The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers
were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in
the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many
people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there
were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten
o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.
The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of
liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke
into boisterous play. and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands.
Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his
example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix-- the
villagers pronounced this name "Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the
square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among themselves,
looking over their shoulders at rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.
Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and
taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they
smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after
their menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands.
Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and the children came
reluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand
and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and
took his place between his father and his oldest brother.
The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program--by Mr.
Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he
ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was a
scold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of
conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late today, folks." The postmaster, Mr.
Graves, followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and
Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between
themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?"
there was a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter. came forward to hold the
box steady on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.
The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the
stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr.
Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as
much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been
made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first
people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking
again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything's being done.
file:///Users/carolynsigler/Desktop/lotry.html (1 of 8)1/23/2005 7:58:04 AM
The Lottery--Shirley Jackson
The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly
along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.
Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had
stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or
discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood
that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very well
when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on
growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night before
the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was
then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take
it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes
another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and
sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.
There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There were
the lists to make up--of heads of families. heads of households in each family. members of each
household in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the
official of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort,
performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly each
year; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it,
others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of the
ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had
had to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with
time, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr.
Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand resting
carelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves
and the Martins.
Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came
hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in the
back of the crowd. "Clean forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and
they both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on.
"and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twentyseventh
and came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, "You're in time,
though. They're still talking away up there."
Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standing
near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through
the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices
just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson," and "Bill, she
made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said
cheerfully. "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said.
grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now, would you. Joe?," and soft laughter ran
through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival.
"Well, now." Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with, so's we can go
back to work. Anybody ain't here?"
file:///Users/carolynsigler/Desktop/lotry.html (2 of 8)1/23/2005 7:58:04 AM
The Lottery--Shirley Jackson
"Dunbar." several people said. "Dunbar. Dunbar."
Mr. Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar." he said. "That's right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he?
Who's drawing for him?"
"Me. I guess," a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her husband." Mr.
Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and
everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the
lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while
Mrs. Dunbar answered.
"Horace's not but sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this
year."
"Right." Sr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, "Watson boy
drawing this year?"
A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I'm drawing for my mother and me." He blinked
his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like "Good fellow,
lack." and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it."
"Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?"
"Here," a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded.
A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. "All ready?" he
called. "Now, I'll read the names--heads of families first--and the men come up and take a paper out of
the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn.
Everything clear?"
The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions: most of them were
quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised on
