under the straw was a rat, and inside a knothole was a big grey spider. They saw only a pig.
　　"Everybody in!" called Mr. Arable. He started the motor. The ladies climbed in beside him. Mr. Zuckerman and Lurvy and Fern and Avery rode in back, hanging onto the sideboards. The truck began to move ahead. The geese cheered. The children answered their cheer, and away went everybody to the Fair.

　　展览会的前夜，每人都早早地上了床。芬和埃弗里八点就上床了。埃弗里梦见自己正高高地坐在展览会里的费里斯大转轮①上最高的位子里。芬则梦到自己在那大转轮上转迷糊了。
　　鲁维八点半上的床。他梦见自己在“布猫队”里（at a cloth cat）②打篮球赛，还赢得了一块真正的拿佛和③地毯。祖克曼先生和太太在九点上的床。祖克曼太太梦见了一排电冰箱。祖克曼先生梦见了威伯。他梦见威伯长到一一六尺长，九十二英尺高，赢得了展览会上的所有奖品。浑身披满蓝色的丝带，甚至尾巴尖上还系了一条蓝丝带。
　　谷仓下的地窖里的动物们也都早早的睡了，只除了夏洛。明天就要开展览会了，每个动物都打算早早起来为威伯这次伟大的冒险送行。
　　第二天，每个人都在黎明就起了床。那天很热。小路上头的阿拉贝尔家的房子里，芬往卧室拎了桶热水，用毛巾简单擦了个澡。然后她穿上了她最漂亮的衣服，因为她知道会在展览会上看到男孩们。阿拉贝尔太太把埃弗里的脖子后面擦了又擦，又往他的头上掸了些水，把他的头发往两边梳起来。她梳得非常用力，直到把头发梳干，竖立起来为止——结果除六根头发之外，其余的头发全都笔直地竖起来了。埃弗里穿上干净的内裤、牛仔裤，还有干净的衬衫。阿拉贝尔先生已经穿戴好了，吃完了早饭，就出去擦他的卡车了。他要开车把每个人送到展览会上，也包括威伯。
　　天刚亮，鲁维就在威伯的大板条箱里铺上干净的稻草，将箱子抬到了猪圈。这箱子是绿色的，上面写着金色的大字：祖克曼家的名猪。
　　夏洛为了展览会把她的网整修得很漂亮。威伯在慢慢吃他的早餐。他试图不让食物沾到他的耳朵上，好让自己的样子更加闪光。
　　祖克曼太太突然在厨房喊起来。
　　“霍默，”她对丈夫说，“我打算给那猪洗一个酸奶澡。”
　　“一个什么？”祖克曼先生说。
　　“一个酸奶澡。当猪变脏时我祖母就常用酸奶给它们洗澡——我才想起来。”
　　“威伯并不脏。”祖克曼先生骄傲地说。
　　“他的耳朵后面很脏，”祖克曼太太说，“每次鲁维喂他时，猪食都会溅到他的耳朵四周。它们干了以后就结成硬块儿了。他常躺在粪堆里的那边身子也有埋汰的地方。”
　　“他可是躺在干净的稻草上。”祖克曼先生更正。
　　“算了，他很脏，他需要洗澡。”
　　祖克曼先生只好无奈地坐下来，去吃油煎圈饼。他妻子向柴棚走去。当她回来时，脚上蹬了双水靴，身上穿了件旧雨衣，一手拎着一桶酸奶，一手拿着一把小木刷。
　　“伊迪丝，你疯了。”祖克曼小声嘀咕道。
　　但她没理他。他们一起往猪圈走去。祖克曼太太一点儿也没浪费时间，她爬进猪圈来到威伯身边就开始工作了。她用蘸着酸奶的刷子把威伯全身刷了个遍。母鹅一家都来参观这有趣的一幕，绵羊和羊羔也跑来看。甚至坦普尔曼也好奇地伸出脑袋，去看威伯洗酸奶澡。夏洛也很感兴趣，便随着一根长丝线从网上慢慢地荡下来，以便能看得更清楚。威伯安静地闭着眼站在那里。他能感觉酸奶流遍了全身。他张开嘴，一些酸奶便淌了进去。那味道可真好。他觉得自己是闪光的，他幸福极了。当祖克曼太太把他洗完擦干，他便成了一头你曾经见过的最干净，最漂亮的猪。他浑身雪白，耳朵和鼻子是粉红的，毛皮像缎子一样的光滑。
　　祖克曼一家回去穿上他们最好的衣服。鲁维去刮了脸，穿起他的格子衬衫，打上他的紫领带。动物们离开他们的住所涌进了谷仓。
　　七只小鹅在他们的妈妈周围转来转去地嚷起来。
　　“请，请，请带我们去参加展览会吧！”一只小鹅央求。接着所有的七只小鹅都乞求起来。
　　“请，请，请，请，请，请……”他们发出很大的吵闹声。
　　“孩子们！”母鹅尖叫，“我们要安静-静-静地呆在家里。只有威伯-伯-伯才去展览会。”
　　就在那时，夏洛打断了母鹅。
　　“我也去，”她轻轻地说，“我已经决定和威伯一起去了。他可能会需要我。我们不知展览会上可能发生什么意外。谁知道怎么写字可以和我一起去。我想坦普尔曼最好也去——我可能需要有人跑腿，做些复杂的工作。”
　　“我就在这儿呆着，”老鼠不满地说，“我对展览会一丁点儿兴趣都没有。”
　　“那是因为你从来没去过展览会，”老羊提醒道，“展览会是老鼠的天堂。展览会上的人都把食物乱丢。一只老鼠可以在夜里溜出去吃一顿宴席。在马厩你能找到马吃剩的燕麦，在有人迹的草地你会找到人们扔掉的午餐盒，里面有花生三明治，煮鸡蛋，面包渣，小块的油煎圈饼，还有干酪。当灯光熄灭，人们回家睡觉后，你还会在游乐场里到处都是的垃圾袋中间找到真正的财宝：碎爆米花，往下直淌的果冻，累了的孩子们丢下的蜜饯，水晶般闪光的糖球，咸杏仁，冰棒，一块被咬掉的冰激凌，带着小木棍儿的棒棒糖。对一个老鼠来说到处都可以掠夺——帐子里，摊床上，草堆中——为什么不去呢？一个展览会上有那么多美味的食物，足够一个老鼠大军吃的。”
　　坦普尔曼的眼睛放光了。
　　“是真的吗？”他问，“你是在馋我吧？我喜欢超值的享受，你说的完全打动了我。”
　　“真的，”老羊说，“去展览会吧，坦普尔曼。你会发现展览会上的好东西远比你最疯狂的梦里想出来的还多。上面沾满了好吃的东西的桶，吃剩的金熗鱼罐头，油腻腻的食品袋里装着的烂……”
　　“够了！”坦普尔曼叫，“不要再对我说了。我去。”
　　“很好，”夏洛说着，朝老羊挤挤眼睛，“那么现在——就没有太多的时间可以浪费了。威伯马上就会被放进板条箱。坦普尔曼和我也必须钻进板条箱躲起来。”
　　老鼠一分钟也没有耽误。他迅速地钻进了板条箱，爬到板条的缝隙间，又拉了几根稻草把自己盖上，这样便没人能看见他了。
　　“好，”夏洛说，“该我了。”她扯起一根长丝线，往空中荡去，轻轻地落到了箱子上。然后她爬进去，躲到箱子最上面的一块木板的结孔里。
　　老羊点点头。“多满的一箱子货！”她说，“那些金字应该改成‘祖克曼家的名猪与两名偷渡客’才对。”
　　“当心，人来-来-来了！”公鹅喊，“小心，小心，小心！”
　　阿拉贝尔开着大卡车慢慢地倒进谷仓的空地。鲁维和祖克曼先生在边上跟着走。芬和埃弗里正站在卡车的后车厢里，手抓着护栏。
　　“听我说，”老羊对威伯耳语，“当他们打开箱子想把你装进去时，你要挣扎！不要不经过争斗就走。当猪被装进车里他们总是要反抗的。”
　　“如果我挣扎会被弄脏的。”威伯说。
　　“别管那些——照我说的做！挣扎！如果你毫无反抗地走进箱子，祖克曼可能会以为你有毛病了，那时他就不敢送你去参加展览会了。”
　　坦普尔曼从稻草里探出了头。”如果你要挣扎，“他说，”一定要好心肠地想到，那时我正在板条箱里躲着呢。我可不想被踩瘪，或者被踢花脸，或者被揍伤，或者被压坏任何地方，或者被挤扁，或者被打晕，或者被打青，或者被擦破皮，或者落个疤，或者受到别的什么重击。你挣扎时一定要看着点儿，闪光先生，当他们把你往箱子里推的时候！”
　　“安静，坦普尔曼！”老羊说，“把你的脑袋缩回去——他们正在走过来。看起来闪光点，威伯！往里躲，夏洛！大声的叫，鹅们！”
　　卡车慢慢地倒进了猪圈，停了下来。阿拉贝尔先生关上发动机，下车走到卡车后面，放下尾板。鹅们欢叫起来。阿拉贝尔太太下了卡车。芬和埃弗里跳到地面上。祖克曼太太正从房子里走过来。每个人都来到栅栏前，欣赏了一会儿威伯和那个美丽的绿板条箱。没人知道箱子里已经装进了一只老鼠和蜘蛛了。
　　“那真是头好猪！” 阿拉贝尔太太说。
　　“他很棒。”鲁维说。
　　“他是闪光的。”芬说着，想起了他生下来的那天。
　　“是的，”祖克曼太太说，“怎么看他都非常干净。这都是酸奶的功效。”
　　阿拉贝尔先生仔细观察着威伯。“是的，他是一头完美的猪，”他说，“很难相信他当初是那一窝里最瘦小的一头。你将能用它做特别好的火腿和腌肉，霍默，当那头猪被宰的时候。”
