英文原版　　The d The Anthem

    O Henry

    On his ben Madison Square Soapy moved uneasily, and y moves uneasily ohe park, you may know that winter is near.

    A dead leaf fell in Soapy's lap. That was Jack Frost's card. Jad tular residents of Madisives them warning of his annual call.

    Soapy realized the fact that the time had  tainst the iherefore he moved uneasily on his bench.

    The wiions of Soapy were . Ihere were no dreams of Mediterranean voyages, of blue Southerhe Vesuvian Bay. Three months on the Island was what his soul desired. Three months of assured board and bed and good pany, safe from north oli, seemed to Soapy the most desirable thing.

    For years the hospitable Blackwell prison had been his winter refuge. Just as the more fortunate New Yorkers had bought their ti Bead the Riviera eater, so Soapy had made his arras for his annual jourhe island. Aime had e. O before three Sunday  under his coat, about his feet and over his lap, had not helped him against the cold as he slept on his behe fountain in the old square. There were many institutions of  New Yht receive lodging and food, but to Soapy's prifts of charity were undesirable. You must pay in humiliation of spirit f received at the hands of philanthropy. So it was better to be a guest of the law.

    Soapy, havio the Island, at o aplishihere were many easy ways of doing this. The pleasao di some good restaurant; aer deg bankruptded over to a poli. A magistrate would do the rest.

    Soapy left his be of the square and up Broadway. He stopped at the dlittering cafe. He was shaven and his coat was det. If he could reach a table i, the portion of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt ier's mind. A roasted duck, thought Soapy, with a bottle of wihen some cheese, a cup of d a cigar would be enough. Suer would make him happy, for the jouro his winter refuge.

    But as Soapy eaurant door, the head waiter's eye fell upon his shabby trousers and old sh hands turned him about and pushed him ie out i.

    Soapy turned off Broadway. Some other way  the desirable refuge must be found.

    At a er of Sixth Aveook a stohrough the glass of a glittering shop window. People ing around the er, a poli at the head of them. Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pod smiled at the sight of the poli.

    "Where is the man that has do?" asked the poli.

    "Don't you think that I have had something to do with it?" said Soapy, not without sarcasm, but friendly.

    The poli paid o Soapy. Men who break windows do o speak with poli. They run away. He saw a man running to catch a d rushed after him with his sti his hand. Soapy, with disgust i, walked along, twisuccessful.

    Oe side of the street was a little restaurah large appetites a purses. Soapy ehis place without difficulty. He sat at a table aeak ahehe waiter that he had no money.

    "Now go and call a cop," said Soapy. "And doleman waiting."

    "No cop for you," said the waiter. "Hey!"

    I Soapy found himself lying upo ear o. He arose with diffid beat the dust from his clothes. Arrest seemed a rosy dream. The Island seemed very far aoli who st store two doors away laughed ahe street. Soapy seemed to liberty.

    After another uempt to be arrested for perse a young y weoward the district of theatres.

    oanding in front of a glitterire, he caught at the straw of "disorderly duct."

    On the sidey began to sing drunken soop of his voiced, howled, and otherwise disturbed the peace.

    The polied his back to Soapy, and said to a :

    "It is ohe Yale lads g their football victory over the Hartfe. Noisy, but no harm. We have instruot to arrest them."

    Sadly, Soapy stopped his useless singing and dang. A sudden fear seized him. Was he immu? Would never a poli lay hands on him? The Islatainable Arcadia. He buttohin st the north wind.

    In a cigar store he saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigar. He had set his silk umbrella by the door, Soapy eook the umbrella, a with it slowly. The man with the cigar followed hastily.

    "My umbrella," he said.

    "Oh, is it?" said Soapy. "Well, why don't you an? I took it. Your umbrella! Why don't you call a cop? There stahe er."

    The umbrella oweps. Soapy did likewise. The poli looked at them curiously.

    "Of course," said the umbrella man, "that is - well, you know how these mistakes occur - I - if it's your umbrella I hope you'll excuse me - I picked it up this m i - if it is yours, why - I hope you'll -"

    "Of course it's mine," said Soapy.

    The ex-umbrella mahe poli hurried to help a well-dressed woman across the street.

    Soapy walked eastward. He threw the umbrella angrily into a pit. He was angry with the mes and carry clubs. Because he waed, they seemed tard him as a king who .

    At last Soapy reae of the avehe east where it was not so owards Madisohe home instins evehe home is a park bench.

    But o er Soapy stopped before an old church. Through one window a soft light glowed, where, no doubt, the anist played a Suhere came to Soapy's ears sweet music that d held him at the iron fence.

    The moon was shining; d pedestrians were few; birds twittered sleepily uhe roof. Ahat the aed Soapy to the iron fence, for he had khe days wheaihings as mothers and roses and ambitions and friends.

    The ihe musid the old church produced a sudden and we in Soapy's soul. He saw with horror the pit into which he had falle of his degraded days, dead hopes aies.

    And also irong impulse moved him to battle with his desperate fate. He would pull himself out of this pit; he would make a man of himself agaiime; he was youhose sweet a up a revolution in him. Tomorrow he would be somebody in the world. He would -

    Soapy felt a hand on his arm. He looked quid into the broad faan.

    "What are you doing here?" asked the poli.

    "Nothing," said Soapy.

    "Then e along," said the poli.

    "Three months on the Island," said the Magistrate in the Police Court the  m.