马克·吐温的小说有哪些？最好有原文的。

The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County

In compliance with the request of a friend of mine， who wrote me from the East， I called on good-natured， garrulous old Simon Wheeler， and inquired after my friend's friend， Leonidas W. Smiley， as requested to do， and I hereunto append the result. I have a lurking suspicion that Leonidas W. Smiley is a myth； and that my friend never knew such a personage； and that he only conjectured that if I asked old Wheeler about him， it would remind him of his infamous Jim Smiley， and he would go to work and bore me to death with some exasperating reminiscence of him as long and as tedious as it should be useless to me. If that was the design， it succeeded.

I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the barroom stove of the dilapidated tavern in the decayed mining camp of Angel's， and I noticed that he was fat and bald-headed， and had an expression of winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance. He roused up， and gave me good-day. I told him a friend had commissioned me to make some inquiries about a cherished companion of his boyhood named Leonidas W. Smiley——Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley， a young minister of the Gospel， who he had heard was at one time a resident of Angel's Camp. I added that if Mr. Wheeler could tell me anything about this Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley， I would feel under many obligations to him.

Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his chair， and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous narrative which follows this paragraph. He never smiled， he never frowned， he never changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key to which he tuned his initial sentence， he never betrayed the slightest suspicion of enthusiasm； but all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein of impressive earnestness and sincerity， which showed me plainly that， so far from his imagining that there was anything ridiculous or funny about his story， he regarded it as a really important matter， and admired its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in finesse. I let him go on in his own way， and never interrupted him once.

“Rev. Leonidas W. H'm， Reverend Le——well， there was a feller here once by the name of Jim Smiley， in the winter of '49——or may be it was the spring of '50——I don't recollect exactly， somehow， though what makes me think it was one or the other is because I remember the big flume warn't finished when he first came to the camp； but any way， he was the curiousest man about always betting on anything that turned up you ever see， if he could get anybody to bet on the other side； and if he couldn't he'd change sides. Any way that suited the other man would suit him——any way just so's he got a bet， he was satisfied. But still he was lucky， uncommon lucky； he most always come out winner. He was always ready and laying for a chance； there couldn't be no solit'ry thing mentioned but that feller'd offer to bet on it， and take any side you please， as I was just telling you. If there was a horse-race， you'd find him flush or you'd find him busted at the end of it； if there was a dog-fight， he'd bet on it； if there was a cat-fight， he'd bet on it； if there was a chicken-fight， he'd bet on it； why， if there was two birds setting on a fence， he would bet you which one would fly first； or if there was a camp-meeting， he would be there reg'lar to bet on Parson Walker， which he judged to be the best exhorter about here， and he was， too， and a good man. If he even see a straddle-bug start to go anywheres， he would bet you how long it would take him to get to——to wherever he was going to， and if you took him up， he would foller that straddle-bug to Mexico but what he would find out where he was bound for and how long he was on the road. Lots of the boys here has seen that Smiley and can tell you about him. Why， it never made no difference to him——he'd bet on any thing——the dangest feller. Parson Walker's wife laid very sick once， for a good while， and it seemed as if they warn't going to save her； but one morning he come in， and Smiley up and asked him how she was， and he said she was considerable better——thank the Lord for his inf'nit' mercy——and coming on so smart that with the blessing of Prov'dence she'd get well yet； and Smiley， before he thought， says， 'Well， I'll risk two-and-a-half she don't anyway.'”

Thish-yer Smiley had a mare——the boys called her the fifteen-minute nag， but that was only in fun， you know， because， of course， she was faster than that——and he used to win money on that horse， for all she was so slow and always had the asthma， or the distemper， or the consumption， or something of that kind. They used to give her two or three hundred yards start， and then pass her under way； but always at the fag-end of the race she'd get excited and desperate-like， and come cavorting and straddling up， and scattering her legs around limber， sometimes in the air， and sometimes out to one side amongst the fences， and kicking up m-o-r-e dust and raising m-o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose——and always fetch up at the stand just about a neck ahead， as near as you could cipher it down.

我就知道两本，Burleque Biography （诙谐自传）、 The First Writing-Machines（第一台打印机），可以去爱洋葱上搜索一下，有许多马克·吐温的中英对照的小说。