　　听到这些话，威伯的心跳几乎都停住了。“我想我要昏过去了。”他轻声对在一边看着的老羊说。
　　“跪下来！”老羊低叫，“让血液倒流到你的头上！”
　　威伯跪下去，身上所有的闪光都消失了。他的眼睛阖上了。
　　“看呐！”芬尖叫，“他的光彩消失了！”
　　“嘿，看我！”埃弗里叫罢，匍匐着爬进了板条箱。“我是一头猪！我是一头猪！”
　　埃弗里的脚踩到了稻草下面的坦普尔曼。“真倒霉！”老鼠想，“男孩子是多么可怕的动物！我为什么要让自己到这里来受罪？”
　　鹅们看到埃弗里进了箱子，都一齐喝起彩来。
　　“埃弗里，你马上给我从箱子里出来！”他的母亲命令道，“你以为你是什么？”
　　“我是一头猪！”埃弗里叫着，将满把的稻草扬向空中，“哼，哼，哼！”
　　“卡车开走了，爸。”芬说。
　　卡车突然间失去了控制，向下坡滑去。阿拉贝尔先生冲进驾驶室，去拉紧急制动闸。卡车停住了。鹅们欢呼。夏洛蜷起身子，使自己尽可能小地缩到那结孔里，这样才不会被埃弗里发现。
　　“马上出来！” 阿拉贝尔太太喊。埃弗里手脚并用爬出了板条箱，对威伯做了一个鬼脸。威伯已经昏过去了。
　　“那头猪昏倒了，”祖克曼太太说，“给他泼点儿水！”
　　“泼酸奶！”埃弗里建议。
　　鹅们又大叫起来。
　　鲁维向水桶跑去。芬爬进猪圈在威伯身边跪下来观察。
　　“它中暑了，”祖克曼说，“他受不了这么热的天气。”
　　“他可能死了。”埃弗里说。
　　“你给我立刻离开猪圈！”阿拉贝尔太太喊。埃弗里听从了母亲的吩咐，爬上卡车后座。鲁维带着冷水回来了，把水淋到了威伯身上。
　　“给我也淋点儿水！”埃弗里叫，“我也热。”
　　“噢，安静！”芬喊，“安-静！”她眼里满是泪水。
　　威伯被冷水一激，就恢复了知觉。在鹅们的叫声里，他缓缓地站了起来。
　　“他站起来了！”阿拉贝尔先生说，“我猜他就没什么毛病嘛。”
　　“我饿了，”埃弗里说，“我要吃苹果蜜饯。”
　　“威伯现在没事了，”芬说，“我们可以出发了，我要去坐费里斯大转轮。”
　　祖克曼先生和阿拉贝尔先生还有鲁维抓住了猪，把他头朝前往板条箱里推。威伯开始挣扎了。男人们推得越厉害，他就往回顶得越凶。埃弗里也跳过来帮忙。威伯胡噜胡噜地叫着又踢又蹬。“这头猪没毛病，”祖克曼先生高兴地说着，用膝盖顶着威伯的身体后部，“现在，大家一起用力，孩子们，推！”
　　随着一声欢呼，他们终于把威伯塞进了板条箱。鹅们又叫起来。鲁维在箱子上钉了几根钉子，这样威伯就跑不出来了。接着，男人们用着全身的力气把箱子抬上了卡车。他们不知道箱子里的稻草中躲着一只老鼠，一个木板结孔里还趴着一只大灰蜘蛛。他们看到的仅仅是一头猪。
　　“大家上车！”阿拉贝尔先生招呼道。他发动了卡车。女士们跟着他进了驾驶室里。祖克曼先生和鲁维还有芬、埃弗里上了后车厢，手抓着护栏。卡车开始往前开了。鹅们欢呼起来。孩子们也一同欢呼着。所有的人都离开这里，往郡农业展览会场去。


　　注释① 费里斯大转轮（The Ferris Wheel），也译作阜氏大轮，是一种供游戏的竖立大轮，即大观览车。轮缘装有座位，供人回旋。

　　注释② a cloth cat：怀疑是美国篮球队的名字，具体不详。

　　注释③ 拿佛和（Navajo），居于美国Arizona，New mexico以及Utah各州保留地的一支印第安主要种族。
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Chapter 15 The Crickets

The crickets sang in the grasses. They sang the song of summer's ending, a sad, monotonous song. "Summer is over and gone," they sang. "Over and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying."The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year--the days when summer is changing into fall--the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.
　　Everybody heard the song of the crickets. Avery and Fern Arable heard it as they walked the dusty road. They knew that school would soon begin again. The young geese heard it and knew that they would never be little goslings again. Charlotte heard it and knew that she hadn't much time left. Mrs. Zuckerman, at work in the kitchen, heard the crickets, and a sadness came over her, too. "Another summer gone," she sighed. Lurvy, at work building a crate for Wilbur, heard the song and knew it was time to dig potatoes.
　　"Summer is over and gone," repeated the crickets. "How many nights till frost?" sang the crickets. "good-bye, summer, good-bye, good-bye."The sheep heard the crickets, and they felt so uneasy they broke a hole in the pasture fence and wandered up into the field across the road. The gander discovered the hole and led his family through, and they walked to the orchard and ate the apples that were lying on the ground. A little maple tree in the swamp heard the cricket song and turned bright red with anxiety.
　　Wilbur was now the center of attraction on the farm. good food and regular hours were showing results: Wilbur was a pig any man would be proud of . One day more than a hundred people came to stand at his yard and admire him. Charlotte had written the word RADIANT, and Wilbur really looked radiant as he stood in the golden sunlight. Ever since the spider had befriended him, he had done his best to live up to his reputation. When Charlotte's web said SOME PIG, Wilbur had tried hard to look like some pig. When Charlotte's web said TERRIFIC, Wilbur had tried to look terrific. And now that the web said RADIANT, he did everything possible to make himself glow.