เช้าของวันที่ 27 มิถุนายนชัดเจน และซัน นี่ กับความอบอุ่นสดวันร้อนเต็ม ดอกไม้เติมกาฬไหล และให้หญ้าเป็นสีเขียวมั่งคั่ง คนของหมู่บ้านเริ่มที่จะรวบรวมในสแควร์ ระหว่างทำการไปรษณีย์และธนาคาร ประมาณสิบโมง ในบางเมือง มีมากคนว่า ลอตเตอรี่เอาสองวัน และได้เริ่มขึ้นในเดือน 2th มิถุนายน แต่ ในหมู่ บ้านนี้ ที่มีเพียงประมาณสามร้อยคน สลากกินแบ่งทั้งหมดเอาน้อยกว่าสองชั่วโมง ดังนั้นมันอาจเริ่มที่สิบโมงในตอนเช้า และยัง จะผ่านเวลาให้ชาวบ้านได้บ้านสำหรับอาหารเที่ยงเด็ก ๆ ประกอบก่อน แน่นอน โรงเรียนเพิ่งผ่านฤดูร้อน และความรู้สึกของลิเบอร์ตี้นั่ง uneasily บนส่วนใหญ่ของพวกเขา พวกเขามีแนวโน้มที่จะรวบรวมเข้าด้วยกันอย่างเงียบ ๆ ในขณะก่อนที่พวกเขายากจนเป็นการเล่นที่อึกทึก และการพูดคุยยังของห้องเรียนและครู หนังสือ และ reprimandsบ๊อบบี้มาร์ตินได้แล้วยัดกระเป๋าของเขาเต็มไปด้วยก้อนหิน และชายอื่นเร็ว ๆ นี้ตามเขาตัวอย่าง การเลือกหิน smoothest และ roundest บ๊อบบี้ และแฮร์รี่โจนส์ และ ไมเคิล Dickie -ชาวบ้านออกเสียงชื่อนี้ "Dellacroy" — ในที่สุดทำหินกองดีในมุมหนึ่งของการตร. และเตรียมพร้อมกับการมาของชายอื่น หญิงยืนเฉย พูดคุยระหว่างกันเองมองผ่านไหล่ของพวกเขาที่สะสมในฝุ่น หรือพืชกับมือของพี่ชายหรือน้องสาวของพวกเขารุ่นเก่าSoon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors andtaxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and theysmiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly aftertheir menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands.Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and the children camereluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping handand ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly andtook his place between his father and his oldest brother.The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program--by Mr.Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and heran the coal business, and people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was ascold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur ofconversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late today, folks." The postmaster, Mr.Graves, followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square andMr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space betweenตนเองและในอุจจาระ และเมื่อฤดูร้อนนายกล่าวว่า "คุณเฟลโล่ส์บางต้องการ ให้ฉันมือ"มีลังเลก่อนสองคน นายมาร์ตินและลูกชายของเขา Baxter มาข้างหน้าค้างไว้steady บนเก้าอี้ในขณะที่ฤดูร้อนนายสะเทือนเอกสารไว้ภายในกล่องมึนเมาเดิมสำหรับลอตเตอรี่ที่เคยหายไปนาน และกล่องสีดำตอนนี้วางตัวบนมีการวางเก้าอี้เข้าใช้ก่อนเฒ่าวอร์เนอร์ คนเก่าแก่ที่สุดในเมือง เกิด นายอภิรักษ์โกษะโยธินฤดูร้อนพูดกับชาวบ้านเกี่ยวกับการทำกล่องใหม่บ่อย แต่ไม่มีใครชอบให้อารมณ์เสียเป็นประเพณีมากถูกแสดง ด้วยกล่องสีดำ มีเรื่องราวที่กล่องที่อยู่ได้มีบางชิ้นส่วนของกล่องที่มีหน้ามัน ที่ได้ สร้างขึ้นเมื่อครั้งแรกคนปักเพื่อให้หมู่บ้านที่นี่ ทุกปี หลังจากสลากกินแบ่ง นายฤดูเริ่มพูดอีก เกี่ยวกับกล่องใหม่ แต่ทุกปี เรื่องถูกได้จางออก โดยไม่มีของอะไรจะทำfile:///Users/carolynsigler/Desktop/lotry.html (1 8) 1/23/2005 7:58:04 AMลอตเตอรี่ - อังกฤษ Jacksonกล่องดำโต shabbier แต่ละปี: ป่านนี้ ก็ไม่ดำทั้งหมด แต่ splintered ไม่ดีด้านข้างหนึ่งในการแสดงสีไม้เดิม และ ในบางสถานสีจางลง หรือสีนายมาร์ตินและลูกชายของเขา Baxter จัดกล่องดำปลอดภัยบนเก้าอี้จนกระทั่งมีนายช่วงฤดูร้อนกวนกระดาษทำ ด้วยมือของเขา เพราะมากพิธีถูกลืม หรือdiscarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of woodthat had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very wellwhen the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep ongrowing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night beforethe lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it wasthen taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to takeit to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimesanother; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. andsometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There werethe lists to make up--of heads of families. heads of households in each family. members of eachhousehold in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as theofficial of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort,performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly eachyear; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it,others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of theritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery hadhad to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed withtime, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr.Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand restingcarelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Gravesand the Martins.Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson camehurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in theback of the crowd. "Clean forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, andthey both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on."and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twentyseventhand came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, "You're in time,though. They're still talking away up there."Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standingnear the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way throughthe crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices
just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson," and "Bill, she
made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said
cheerfully. "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said.
grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now, would you. Joe?," and soft laughter ran
through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival.
"Well, now." Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with, so's we can go
back to work. Anybody ain't here?"
file:///Users/carolynsigler/Desktop/lotry.html (2 of 8)1/23/2005 7:58:04 AM
The Lottery--Shirley Jackson
"Dunbar." several people said. "Dunbar. Dunbar."
Mr. Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar." he said. "That's right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he?
Who's drawing for him?"
"Me. I guess," a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her husband." Mr.
Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and
everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the
lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while
Mrs. Dunbar answered.
"Horace's not but sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this
year."
"Right." Sr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, "Watson boy
drawing this year?"
A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I'm drawing for my mother and me." He blinked
his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like "Good fellow,
lack." and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it."
"Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?"
"Here," a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded.
A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. "All ready?" he
called. "Now, I'll read the names--heads of families first--and the men come up and take a paper out of
the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn.
Everything clear?"
The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions: most of them were
quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised on
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