Марк Твен / Mark Twain

Смешные рассказы / The Funny Stories

Адаптация текста, комментарии и словарь О. Н. Прокофьевой

© Прокофьева О. Н., адаптация текста, комм. и словарь

© ООО «Издательство АСТ»

How to Cure a Cold

It is a good thing, perhaps, to write for the amusement of the public, but it is a far higher and nobler thing to write for their instruction – their profit – their actual benefit. It is the only object of this article.

If it helps to restore the health of one sufferer among my race, to bring back to his dead heart again the quick, generous impulses of other days, I shall be rewarded for my work.

Having led a pure and blameless life, I believe that no man who knows me will reject the suggestions I am about to make, out of fear that I am trying to deceive him.

Let the public do itself the honor to read my experience in curing a cold and then follow in my footsteps.

When the White House was burned in Virginia, I lost my home, my happiness, my constitution and my trunk.

The loss of the two first named articles was a matter of no great consequence, since a home without a mother or a sister, or a distant young female relative in it, who remind you that there are those who think about you and care for you, is easily obtained.

And I did not care about the loss of my happiness. I was not a poet, and it could not be possible that melancholy would stay with me long.

But to lose a good constitution and a better trunk were serious misfortunes.

On the day of the fire, my constitution succumbed to a severe cold.

The first time I began to sneeze, a friend told me to go and bathe my feet in hot water and go to bed.

I did so.

Shortly afterward, another friend advised me to get up and take a cold shower-bath. I did that also.

Within the hour, another friend told me that I had to “feed a cold and starve a fever.”

I had both.

I decided to fill myself up for the cold, and then let the fever starve a while.

I ate pretty heartily; once I went to a stranger who had just opened his restaurant that morning. He waited near me in respectful silence until I had finished feeding my cold, when he asked if the people in Virginia were much afflicted with colds?

I told him I thought they were.

He then went out and took in his sign.[1]

I started down toward the office, and on the way met another friend, who told me that a quart of salt water, taken warm, would cure a cold in no time.

I hardly had room for it, but I tried it anyhow.

The result was surprising; I must have vomited three-quarters of an hour; I believe I threw up my immortal soul.

I believe, warm salt water may be a good enough remedy, but I think it is too severe. If I had another cold, and there was no way out but to take either an earthquake or a quart of warm salt water, I would be glad to choose the earthquake.

After the storm in my stomach I went back to handkerchiefs, as had been my custom in the early stages of my cold, until I came across a lady who said she had lived in a part of the country where doctors were scarce and had from necessity learnt to treat simple “family complaints.”

I knew she must have had much experience, for she seemed to be a hundred and fifty years old.

She mixed a variety of drugs and instructed me to take a wine glass full of it every fifteen minutes.

I never took but one dose; that was enough.

Under its influence, my brain showed miracles of meanness, but my hands were too weak to execute them. Like most other people, I often feel mean, and act so, but until I took that medicine I had never felt proud of it.

At the end of two days, I was ready to go to curing again. I took a few more remedies, and finally drove my cold from my head to my lungs.

I got to coughing, and my voice fell below Zero. I spoke in a thundering bass two octaves below my natural tone.

My case grew more and more serious every day.

Plain gin was recommended; I took it.

Then gin and molasses; I took that also.

Then gin and onions; I added the onions and took all three.

I detected no particular result, however, except that I had acquired a breath like a buzzard’s.

I understood I had to travel for my health. I went to Lake Bigler with my comrade reporter, Adair Wilson. My friend took all his baggage with him, consisting of two excellent silk handkerchiefs and his grandmother.

I had my regular gin and onions along.

We sailed and hunted and fished and danced all day, and I treated my cough all night.

But my disease continued to grow worse. A sheet-bath was recommended. I had never refused a remedy yet, and it seemed poor policy[2] to start then.

It was done at midnight, and the weather was very frosty. My breast and back were bared, and a sheet (there appeared to be a thousand yards of it) soaked in ice-water was put all around me.

When the chilly rag touches one’s warm flesh, it makes him feel sudden violence and gasp for breath just as men do in the death agony. It stopped the beating of my heart. I thought my time had come.

Never take a sheet-bath – never.

When the sheet-bath failed to cure my cough, a lady friend recommended the application of a mustard plaster to my breast.

I believe that would have cured me, if it had not been for young Wilson.[3]

When I went to bed, I put my mustard plaster – which was an eighteen-inch square – where I could reach it when I was ready for it.

But young Wilson got hungry at night, and ate it up.

I never saw anybody have such an appetite; I am confident that he would have eaten me if I had been healthy.

After a week at Lake Bigler, I went to Steamboat Springs, and besides the steam baths, I took a lot of the worst medicines ever created. They would have cured me, but I had to go back to Virginia, where, in spite of the variety of new remedies I took every day, I managed to aggravate my disease.

I finally went to San Francisco, and the first day I got here one lady told me to drink a quart of whisky every twenty-four hours, and a friend recommended precisely the same.

Each advised me to take a quart – that makes half a gallon. I plan to do it or perish in the attempt.

Now, with the kindest motives in the world, I offer for the consideration of patients the course of treatment I have lately gone through. Let them try it – if it doesn’t cure them, it can’t more than kill them.

The McWilliamses And The Burglar Alarm

The conversation went smoothly and pleasantly from weather to crops, from crops to literature, from literature to scandal, from scandal to religion; then took a random jump, and landed on the subject of burglar alarms. And now for the first time Mr. McWilliams showed feeling. Whenever I notice this sign on this man’s face, I understand it, and keep silence, and give him opportunity to unload his heart.

“I do not spend one single cent on burglar alarms, Mr. Twain – not a single cent – and I will tell you why. When we were finishing our house, we found we had a little cash left over. And Mrs. McWilliams said, let’s have a burglar alarm. I agreed. Very well: the man came up from New York and put in the alarm, and charged three hundred and twenty-five dollars for it, and said we could sleep without uneasiness now. So we did for a while – say a month. Then one night we smelled smoke, and I was told to get up and see what the matter was. I lit a candle, and went to the stairs, and met a burglar coming out of a room with a basket of tinware, which he had mistaken for solid silver in the dark.

“He was smoking a pipe. I said, ‘My friend, we do not allow smoking in this room.’ He said he was a stranger, and could not be expected to know the rules of the house. He said he had been in many houses just as good as this one, and it had never been a problem before. He added that usually such rules had never been considered to apply to burglars, anyway.

“I said: ‘Smoke along, then, if it is the custom, though I think that giving a burglar the privilege which is denied to a bishop is a sign of the looseness of the times. But what business do you have in this house, why have you entered it without ringing the burglar alarm?’

“He looked confused and ashamed, and said, with embarrassment: ‘I beg a thousand pardons. I did not know you had a burglar alarm, or I would have rung it. I beg you not to mention where my parents may hear of it, for they are old and feeble, and such a breach of the conventionalities of our Christian civilization might disappoint them and affect their health. May I trouble you for a match?’

“I said: ‘Here you are. But to return to business: how did you get in here?’

“’Through a window on the second floor.’

“It was even so. I redeemed the tinware at pawnbroker’s rates, bade the burglar good-night, closed the window after him, and retired to headquarters to report. Next morning we sent for the burglar-alarm man, and he came up and explained that the reason the alarm did not ‘go off’ was that no part of the house but the first floor was attached to the alarm. This was simply idiotic; one might as well have no armor on at all but for on his legs. The expert now put the whole second story on the alarm, charged three hundred dollars for it, and went his way. By and by, one night, I found a burglar in the third story, about to go down a ladder with a lot of miscellaneous property. My first impulse was to crack his head with a billiard cue; but I refrained, and proceeded to compromise. I redeemed the property at the familiar rates, after charging ten per cent for use of my ladder. Next day we sent down for the expert once more, and had the third story attached to the alarm, for three hundred dollars.

“By this time the ‘annunciator’ had grown to formidable dimensions. It had forty-seven tags on it, marked with the names of the various rooms and chimneys, and it occupied the space of an ordinary wardrobe. The gong was the size of a washbowl, and was placed above the head of our bed. There was a wire from the house to the coachman’s room in the stable, and a noble gong alongside his pillow.