　　It is not easy to look radiant, but Wilbur threw himself into it with a will. He would turn his head slightly and blink his long eyelashes. Then he would breathe deeply. And when his audience grew bored, he would spring into the air and do a back flip with a half twist. At this the crowd would yell and cheer. "How's that for a pig?" Mr. Zuckerman would ask, well pleased with himself. "That pig is radiant."Some of Wilbur's friends in the barn worried for fear all this attention would go to his head and make him stuck up. But it never did. Wilbur was modest; fame did not spoil him. He still worried some about the future, as he could hardly believe that a mere spider would be able to save his life. Sometimes at night he would have a bad dream. He would dream that men were coming to get him with knives and guns. But that was only a dream. In the daytime, Wilbur usually felt happy and confident. No pig ever had truer friends and he realized that friendship is one of the most satisfying things in the world. Even the song of the crickets did not make Wilbur too sad. He knew it was almost time for the County Fair, and he was looking forward to the trip. If he distinguish himself at the Fair, and maybe win some prize money, he was sure Zuckerman would let him live.
　　Charlotte had worries of her own, but she kept quiet about them. One morning Wilbur asked her about the Fair.
　　"You're going with me, aren't you, charlotte?" he said.
　　"Well, I don't know," replied Charlotte. "The Fair comes at a bad time for me. I shall find it inconvenient to leave home, even for a few days.""Why?" asked Wilbur.
　　"Oh, I just don't feel like leaving my web. Too much going on around here.""Please come with me!" begged Wilbur. "I need you, Charlotte. I can't stand going to the Fair without you. You've just got to come.""No," said charlotte, "I believe I'd better stay home and see if I can't get some work done.""What kind of work?" asked Wilbur.
　　"Egg laying. It's time I made an egg sac and filled it with eggs.""I didn't know you could lay eggs," said Wilbur in amazement.
　　"Oh, sure," said the spider. "I'm versatile.""What does 'versatile' mean--full of eggs?" asked Wilbur.
　　"Certainly not," said Charlotte. "'Versatile' means I can turn with ease from one thing to another. I can turn with ease from one thing to another. It means I don't have to limit my activities to spinning and trapping and stunts like that.""Why don't you come with me to the Fair Grounds and lay your eggs there?" pleaded Wilbur. "It would be wonderful fun."Charlotte gave her web a twitch and moodily watched it sway. "I'm afraid not," she said. "You don't know the first thing about egg laying, Wilbur. I can't arrange my family duties to suit the management of the County Fair. When I get ready to lay eggs, I have to lay eggs, Fair or no Fair. However, I don't want you to worry about it--you might lose weight. We'll leave it this way: I'll come to the Fair if I possibly can.""Oh, good!" said Wilbur. "I knew you wouldn't forsake me just when I need you most."All that day Wilbur stayed inside, taking life easy in the straw. Charlotte rested and ate a grasshopper. She knew that she couldn't help Wilbur much longer. In a few days she would have to drop everything and build the beautiful little sac that would hold her eggs.

　　蟋蟀们在草丛中歌唱着。他们唱起了一曲悲伤而又单调的，夏天的挽歌。“夏天去了，”他们唱，“去了，去了。夏天正在死亡，死亡。”
　　蟋蟀感到他们有责任警醒每一个人，夏日的好时光不会永远的继续下去。即使到了一年中最美丽的日子——夏即将被点染成秋的那一天——蟋蟀们也还是在传唱着这些有关悲伤与变迁的谶言。
　　所有人都听到了蟋蟀的歌声。在尘土飞扬的路上走着的埃弗里和芬听到这歌声，知道学校不久就要开学了；小鹅们听到这歌声，知道他们将不再是小鹅了；夏洛听到这歌声，知道她已经没有多少剩下来的时间了；在厨房工作的祖克曼太太听到这歌声，一种忧伤的情绪也立即从心头袭过，“又一个夏天过去了，”她轻声叹息；给威伯做板条箱的鲁维听到这歌声，知道到了去地里挖土豆的时候了。
　　“夏天去了，”蟋蟀一遍遍地哀唱。“离下霜时还剩几天？”蟋蟀凄吟。“再-见-了，夏天，再-见-了，再-见-了！”
　　绵羊听到蟋蟀的歌，感觉异常的烦躁，以至竟在草场上的篱笆里撞出了一个洞，就从那里穿过小路茫然地徘徊到田野里。公鹅发现了这个洞，就领着他的一家人由此而出，走到果园去吃熟落在地上的苹果。湿地上的小枫树听到蟋蟀的歌，由于焦急使自己变得鲜红。
　　威伯现在是农场里最引人注目的。那些不断送来的美餐和定期来参观的人流足以表明这一点：威伯是一头令任何人都足以骄傲的猪。每天都有超过一百人在他的院子里赞美他。夏洛已经把写有“闪光”字样的网织好了。在金色的阳光下的威伯看起来也真的闪闪发光。自从这只蜘蛛帮助了他以后，他一直在尽力使自己做得更好。当夏洛的网里写着“好猪”时，威伯努力使自己看上去像头好猪；当夏洛的网里织着“很棒”时，威伯又勉力使自己看起来很棒；现在那网里说“闪光”，他便尽可能的去做每一件使自己闪光的事。
　　看上去能闪光并不容易，但威伯还是愿意这样去努力。他会轻轻地晃着脑袋，让他长长的睫毛闪闪颤动起来。然后他再做一个深呼吸。当他的观众看腻了这些，他就会跳起来做一个后空翻。这时人群将会大声喝起彩来。“那猪怎么样？”祖克曼先生会满心自豪地问别人。“那猪真是闪闪发光。”
　　谷仓里的一些威伯的朋友担心他会骄傲，但他不会的。威伯是最谦虚的，名气不能毁了他。他还在为将来担心，因为他几乎不敢相信仅仅一只蜘蛛就能救他的命。有时夜里他还会做噩梦，梦见人们拿着刀子和熗来杀他。但那不过是个梦境罢了。白天时，威伯总是感到快乐而又自信。没有一头猪有过这么真诚的朋友，他意识到友谊是这世界上令人最幸福的东西之一。甚至连蟋蟀的歌也没有让威伯感到太悲伤。他知道他快去参加郡展览会了，他渴望着这次旅行。如果他能在会上有卓越的表现，就可能赢得奖品，那时祖克曼更会善待他了。
　　夏洛则在为自己担心，但却没对别人表露这一点。一天早上威伯问她有关展览会的事。
　　“你会和我一起去吗，夏洛？”他说。
　　“哦，我不知道，”夏洛回答，“开会那天对我来说是个坏日子。那时我将很难有力气离家，更别说离家数天了。”
　　“为什么？”威伯问。
　　“噢，我只是不愿离开我的网。有太多事要做了。”
　　“请跟我去吧！”威伯乞求，“我需要你，夏洛。去参加展览会时没你我会无法忍受的，你还是去吧。”
　　“不，”夏洛说，“我相信我最好还是留在家里，我有工作要做。”
　　“那是什么工作？”威伯问。
　　“产卵。那时我该造一个囊，往里产卵了。”
　　“我不知道你还能产卵哩。”威伯惊奇地说。
　　“哦，我当然会，”蜘蛛说，“我多才多艺。”
　　“'多才多艺'是什么意思——身上都是卵吗？”威伯问。
　　“当然不是，”夏洛说。，“‘多才多艺’是说我能轻松地做很多事。那意味着我不仅仅只会织网和抓小虫，还懂得产卵的绝技。”
　　“你为什么不跟我到展览会去产卵？”威伯恳求，“产卵一定有趣极了。”
　　夏洛拉了拉她的网，忧郁地看着这些丝线轻轻晃动的样子。“恐怕不那么有趣，”她说道，“你不了解产卵的重要性，威伯。我不能不顾我的家庭，跟你去展览会。当我准备产卵时，我就得产卵，不管有没有展览会。无论如何，我不想你担心——你会因此变瘦的。让我们这么约定吧：如果有可能，我就去和你参加展览会。”
　　“噢，好吔！”威伯说，“我就知道你在我最需要的时候不会抛下我的。”
　　那一整天，威伯都呆在谷仓里，享受着稻草堆里的舒适生活。夏洛休息了一会儿，吃了个蚂蚱。她知道她以后不能再帮威伯了。几天后她将停下手头的一切，开始造一个用来盛放她的卵的美丽的小囊了。
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青鸟不传云外信，丁香空结雨中愁
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Chapter 14 Dr. Dorian

The next day was Saturday. Fern stood at the kitchen sink drying the breakfast dishes as her mother washed them. Mrs. Arable worked silently. She hoped Fern would go out and play with other children, instead of heading for the Zuckermans' barn to sit and watch animals.
