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There was a time in my boyhood when I felt that Father had handicapped（造成麻烦）me severely in life by naming me after him， “Clarence.” All literature， so far as I could see， was thronged with（充斥着）objectionable persons（被人讨厌的角色）named Clarence. Percy was bad enough， but there had been some good fighters named Percy. The only Clarence in history was a duke（公爵）who did something dirty at Tewkesbury， and who died a ridiculous death afterwards in a barrel of malmsey（馬姆齐甜酒）.
As for the Clarences in the fiction I read， they were horrible. In one story， for instance， there were two brothers， Clarence and Frank. Clarence was a “vain（虚荣的）disagreeable（令人讨厌的）little fellow，” who was proud of his curly hair and fine clothes， while Frank was a“rollicking（喧闹的）boy who was ready to play games with anybody.” Clarence didn’t like to play games， of course. He just minced around（装腔作势）looking on（旁观）.
One day when the mother of these boys had gone out， this story went on， Clarence “tempted” Frank to disobey her and fly their kite on the roof. Frank didn’t want to， but Clarence kept taunting（嘲弄）him and daring（激某人做某事）him until Frank was stung（被刺激）into doing it. After the two boys went up to the roof， Frank got good and dirty（非常脏）， running up and down and stumbling over scuttles（天窗）， while Clarence sat there， giving him orders， and kept his natty（整洁而漂亮的）clothes tidy. To my horror， he even spread out his handkerchief on the trapdoor（地板上的活门）to sit on. And to crown all（最糟糕的是）， this sneak（告密者）told on（揭发，告密）Frank as soon as their mother came in.
I asked Mother how this name had ever happened to spring up（涌现）in our family. She explained that my great-great-grandfather was Benjamin Day， and my greatgrandfather was Henry， and consequently my grandfather had been named Benjamin Henry. He in turn had named his eldest son Henry and his second son Benjamin. The result was that when Father was born there was no family name left. The privilege of choosing a name for Father had thereupon（于是，因此）been given to Grandma， and unluckily for the Day family she had been reading a novel， the hero of which was named Clarence.
I knew that Grandma， though very like Grandpa in some respects， had a dreamy side which he hadn’t， a side that she usually kept to herself， in her serene（平静的）， quiet way. Her romantic choice of this name probably made Grandpa smile， but he was a detached（冷静的，客观的）sort of man who didn’t take small matters seriously， and who drew a good deal of private amusement from the happenings of everyday life. Besides， he was partly to blame in this case， because that novel was one he had published himself in his magazine. I asked Mother， when she had finished， why I had been named Clarence too.
It hadn’t been her choice， Mother said. She had suggested all sorts of names to Father， but there seemed to be something wrong with each one. When she had at last spoken of naming me after him， however， he had said at once that that was the best suggestion yet—he said it sounded just right.
Father and I would have had plenty of friction（摩擦，沖突）in any case. This identity of names made things worse. Every time that I had been more of a fool than he liked， Father would try to impress on me my responsibilities as his eldest son， and above all as the son to whom he had given his name， as he put it. A great deal was expected， it seemed to me， of a boy who was named after his father. I used to envy my brothers， who didn’t have anything expected of them on this score（因为此事）at all.
I envied them still more after I was old enough to begin getting letters. I then discovered that when Father“gave” me his name he had also， not unnaturally I had to admit， retained it himself， and when anything came for Clarence S. Day he opened it， though it was sometimes for me.
He also opened everything that came addressed to Clarence S. Day， Jr.（小，用于与父亲同名的男子姓名后）. He didn’t do this intentionally（故意地）， but unless the“Jr.” was clearly written， it looked like “Esq.（先生，对男士的敬称），” and anyhow Father was too accustomed to open all Clarence Day letters to remember about looking carefully every time for a “Jr.” So far as mail and express went， I had no name at all of my own.
For the most part nobody wrote to me when I was a small boy except firms whose advertisements I had read in the Youth’s Companion（《青年之友》）and to whom I had written requesting them to send me their circulars（促销传单）. These circulars described remarkable bargains（特价品）in magicians’ card outfits（全套魔法师图案的卡片）， stamps and coins， pocket-knives， trick spiders（用来恶作剧吓唬人的蜘蛛）， and imitation fried eggs， and they seemed interesting and valuable to me when I got them. The trouble was that Father usually got them and at once tore them up. I then had to write for such circulars again， and if Father got the second one， too， he would sometimes explode with annoyance. He became particularly indignant（愤怒的）one year， I remember， when he was repeatedly urged to take advantage of a special bargain sale of false whiskers（假胡须）. He said that he couldn’t understand why these offerings kept pouring in. I knew why， in this case， but at other times I was often surprised myself at the number he got， not realizing that as a result of my postcard request my or our name had been automatically put on several large general mailing lists. During this period I got more of my mail out of Father’s waste-basket than I did from the postman.