“We should have been comfortable now but for one defect. Every morning at five the cook opened the kitchen door, and rip went that gong! The first time this happened I thought the last day had come. I didn’t think it in bed – no, but out of it – for the first effect of that frightful gong is to hurl you across the house, and slam you against the wall, and then curl you up like a spider on a stove lid, till somebody closes the kitchen door. Well, this catastrophe happened every morning regularly at five o’clock, and lost us three hours sleep.

“Well, we were gradually fading toward a better land, on account of the daily loss of sleep; so we finally had the expert up again. He ran a wire to the outside of the door, and placed a switch there, where Thomas, the butler, always made one little mistake – he switched the alarm off at night when he went to bed, and switched it on again at daybreak in the morning, just in time for the cook to open the kitchen door, and let that gong slam us across the house, sometimes breaking a window with one or the other of us. At the end of a week we recognized that this switch business was a snare. We also discovered that a band of burglars had been living in the house the whole time – not to steal, for there wasn’t much left now, but to hide from the police. They decided that the detectives would never think of a tribe of burglars taking sanctuary in a house notoriously protected by the most elaborate burglar alarm in America.

“Sent down for the expert again, and this time he struck a most dazzling idea – he fixed the thing so that opening the kitchen door would take off the alarm. It was a noble idea, and he charged accordingly. But you already foresee the result. I switched on the alarm every night at bed-time, no longer trusting on Thomas’s memory; and as soon as the lights were out the burglars walked in at the kitchen door, thus taking the alarm off without waiting for the cook to do it in the morning. For months we couldn’t have any company. Not a spare bed in the house; all occupied by burglars.

“Finally, I got up a cure of my own. The expert answered the call, and ran another wire to the stable, and established a switch there, so that the coachman could put on and take off the alarm. That worked first rate, and we even got to inviting company once more and enjoying life.

“But one winter night we were flung out of bed by the sudden music of that awful gong, and when we ran to the annunciator and saw the word ‘Nursery’ exposed, Mrs. McWilliams fainted, and I was close to it myself. I seized my shotgun, and stood waiting for the coachman. I knew that his gong had flung him out, too, and that he would be along with his gun as soon as he could jump into his clothes. When I judged that he was ready, I crept to the room next the nursery, looked through the window, and saw the coachman in the yard below. Then I hopped into the nursery and fired, and in the same instant the coachman fired at the red flash of my gun. Both of us were successful; I crippled a nurse, and he shot off all my back hair. We telephoned for a surgeon. There was not a sign of a burglar, and no window had been raised. One glass was absent, but that was where the coachman’s charge had come through. Here was a fine mystery – a burglar alarm ‘going off’ at midnight of its own accord, and not a burglar in the neighborhood!

“The expert answered the usual call, and explained that it was a ‘False alarm.’ Said it was easily fixed.

“What we suffered from false alarms for the next three years. During the next three months I always flew with my gun to the room indicated, and the coachman was always ready to support me. But there was never anything to shoot at – windows all tight and secure. We always sent down for the expert next day, and he fixed those particular windows so they would keep quiet a week or so, and always remembered to send us a bill.

“After we had answered three or four hundred false alarms, we stopped answering them. Yes, I simply rose up calmly, when slammed across the house by the alarm, calmly inspected the annunciator, took note of the room indicated; and then calmly disconnected that room from the alarm, and went back to bed as if nothing had happened. Moreover, I did not send for the expert. Well, it goes without saying that in the course of time all the rooms were taken off, and the entire machine was out of service.

“It was at this unprotected time that the burglars walked in one night and carried off the burglar alarm! yes, sir, ripped it out, springs, bells, gongs, battery, and all; they took a hundred and fifty miles of copper wire; they just cleaned it out.

“We got it back, we accomplished it finally, for money. The alarm firm said that what we needed now was to have her put in right – with their new springs in the windows to make false alarms impossible, and their new clock attached to take off and put on the alarm morning and night without human assistance. That seemed a good scheme. They promised to have the whole thing finished in ten days. They began work, and we left for the summer. They worked a couple of days; then they left for the summer. After which the burglars moved in, and began their summer vacation. When we returned in the fall, the house was empty. We refurnished, and then sent down to hurry up the expert. He came up and finished the job, and said: ‘Now this clock is set to put on the alarm every night at 10, and take it off every morning at 5:45. All you’ve got to do is to wind her up every week, and then leave her alone – she will take care of the alarm herself.’

“After that we had a most tranquil season during three months. The bill was impressive, of course, and I had said I would not pay it until the new machinery had proved itself to be flawless. The time set was three months. So I paid the bill, and the very next day the alarm went to buzzing like ten thousand bee swarms at ten o’clock in the morning. I turned the hands around twelve hours, according to instructions, and this took off the alarm. But it happened again at night, and I had to set it ahead twelve hours once more to get it to put the alarm on again. That sort of nonsense went on a week or two, then the expert came up and put in a new clock. He came up every three months during the next three years, and put in a new clock. But it was always a failure. His clocks all had the same defect: they would put the alarm on in the daytime, and they would not put it on at night; and if you forced it on yourself, they would take it off again the minute your back was turned.

“Now there is the history of that burglar alarm – everything just as it happened. Yes, sir, and when I had slept nine years with burglars, and maintained an expensive burglar alarm the whole time, for their protection, not mine, I just said to Mrs. McWilliams that I had had enough; so with her full consent I took the whole thing out and traded it off for a dog, and shot the dog. I don’t know what you think about it, Mr. Twain; but I think those things are made solely in the interest of the burglars. Good-bye: I get off here.”

To Raise Poultry

[Being a letter written to a Poultry Society that had conferred a complimentary membership upon the author.]

Seriously, from early youth I have taken a special interest in the subject of poultry-raising, and so this membership touches me. Even as a schoolboy, poultry-raising was a study with me, and I may say that as early as the age of seventeen I was acquainted with all the best and quickest methods of raising chickens, from raising them by burning matches under their noses, down to lifting them off a fence on a frosty night by putting the end of a warm board under their heels. By the time I was twenty years old, I really suppose I had raised more poultry than any one individual in all the section round about there. The very chickens came to know my talent by and by. The youth of both sexes stopped to paw the earth for worms, and old roosters stopped to crow, when I passed by.

I have had so much experience in the raising of fowls that I cannot but think that a few hints from me might be useful to the society. The two methods I have already touched upon are very simple, and are only used in the raising of the commonest class of fowls; one is for summer, the other for winter.

In the one case you start out with a friend along about eleven o’clock’ on a summer’s night (not later, because in some states – especially in California and Oregon – chickens always wake up just at midnight and crow from ten to thirty minutes, according to the ease or difficulty they experience in getting the public waked up), and your friend carries with him a sack. Arrived at the henroost (your neighbor’s, not your own), you light a match and hold it under first one and then another bird’s nose until they are willing to go into that bag without making any trouble about it. You then return home, either taking the bag with you or leaving it behind, according to the circumstances. N. B. – I have seen the time when it was appropriate to leave the sack behind and walk off with considerable velocity, without ever leaving any word where to send it.

In the case of the other method mentioned for raising poultry, your friend takes along a covered vessel with a charcoal fire in it, and you carry a long slender plank. This is a frosty night, understand. Arrived at the tree, or fence, or other henroost (your own if you are an idiot), you warm the end of your plank in your friend’s fire vessel, and then raise it and ease it up gently against a sleeping chicken’s foot. If the subject of your attention is a true bird, he will return thanks with a sleepy cluck or two.

The Black Spanish is an exceedingly fine bird and a costly one. Thirty-five dollars is the usual figure, and fifty is not an uncommon price for a specimen. Even its eggs are worth from a dollar to a dollar and a half apiece. The best way to raise the Black Spanish fowl is to go late in the evening and raise coop and all. The reason I recommend this method is that, the birds being so valuable, the owners do not permit them to roost around promiscuously, they put them in a coop as strong as a fireproof safe and keep it in the kitchen at night. The method I speak of is not always a bright and satisfying success, and yet there are so many little articles of interest about a kitchen, that if you fail on the coop you can generally bring away something else. I brought away a nice steel trap one night, worth ninety cents.

