THE LOTTERY by SHIRLEYJACKSON

Themorningof June27th was clear andsunny, with thefresh warmth of afull summerday theflowers wereblossomingprofusely andthegrass was richly green. Thepeopleof thevillagebegan togatherin thesquare,between thepost office andthebank, aroundteno'clock in sometowns therewereso many peoplethatthelottery took two days andhadtobestartedon June26th. Butin this village, wheretherewereonly about three hundredpeople, thewholelottery tookless than twohours, so it couldbegin at ten o'clockin themorningandstill bethrough in timeto allowthevillagers toget homefor noon dinner. Thechildren assembledfirst, of course. School was recently overfor thesummer, andthefeelingof liberty sat uneasily on most of them they tendedto gathertogetherquietly for awhilebeforethey brokeinto boisterous play, and their talkwas still of theclassroomandtheteacher, of books andreprimands. Bobby Martin hadalready stuffedhis pockets full of stones, andtheotherboys soon followedhis example, selectingthesmoothest androundest stones Bobby andHarry Jones andDickieDelacroix thevillagers pronouncedthis name"Dellacroy"eventually madeagreatpileof stones in onecornerof thesquareandguardedit against theraids of theotherboys. Thegirls stood aside, talkingamongthemselves, lookingovertheir shoulders at theboys, andthevery small children rolledinthedustor clungtothehands of their olderbrothers or sisters.Soon themen began to gather, surveyingtheir own children, speakingof plantingandrain, tractors andtaxes. They stoodtogether, away from thepileof stones in thecorner, andtheir jokes werequiet andthey smiledratherthan laughed. Thewomen, wearingfadedhousedresses andsweaters, cameshortly aftertheir menfolk. They greetedoneanotherandexchangedbits of gossipas they went tojoin their husbands. Soon thewomen, standingby their husbands, began to call totheir children, andthechildren camereluctantly, havingto becalledfour or fivetimes. Bobby Martin duckedunderhis mother's graspinghandandran, laughing, backto thepileof stones. His fatherspokeupsharply, andBobby camequickly andtook his placebetween his fatherandhis oldestbrother. Thelottery was conductedas werethesquaredances, theteen club, theHalloweenprogramby Mr. Summers who hadtimeandenergy to devotetocivicactivities. Hewas aroundfaced, jovial man andheran thecoal business, andpeopleweresorry for himbecausehehadno children andhis wifewas ascold. When hearrivedin thesquare, carryingtheblackwooden box, therewas amurmur of conversation amongthevillagers, andhewavedandcalled,"Littlelatetoday, folks." Thepostmaster, Mr. Graves, followedhim, carryingathree leggedstool, andthestool was put in thecenterof thesquareandMr. Summers set theblackbox down on it. Thevillagers kept their distance, leavingaspacebetween themselves andthestool, andwhen Mr. Summers said, "Someof youfellows want to givemeahand?" therewas ahesitation beforetwomen, Mr. Martin andhis oldest son, Baxter, cameforwardto holdthebox steady on thestool whileMr. Summers stirredupthepapersinsideit.Theoriginal paraphernaliafor thelottery hadbeen lost longago, andtheblackbox nowrestingon thestool hadbeen put into useeven before OldMan Warner, theoldest man intown, was born. Mr. Summers spokefrequently to thevillagersabout makinganewbox, but no onelikedtoupseteven as much tradition as was representedby theblackbox. Therewas astory that thepresent box hadbeen made with somepieces of thebox thathadprecededit, theonethat hadbeen constructedwhen thefirst peoplesettleddown tomake avillage here. Every year, afterthelottery, Mr. Summersbegan talkingagain aboutanew box, but every yearthesubject was allowedtofade off without anything's beingdone. Theblackbox grewshabbiereach year:by nowit was no longercompletely blackbut splinteredbadly alongonesidetoshowtheoriginal wood color, andin someplaces fadedor stained.Mr. Martin andhis oldest son, Baxter, heldtheblackbox securely on thestool until Mr. Summers hadstirredthepapersthoroughly with his hand. Becauseso much of theritualhadbeen forgotten or discarded,Mr. Summers had been successful inhavingslips of paper substitutedfor thechips of woodthathadbeen usedfor generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers hadargued.hadbeen all verywell when thevillage was tiny, butnowthat thepopulation was morethan three hundredandlikely tokeepon growing, itwas necessary tousesomethingthat wouldfit moreeasily into heblackbox. Thenightbeforethelottery, Mr. Summers andMr. Graves made uptheslips of paper andput themin thebox, andit was then taken to thesafeof Mr. Summers' coal company