At the age of twelve or thirteen， I stopped writing for these childish things and turned to a new field. Father and I， whichever of us got at（着手处理）the mail first， then began to receive not merely circulars but personal letters beginning：
DEAR FRIEND DAY：
In reply to your valued request for one of our Mammoth Agents’ Outfits（猛犸象代理商代理的服装）， kindly forward post-office order for $1.49 to cover cost of postage and packing， and we will put you in a position to earn a large income in your spare time with absolutely no labor on your part， by taking subscriptions（订阅）for The Secret Handbook of Mesmerism（催眠术）， and our Tales of Blood series.
And one spring， I remember， as the result of what I had intended to be a secret application on my part， Father was assigned “the exclusive（專有的）rights for Staten Island and Hoboken（斯塔滕岛和霍博肯）of selling the Gem Home Popper（最佳家用爆玉米花机）for Pop Corn. Housewives buy it at sight.”
After Father had stormily endured（忍耐）these afflictions（折磨）for a while， he and I began to get letters from girls. Fortunately for our feelings， these were rare， but they were ordeals（煎熬）for both of us. Father had forgotten， if he ever knew， how silly young girls can sound， and I got my first lesson in how unsystematic they were. No matter how private and playful they meant their letters to be， they forgot to put “Jr.” on the envelope every once in so often. When Father opened these letters， he read them all the way through， sometimes twice， muttering to himself over and over： “This is very peculiar. I don’t understand this at all. Here’s a letter to me from some person I never heard of. I can’t see what it’s about.” By the time it had occurred to him that possibly the letter might be for me， I was red and embarrassed and even angrier at the girl than at Father. And on days when he had read some of the phrases aloud to the family， it nearly killed me to claim it（承认信是我的）.
In the days when Mrs. Pankhurst1 and her friends were chaining（用铁链捆）themselves to lamp-posts（路灯柱）in London， in their campaign for the vote， a letter came from Frances Hand trustfully asking “Dear Clarence” to do something to help Woman Suffrage（妇女选举权）—speak at a meeting， I think. Father got red in the face. “Speak at one of their meetings！” he roared at Mother.
“I’d like nothing better！ You can tell Mrs. Hand that it would give me great pleasure to inform all those crackpots（疯子）in petticoats（衬裙）exactly what I think of their antics（滑稽古怪的行为）.” “Now， Clare，” Mother said， “you mustn’t talk that way. I like that nice Mrs. Hand， and anyhow this letter must be for Clarence.”
One time I asked Father for his opinion of a low-priced stock I’d been watching. His opinion was that it was not worth a damn（一文不值）. I thought this over， but I still wished to buy it， so I placed a scale order（分段订单）with another firm instead of with Father’s office， and said nothing about it. At the end of the month this other firm sent me a statement， setting forth each of my little transactions（交易）in full， and of course they forgot to put the “Jr.” at the end of my name. When Father opened the envelope， he thought at first in his excitement that this firm had actually opened an account for him without being asked. I found him telling Mother that he’d like to wring（拧断）their damned necks.
“That must be for me， Father，” I said， when I took in what had happened.
We looked at each other.
“You bought this stuff？” he said incredulously（怀疑地）. “After all I said about it？”
“Yes， Father.”
He handed over the statement and walked out of the room.
Both he and I felt offended and angry. We stayed so for several days， too， but we then made it up.
Once in a while when I got a letter that I had no time to answer I used to address an envelope to the sender and then put anything in it that happened to be lying around on my desk—a circular about books， a piece of newspaper， an old laundry bill—anything at all， just to be amiable（和蔼可亲的）， and yet at the same time to save myself the trouble of writing. I happened to tell several people about this private habit of mine at a dinner one night—a dinner at which Alice Duer Miller2 and one or two other writers were present. A little later she wrote me a criticism of Henry James3 and ended by saying that I needn’t send her any of my old laundry bills because she wouldn’t stand it. And she forgot to put on the “Jr.”
“In the name of God，” Father said bleakly（阴郁地）， “this is the worst yet. Here’s a woman who says I’d better not read The Golden Bowl（《金碗》，亨利·詹姆斯的小说）， which I have no intention whatever of doing， and she also warns me for some unknown reason not to send her my laundry bills.”
The good part of all these experiences， as I realize now， was that in the end they drew Father and me closer together. My brothers had only chance battles with him. I had a war. Neither he nor I relished（享受）its clashes， but they made us surprisingly intimate.