But what is the use in my pouring out my whole intellect on this subject? I have shown the Western New York Poultry Society that they have taken to their bosom[4] a member who is not a chicken by any means, but a man who knows all about poultry, and is just as high up in the most efficient methods of raising it as the president of the institution himself. I thank these gentlemen for the honorary membership they have conferred upon me, and shall stand at all times ready and willing to testify my good feeling by deeds as well as by this hastily written advice and information. Whenever they are ready to go to raising poultry, let them call for me any evening after eleven o’clock.

The Siamese Twins

I do not wish to write of the personal habits of these strange creatures solely, but also of certain curious details of various kinds concerning them. Knowing the Twins intimately, I feel that I am peculiarly well qualified for the task I have taken upon myself.

The Siamese Twins are naturally tender and affectionate indisposition, and have clung to each other with singular fidelity throughout a long and eventful life. Even as children they were inseparable companions; and it was noticed that they always seemed to prefer each other’s society to that of any other persons. They nearly always played together; and, their mother was so accustomed to this peculiarity, that, whenever both of them chanced to be lost, she usually only hunted for one of them. She knew that when she found that one she would find his brother somewhere in the immediate neighborhood.

As men, the Twins have not always lived in perfect accord; but still there has always been a bond between them which made them unwilling to go away from each other. They have even occupied the same house, and it is believed that they have never failed to even sleep together on any night since they were born.[5] The Twins always go to bed at the same time; but Chang usually gets up about an hour before his brother. Chang does all the indoor work and Eng runs all the errands. This is because Eng likes to go out. However, Chang always goes along. Eng is a Baptist, but Chang is a Roman Catholic; still, to please his brother, Chang agreed to be baptized at the same time that Eng was, on condition that it should not “count.” During the war they were strong partisans, and both fought – Eng on the Union side and Chang on the Confederate. They took each other prisoners at Seven Oaks, but the proofs of capture were so evenly balanced in favor of each, that a general army court had to be assembled to determine which one was properly the captor and which the captive. The jury agreed to consider them both prisoners, and then exchange them.

Upon one occasion the brothers quarreled about something, and Chang knocked Eng down, and then tripped and fell on him. Both began to beat each other without mercy. The bystanders interfered, and tried to separate them, but they could not do it, and so allowed them to fight it out. In the end both were carried to the hospital.

Their ancient habit of going always together had its drawbacks when they grew up, and entered upon the luxury of courting. Both fell in love with the same girl. Each tried to steal clandestine interviews with her, but at the critical moment the other would always turn up. By and by Eng saw that Chang had won the girl’s affection; and, from that day, he had to live with the agony of being a witness to all their cooing. But with a supernatural generosity, he succumbed to his fate, and sat from seven every evening until two in the morning, listening to the fond foolishness and kisses of the two lovers. But he sat patiently, and waited, and yawned for two o’clock to come. And he took long walks with the lovers on moonlight evenings – sometimes walking ten miles, even though he was usually suffering from rheumatism. Eng cordially wanted them married, and done with it; but although Chang often asked the important question, the young lady could not gather sufficient courage to answer it while Eng was by. However, once, after having walked some sixteen miles, and sat up till nearly daylight, Eng dropped asleep from exhaustion, and then the question was asked and answered. The lovers were married. All acquainted with the circumstance applauded the noble brother-in-law. His faithfulness was the theme of every conversation. He had stayed by them all through their long courtship; and when at last they were married, he lifted his hands above their heads, and said, “Bless you, my children, I will never desert you!” and he kept his word. Fidelity like this is all too rare in this cold world.

By and by Eng fell in love with his sister-in-law’s sister, and married her, and since that day they have all lived together, night and day.

The sympathy existing between these two brothers is so close that the feelings and the emotions of the one are instantly experienced by the other. When one is sick, the other is sick; when one feels pain, the other feels it; when one is angry, the other’s temper takes fire.

At the same time, Chang belongs to the Good Templars,[6] and is a hard-working, enthusiastic supporter of all temperance reforms, but every now and then Eng gets drunk, and, of course, that makes Chang drunk too. This has been a great sorrow to Chang. Eng always walks alongside of him in temperance processions, drunk as a lord, yet no more hopelessly drunk than his brother, who has not tasted a drop. And so the two begin to yell, and throw mud and bricks at the Good Templars; and, of course, they break up the procession. It would be wrong to punish Chang for what Eng does, and, therefore, the Good Templars accept the situation, and suffer in silence and sorrow.

There is a moral in these solemn warnings. Let us profit by it.

I could say more of an instructive nature about these interesting beings, but let what I have written suffice.

Having forgotten to mention it sooner, I will remark in conclusion that the ages of the Siamese Twins are fifty-one and fifty-three years.

How I Edited an Agricultural Paper (Once)

I did not take temporary editorship of an agricultural paper without misgivings. But I was in circumstances that made the salary an object. The regular editor of the paper was going off for a holiday, and I accepted the terms he offered, and took his place.

The sensation of being at work again was luxurious, and I worked all the week with pleasure. We went to press, and I waited a day to see whether my effort was going to attract any notice. As I left the office in the evening, a group of men and boys at the foot of the stairs gave me passageway, and I heard one or two of them say: “That’s him!” I was naturally pleased by this incident. The next morning I found a similar group at the foot of the stairs, and couples and individuals standing here and there in the street, and over the way, watching me with interest. I heard one man say, “Look at his eye!” I pretended not to observe the attention I was attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it. I went up the stairs, and heard cheery voices and a laugh as I approached the door. I opened it and saw two young rural-looking men, whose faces went pale when they saw me, and then they both jumped through the window with a great crash. I was surprised.

In about half an hour an old gentleman entered, and sat down at my invitation. He seemed to have something on his mind. He took off his hat and set it on the floor, and got out of it a red silk handkerchief and a copy of our paper.

He put the paper on his lap and said, “Are you the new editor?”

I said I was.

“Have you ever edited an agricultural paper before?”

“No,” I said; “this is my first attempt.”

“I thought so. Have you had any experience in agriculture practically?”

“No. I believe I have not.”

“Some instinct told me so,” said the old gentleman, putting on his spectacles, and looking over them at me, while he folded his paper into a convenient shape. “I wish to read you what must have made me have that instinct. Listen, and see if it was you that wrote it: ‘Turnips should never be pulled, it injures them. It is much better to send a boy up and let him shake the tree.’ ”

“Now, what do you think of that? – for I really suppose you wrote it?”

“Think of it? Why, I think it is good. I have no doubt that every year millions and millions of turnips are spoiled in this township alone by being pulled in a half-ripe condition, when, if they had sent a boy to shake the tree… “

“Shake your grandmother! Turnips don’t grow on trees!”

“Oh, don’t they? Well, who said they did? The language was intended to be figurative. Anybody that knows anything will know that I meant that the boy should shake the vine.”

Then this old person got up and tore his paper all into small pieces, and stamped on them, and broke several things with his cane, and said I did not know as much as a cow; and then went out, and, in short, acted in such a way that I felt that he was displeased about something. But not knowing what the trouble was, I could not be any help to him.

Pretty soon after this a long creature, with thin locks hanging down to his shoulders, entered the office and halted, motionless, with finger on lip, and head and body bent in listening attitude. No sound was heard. Still he listened. No sound. Then he turned the key in the door, and tiptoed toward me. He was within long reaching distance of me, when he stopped. He scanned my face with interest for a while, drew a folded copy of our paper from his bosom, and said:

“There, you wrote that. Read it to me, quick! I suffer.”

I read as follows; and as I did so, I could see the anxiety go out of his face:

“The guano is a fine bird, but great care is necessary in rearing it. It should not be imported earlier than June or later than September. In winter it should be kept in a warm place, where it can hatch out its young.

“Concerning the pumpkin. This berry is a favorite with the natives of New England, who prefer it to the gooseberry for the making of fruit-cake, and who prefer it to the raspberry for feeding cows…

The excited listener sprang toward me to shake hands, and said, “There, there, that will do. I know I am all right now, because you have read it just as I did, word for word. But, stranger, when I first read it this morning, I said to myself, I never, never believed it before, and my friends kept me under watch so strict, but now I believe I am crazy. With that I started out to kill somebody – because, you know, I knew it would come to that sooner or later. I read one of the paragraphs over again, so as to be certain, and then I burned my house down and started. I have crippled several people, and have got one fellow up a tree, where I can get him if I want him. But I thought I would call in here as I passed along and make the thing perfectly certain. And now it is certain, and I tell you it is lucky for the chap that is in the tree. I should kill him, sure, as I go back. Goodbye, sir, good-bye, thank you for the article.”