andlockedupuntil Mr. Summers was ready totake it to thesquarenext morning. Therest of theyear, thebox was put way, sometimes oneplace,sometimes another it hadspent oneyear in Mr. Graves' barn andanotheryear underfootin thepostoffice, andsometimes itwas set on ashelf intheMartin grocery andleft there. Therewas agreatdeal of fussingto bedonebefore Mr. Summersdeclaredthelotteryopen. Therewerethelists to make upof heads of families, heads of households in eachfamily, members of each householdin each family. Therewas theproper swearingin of Mr. Summers by thepostmaster, as theofficial of thelottery at onetime, somepeopleremembered, therehadbeen arecital of somesort, performedby theofficial of thelottery, aperfunctory. tuneless chant thathadbeen rattledoff duly each year somepeoplebelievedthat theofficial of thelottery usedtostandjust sowhenhesaidor sangit, others believedthat hewas supposedto walkamongthepeople, but years andyearsago this p3rtof theritual hadbeen allowedto lapse. Therehadbeen, also, a ritual salute, which theofficial of thelottery hadhadto usein addressingeach person who cameuptodraw from thebox, but this also hadchangedwith time, until nowit was felt necessaryonly for theofficial to speakto each person approaching. Mr. Summerswas very goodatall this in his clean whiteshirt andbluejeans, with onehandrestingcarelessly on theblackbox, heseemedvery properandimportant as hetalkedinterminably toMr. Graves andtheMartins. Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talkingandturnedtotheassembledvillagers, Mrs. Hutchinson camehurriedly alongthepath to thesquare, hersweaterthrown overhershoulders, andslidintoplace in thebackof thecrowd. "Clean forgotwhat day it was," shesaidto Mrs. Delacroix, who stoodnext to her, andthey both laughedsoftly. "Thoughtmy oldman was out backstackingwood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on. "Andthen I lookedoutthewindowandthekids was gone,andthen I rememberedit was thetwentyseventhandcamearunning." Shedriedherhands on herapron, andMrs. Delacroix said, "You'rein time, though. They'restill talkingaway upthere." Mrs. Hutchinson cranedherneckto see through thecrowd andfoundherhusbandandchildren standingnearthefront. ShetappedMrs. Delacroix on thearm as afarewell andbegan tomakeherway through thecrowd. Thepeopleseparatedgoodhumouredly to letherthrough:two or three peoplesaid, in voices justloudenough to beheardacross thecrowd, "Herecomes your, Missus, Hutchinson," and"Bill, shemade it afterall." Mrs. Hutchinson reachedherhusband, andMr. Summers, who hadbeen waiting, saidcheerfully, "Thought we were goingtohavetoget on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said, grinning, "Wouldn't havemeleave m'dishes in thesink, now, wouldyou. Joe?" andsoft laughterran through thecrowd as thepeoplestirredbackintopositionafterMrs. Hutchinson's arrival. "Well, now." Mr. Summers saidsoberly, "guess webetter get started, getthis overwith, so's we can go backto work. Anybody ain't here?" "Dunbar." several peoplesaid. "Dunbar. Dunbar." Mr. Summers consultedhis list. "ClydeDunbar." hesaid. "That's right. He's brokehis leg,hasn't he? Who's drawingfor him?" "Me. I guess," awoman said, andMr. Summers turnedto look at her. "Wifedraws for herhusband." Mr. Summers said. "Don't youhaveagrown boy todo it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers andeveryoneelsein thevillage knewtheanswerperfectly well, it was thebusiness of theofficial of thelottery to asksuch questions formally. Mr. Summers waitedwith an expression of politeinterest whileMrs.Dunbaranswered. "Horace's notbutsixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbarsaidregretfully. "GuessI gottafill in for theoldman this year." "Right," Mr. Summers said. Hemade anoteon thelist hewas holding. Then heasked, "Watson boy drawingthis year?" A tall boy in thecrowdraisedhis hand. "Here," hesaid. "I'm drawingfor my motherandme."He blinkedhis eyes nervously andduckedhis headas several voices in thecrowdsaidthings like"Good fellow, Jack." and"Gladtosee your mother's gotaman todo it." "Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. OldMan Warnermake it?" "Here," avoice said, andMr. Summers nodded.A sudden hush fell on thecrowd as Mr. Summers clearedhis throat andlookedat thelist. "All ready?" hecalled."Now, I'll readthenamesheads of families firstandthemencomeupandtake apaperoutof thebox. Keepthepaper foldedin your handwithoutlookingat it until everyonehas hadaturn. Everythingclear?" Thepeoplehaddoneit somany times that they only half listenedtothedirections:mostof them werequiet, wettingtheir