The day passed. We had cold porridge at noonand hot porridge at night. Porridge and weak beerwere my uncle’s regular food. He said little. WhenI asked again about my future，he spoke of otherthings.
Next to the kitchen I found a room full ofbooks . This pleased me，and I read during the afternoon.
Then I discovered a strange thing. There wasa child ’s picture book among the others. On thefront page，my father had written something. It wasthis“To my brothe r Eb e ne ze r，on his fifth birth da y.”
The words were firm and clear.
I did not understand. My father was，ofcourse，the younger brother. Yet he wrote very wellwhen he was only two or three or four years old.
I looked at many other interesting books，oldand new，history，poetry and story - books. But Icould not forget this birthday gift.
一天一天過去了。我們中午吃涼稀飯，晚上吃熱稀飯。伯父每天隻吃稀飯、喝淡啤酒。他很少講話。
我再向他問起我的前程的問題時，他卻轉談別的事。
我發現廚房隔壁的屋子裏堆滿了書。我真高興，於是我就在下午看書。後來，我發現了一件怪事。
這一堆書裏頭有一本兒童畫冊。在畫冊的封麵上，我父親寫了這樣一句話：“埃比尼澤兄弟五歲生日留念。”字體老練、清晰。
我被弄得糊裏糊塗。我父親不用說是弟弟，可他在兩三歲，頂大四歲時竟然能寫出這麼好的字。
我翻看了其他有意思的書，有新的，也有舊的； 有曆史書，也有詩歌和故事書。可是，這本生日禮物書卻深深地印在我的腦海裏。
“Wa s my fa the r a quic k，cle ve r boy?”I asked myuncle in the evening.
“Ale xa nde r？No ！”he replied.“I wa s qu icke rtha n he . I wa s ve ry c le ve r whe n I wa s young . ”Thiswas strange.
“We re you a nd my fa the r born a t the s ametime ？”I asked.
He jumped up and dropped his spoon.
“Why do you a s k th a t？”he said. He seized thefront of my jacket，and looked this time straight inmy face. His eyes were little and bright andstrange.
“Wha t do you me a n？”I asked.“Ta ke your ha ndfrom my ja c ke t. You ought not to do tha t. ”He tookhis hand away. He was shaking.