I felt a little uncomfortable about the cripplings and arsons this person had been entertaining himself with. I could not help feeling remotely related to them. But then the regular editor walked in!

The editor was looking sad and perplexed.

“This is a sad business – a very sad business. The reputation of the paper is injured – and permanently, I fear. True, the paper never sold such a large edition or soared to such celebrity; but does one want to be famous for lunacy? My friend, as I am an honest man, the street out here is full of people, waiting to get a glimpse of you, because they think you crazy. And well they might after reading your editorials. Why, what put it into your head that you could edit a paper of this nature? You do not seem to know anything agriculture. Ah, heavens and earth, friend! I want you to throw up your situation and go. I want no more holiday. Certainly not with you in my chair. It makes me lose all patience every time I think of your discussing oyster-beds under the head of ‘Landscape Gardening.’ Oh! why didn’t you tell me you didn’t know anything about agriculture?”

“Tell you, you cabbage, you son of a cauliflower? I tell you I have been in the editorial business for 14 years, and it is the first time I ever heard of a man’s having to know anything in order to edit a newspaper. You turnip! Who review the books? People who never wrote one. Who criticize the Indian campaigns? Gentlemen who do not know a war-whoop from a wigwam, and who never have had to pluck arrows out of the several members of their families to build the evening camp-fire with. Who write the temperance appeals? Folks who will never draw another sober breath till their grave. Who edit the agricultural papers, you? Men, as a general thing, who fail in the poetry line, novel line, drama line, city-editor line, and finally end up with articles on agriculture. You try to tell me anything about the newspaper business! I tell you that the less a man knows the bigger the noise he makes. I leave, sir. Since I have been treated as you have treated me, I am perfectly willing to go. But I have done my duty. I have fulfilled my contract as far as I was permitted to do it. I said I could make your paper of interest to all classes – and I have. I said I could run your circulation up to 20,000 copies, and if I had had two more weeks I’d have done it. You are the loser by this rupture, not me, Pie-plant. Adios.”

I then left.

Playing the Courier

A time would come when we must go to Geneva, and from thence, by a series of day-long journeys, to Bayreuth in Bavaria. I should have to have a courier, of course, to take care of so considerable a party as mine.

But I procrastinated. The time slipped along, and at last I woke up one day to the fact that we were ready to move and had no courier. I then decided I would make the first stage without help – I did it.

I brought the party from Aix to Geneva by myself – four people. The distance was two hours and more, and there was one change of cars. There was not an accident of any kind, except leaving a trunk and some other matters on the platform – a thing which can hardly be called an accident, it is so common. So I offered to conduct the party all the way to Bayreuth.

This was a mistake, though it did not seem so at the time. There was more detail than I thought there would be: 1. Two persons whom we had left in a Genevan pension some weeks before must be collected and brought to the hotel; 2. I must notify the people on the Grand Quay who store trunks to bring seven of our stored trunks to the hotel and carry back seven which they would find in the lobby; 3. I must find out what part of Europe Bayreuth was in and buy seven railway tickets for that point; 4. I must send a telegram to a friend in the Netherlands; 5. It was now 2 in the afternoon, and we must be ready for the first night train and make sure of sleeping-car tickets; 6. I must draw money at the bank.

It seemed to me that the sleeping-car tickets must be the most important thing, so I went to the station myself to make sure. I applied for the tickets, and they asked me which route I wanted to go by, and that embarrassed me. There were so many people around, and I did not know anything about the routes and did not suppose there were going to be two. So I judged it best to go back, map out the road and come again.

I took a cab, and on my way up-stairs at the hotel I remembered that I was out of cigars. I thought it would be well to get some while I remembered it. It was only round the corner. I asked the cabman to wait where he was. Thinking of the telegram to my friend in the Netherlands, I forgot the cigars and the cab. I was going to ask the hotel people to send the telegram, but as I could not be far from the post office, I thought I would do it myself.

The post office was further than I had supposed. I found the place at last and wrote the telegram and handed it in. The clerk was a severe-looking man, and he began to fire French questions at me in such a liquid form that I could not separate his words from each other. I got embarrassed again. But an Englishman stepped up and said the clerk wanted to know where he was to send the telegram. I could not tell him, because it was not my telegram. I explained that I was merely sending it for a member of my party. But nothing would satisfy the clerk but the address. So I said that if he insisted that much I would go back and get it.

However, I thought I would go and collect those lacking two persons first. Then I remembered the cab was still waiting for me at the hotel; so I called another cab and told the man to go down and fetch it to the post office and wait till I came.

I had a long, hot walk to collect those people, and when I got there they couldn’t come with me because they had heavy satchels and must have a cab. I went away to find one, but noticed that I had reached the neighborhood of the Grand Quay – at least I thought I had – so I decided to save time by arranging about the trunks. After a while, although I did not find the Grand Quay, I found a cigar shop, and remembered about the cigars. I said I was going to Bayreuth, and wanted enough cigars for the journey. The man asked me which route I was going to take. I said I did not know. He said he would recommend me to go by Zurich and various other places which he named, and offered to sell me seven second-class through tickets for $22 each. I was already tired of riding second-class on first-class tickets, so I took him up.[7]

By and by I found Natural & Co.’s storage office, and told them to send seven of our trunks to the hotel and put them in the lobby. It seemed to me that I was not delivering the whole of the message, still it was all I could find in my head.

Next I found the bank and asked for some money, but I had left my letter of credit somewhere and was not able to draw. I remembered now that I must have left it lying on the table where I wrote my telegram; so I got a cab and drove to the post office and went upstairs. They said that a letter of credit had indeed been left on the table, but that it was now in the hands of the police authorities. So it would be necessary for me to go there and prove property. They sent a boy with me, and we went out the back way and walked a couple of miles and found the place. And then I remembered about my cabs, and asked the boy to send them to me when he got back to the post office. Then I was told that the Mayor had gone to dinner. I thought I would go to dinner myself, but the officer on duty thought differently, and I stayed.

The Mayor returned at half past 10, but said it was too late to do anything – come at 9.30 in the morning. The officer wanted to keep me all night, and said I was a suspicious-looking person, and probably did not own the letter of credit, and didn’t know what a letter of credit was, but merely wanted to get it because I was probably a person that would want anything he could get, whether it was valuable or not. But the Mayor said he saw nothing suspicious about me. So I thanked him and he set me free, and I went home in my three cabs.

As I was awfully tired and in no condition to answer questions. I thought I would not disturb the Expedition at that time of night. There was a vacant room I knew of at the other end of the hall. But a watch had been set, the Expedition had been anxious about me. The Expedition sat on four chairs in a row, with shawls and things all on, satchels and guide-books in lap. They had been sitting like that for four hours. Yes, and they were waiting – waiting for me.

I tried to touch their hearts and soften the bitter resentment in those faces by making of the whole ghastly thing a humorous incident, but it was not the right atmosphere for it. I got not one smile; not one line in those offended faces relaxed. The head of the Expedition said:

“Where have you been? Where are the two others?”

“Oh, they’re all right. I was to fetch a cab. I will go straight off, and – “

“Sit down! Don’t you know it is 11 o’clock? Where did you leave them?”

“At the pension.”

“Why didn’t you bring them?”

“Because we couldn’t carry the satchels. And so I thought – ”

“Thought! You should not try to think. One cannot think without the proper machinery. It is two miles to that pension. Did you go there without a cab?”

“I – well, I didn’t intend to; it only happened so.”

“How did it happen so?”

“Because I was at the post office and I remembered that I had left a cab waiting here, and so I sent another cab to – to – ”

“To what?”

“Well, I don’t remember now, but I think the new cab was to ask the hotel to pay the old cab, and send it away.”

“And who was to pay the new cab?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Why didn’t you have the new cab come back for you?”

“Oh, that is what I did. I remember now. Yes, that is what I did. Because I remember that when I – ”

“Well, then, why didn’t it come back for you?”

“To the post office? Why, it did.”

“Very well, then, why did you walk to the pension?”

“I–I don’t quite remember how that happened – Oh, yes, I wrote the despatch to send to the Netherlands, and – ”

“Oh, thank goodness, you did accomplish something! I – what makes you look like that! You are trying to avoid my eye. That despatch is the most important thing that – You haven’t sent that despatch!”

