Appreciation of Theodore Dreiser's Works: English-Chinese Contrast

Author: Wen Bin / et al.
Editor-in-Chief: Xie Qunying
Publisher:
Publish Date: 1999-03-01
Features: Excerpt: Davies breathed a sigh of relief, found the telegraph operator, and wrote a dispatch at the post office about this incident, describing an attempted private punishment, a group of defeated rioters, and the heroic county sheriff who was striving to uphold the law. Around eleven o'clock at night, faint sounds of horse hooves suddenly came from the village of Baldwin. A group of people, led by the Whitakers, returned, heading straight for the county sheriff's house. The sheriff remained vigilant and was quite satisfied with his courage in dealing with the rioters, hoping to once again use persuasion and intimidation to drive back the horsemen. But this time the situation was different. Under the fiery temper of Old Whitaker, they quickly subdued the sheriff. People rushed into the cellar, dragging the terrified black man Jeff without hesitation onto a cart and taking him away, then hanging him from the bridge pillar. This sudden turn of events left Davies deeply troubled and unable to accept the reality. The next day, when he returned to the village, Davies went to visit some of the relevant people. Although the sheriff still vowed to punish the lawbreakers, Davies could see that he would no longer take action. Jeff the black man's home was in complete desolation, his mother crying uncontrollably, the mournful sighs and groans lingering in Davies's heart for a long time. With immense emotion, he exclaimed, "I'm going to write it all down!"
"Read that, Davies," the city editor said, handing him the clipping. "I'll tell you later what I want you to do." The reporter stood by the editorial chair and read: "Pleasant Valley, Ko., April 16." "An almost dastardly crime has just been reported here. Jeffingalls, a negro, this morning assaulted Ada Whitaker, the nineteen-year-old daughter of Morgan Whitaker, a well-to-do farmer whose home is four miles south of here. A posse, headed by Sheriff (3) Mathews, has started in pursuit. If he is caught, it is though he will be lynched." The reporter raised her eyes as she finished. What a senseless crime! What evil people there were in the world! No doubt such a creature should be lynched, and quickly."
"You had better go out there, Davies," said the city editor. "It looks as if something might come of that. A lynching here would be a big thing. There's never been one in this state." Davies found the village of Pleasant Valley to be a very small affair indeed, just a few dozen houses nestled between the green slopes of low hills. He took notes of the whiteness of the little houses, the shimmering beauty of the small stream one had to cross going from the depot. At the main corner, a few men were gathered around a typical village barroom. The whole company was apparently tense with interest in the crime that still remained unpunished, seemingly craving excitement and the desire to see something done about it. Just then, a young farmer came galloping up. He was coatless, hatless, and breathless.