　　"Charlotte is the best storyteller I ever heard," said Fern, poking her dish towel into a cereal bowl.
　　"Fern," said her mother sternly, "you must not invent things. You know spiders don't tell stories. Spiders can't talk.""Charlotte can," replied Fern. "She doesn't talk very loud, but she talks.""What kind of story did she tell?" asked Mrs. Arable.
　　"Well," began Fern, "she told us about a cousin of hers who caught a fish in her web. Don't you think that's fascinating?""Fern, dear, how would a fish get in a spider's web?" said Mrs. Arable. "You know it couldn't happen. You're making this up.""Oh, it happened all right," replied Fern. "Charlotte never fibs. This cousin of hers built a web across a stream. One day she was hanging around on the web and a tiny fish leaped into the air and got tangled in the web. The fish was caught by one fin, Mother; its tail was wildly thrashing and shining in the sun. Can't you just see the web, sagging dangerously under the weight of the fish? Charlotte's cousin kept slipping in, dodging out, and she was beaten mercilessly over the head by the wildly thrashing fish, dancing in, dancing out, throwing...""Fern!" snapped her mother. "Stop it! Stop inventing these wild tales!""I'm not inventing," said Fern. "I'm just telling you the facts.""What finally happened?" asked her mother, whose curiosity began to get the better of her.
　　"Charlotte's cousin won. She wrapped the fish up, then she ate him when she got good and ready. Spiders have to eat, the same as the rest of us.""Yes, I suppose they do," said Mrs. Arable, vaguely.
　　"Charlotte has another cousin who is a balloonist. She stands on her head, lets out a lot of line, and is carried aloft on the wind. Mother, wouldn't you simply love to do that?""Yes, I would, come to think of it," replied Mrs. Arable. "But Fern, darling, I wish you would play outdoors today instead of going to Uncle Homer's barn. Find some of your playmates and do something nice outdoors. You're spending too much time in that barn--it isn't good for you to be alone so much.""Alone?" said Fern. "Alone? My best friends are in the barn cellar. It is a very sociable place. Not at all lonely."Fern disappeared after a while, walking down the road toward Zuckermans'. Her mother dusted the sitting room. as she worked she kept thinking about Fern. It didn't seem natural for a little girl to be so interested in animals. Finally Mrs. Arable made up her mind she would pay a call on old Doctor Dorian and ask his advice. She got in the car and drove to his office in the village.
　　Dr. Dorian had a thick beard. He was glad to see Mrs. Arable and gave her a comfortable chair.
　　"It's about Fern," she explained. "Fern spends entirely too much time in the Zuckermans' barn. It doesn't seem normal. She sits on a milk stool in a corner of the barn cellar, near the pigpen, and watches animals, hour after hour. She just sits and listens."Dr. Dorian leaned back and closed his eyes.
　　"How enchanting!" he said. "It must be real nice and quiet down there. Homer has some sheep, hasn't he?""Yes," said Mrs. Arable. "but it all started with that pig we let Fern raise on a bottle. She calls him Wilbur. Homer bought the pig, and ever since it left our place Fern has been going to her uncle's to be near it.""I've been hearing things about that pig," said Dr. Dorian, opening his eyes. "The say he's quite a pig.""Have you heard about the words that appeared in the spider's web?" asked Mrs. Arable nervously.
　　"Yes," replied the doctor.
　　"Well, do you understand it?" asked Mrs. Arable.
　　"Understand what?""do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider's web?""Oh, no," said Dr. Dorian. "I don't understand it. But for that matter I don't understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle.""What's miraculous about a spider's web?" said Mrs. Arable. "I don't see why you say a web is a miracle--it's just a web.""Ever try to spin one?" asked Dr. Dorian.
　　Mrs. Arable shifted uneasily in her chair. "No," she replied. "But I can crochet a doily and I can knit a sock.""Sure," said the doctor. "But somebody taught you, didn't they?""My mother taught me.""Well, who taught a spider? A young spider knows how to spin a web without any instructions from anybody. Don't you regard that as a miracle?""I suppose so," said Mrs. Arable. "I never looked at it that way before. Still, I don't understand it, and I don't like what I can't understand.""None of us do," said Dr. Dorian, sighing. "I'm a doctor. Doctors are supposed to understand everything. But I don't understand everything, and I don't intend to let it worry me."Mrs. Arable fidgeted. "Fern says the animals talk to each other. Dr. Dorian, do you believe animals talk?""I never heard one say anything," he replied. "But that proves nothing. It is quite possible that an animal has spoken civilly to me and that I didn't catch the remark because I wasn't paying attention. Children pay better attention than grownups. If Fern says that the animals in Zuckerman's barn talk, I'm quite ready to believe her. Perhaps if people talked less, animals would talk more. People are incessant talkers--I can give you my word on that.""Well, I feel better about Fern," said Mrs. Arable. "You don't think I need worry about her?""Does she look well?" asked the doctor.
　　"Oh, yes.""Appetite good?""Oh, yes, she's always hungry.""Sleep well at night?""Oh, yes.""Then don't worry," said the doctor.
　　"Do you think she'll ever start thinking about something besides pigs and sheep and geese and spiders?
　　"How old is Fern?
　　"She's eight.""Well," said Cr. Dorian, "I think she will always love animals. But I doubt that she spends her entire life in Homer Zuckerman's barn cellar. How about boys--does she know any boys?""She knows Henry Fussy," said Mrs. Arable brightly.
　　Dr. Dorian closed his eyes again and went into deep thought. "Henry Fussy," he mumbled. "Hmm. Remarkable. Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Let Fern associate with her friends in the barn if she wants to. I would say, offhand, that spiders and pigs ,were fully as interesting as Henry Fussy. Yet I predict that the day will come when even Henry will drop some chance remark that catches Fern's attention. It's amazing how children change from year to year. How's Avery?" he asked, opening his eyes wide.
　　"Oh, Avery," chuckled Mrs. Arable. "Avery is always fine. Of course, he gets into poison ivy and gets stung by wasps and bees and brings frogs and snakes home and breaks everything he lays his hands on. He's fine.""Good!" said the doctor.
　　Mrs. Arable said goodbye and thanked Dr. Dorian very much for his advice. She felt greatly relieved.