“I haven’t said I didn’t send it.”

“You don’t need to. Oh, dear, why didn’t you send it?”

“Well, you see, with so many things to do and think of, I – they’re very particular there, and after I had written the telegram – ”

“Oh, never mind, let it go, explanations can’t help anyone now – what will he think of us?”

“Oh, that’s all right, that’s all right, he’ll think we gave the telegram to the hotel people, and that they – ”

“Why, certainly! Why didn’t you do that?”

“Yes, I know, but then I had it on my mind that I must get to the bank and draw some money – “

“How much did you draw?”

“Well, I–I had an idea that – that – ”

“Do turn your face this way and let me – why, you haven’t drawn any money!”

“Well, the banker said – “

“Never mind what the banker said – ”

“Well, then, the simple fact was that I hadn’t my letter of credit.”

“Hadn’t your letter of credit?”

“Hadn’t my letter of credit.”

“Don’t repeat me like that. Where was it?”

“At the post office.”

“What was it doing there?”

“Well, I forgot it and left it there.”

“I’ve seen a good many couriers, but of all the couriers that ever I – ”

“I’ve done the best I could.”

“Well, so you have, poor thing. It will all come out right. We can take the 7:30 train in the morning just as well. You’ve bought the tickets?”

“I have – and it’s a bargain, too. Second class.”

“I’m glad of it. What did you pay?”

“Twenty-two dollars a ticket – through to Bayreuth.”

“Why, I didn’t know you could buy through tickets anywhere but in London and Paris.”

“Some people can’t, maybe; but some people can – ”

“It seems a rather high price – We shall have to get up pretty early, and so there should be no packing to do. Your umbrella, your rubbers, your cigars – what is the matter?”

“I’ve left the cigars at the bank.”

“Just think of it! Well, your umbrella?”

“I’ll have that all right. There’s no hurry.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, that’s all right; I’ll take care of – ”

“Where is that umbrella?”

“Well, I think I left it at the cigar shop; but anyway – “

“Take your feet out from under that thing. It’s just as I expected! Where are your rubbers?”

“They – well – ”

“Where are your rubbers?”

“Well, you see – well, it was this way. First, the officer said – ”

“What officer?”

“Police officer but the Mayor, he – ”

“Wait. What is the matter with you?”

“Who, me? Nothing. They both tried to persuade me to stay, and – ”

“Stay where?”

“Well, the fact is – ”

“Where have you been? What’s kept you out till half past 10 at night?”

“O, you see, after I lost my letter of credit, I – ”

“Answer the question in just one straightforward word. Where are those rubbers?”

“They – well, they’re in the county jail.”

I tried to smile, but the climate was unsuitable. Spending three or four hours in jail did not seem to the Expedition humorous.

I had to explain the whole thing, and, of course, it came out then that we couldn’t take the early train, because that would leave my letter of credit in the jail.

Then there happened to be mention of the trunks, and I was able to say I had attended to that feature.

“There, you are just as good and thoughtful and intelligent as you can be, and it’s a shame to find so much fault with you. I’m sorry I ever said one ungrateful word to you.”

This made me uncomfortable, because I wasn’t feeling as solid about that trunk errand as I wanted to. There seemed somehow to be a defect about it somewhere.

Of course there was music in the morning, when it was found that we couldn’t leave by the early train. But I had no time to wait; I started out to get my letter of credit.

It seemed a good time to look into the trunk business. I was too late. The concierge said he had shipped the trunks to Zurich the evening before. I asked him how he could do that without looking at passage tickets.

“Not necessary in Switzerland. You pay for your trunks and send them where you please. Nothing goes free but your hand-baggage.”

“How much did you pay on them?”

“A hundred and forty francs.”

“Twenty-eight dollars. There’s something wrong about that trunk business, sure.”

Next I met the porter. He said:

“You have not slept well, haven’t you? You have the worn look. If you need a courier, a good one has arrived last night, and is not engaged for five days already, by the name of Ludi. We recommend him; the hotel recommends him.”

I declined with coldness. My spirit was not broken yet.

I was at the county jail by 9 o’clock, hoping that the Mayor might chance to come before his regular hour; but he didn’t. It was boring to wait for him. Every time I offered to touch anything, or look at anything, or do anything, the policeman said it was forbidden. I thought I would practice my French on him, but he didn’t answer.

The Mayor came at last. Then there was no trouble. For the minute he had convened the Supreme Court, and my unsealed letter was brought and opened. There wasn’t anything in it but some photographs; because, as I remembered now, I had taken out the letter of credit so as to make room for the photographs, and had put the letter in my other pocket, which I proved to everybody’s satisfaction by fetching it out and showing it. So then the court looked at each other in a vacant kind of way, and then at me, and then at each other again, and finally let me go, but asked me what my profession was. I said I was a courier. They said, “Du lieber Gott!”[8] and I said a word of thanks for their apparent admiration and hurried off to the bank.

However, I passed by the bank and started for the two lacking members of the Expedition. I took a cab but gained no speed by this. The week-long celebrations over the 600th anniversary of the birth of Swiss liberty and the Signing of the Compact took place in the town, and all the streets were in flags.

The horse and the driver had been drunk three days and nights, and had known no stall nor bed. But we arrived after all. I went in and asked a housemaid to rush out the lacking members. She said something which I did not understand. The girl had probably told me that those people did not belong on her floor, and that I had to go higher, and ring from floor to floor till I found them; for in those Swiss flats there does not seem to be any way to find the right family. I decided I needed time to think -

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. The intruder was a policeman. There was a crowd around, and they had that pleased and interested look which such a crowd wears when they see that somebody is out of luck. The horse was asleep, and so was the driver, and some boys had hung them and me full of decorations stolen from the innumerable banner-poles. It was a scandalous spectacle. The officer said:

“I’m sorry, but we can’t have you sleeping here all day.”

“I beg your pardon, I was not sleeping; I was thinking.”

“Well, you can think if you want to, but you’ve got to think to yourself; you disturb the whole neighborhood.”

It made the crowd laugh. I snore at night sometimes, but it is not likely that I would do such a thing in the daytime and in such a place. The officer undecorated us, and seemed sorry for our friendlessness, but he said we mustn’t stop there any longer.

“What is it you are waiting here for so long?”

I told him who I was waiting for.

The policeman began to shout inquiries to the heads from the windows above us. Then a woman sang out:

“O, they? Why, I got them a cab and they left here long ago – half past eight, I should say.”

It was annoying. I glanced at my watch, but didn’t say anything. The officer said:

“It is a quarter of 12, you see. You should have inquired better. You have been asleep three-quarters of an hour, and in such a sun as this. You are baked – baked black. It is wonderful. And you will miss your train, perhaps. You interest me greatly. What is your occupation?”

I said I was a courier. It seemed to stun him, and before he could come to we were gone.

When I arrived in the third story of the hotel I found our quarters vacant. I was not surprised. The moment a courier takes his eye off his tribe they go shopping. The nearer it is to train-time the surer they are to go. I sat down to try and think out what I had best do next. Presently the hall boy found me there, and said the Expedition had gone to the station half an hour before. It was the first time I had known them to do a rational thing, and it was very confusing.

The train was to leave at 12 noon sharp. It was now ten minutes after 12. I could be at the station in ten minutes. My people were the only ones remaining in the waiting-room; everybody else had “mounted the train,” as they say in those regions. They were exhausted with nervousness, but I comforted them and we made our rush.

But no; we were out of luck again. The doorkeeper was not satisfied with the tickets. He examined them cautiously, suspiciously; then glared at me a while, and after that he called another official. The two examined the tickets and called another official. These called others, and the convention discussed and discussed, and gesticulated and carried on. Then they said very courteously that there was a defect in the tickets, and asked me where I got them.

I saw what the trouble was now. You see, I had bought the tickets in a cigar shop, and, of course, the tobacco smell was on them. Without doubt, the thing they were up to collect duty on that smell. So I decided to be perfectly frank; it is sometimes the best way. I said:

“Gentlemen, I will not deceive you. These railway tickets – ”

“Ah, pardon, monsieur! These are not railway tickets.”

“O,” I said, “is that the defect?”