lips, notlookingaround. Then Mr. Summersraisedonehandhigh andsaid, "Adams." A man disengagedhimself from thecrowd andcameforward. "Hi. Steve."Mr. Summers saidandMr. Adams said, "Hi. Joe." They grinnedatoneanotherhumourlessly andnervously. Then Mr. Adams reachedintotheblackboxandtook outafoldedpaper. Heheldit firmly by onecorneras heturnedandwent hastilybacktohis placein thecrowd, wherehestood alittleapart from his family, notlookingdown athis hand. "Allen." Mr. Summers said. "Anderson.... Bentham." "Seems likethere's no timeat all between lotteries any more," Mrs. Delacroix saidtoMrs. Graves in thebackrow. "Seems likewe gotthrough with thelast oneonly last week." "Timesuregoes fast,"Mrs. Graves said. "Clark.... Delacroix" "Theregoes my oldman." Mrs. Delacroix said. Sheheldherbreath whileherhusbandwent forward. "Dunbar," Mr. Summers said, andMrs. Dunbarwent steadily to thebox whileoneof thewomen said. "Go on, Janey," andanothersaid, "Thereshegoes." "We'renext." Mrs. Graves said. ShewatchedwhileMr. Graves camearoundfrom thesideof thebox, greeted Mr. Summers gravely andselectedaslipof paper from thebox. By now, all through thecrowd thereweremen holdingthesmall foldedpapersin their largehand, turningthem overandovernervously Mrs. Dunbarandhertwosons stoodtogether, Mrs. Dunbarholdingtheslipof paper. "Harburt.... Hutchinson." "Get upthere, Bill," Mrs. Hutchinson said, andthe peoplenearherlaughed. "Jones." "They do say," Mr. Adams saidto OldMan Warner, whostood next tohim, "that overinthenorth villagethey'retalkingof givingupthelottery." OldMan Warnersnorted. "Packof crazy fools," hesaid. "Listeningtotheyoungfolks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thingyouknow, they'll bewantingtogo backtolivingin caves, nobody work any more,livehat way for awhile. Usedto beasayingabout 'Lottery in June,corn beheavy soon.' First thingyouknow, we'dall beeatingstewedchickweedandacorns. There's always beenalottery," headdedpetulantly. "Badenough tosee youngJoeSummers uptherejokingwith everybody." "Someplaces havealready quit lotteries." Mrs. Adams said. "Nothingbut troublein that," OldMan Warnersaidstoutly. "Packof youngfools." "Martin." AndBobby Martin watchedhis fathergoforward. "Overdyke.... Percy." "I wish they'dhurry," Mrs. Dunbarsaidtoherolder son. "I wish they'dhurry." "They'realmost through," herson said. "Youget ready torun tell Dad,"Mrs.Dunbarsaid. Mr. Summers calledhis own nameandthen steppedforwardprecisely andselectedaslipfrom thebox. Then hecalled,"Warner." "Seventyseventh year I been in thelottery," OldMan Warnersaidas hewent through thecrowd. "Seventyseventh time.""Watson" Thetall boy cameawkwardly through thecrowd. Someonesaid, "Don't benervous, Jack," andMr. Summers said, "Take your time, son." "Zanini." Afterthat, therewas alongpause,abreathless pause, until Mr. Summers,holdinghis slipof paper in theair, said, "All right, fellows." For aminute, noonemoved, andthen all theslips of paper wereopened.Suddenly, all thewomen began to speakat once, saving. "Who is it?" "Who's got it?" "Is it theDunbars?" "Is it theWatsons?" Then thevoices began tosay, "It's Hutchinson. It's Bill," "Bill Hutchinson's got it." "Go tell your father," Mrs. Dunbarsaidto herolder son. Peoplebegan to look aroundto see theHutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standingquiet, staringdown at thepaperin his hand. Suddenly, TessieHutchinson shoutedtoMr. Summers. "Youdidn't givehim timeenough totakeany paper hewanted. I sawyou. Itwasn't fair!" "Beagoodsport, Tessie,"Mrs. Delacroix called,andMrs. Graves said, "All of us tookthesamechance.""Shut up, Tessie,"Bill Hutchinson said."Well, everyone,"Mr. Summers said, "that was donepretty fast, andnowwe'vegot tobehurryingalittlemoretoget donein time."Heconsultedhis next list. "Bill," hesaid, "youdraw for theHutchinson family. Yougotany otherhouseholds in theHutchinsons?" "There's Don andEva,"Mrs. Hutchinson yelled."Make them take their chance!" "Daughters draw with their husbands' families, Tessie," Mr. Summerssaidgently. "Youknowthat as well as anyoneelse.""Itwasn't fair," Tessiesaid. "I guess not, Joe."Bill Hutchinson saidregretfully. "My daughterdraws with herhusband's family that's only fair. AndI'vegot no otherfamily except thekids." "Then, as faras drawingfor families is concerned,it's you," Mr. Summerssaidinexplanation, "andas faras drawingfor households is concerned, that's you, too. Right?" "Right," Bill Hutchinson said. "Howmany kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers askedformally. "Three," Bill Hutchinson said. "There's