　　次日是星期六。芬站在厨房的水槽边，擦着母亲刚洗完的早餐用过的碗碟。阿拉贝尔太太静静地干着。她希望芬能出去和别的孩子一起玩，而不是有空就往祖克曼家的谷仓跑，坐在那里看动物。
　　“夏洛是我见过的人中，故事讲得最棒的，”芬说着，用餐巾纸抹着饭碗。
　　“芬，”她的母亲严厉地说，“你不要再胡说了。你知道蜘蛛根本不会讲故事。蜘蛛不会说话。”
　　“夏洛能，”芬回答，“她的声音虽不大，但却能说话。”
　　“她讲什么故事了？”阿拉贝尔太太问。
　　“嗯，”芬开始道，“她给我们讲了一个她表妹用蜘蛛网捕鱼的故事。你不觉得那有趣极了吗？”
　　“芬，亲爱的，鱼怎么会跑到蜘蛛网里去了呢？”阿拉贝尔太太说，“你知道这不可能。你在撒谎。”
　　“噢，就是有这么回事，”芬回答，“夏洛从不骗人。她的表妹在小溪中间拉了一张网。一天，她正在网里呆着，一条跳上水面的小鱼蹦到了她的网里。这条鱼的一条鳍被捆住了，妈妈。它的尾巴拼命地摇晃，还在太阳下闪着银光呢。你见过被一条鱼压得几乎坠到水面的蜘蛛网吗？夏洛的表妹来回闪躲着，进攻着，虽然脑袋被那条乱蹦的鱼残忍地揍了很多下，也还是在和鱼搏斗着，不停地往鱼身上缠丝……"
　　“芬！”她的母亲打断了她，“别说了！别再编造这些荒唐的故事了！”
　　“我没编造，”芬说，“我只是在告诉你事实而已。”
　　“那最后怎么样了？”她的母亲问。这时她反有点儿好奇了。
　　“夏洛的表妹赢了。她把鱼都包了起来。等她休息过来，就把鱼吃了。蜘蛛也吃东西，就像我们一样。”
　　“是的，我想是吧。”阿拉贝尔太太有气无力地说。
　　“夏洛还有一个汽球驾驶员表妹。她从头顶放出许多丝，乘着它们在风里飞。妈妈，你不喜欢这么做吗？”
　　“是的，我喜欢，”阿拉贝尔太太回答，“但是芬，亲爱的，我希望你今天别去霍默舅舅的谷仓了，到外面和别的孩子玩吧。找几个好伙伴，在户外一起玩。你在谷仓花的时间太多了——你一个人孤独地在那里并不好。”
　　“孤独？”芬说，“孤独？我最好的朋友都在谷仓地窖里呢。那是个很好的交际场所。在那里一点儿也不会孤独的。”
　　芬出去了，不久她又走上了去祖克曼家谷仓的路。她的母亲打扫着起居室。她一边干着一边想着芬的事情。一个小女孩如此对动物着迷，似乎不太正常。最终，她下定决心，去找多里安医生，听听他的意见。她上了车，往医生的乡村诊所驶去。
　　多里安医生是个大胡子。看到阿拉贝尔太太，他很高兴地请她坐到了一把舒适的椅子里。
　　“是关于芬的事情，”她解释道，“芬把太多的时间都花在了祖克曼家的谷仓里。这好像不太正常。她就坐在谷仓地窖角落里的一个挤奶凳上，在猪圈旁边，一小时一小时地看那些动物。她只是坐在那里看和听。”
　　多里安医生仰面躺进椅子里，闭着眼听着。
　　“多令人心醉呀！”他说，“那一定是个不错而又宁静的地方。霍默不是还有一些绵羊吗？”
　　“是的，”阿拉贝尔太太说，“但所有的事情都由我们让芬用奶瓶给一头小猪喂奶开始的。她管小猪叫威伯。霍默买了那头猪。而自从小猪走了，芬就天天去舅舅家看那头猪。”
　　“我也听说过那头猪，”多里安医生睁开眼说，“他们说那是头不一般的猪。”
　　“你听说过那些织在蜘蛛网里的话了吗？”阿拉贝尔太太神秘地问。
　　“是的。”医生回答。
　　“那么，你明白那是怎么回事吗？”阿拉贝尔太太问。
　　“明白什么？”
　　“你明白那蜘蛛网里怎么会有那些字吗？”
　　“哦，不，”多里安医生说，“我不明白。我连蜘蛛是怎么学会织网的都不明白。当那些字被织出来后，人人都说那是个奇迹。却没人指出蜘蛛网本身也算一个奇迹。”
　　“蜘蛛网有什么神奇的？” 阿拉贝尔太太说，“我不明白你为何说蜘蛛网是奇迹——它不过是张网嘛。”
　　“你也织过一张网？”多里安医生问。
　　阿拉贝尔太太不安地在椅子上动了动。“不，”她回答，“但是我能钩一张茶杯垫，我也会织一只袜子。”
　　“的确，”医生说，“但那是有人教你的，不是吗？”
　　“我母亲教我的。”
　　“很好，可谁来教蜘蛛呢？一只年轻的蜘蛛不需任何人的指导就懂得织网。你不认为这是个奇迹吗？”
　　“我想是吧，”阿拉贝尔太太说，“以前我从没想过这种事情。我不明白那些话是怎么织到网里去的。我不明白这个，而且我也不喜欢我不能明白的东西。”
　　“我们都是如此，”多里安医生叹息道，“我是一个医生。医生被认为什么都懂。但是我几乎什么都不懂，我不打算让它们来困扰我。”
　　阿拉贝尔太太烦躁起来。“芬说动物们能互相交谈。多里安医生，你相信动物能说话吗？”
　　“我从没听人这么说过，”他回答，“但那证明不了什么。很可能有一个动物曾礼貌地对我讲过话，而我却没听到，因为我根本就没去注意。孩子们比成人更注意这些。如果芬说祖克曼的谷仓里的动物能说话，我倒很愿意相信她。也许人类若少说一点儿，动物就能多说一些吧。成人都是滔滔不绝的演说家——我想对你说的意思就在这些话里。”
　　“不过，现在我更担心芬了，”阿拉贝尔太太说，“你不觉得我该为她担心吗？”
　　“她看起来怎么样？”医生问。
　　“哦，还行。”
　　“胃口好吗？”
　　“噢，是的，她总是很饿。”
　　“晚上睡得好吗？”
　　“哦，是的。”
　　“那就没什么可担心的了。”医生说。
　　“你不认为她该想想除了猪，绵羊，母鹅，蜘蛛以外的事情吗？”
　　“芬多大了？”
　　“她八岁了。”
　　“哦，”多里安医生说，“我想她会永远喜爱动物的，但我不信她会把她的全部时间都花在霍默·祖克曼的谷仓地窖里。和男孩子们——她认识某个男孩吗？”
　　“她认识亨利·富塞。”阿拉贝尔太太轻快地说。
　　多里安医生又闭上眼，陷入了沉思。“亨利·富塞，”他嘀咕，“呣，值得注意。不过我还是认为你没什么好担心的。如果她高兴，就让芬和她在谷仓的朋友在一起吧。我要说的是，我只是随便说说，那蜘蛛和猪几乎同亨利·富塞一样有趣。我推想，有一天亨利终究会引起芬的注意的。孩子们的兴趣会一年年的变得让你惊奇的。埃弗里怎么样？”他睁大了眼睛问。
　　“噢，埃弗里，”阿拉贝尔太太笑了，“埃弗里总是很好。当然，他有时会爬到野葛里去，被黄蜂和蜜蜂蜇着，还会把青蛙和蛇带到家里，打碎他手边的每一件东西。他很好。”
　　“太好了！”医生说。
　　阿拉贝尔太太道了再见，又对多里安医生的忠告表示了由衷的感谢。她感到心里特别的轻松。
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青鸟不传云外信，丁香空结雨中愁
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Chapter 13 Good Progress

Far into the night, while the other creatures slept, Charlotte worked on her web. First she ripped out a few of the orb lines near the center. She left the radial lines alone, as they were needed for support. As she worked, her eight legs were a great help to her. So were her teeth. She loved to weave and she was an expert at it. When she was finished ripping things out, her web looked something like this:
　　A spider can produce several kinds of thread. She uses a dry, tough thread for foundation lines, and she uses a sticky thread for snare lines--the ones that catch and hold insects. Charlotte decided to use her dry thread for writing the new message.