“Ah, truly yes, monsieur. These are lottery tickets, yes; and it is a lottery which took place two years ago.”

I tried to look greatly amused; it is all one can do in such circumstances. However, it deceives nobody, and you can see that everybody around pities you and is ashamed of you. One of the hardest situations in life, I think, is to be full of grief and a sense of defeat, and yet have to put on gaiety.

I said, cheerily, it was all right, just one of those little accidents that was likely to happen to anybody – I would have the right tickets in two minutes, and we would catch the train yet, and, moreover, have something to laugh about all through the journey. I did get the tickets in time, all stamped and complete, but then it turned out that I couldn’t take them because I had forgotten about the bank and didn’t have the money. So then the train left, and there didn’t seem to be anything to do but go back to the hotel, which we did.

We had lost our good rooms, but we got some others. I judged things would brighten now, but the Head of the Expedition said, “Send up the trunks.”[9] It made me feel pretty cold. There was a doubtful something about that trunk business. I was almost sure of it.

Now I was informed that we would now stay here for three days and see if we could rest up.

I said all right; I would go down and attend to the trunks myself. I got a cab and went straight to Mr. Charles Natural’s place, and asked what order it was I had left there.

“To send seven trunks to the hotel.”

“And were you to bring any back?”

“No.”

“You are sure I didn’t tell you to bring back seven that would be found piled in the lobby?”

“Absolutely sure you didn’t.”

“Then the whole fourteen are gone to Zurich or Jericho or somewhere – ”

I didn’t finish, because my mind was in such a state when you think you have finished a sentence when you haven’t, and you go dreaming away, and the first thing you know you get run over by a cow or something.

I left the cab there and on my way back I thought it all out and concluded to resign. But I didn’t believe it would be a good idea to resign in person; I could do it by message. So I sent for Mr. Ludi and explained that there was a courier going to resign because of incompatibility or fatigue or something. As he had four or five vacant days, I would like to offer him the job if he thought he could take it. When everything was arranged, I got him to go up and say to the Expedition that, owing to an error made by Mr. Natural’s people, we were out of trunks here, but would have plenty in Zurich, and we’d better take the first train and move right along.

He attended to that and came down with an invitation for me to go up – yes, certainly. While we walked along over to the bank to get money, and collect my cigars and tobacco, and to the cigar shop to trade back the lottery tickets and get my umbrella, and to Mr. Natural’s to pay that cab and send it away, and to the county jail to get my rubbers, he described the mood of the Expedition to me, and I saw that I was doing very well where I was.

I stayed out in the woods till 4 p. m. and then turned up at the station just in time to take the 3 o’clock express for Zurich along with the Expedition, now in the hands of Ludi, who conducted its complex affairs with little effort or inconvenience.

Well, I had worked like a slave and done the very best I knew how; yet all that these people seemed to care to remember was the defects of my administration. I finally said I didn’t wish to hear any more about the subject, it made me tired. And I told them to their faces that I would never be a courier again to save anybody’s life. And, if I live long enough I’ll prove it. I think it’s a difficult and absolutely ungrateful job.

About Barbers

All things change except barbers. These never change. What one experiences in a barber’s shop the first time he enters one is what he always experiences in barbers’ shops afterward till the end of his days.

I got shaved this morning as usual. A man approached the door from Jones Street as I approached it from Main – a thing that always happens. I hurried up, but it was of no use; he entered the door one little step ahead of me. I followed in right behind him and saw him take the only vacant chair, the one the best barber was responsible for. It always happens so. I sat down, hoping that I might be invited to the chair belonging to the better of the remaining two barbers. The better had already begun combing his man’s hair, while his comrade was not yet quite done oiling his customer’s locks. I watched the probabilities with strong interest. When I saw that No. 2 was gaining on No. 1 my interest grew into nervousness. When No. 1 stopped a moment, my nervousness rose to anxiety. When No. 1 caught up again, and both he and his comrade were pulling the towels away and brushing the powder from their customers’ cheeks, my very breath stood still with the suspense. But when at the culminating moment No. 1 stopped to pass a comb a couple of times through his customer’s eyebrows, I saw that he had lost the race, and I rose indignant and quitted the shop, to keep from falling into the hands of No. 2. I have none of that firmness that enables a man to look calmly into the eyes of a waiting barber and tell him he will wait for his colleague’s chair.

I stayed out fifteen minutes, and then went back, hoping for better luck. Of course all the chairs were occupied now, and four men sat waiting, silent, unsociable, and bored, as men who are waiting their turn in a barber’s shop always do. I sat down on an old sofa, and started reading the advertisements of all sorts for dyeing and coloring the hair. Then I read the names on the bottles; read the names and noted the numbers on the private shaving-cups; studied the stained and damaged cheap prints on the walls, of battles, early Presidents, and the everlasting young girl putting her grandfather’s spectacles on. Finally, I searched out one of last year’s illustrated papers and looked through its misrepresentations of old forgotten events.

At last my turn came. A voice said “Next!” and I surrendered to – No. 2, of course. It always happens so. I said meekly that I was in a hurry, and it affected him as strongly as if he had never heard it. He shoved up my head, and put a napkin under it. He plowed his fingers into my collar and fixed a towel there. He explored my hair with his claws and suggested that it needed trimming. I said I did not want it trimmed. He explored again and said it was pretty long for the present style, it needed trimming behind especially. I said I had had it cut only a week before. He then asked, who cut it? I came back with a “You did!” Then he fell to stirring up his lather and regarding himself in the glass, stopping now and then to get close and examine his chin critically or inspect a pimple. Then he lathered one side of my face thoroughly, and was about to lather the other, when a dog-fight attracted his attention. He ran to the window and saw it out. In the result, he lost two shillings on the result in bets with the other barbers, a thing which gave me great satisfaction. He finished lathering, and then began to rub in the suds with his hand.

He now began to sharpen his razor, and was suddenly lost in his memories of a cheap masquerade ball he had been to at the night before. He put down his razor and brushed his hair with elaborate care. In the mean time the lather was drying on my face, and apparently eating into my vitals.

Now he began to shave, digging his fingers into my face to stretch the skin and tumbling my head this way and that as convenience in shaving demanded. As long as he was on the tough sides of my face I did not suffer; but when he began to rake and tug at my chin, the tears came. He now took hold of my nose, to shave the corners of my upper lip, and it was at that moment that I discovered that a part of his duties in the shop was to clean the kerosene-lamps.

About this time I was trying to guess where he would be most likely to cut me this time. He got ahead of me, and sliced me on the end of the chin before I had got my mind made up. He immediately sharpened his razor. I do not like a close shave, and would not let him go over me a second time. He said he only wanted to smooth off one little roughness, and at the same moment he slipped his razor along the tenderest part of my chin. The dreaded pimples of a close shave rose up.

Now he soaked his towel in bay rum, and slapped it all over my face nastily. Then he dried it by slapping with the dry part of the towel. Next he poked bay rum into the cut with his towel, then choked the wound with powdered starch, then soaked it with bay rum again. He would have gone on doing it, no doubt, if I had not rebelled.

He powdered my whole face now and began to plow my hair thoughtfully with his hands. Then he suggested a shampoo, and said my hair needed it badly, very badly. I observed that I shampooed it myself very thoroughly in the bath yesterday. I “had him” again.[10] He next recommended some of “Smith’s Hair Glorifier,” and offered to sell me a bottle. I declined. He praised the new perfume, “Jones’s Delight of the Toilet,” and proposed to sell me some of that. I declined again.

He returned to business, sprinkled me all over, legs and all, greased my hair in spite of my protest against it. He combed my scant eyebrows and defiled them with pomade. Right then I heard the whistles blow for noon, and knew I was five minutes too late for the train. Then he snatched away the towel, brushed it lightly about my face, passed his comb through my eyebrows once more, and gaily sang out “Next!”

This barber fell down and died of apoplexy two hours later. I am waiting over a day for my revenge – I am going to his funeral.

The Danger of Lying in Bed

The man in the ticket-office said:

“Would you like to have an accident insurance ticket, also?”

“No,” I said, after studying the matter over a little. “No, I believe not; I am going to be traveling by rail all day today. However, tomorrow I don’t travel. Give me one for tomorrow.”