1. 埃米琳·潘克赫斯特（Emmeline Pankhurst，1858—1928），英国政治活动家，现代妇女運动的先驱，为争取妇女选举权做出了巨大贡献。
2. 爱丽丝·杜尔·米勒（1874—1942），美国女诗人、作家。
3. 亨利·詹姆斯（1843—1916），美国作家，出身于纽约上层知识分子家庭，对19世纪末美国和欧洲的上层生活有细致入微的观察，代表作有《一位女士的画像》、《鸽翼》、《金碗》等。
As for the Clarences in the fiction I read， they were horrible. In one story， for instance， there were two brothers， Clarence and Frank. Clarence was a “vain（虚荣的）disagreeable（令人讨厌的）little fellow，” who was proud of his curly hair and fine clothes， while Frank was a“rollicking（喧闹的）boy who was ready to play games with anybody.” Clarence didn’t like to play games， of course. He just minced around（装腔作势）looking on（旁观）.
One day when the mother of these boys had gone out， this story went on， Clarence “tempted” Frank to disobey her and fly their kite on the roof. Frank didn’t want to， but Clarence kept taunting（嘲弄）him and daring（激某人做某事）him until Frank was stung（被刺激）into doing it. After the two boys went up to the roof， Frank got good and dirty（非常脏）， running up and down and stumbling over scuttles（天窗）， while Clarence sat there， giving him orders， and kept his natty（整洁而漂亮的）clothes tidy. To my horror， he even spread out his handkerchief on the trapdoor（地板上的活门）to sit on. And to crown all（最糟糕的是）， this sneak（告密者）told on（揭发，告密）Frank as soon as their mother came in.
I asked Mother how this name had ever happened to spring up（涌现）in our family. She explained that my great-great-grandfather was Benjamin Day， and my greatgrandfather was Henry， and consequently my grandfather had been named Benjamin Henry. He in turn had named his eldest son Henry and his second son Benjamin. The result was that when Father was born there was no family name left. The privilege of choosing a name for Father had thereupon（于是，因此）been given to Grandma， and unluckily for the Day family she had been reading a novel， the hero of which was named Clarence.
I knew that Grandma， though very like Grandpa in some respects， had a dreamy side which he hadn’t， a side that she usually kept to herself， in her serene（平静的）， quiet way. Her romantic choice of this name probably made Grandpa smile， but he was a detached（冷静的，客观的）sort of man who didn’t take small matters seriously， and who drew a good deal of private amusement from the happenings of everyday life. Besides， he was partly to blame in this case， because that novel was one he had published himself in his magazine. I asked Mother， when she had finished， why I had been named Clarence too.
It hadn’t been her choice， Mother said. She had suggested all sorts of names to Father， but there seemed to be something wrong with each one. When she had at last spoken of naming me after him， however， he had said at once that that was the best suggestion yet—he said it sounded just right.
Father and I would have had plenty of friction（摩擦，沖突）in any case. This identity of names made things worse. Every time that I had been more of a fool than he liked， Father would try to impress on me my responsibilities as his eldest son， and above all as the son to whom he had given his name， as he put it. A great deal was expected， it seemed to me， of a boy who was named after his father. I used to envy my brothers， who didn’t have anything expected of them on this score（因为此事）at all.
I envied them still more after I was old enough to begin getting letters. I then discovered that when Father“gave” me his name he had also， not unnaturally I had to admit， retained it himself， and when anything came for Clarence S. Day he opened it， though it was sometimes for me.
He also opened everything that came addressed to Clarence S. Day， Jr.（小，用于与父亲同名的男子姓名后）. He didn’t do this intentionally（故意地）， but unless the“Jr.” was clearly written， it looked like “Esq.（先生，对男士的敬称），” and anyhow Father was too accustomed to open all Clarence Day letters to remember about looking carefully every time for a “Jr.” So far as mail and express went， I had no name at all of my own.
For the most part nobody wrote to me when I was a small boy except firms whose advertisements I had read in the Youth’s Companion（《青年之友》）and to whom I had written requesting them to send me their circulars（促销传单）. These circulars described remarkable bargains（特价品）in magicians’ card outfits（全套魔法师图案的卡片）， stamps and coins， pocket-knives， trick spiders（用来恶作剧吓唬人的蜘蛛）， and imitation fried eggs， and they seemed interesting and valuable to me when I got them. The trouble was that Father usually got them and at once tore them up. I then had to write for such circulars again， and if Father got the second one， too， he would sometimes explode with annoyance. He became particularly indignant（愤怒的）one year， I remember， when he was repeatedly urged to take advantage of a special bargain sale of false whiskers（假胡须）. He said that he couldn’t understand why these offerings kept pouring in. I knew why， in this case， but at other times I was often surprised myself at the number he got， not realizing that as a result of my postcard request my or our name had been automatically put on several large general mailing lists. During this period I got more of my mail out of Father’s waste-basket than I did from the postman.