　　"If I write the word 'Terrific' with sticky thread," she thought, "every bug that comes along will get stuck in it and spoil the effect.""Now let's see, the first letter is T."Charlotte climbed to a point at the top of the left hand side of the web. Swinging her spinnerets into position, she attached her thread and then dropped down. As she dropped, her spinning tubes went into action and she let out thread. At the bottom, she attached the thread. This formed the upright part of the letter T. Charlotte was not satisfied, however. She climbed up and made another attachment, right next to the first. Then she carried the line down, so that she had a double line instead of a single line. "It will show up better if I make the whole thing with double lines."She climbed back up, moved over about an inch to the left, touched her spinnerets to the web, and then carried a line across to the right, forming the top of the T. She repeated this, making it double. Her eight legs were very busy helping.
　　"Now for the E!"Charlotte got so interested in her work, she began to talk to herself, as though to cheer herself on. If you had been sitting quietly in the barn cellar that evening, you would have heard something like this:
　　"Now for the R! Up we go! Attach! Descend! Pay out line! Whoa! Attach! Good! Up you go! Repeat! Attach! Descend! Pay out line. Whoa, girl! Steady now1 Attach! Climb! Attach! Over to the right! Pay out line! Attach! Climb! Attach! Over to the right! Pay loop and around and around! Now in to the left! Attach! Climb! Repeat! O.K.! Easy, keep those lines together! Now, then, out and down for the leg of the R! Pay out line! Whoa! Attach! Ascend! Repeat! Good girl!"And so, talking to herself, the spider worked at her difficult task. When it was completed, she felt hungry. She are a small bug that she had been saving. Then she slept.
　　Next morning, Wilbur arose and stood beneath the web. He breathed the morning air into his lungs. Drops of dew, catching the sun, made the web stand out clearly. When Lurvy arrived with breakfast, there was the handsome pig, and over him, woven neatly in block letters, was the word TERRIFIC. Another miracle.
　　Lurvy rushed and called Mr. Zuckerman. Mr. Zuckerman rushed and called Mrs. Zuckerman. Mrs. Zuckerman ran to the phone and called the Arables. The Arables climbed into their truck and hurried over.
　　Everybody stood at the pigpen and stared at the web and read the word, over and over, while Wilbur, who really felt terrific, stood quietly swelling out his chest and swinging his snout from side to side.
　　"Terrific!" breathed Zuckerman, in joyful admiration. "Edith, you better phone the reporter on the Weekly Chronicle and tell him what has happened. He will want to know about this. He may want to bring a photographer. There isn't a pig in the whole state that is as terrific as our pig."The news spread. People who had journeyed to see Wilbur when he was "some pig" came back again to see him now that he was "terrific."That afternoon, when Mr. Zuckerman went to milk the cows and clean out the tie-ups, he was still thinking about what a wondrous pig he owned.
　　"Lurvy!" he called. "There is to be no more cow manure thrown down into that pigpen. I have a terrific pig. I want that pig to have clean, bright straw every day for his bedding. Understand?
　　"Yes, sir," said Lurvy.
　　"Furthermore," said Mr. Zuckerman, "I want you to start building a crate for Wilbur. I have decided to take the pig to the County Fair on September sixth. Make the crate large and paint it green with gold letters!""What will the letters say?" asked Lurvy.
　　"They should say Zuckerman's Famous Pig."Lurvy picked up a pitchfork and walked away to get some clean straw. having such an important pig was going to mean plenty of extra work, he could see that.
　　Below the apple orchard, at the end of a path, was the dump where Mr. Zuckerman threw all sorts of trash and stuff that nobody wanted any more. here, in a small clearing hidden by young alders and wild raspberry bushes, was an astonishing pile of old bottles and empty tin cans and dirty rags and bits of metal and broken bottles and broken hinges and broken springs and dead batteries and last month's magazines and old discarded dishmops and tattered overalls and rusty spikes and leaky pails and forgotten stoppers and useless junk of all kinds, including a wrong-size crank for a broken ice-cream freezer.
　　Templeton knew the dump and liked it. There were good hiding places there--excellent cover for a rat. And there was usually a tin can with food still clinging to the inside.
　　Templeton was down there now, rummaging around. When he returned to the barn, he carried in his mouth an advertisement he had torn from a crumpled magazine.
　　"How's this?" he asked, showing the ad to Charlotte. "It says 'Crunchy.' 'Crunchy' would be a good word to write in your web.""Just the wrong idea," replied Charlotte. "Couldn't be worse. We don't want Zuckerman to think Wilbur is crunchy. He might start thinking about crisp, crunchy bacon and tasty ham. That would put ideas into his head. We must advertise Wilbur's noble qualities, not his tastiness. Go get another word, please, Templeton!"The rat looked disgusted. But he sneaked away to the dump and was back in a while with a strip of cotton cloth. "How's this?" he asked. "It's a label off an old shirt."Charlotte examined the label. It said PRE-SHRUNK.
　　"I'm sorry, Templeton," she said, "but 'Pre-shrunk' is out of the question. We want Zuckerman to think Wilbur is nicely filled out, not all shrunk up. I'll have to ask you to try again.""What do you think I am, a messenger boy?" grumbled the rat. "I'm not going to spend all my time chasing down to the dump after advertising material.""Just once more--please!" said Charlotte.
　　"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Templeton. "I know where there's a package of soap flakes in the woodshed. It has writing on it. I'll bring you a piece of the package."He climbed the rope that hung on the wall and disappeared through a hole in the ceiling. When he came back he had a strip of blue-and-white cardboard in his teeth.
　　"There!" he said, triumphantly. "How's that?"Charlotte read the words: "With New Radiant Action.""What does it mean?" asked Charlotte, who had never used any soap flakes in her life.
　　"How should I know?" said Templeton. "You asked for words and I brought them. I suppose the next thing you'll want me to fetch is a dictionary."Together they studied the soap ad. "'With new radiant action,'" repeated Charlotte, slowly. "Wilbur!" she called.
　　Wilbur, who was asleep in the straw, jumped up.
　　"Run around!" commanded Charlotte. "I want to see you in action, to see if you are radiant."Wilbur raced to the end of his yard.
　　"Now back again, faster!" said Charlotte.
　　Wilbur galloped back. His skin shone. His tail had a fine, tight curl in it.
　　"Jump into the air!" cried Charlotte.
　　Wilbur jumped as high as he could.
　　"Keep your knees straight and touch the ground with your ears!" called Charlotte.
　　Wilbur obeyed.
　　"Do a back flip with a half twist in it!" cried Charlotte.
　　Wilbur went over backwards, writhing and twisting as he went.
　　"O. K., Wilbur," said Charlotte. "You can go back to sleep. O.K., Templeton, the soap ad will do, I guess. I'm not sure Wilbur's action is exactly radiant, but it's interesting.""Actually," said Wilbur, "I feel radiant.""Do you?" said Charlotte, looking at him with affection. "Well, you're a good little pig, and radiant you shall be. I'm in this thing pretty deep now--I might as well go the limit."Tired from his romp, Wilbur lay down in the clean straw. He closed his eyes. The straw seemed scratchy--not as comfortable as the cow manure, which was always delightfully soft to lie in. So he pushed the straw to one side and stretched out in the manure. Wilbur sighed. It had been a busy day--his first day of being terrific. Dozens of people had visited his yard during the afternoon, and he had had to stand and pose, looking as terrific as he could. Now he was tired. Fern had arrived and seated herself quietly on her stool in the corner.
　　"Tell me a story, Charlotte!" said Wilbur, as he lay waiting for sleep to come. "Tell me a story!"So Charlotte, although she, too, was tired, did what Wilbur wanted.