The man looked puzzled. He said:

“But it is for accident insurance, and if you are going to travel by rail-”

“If I am going to travel by rail I won’t need it. Lying at home in bed is the thing _I – am afraid of.”

Last year I traveled twenty thousand miles, almost entirely by rail; the year before, I traveled over twenty-five thousand miles, half by sea and half by train; and the year before that I traveled ten thousand miles exclusively by rail. I may say I have traveled sixty thousand miles during the three years I have mentioned. AND NEVER AN ACCIDENT.

For quite a long time I said to myself every morning: “Now I have escaped thus far, and so the chances are just that much increased that I will catch it this time. I will buy an accident ticket.” And certainly everything went perfectly well. I bought accident tickets that were good for a month. I said to myself, “A man CAN’T buy thirty useless tickets.”

But I was mistaken. There was never a prize in the lot. I could read of railway accidents every day; but somehow they never came my way. I found I had spent a good deal of money in the accident business, and had nothing to show for it. I began to hunt around for somebody that had won in this lottery. I found plenty of people who had invested, but not an individual that had ever had an accident or made a cent. THE PERIL LAY NOT IN TRAVELING, BUT IN STAYING AT HOME.

I hunted up statistics, and was amazed to find that less than THREE HUNDRED people had really lost their lives by railroad disasters in the preceding twelve months. The Erie road was the most murderous in the list. It had killed forty-six – or twenty-six, I do not exactly remember which, but I know the number was double that of any other road. But the Erie was an immensely long road, and did more business than any other line in the country.

By further figuring, it appeared that between New York and Rochester the Erie ran eight passenger-trains each way every day – 16 altogether; and carried a daily average of 6,000 persons. That is about a million in six months – the population of New York City. Well, the Erie kills from 13 to 23 persons of ITS million in six months. At the same time 13,000 of New York’s million die in their beds! My hair stood on end. “This is terrible!” I said. “The danger isn’t in traveling by rail, but in trusting to those deadly beds. I will never sleep in a bed again.”

I had figured further that an average of 2,500 passengers a day for each road in the country would be almost correct. There are 846 railway lines in our country, and 846 times 2,500 are 2,115,000.[11] So the railways of America move more than two millions of people every day; six hundred and fifty millions of people a year, without counting the Sundays. They do that, too – there is no question about it; though where they get the raw material is clear beyond the jurisdiction of my arithmetic, as I find that there are not that many people in the United States. They must use some of the same people over again, likely.

There are 500 deaths a week in New York and 60 deaths a week in San Francisco. That is 3,120 deaths a year in San Francisco, and eight times as many in New York – say about 25,000 or 26,000. The health of the two places is the same. So we will let it stand as a fair presumption that this will hold good all over the country, and that 25,000 out of every million of people we have must die every year. That is one-fortieth of our total population. One million of us, then, die every year. Out of this million ten or twelve thousand are stabbed, shot, drowned, hanged, poisoned, or meet a similarly violent death in some other popular way, such as perishing by kerosene-lamp, getting buried in coal-mines, falling off house-tops, taking patent medicines, or committing suicide in other forms. The Erie railroad kills 23 to 46; the other 845 railroads kill an average of one-third of a man each; and the rest of that million – 987,631 corpses – die naturally in their beds!

You will excuse me from taking any more chances on those beds. The railroads are good enough for me.

And my advice to all people is, Don’t stay at home any more than you can help; but when you have GOT to stay at home a while, buy a package of those insurance tickets and sit up nights. You cannot be too cautious.

The moral of this composition is, that people grumble more than is fair about railroad management in the United States. When we consider that every day and night of the year full fourteen thousand railway-trains of various kinds go over the land, the marvel is, NOT that they kill three hundred human beings a year, but that they do not kill nine hundred thousand!

Speech on the Weather

I believe that the Maker who made us all makes everything in New England but the weather. I don’t know who makes that, but I think it must be raw apprentices in the weather-clerk’s factory who experiment and learn how, in New England, and then are either promoted to make weather for other countries or go elsewhere. There is a unique variety about the New England weather that makes any stranger admire – and regret it. The weather is always doing something there; always getting up new designs and trying them on the people to see how they will go.

But it gets through more business in spring than in any other season. In spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four-and-twenty hours. It was I that made the fortune of that man that had that marvelous collection of weather on one exhibition, that so amazed the foreigners. One of them was going to travel all over the world and see all the kinds of climates. I said, “Don’t do it; just come to New England on a spring day.” I told him what he would be pleased with style, variety, and quantity. Well, he came and he made his collection in four days. As to variety, why, he confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never heard of before. And as to quantity, he not only had weather enough, but weather to hire out; weather to sell; to deposit; weather to invest; weather to give to the poor.

The people of New England are by nature patient, but there are some things which they will not stand. Every year they kill a lot of poets for writing about “Beautiful Spring.” These are generally casual visitors, who bring their notions of spring from somewhere else, and cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about spring.

The weather forecaster Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the paper and observe how confidently he checks off what today’s weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, in the Wisconsin region till he gets to New England. He doesn’t know what the weather is going to be in New England. Well, by and by he gets out something about like this: Probable northeast to southwest winds, varying to the southward and westward and eastward, high and low barometer swapping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with thunder and lightning. Then he writes down this postscript, to cover accidents: “But it is possible that the program may be wholly changed in the meantime.”

Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New England weather is the uncertainty of it. There is only one thing certain about it: you are certain there is going to be plenty of it; but you never can tell how it is going to start. You prepare for the drought; you leave your umbrella in the house, and two to one you get drowned. You make up your mind that the earthquake is likely to come; you take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you know you get struck by lightning. These are great disappointments; but they can’t be helped.

The lightning there is peculiar. And the thunder. When the thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape, and tune up the instruments for the performance, strangers say, “Why, what awful thunder you have here!” But when the baton is raised and the real concert begins, you’ll find that stranger hiding in the cellar.

Now as to the size of the weather in New England, it is utterly disproportioned to the size of that little country. Half the time, when it is packed as full as it can stick, you will see that New England weather sticking out beyond the edges and spreading around hundreds and hundreds of miles over the neighboring states. She can’t hold a tenth part of her weather.

I could speak volumes about the mysteries of the New England weather, but I will give but a single example now. I like to hear rain on a tin roof. So I covered part of my roof with tin. Well, sir, do you think it ever rains on that tin? No, sir; skips it every time. Mind, in this speech I have been trying to do honor to the New England weather.

But, after all, there is at least one or two things about that weather (or, if you please, effects produced, by it) which we would not like to part with. For example, there are these ice-storms, when a leafless tree is in ice from the bottom to the top – ice that is as bright and clear as crystal; when every branch and twig is in ice-beads, and the whole tree sparkles cold and white. Then the wind waves the branches and the sun comes out and turns all those myriads of beads to prisms that glow and flash like colored fires, which change and change again from blue to red, from red to green, and green to gold – the tree becomes a fountain of amazing jewels. It stands there the supremest possibility in art or nature of bewildering, intoxicating magnificence. One cannot make the words too strong.

The Story of the Good Little Boy

Once there was a good little boy by the name of Jacob Blivens. He always obeyed his parents, no matter how absurd and unreasonable their demands were. He always learned his book. None of the other boys could ever make that boy out, he acted so strangely. He wouldn’t lie, no matter how convenient it was. He just said it was wrong to lie, and that was sufficient for him. And he was so honest that he was simply ridiculous.

He wouldn’t play marbles on Sunday. He wouldn’t rob birds’ nests. He didn’t seem to take any interest in any kind of rational amusement. The other boys tried to understand him, but they couldn’t. So they took him under their protection, and never allowed any harm to come to him.

This good little boy read all the Sunday-school books. They were his greatest delight. This was the whole secret of it. He believed in the gold little boys they put in the Sunday-school book. He wanted to come across one of them alive once; but he never did. They all died before his time, maybe. Whenever he read about a particularly good one, he turned over quickly to the end to see what became of him. He wanted to travel thousands of miles and see him; but that good little boy always died in the last chapter. There was always a picture of the funeral, with all his relations and the Sunday-school children standing around the grave in pantaloons that were too short, and bonnets that were too large.

Jacob had a noble ambition to be put in a Sunday school book. He wanted to be put in, with pictures representing him declining to lie to his mother, and her weeping for joy about it; and pictures representing him standing on the doorstep giving a penny to a poor beggar-woman with six children.