Bill, Jr., andNancy, andlittleDave.AndTessieandme." "All right, then," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, yougottheir tickets back?" Mr. Graves noddedandhelduptheslips of paper. "Put them in thebox, then," Mr. Summers directed."Take Bill's andput it in." "I thinkwe ought tostartover," Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as shecould. "I tell youit wasn't fair. You didn't givehim timeenough to choose.Everybody sawthat." Mr. Graves hadselectedthefiveslips andput them inthebox, andhedroppedall thepapers but thoseonto thegroundwherethebreeze caught them andliftedthem off. "Listen, everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson was sayingtothepeoplearoundher. "Ready, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked,andBill Hutchinson, with onequickglance aroundathis wifeandchildren, nodded."Remember," Mr. Summers said. "Take theslips andkeepthem foldeduntil each personhas taken one.Harry, youhelplittleDave."Mr. Graves tookthehandof thelittleboy, who camewillingly with him uptothebox. "Take apaper out of thebox, Davy." Mr. Summers said. Davy put his handinto thebox andlaughed. "Take just onepaper." Mr. Summers said. "Harry, youholdit for him." Mr. Graves took thechild's handandremovedthefoldedpaperfrom thetight fist andheldit whilelittleDavestood next tohim andlookedupat him wonderingly. "Nancy next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, andherschool friends breathedheavily as shewent forwardswitchingherskirt, andtookaslipdaintily from thebox"Bill, Jr.," Mr. Summers said, andBilly, his faceredandhis feet overlarge, nearknockedthebox overas hegot a paper out. "Tessie,"Mr. Summerssaid. Shehesitatedfor aminute, lookingarounddefiantly, andthen set herlips andwent uptothebox. Shesnatchedapaper outandheldit behindher. "Bill," Mr. Summers said, andBill Hutchinson reachedinto thebox andfelt around, bringinghis handout atlast with theslipof paper in it. Thecrowdwas quiet. A girl whispered, "I hopeit's not Nancy," andthesoundof thewhisperreachedtheedges of thecrowd. "It's nottheway it usedtobe."OldMan Warnersaidclearly. "Peopleain't theway theyusedto be." "All right," Mr. Summers said. "Open thepapers.Harry, youopen littleDave's." Mr. Graves openedtheslipof paper andtherewas ageneral sigh through thecrowd as heheldit upandeveryonecouldsee that it was blank. Nancy andBill Jr. openedtheirs atthesametimeandboth beamedandlaughed,turningaroundtothecrowd andholdingtheir slips of paper abovetheir heads. "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. Therewas apause,andthen Mr. Summerslookedat BillHutchinson, andBill unfoldedhis paper andshowedit. Itwas blank. "It's Tessie," Mr. Summers said, andhis voice washushed. "Showus herpaper, Bill." Bill Hutchinson went overto his wifeandforcedtheslipof paper outof herhand. Ithadablackspoton it, theblackspot Mr. Summers had made thenight beforewith theheavypencil in thecoal company office.Bill Hutchinson heldit up, andtherewas astir in thecrowd. "All right, folks." Mr. Summers said. "Let's finish quickly." Although thevillagers hadforgotten theritual andlost theoriginal blackbox, they stillrememberedto usestones. Thepileof stones theboys hadmade earlierwas ready therewerestones on thegroundwith theblowingscraps of paper that hadcomeoutof thebox. Delacroix selectedastoneso largeshehadtopickit upwith both hands andturnedtoMrs. Dunbar. "Comeon," shesaid. "Hurry up." Mr. Dunbarhadsmall stones in both hands, andshesaid, gaspingfor breath, "I can't runat all. You'll havetogo aheadandI'll catch upwith you. "Thechildren hadstones already. AndsomeonegavelittleDavy Hutchinson fewpebbles. TessieHutchinson was in thecenterof aclearedspacebynowandsheheldherhands outdesperately as thevillagers movedin on her. "Itisn't fair," shesaid. A stonehit heron thesideof thehead. OldMan Warnerwas saying, "Comeon, comeon, everyone." SteveAdams was in thefront of thecrowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves besidehim. "Itisn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, andthen they wereupon her.

Questions

1.Can you describe the setting, using specific details from the story in your answer?

2.Can you explain the feelings of most people in town toward the lottery?

3.What evidence is there that the lottery has been going on for a long time?

4.What is Old Man Warner's attitude about those who would like to change thing?

5.Can you explain how the lottery work?

6.In what way is the title, "The Lottery", misleading?

7.Why would the author want to trick the reader by having a misleading title?