　　"Once upon a time," she began, "I had a beautiful cousin who managed to build her web across a small stream. One day a tiny fish leaped into the air and got tangled in the web. My cousin was very much surprised, of course. The fish was thrashing wildly. My cousin hardly dared tackle it. But she did. She swooped down and threw great masses of wrapping material around the fish and fought bravely to capture it.""Did she succeed?" asked Wilbur.
　　"It was a never-to-be-forgotten battle," said Charlotte. "There was the fish, caught only by one fin, and its tail wildly thrashing and shining in the sun. There was the web, sagging dangerously under the weight of the fish.""How much did the fish weigh?" asked Wilbur eagerly.
　　"I don't know," said Charlotte. "There was my cousin, slipping in, dodging out, beaten mercilessly over the head by the wildly thrashing fish, dancing in, dancing out, throwing her threads and fighting hard. First she threw a left around the tail. The fish lashed back. Then a left to the tail and a right to the mid-back. Then a left to the tail and a right to the mid-section. The fish lashed back. Then she dodged to one side and threw a right, and another right to the fin. Then a hard left to the head, while the web swayed and stretched.""Then what happened?" asked Wilbur.
　　"Nothing," said Charlotte. "My cousin kept the fish for a while, and then, when she got good and ready, she ate it.""Tell me another story!" begged Wilbur.
　　So Charlotte told him about another cousin of hers who was an aeronaut.
　　"What is an aeronaut?" asked Wilbur.
　　"A balloonist," said Charlotte. "My cousin used to stand on her head and let out enough thread to form balloon. then she'd let go and be lifted into the air and carried upward on the warm wind.""Is that true?" asked Wilbur. "Or are you just making it up?""It's true," replied Charlotte. "I have some very remarkable cousins. And now, Wilbur, it's time you went to sleep.""Sing something!" begged Wilbur, closing his eyes.
　　So Charlotte sang a lullaby, while crickets chirped in the grass and the barn grew dark. This was the song she sang.
　　"Sleep, sleep, my love, my only,Deep, deep, in the dung and the dark;Be not afraid and be not lonely!
　　This is the hour when frogs and thrushesPraise the world from the woods and the woods and rushes.
　　Rest form care, my one and only,Deep in the dung and the dark!"But Wilbur was already asleep. When the song ended, Fern got up and went home.

　　深夜，其他的动物都睡了，夏洛还在织他的网。她把网中央附近的一些圆线拉掉，只留下一些支撑住整张网的放射状线。在她工作时，她的八条腿起了很大的作用，她的牙也是。她喜欢织网，对这工作也很胜任。当她把多余的线都拆除以后，她的网看起来就像这样一个圆环：（原文下有图）
　　一只蜘蛛能吐出很多种丝线。她用一种干的粗线作主线，用另一种黏的丝线作陷阱线——这些线是用来抓和粘昆虫的。夏洛决定用她的干丝线来织这新的预言。
　　“如果我用黏线来织'很棒'这个单词，”她想，“每个撞上去的虫子都能破坏字的效果的。”
　　“现在让我想想，第一个字母应该是T。”
　　夏洛爬到网左边的高处，把她的丝囊摆到正确的位置，横着拉了一条线，然后才开始下落。当她下落时，她的织网管开始运作起来，从中释放出丝线。荡到网底时，她收住了线。现在“T”这个字母的横线织成了。可是夏洛觉得它看上去并不理想。她又爬上去，在那道横线的右下方另外拉出了一条线，这样她就织好两道线了。“如果我把所有的字母都用双线织，看起来效果一定更完美。”
　　想着，她便往上爬回去，挪到左边织出的第一道横线下面约一英寸的地方，拍拍丝囊，向右平行地又拉出一道丝线，织成了由双线构成的字母“T”的上半部。接着她又同样的开始去织那两道竖线。她的八条腿不停地忙碌着，一会儿就把这个字母全织成了。
　　“现在该织字母E了！”
　　夏洛对她这工作的兴趣越来越浓了，她一边干一边自语起来，好像这样能令她更兴奋。如果那天夜里你正静坐在谷仓地窖里，你就会听到下面的话：
　　“现在开始织字母R！我们往上去！系住！下降！抽丝！停！系住！好的！你往上去！再来！系住！下降！抽丝。停，小姑娘！预备！系住！爬！系住！往右拽！拉线！现在往右往下转个圈儿转圈转圈儿！现在往左边来！系住！爬！再来！OK！小意思，把那些线连起来！现在，往下织R的一条腿儿！放线！停！系住！下降！再来！好姑娘！”
　　夏洛就这样一面自语着，一面做着她艰难的工作。这一切都弄完之后，她感到饿极了。她吃了一只事先储存的小虫子，便睡着了。
　　第二天一早，威伯醒来后，便来到了网跟前。他的肺尽情呼吸着早晨的空气。网上的露珠，把阳光返照到网里，使那张网看起来格外清晰。当鲁维来送早餐时，一眼就看到了那头漂亮的猪，和猪的头顶上的那些织得整整齐齐的大写字母，那些字母拼成了一个单词“很棒”。这又是一个神迹。
　　鲁维冲出去喊祖克曼先生。祖克曼先生冲出去喊祖克曼太太。祖克曼太太跑向电话给阿拉贝尔家打电话，阿拉贝尔一家钻进他们的卡车急忙赶了过来。
