邮递员科尔巴巴先生对他自己的工作干厌了:他说邮递员整天东奔西跑,左转右转,鞋掌走破了,鞋跟走坏了;每天要走二万九千七百三十五步,其中要上下八千二百四十九级楼梯,送的老是些印刷品、汇票和一些微不足道的东西,它们能给人什么快乐呢?有一回,科尔巴巴先生在邮局里闷闷不乐地坐在火炉旁边,坐着坐着就睡着了。到了六点钟,邮局的门就锁上了,所有的邮局职员全都分头回家了,光剩下科尔巴巴先生一个人给锁在里面睡他 Mr. Colbab, the postman, disgusted with his own work: he said the postman ran around all day, turning left and turning right, his shoe palm broken, his heel going bad, and going daily to 29,737 Fifteen paces, of which there are 8,249 stairs, sending prints, drafts and some insignificant things, what do they give pleasure? Once, Mr. Colbaba was sullen in the post office Sitting by the fire, sat asleep. At six o’clock, the post office door was locked, and all the post office staff were all gone home, and the rest of Mr. Cole Baba left the lock alone