At the age of twelve or thirteen， I stopped writing for these childish things and turned to a new field. Father and I， whichever of us got at（着手处理）the mail first， then began to receive not merely circulars but personal letters beginning：
DEAR FRIEND DAY：
In reply to your valued request for one of our Mammoth Agents’ Outfits（猛犸象代理商代理的服装）， kindly forward post-office order for $1.49 to cover cost of postage and packing， and we will put you in a position to earn a large income in your spare time with absolutely no labor on your part， by taking subscriptions（订阅）for The Secret Handbook of Mesmerism（催眠术）， and our Tales of Blood series.
And one spring， I remember， as the result of what I had intended to be a secret application on my part， Father was assigned “the exclusive（專有的）rights for Staten Island and Hoboken（斯塔滕岛和霍博肯）of selling the Gem Home Popper（最佳家用爆玉米花机）for Pop Corn. Housewives buy it at sight.”
After Father had stormily endured（忍耐）these afflictions（折磨）for a while， he and I began to get letters from girls. Fortunately for our feelings， these were rare， but they were ordeals（煎熬）for both of us. Father had forgotten， if he ever knew， how silly young girls can sound， and I got my first lesson in how unsystematic they were. No matter how private and playful they meant their letters to be， they forgot to put “Jr.” on the envelope every once in so often. When Father opened these letters， he read them all the way through， sometimes twice， muttering to himself over and over： “This is very peculiar. I don’t understand this at all. Here’s a letter to me from some person I never heard of. I can’t see what it’s about.” By the time it had occurred to him that possibly the letter might be for me， I was red and embarrassed and even angrier at the girl than at Father. And on days when he had read some of the phrases aloud to the family， it nearly killed me to claim it（承认信是我的）.
In the days when Mrs. Pankhurst1 and her friends were chaining（用铁链捆）themselves to lamp-posts（路灯柱）in London， in their campaign for the vote， a letter came from Frances Hand trustfully asking “Dear Clarence” to do something to help Woman Suffrage（妇女选举权）—speak at a meeting， I think. Father got red in the face. “Speak at one of their meetings！” he roared at Mother.
“I’d like nothing better！ You can tell Mrs. Hand that it would give me great pleasure to inform all those crackpots（疯子）in petticoats（衬裙）exactly what I think of their antics（滑稽古怪的行为）.” “Now， Clare，” Mother said， “you mustn’t talk that way. I like that nice Mrs. Hand， and anyhow this letter must be for Clarence.”
One time I asked Father for his opinion of a low-priced stock I’d been watching. His opinion was that it was not worth a damn（一文不值）. I thought this over， but I still wished to buy it， so I placed a scale order（分段订单）with another firm instead of with Father’s office， and said nothing about it. At the end of the month this other firm sent me a statement， setting forth each of my little transactions（交易）in full， and of course they forgot to put the “Jr.” at the end of my name. When Father opened the envelope， he thought at first in his excitement that this firm had actually opened an account for him without being asked. I found him telling Mother that he’d like to wring（拧断）their damned necks.
“That must be for me， Father，” I said， when I took in what had happened.
We looked at each other.
“You bought this stuff？” he said incredulously（怀疑地）. “After all I said about it？”
“Yes， Father.”
He handed over the statement and walked out of the room.
Both he and I felt offended and angry. We stayed so for several days， too， but we then made it up.
Once in a while when I got a letter that I had no time to answer I used to address an envelope to the sender and then put anything in it that happened to be lying around on my desk—a circular about books， a piece of newspaper， an old laundry bill—anything at all， just to be amiable（和蔼可亲的）， and yet at the same time to save myself the trouble of writing. I happened to tell several people about this private habit of mine at a dinner one night—a dinner at which Alice Duer Miller2 and one or two other writers were present. A little later she wrote me a criticism of Henry James3 and ended by saying that I needn’t send her any of my old laundry bills because she wouldn’t stand it. And she forgot to put on the “Jr.”
“In the name of God，” Father said bleakly（阴郁地）， “this is the worst yet. Here’s a woman who says I’d better not read The Golden Bowl（《金碗》，亨利·詹姆斯的小说）， which I have no intention whatever of doing， and she also warns me for some unknown reason not to send her my laundry bills.”
The good part of all these experiences， as I realize now， was that in the end they drew Father and me closer together. My brothers had only chance battles with him. I had a war. Neither he nor I relished（享受）its clashes， but they made us surprisingly intimate.
1. 埃米琳·潘克赫斯特（Emmeline Pankhurst，1858—1928），英国政治活动家，现代妇女運动的先驱，为争取妇女选举权做出了巨大贡献。
2. 爱丽丝·杜尔·米勒（1874—1942），美国女诗人、作家。
3. 亨利·詹姆斯（1843—1916），美国作家，出身于纽约上层知识分子家庭，对19世纪末美国和欧洲的上层生活有细致入微的观察，代表作有《一位女士的画像》、《鸽翼》、《金碗》等。