　　每个人都站到猪圈里盯着蜘蛛网，把那单词反复读了又读。这时威伯也觉得自己很棒了，他骄傲地挺着胸脯站在那里，快活的把鼻子不停地晃来晃去。
　　“很棒！”祖克曼以带着羡慕的骄傲说，“伊迪丝，你最好给《时代周刊》的记者打个电话，告诉他们这里出了什么事儿。他们会对这个感兴趣的，没准儿还会派个摄影记者来呢。我们整个州都没有我们这么棒的猪。”
　　消息传开了。当威伯是“好猪”时，那些曾从远方来看的人，现在又回来看他是多么的“很棒”了。
　　那天下午，在祖克曼先生去给母牛挤奶并清理牛粪时，他还在想着他拥有了一头多么奇异的猪。
　　“鲁维！”他喊，“不要再把牛粪倒进猪圈了。我有了一头很棒的猪。我想让那头猪保持清洁，每天用稻草给他铺床。明白了吗？”
　　“是的，先生。”鲁维说。
　　“另外，祖克曼先生说，“我要你给威伯造一个板条箱，我决定把这头猪带到九月十六日的郡农业展览会（County Fair）①上去。把这箱子造大些，漆成绿色，上面写上金字儿！”
　　“写什么字呢？”鲁维问。
　　“上面应该写‘祖克曼家的名猪’。”
　　鲁维拾起长柄叉去弄干净的稻草了。有了这样一头重要的猪，就意味着要有大量的额外工作，他能明白这一点。
　　苹果园下的小路尽头，是祖克曼先生扔各种垃圾和废物的地方，没人愿意到那里去。那儿，在一丛小桦树与野覆盆子的遮掩下，有一小块开阔地，里面堆满了多得惊人的垃圾：有旧瓶子，空罐头盒，破链条，坏弹簧，废电池，上月的杂志，用旧的破碗刷，褴褛的工作服，生锈的钉子，漏了的桶，被遗忘的塞子，还有各种别的无用的垃圾，甚至包括从一个破冰激凌机上掉下来的，不能用的曲柄。
　　坦普尔曼熟悉这个垃圾堆，也喜欢这里。这是个藏身的好地方——对一个老鼠特别合适。那里还通常有可口的，吃剩的罐头。
　　坦普尔曼此刻正在那里搜寻。当他回到谷仓时，他的嘴里咬着从一本皱巴巴的杂志里撕下来的一条广告词。
　　“这个怎么样？”他把这广告递给夏洛问，“这上面写着‘脆生生’，‘脆生生’是你可以织到网里的一个好词儿。”
　　“这是个糟糕的词，”夏洛回答，“不能再糟了。我们不想让祖克曼以为威伯是脆生生的，这样他就会联想起脆的、嚼起来嘎嘎带响儿的腌肉和美味的火腿来的。这个词绝对能给他这种印象。我们要宣扬的是威伯的贵族气质，而不是他的滋味。请找个别的词来吧，坦普尔曼！”
　　老鼠有些不太高兴了。但他还是又偷偷爬回垃圾堆，带了一块布回来。“这个如何？”他问，“这是一件破衬衣上的商标。”
　　夏洛检查着这标签。上面写着“事先缩过水。”
　　“抱歉，坦普尔曼，”她说，“‘事先缩过水’这个词太离谱了。我们想要祖克曼觉得威伯很丰满，而不是缩了水的。我不得不请你再试一次了。”
　　“你以为我是谁，一个小搬运工吗？”老鼠抱怨，“我可不想把我的时间浪费在去垃圾堆翻广告词上面。”
　　“就再去一次——求你了！”夏洛说。
　　“我告诉你我这次给你带什么来，”坦普尔曼说，“我知道柴棚里有一个肥皂包装盒，那上面也写着广告。我给你撕一小块带回来吧。”
　　他顺着悬在墙上的绳子爬进天花板上的一个小洞里去了。当他再回来时，嘴里咬着一片蓝白相间的硬纸板。
　　“这个！”他胜利地说，“怎么样？”
　　夏洛读着上面的字：“带着闪光的新行动②。”
　　“那是什么意思？”一生中从没用过肥皂的夏洛问。
　　“我怎么知道？”坦普尔曼说，“你是在问我带来的这些字是什么意思吗？我想你马上要让我替你找本字典来吧。”
　　他们一起研究着这条肥皂广告。“带着闪光的新行动。”夏洛慢慢地重念着。“威伯！”她喊道。
　　正在稻草堆里睡觉的威伯跳了起来。
　　“转圈跑！”夏洛命令，“我想看你动起来的样子是不是闪光。”
　　威伯跑到了院子的尽头。
　　“现在跑回来，快点！”夏洛说。
　　威伯飞奔过来。他的皮肤很光滑。他的尾巴很好看，上面还打着一个漂亮的卷儿。
　　“往天上跳！”夏洛喊道。
　　威伯跳得尽可能的高。
　　“伸直腿，耳朵挨到地面！”夏洛道。
　　威伯照做不误。
　　“在空中转个半圈儿。”夏洛喊。
　　威伯扭过身子，转着圈子跳了起来。
　　“OK，威伯，”夏洛说，“你可以回去睡觉了。OK，坦普尔曼，这条肥皂广告还可以，我猜。我只是不能确定威伯跑时是否闪着光，不过那却很有意思。”
　　“实际上，”威伯说，“我感觉我在闪光。”
　　“是吗？”夏洛说着，深情地看着他。“是的，你是一头可爱的小猪，你也会闪光的。我在这件事儿上花的时间够多了——我想还是到此为止吧。”
　　乱蹦了半天的威伯也累了，便躺进干净的稻草堆，闭上了眼睛。这稻草好像有点儿痒——不像牛粪那么令人舒服。软软的躺在牛粪堆里的感觉才舒服呢。因此他把稻草拱到一边，扒进了牛粪堆里。威伯叹了一口气。他在变得很棒后的第一天可真够忙的。下午有数不清的人到他的院子里参观，所以他不得不一直装模作样地傻站在那里，好使自己看起来显得确实很棒。现在他累极了。芬已经来了，就在角落里的那张小凳子上静静地坐着。
　　“给我讲一个故事吧，夏洛！”威伯睡前说，“给我讲个故事！”
　　虽然夏洛也很疲倦，可还是满足了威伯的请求。
　　“从前，”她开始讲，“我有一个美丽的表妹，在一条特别小的小溪上空织了一张网。一天，一条跳出水的小鱼蹦到了她的网里。当然，我的表妹很吃惊。那条鱼发疯地在里面跳着。我表妹吓得开始都不敢去抓它。但她镇静了一下，就勇敢地爬过来，往鱼身上缠了大量的丝线，准备抓住它。”
　　“她成功了吗？”威伯问。
　　“那是一场永远-不-会-忘-记的战斗，”夏洛说，“那只一条鳍被缠住的鱼，尾巴摆动得那么粗野，还在太阳下闪着银光呢。那张网，也危险地随着鱼的重量往下陷。”
　　“那条鱼有多重？”威伯急切地问。
　　“我不知道，”夏洛说，“我只知道我的表妹在不停地闪躲、进攻着，虽然她的脑袋被那条拼命蹦的鱼残忍地揍了很多下，也还是在和鱼做着殊死的搏斗。她先往鱼尾的左边抛了一道丝，于是鱼就往右蹦；接着她往鱼尾左边抛了一道丝，又往中间偏右的地方抛了一道，鱼便往回跳。然后她溜到另一边，往鱼的右边缠线，去捆右边的那条鳍。等她的线缠到左边的鱼头时，网开始剧烈地摇晃起来。”
　　“接着怎么样了？”威伯问。
　　“没什么，”夏洛说，“鱼失去了战斗力。我表妹把它紧紧捆得不能动了。”
　　“完了呢？”威伯问。
　　“完了就完了呗，”夏洛说，“我表妹让鱼在那里呆了一会儿，等她恢复了精力后，就把它吃了。”
　　“再给我讲个别的故事！”威伯央求。
　　夏洛就又给威伯讲了她的另一个当飞艇驾驶员的表妹的故事。
　　“什么是飞艇驾驶员？”威伯问。
　　“就是热汽球驾驶员，”夏洛说，“我的表妹常把脚站在头上，抛出很多游丝，把它们缠成一个大汽球。然后她就把这汽球放向空中，自己也随之乘着暖暖的风往上飘。”
　　“那是真的吗？”威伯说，“或者你是在胡编？”
　　“那是真的，”夏洛回答，“我有好几个本领高强的表妹呢。现在，威伯，你该去睡觉了。”
　　“唱个歌儿吧！”威伯闭上眼，求着夏洛。
　　伴随着草丛和渐暗的谷仓里传出的蟋蟀的低吟，夏洛轻轻地唱了一支催眠曲。她是这么唱的：

　　睡吧，睡吧，我的爱，我唯一的宝贝，
　　深深地，深深地，在粪堆和静夜里安睡；
　　不知道恐惧也不知道孤单的滋味！
　　此刻只有那些青蛙和画眉
　　在树林和灯心草间将世界赞美。
　　安心地休息吧，我唯一的唯一的宝贝，
　　深深地，深深地，在粪堆和静夜里安睡！

　　威伯还没有听完就睡着了。当这支歌唱完，芬才站起身回了往家。

　　注释① 郡农业展览会（County Fair）：我在这里笼统的翻译为展览会。根据我的朋友螳螂，亦歌，洪立等的说法，这一词直译就是"郡市集"或者"郡露天集会"，指县、郡即农村的展览会，在会上大家来比谁种的瓜大、谁家的猪肥。或者是指一种大圩（集），一般一年一次，集游乐农贸于一体。
　　注释② "带着闪光的新行动"（With New Radiant Action）：这个词一看就感觉很明白，一翻译我就觉得说不清楚，只好四处请教朋友。朋友们的说法很多，但基本相似。如我的朋友筋斗云认为，可以翻译成"新的亮丽表现"，因为radiant这个词在字典跟"bright"类似意义，smile和brightsmile差不多意思。本来就有指物体表面与精神状态两意。所以一起或者译为"新的亮丽表现"。而"bright"这个词，接受了朋友们的指点后，我又想了半天，还是把它翻译成"闪光"这个普通的词，因为我想不出更好的了。
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