That was the ambition of young Jacob Blivens. He wished to be put in a Sunday-school book. It made him feel a little uncomfortable sometimes when he thought that the good little boys always died. He loved to live, you know.

He knew it was not healthy to be good. He knew it was not healthy to be so supernaturally good as the boys in the books were. He knew that none of them had ever been able to live long. It also disappointed him that if they put him in a book he wouldn’t ever see it, or even if they did get the book out before he died it wouldn’t be popular without any picture of his funeral in the back part of it. So at last, of course, he had to make up his mind to do the best he could under the circumstances – to live right, and hang on as long as he could.

But somehow nothing ever went right with the good little boy; nothing ever turned out with him the way it turned out with the good little boys in the books. They always had a good time, and the bad boys had the broken legs. In his case it all happened just the other way.

When he found Jim Blake stealing apples, and went under the tree to read to him about the bad little boy who fell out of a neighbor’s apple tree and broke his arm, Jim fell out of the tree, too, but he fell on him and broke his arm, and Jim wasn’t hurt at all. Jacob couldn’t understand that. There wasn’t anything in the books like it.

And once, when some bad boys pushed a blind man over in the mud, and Jacob ran to help him up, the blind man hit him on the head with his stick and said he would like to catch him pushing him again, and then pretending to help him up. This was not like in any of the books. Jacob looked them all over to see.

Later Jacob wanted to find a lame dog that hadn’t any place to stay and was hungry. He wanted to bring him home and pet him and have that dog’s gratitude. And at last he found one and was happy. He brought him home and fed him, but when he was going to pet him the dog started to bite and tore the clothes off him. He examined the books, but he could not understand what he had done wrong.

Once, when he was on his way to Sunday-school, he saw some bad boys starting off in a sailboat. He knew from his reading that boys who went sailing on Sunday got drowned. So he ran out on a raft to warn them, but a log turned with him and he fell into the river. A man got him out pretty soon, but he caught cold and stayed in bed for nine weeks. And the bad boys in the boat had a good time all day, and then reached home alive and well. Jacob Blivens said there was nothing like these things in the books.

When he got well he was a little discouraged, but he decided to keep on trying anyhow. He knew that so far his experiences wouldn’t do to go in a book. If everything else failed, he had his dying speech.

He found that it was now time for him to go to sea as a cabin boy. He went to a ship captain, and when the captain asked for his recommendations he proudly drew out a tract and pointed to the word, “To Jacob Blivens, from his teacher.” But the captain said that it wasn’t any proof that he knew how to wash dishes or handle a bucket, and he guessed he didn’t want him. This was the most extraordinary thing that ever happened to Jacob in all his life. A compliment from a teacher, on a tract, had never failed to move the tenderest emotions of ship captains, and open the way to all offices. It never had in any book that he had ever read.

At last, one day, when he was around hunting up bad little boys, he found a lot of them in the old iron-foundry fixing up a little joke on fourteen or fifteen dogs, which they had tied together in long procession. They were going to ornament these dogs’ tails with empty nitroglycerin cans. Jacob’s heart was touched. He sat down on one of those cans, and he took hold of the first dog by the collar, and turned his eye upon wicked Tom Jones. But just at that moment Alderman McWelter, full of wrath, stepped in. All the bad boys ran away, but Jacob Blivens rose in conscious innocence and began one of those little Sunday-school-book speeches which always start with “Oh, sir!”. But the man never waited to hear the rest. He took Jacob Blivens by the ear and turned him around, and hit him in the rear[12] with his hand.

In an instant that good little boy shot out through the roof and soared away toward the sun with the fragments of those fifteen dogs stringing after him like the tail of a kite. And there wasn’t a sign of that man or that old iron-foundry left on the face of the earth. As for young Jacob Blivens, he never got a chance to make his last dying speech after all his trouble making it up, unless he made it to the birds. Although the most of him came down all right in a tree-top in an adjoining county, the rest of him was found in four different places. So they had to hold five inquests on him to find out whether he was dead or not, and how it occurred. You never saw a boy scattered so.

Thus perished the good little boy who did the best he could, but nothing ever happened to him according to the books. Every boy who ever did as he did prospered except him. His case is truly remarkable. It will probably never be remembered.

The Story of the Bad Little Boy

Once there was a bad little boy whose name was Jim, though, you may notice that bad little boys are nearly always called James in your Sunday-school books. It was strange, but still it was true, that this one was called Jim.

He didn’t have any sick mother. Most bad boys in the Sunday books are named James, and have sick mothers, who sing them to sleep with sweet voices, and then kiss them good night, and kneel down by the bedside and weep. But it was different with this fellow. He was named Jim, and there wasn’t anything the matter with his mother. She was rather stout than otherwise, and she was not anxious on Jim’s account. She said if he were to break his neck it wouldn’t be much loss. She always spanked Jim to sleep, and she never kissed him good night.

Once this little bad boy stole the key of the pantry, and slipped in there and ate some jam, and filled up the jar with tar, so that his mother would never notice. No terrible feeling came over him, and nothing \ whispered to him, “Is it right to disobey my mother? Isn’t it sinful to do this? Where do bad little boys go?” Then he didn’t kneel down all alone and promise never to be wicked any more, and go and tell his mother all about it, and ask for her forgiveness. No; that is the way with all other bad boys in the books; but it happened otherwise with this Jim, strangely enough. He ate that jam, and he put in the tar, and laughed. When his mother found it out, he denied knowing anything about it, and she whipped him severely. Everything about this boy was curious – everything turned out differently with him from the way it does to the bad Jameses in the books.

Once he climbed up his neighbor’s apple tree to steal apples, and the branch didn’t break, and he didn’t fall and break his arm, and get torn by the farmer’s great dog. Oh, no; he stole as many apples as he wanted and came down all right; and he was all ready for the dog, too, and knocked him with a brick when he came to tear him. It was very strange – nothing like it ever happened in those little books with pictures in them of men with pantaloons that are short in the legs, and women with the waists of their dresses under their arms. Nothing like it in any of the Sunday-school books.

Once he stole the teacher’s penknife. When he was afraid it would be found out and he would get whipped, he put it into George Wilson’s cap poor Widow Wilson’s son, the good little boy of the village, who always obeyed his mother, and never told lies, and was fond of his lessons. And when the knife dropped from the cap, and poor George blushed, as if in conscious guilt, and the teacher said he was guilty, no feeling of justice appeared in Jim’s heart and no voice said, “Spare this noble boy!” So the model boy George was punished, and Jim was glad of it because, you know, Jim hated moral boys.

But the strangest thing that ever happened to Jim was the time he went boating on Sunday, and didn’t get drowned. And that other time that he got caught out in the storm when he was fishing on Sunday and didn’t get struck by lightning. Why, you might look, and look, all through the Sunday-school books from now till next Christmas, and you would never come across anything like this. Oh, no; you would find that all the bad boys who go boating on Sunday get drowned; and all the bad boys who get caught out in storms when they are fishing on Sunday get struck by lightning. It always storms when bad boys go fishing on Sunday. How this Jim ever escaped is a mystery to me.

Nothing could hurt this Jim. He even gave the elephant in the menagerie some tobacco, and the elephant didn’t knock the top of his head off with his trunk. He stole his father’s gun and went hunting on Sunday, and didn’t shoot three or four of his fingers off. He struck his little sister on the head with his fist when he was angry, and she didn’t die with sweet words of forgiveness upon her lips that redoubled the anguish of his breaking heart. No; she got over it. He went to sea at last, and didn’t come back and find himself sad and alone in the world, his loved ones sleeping in the graveyard, and the home of his boyhood gone to decay. Ah, no; he came home drunk and happy.

And he grew up and married, and raised a large family, and brained them all with an ax one night.[13] He got wealthy by cheating. Now he is the wickedest scoundrel in his native village, and is universally respected, and belongs to the legislature.

So you see there never was a bad James in the Sunday-school books that had such a streak of luck as this sinful Jim.

How to Tell a Story

I do not claim that I can tell a story as it should be told. I only claim to know how a story should be told, for I have been almost daily in the company of the most expert story-tellers for many years.

There are several kinds of stories, but only one difficult kind – the humorous. I will talk mainly about that one. The humorous story is American, the comic story is English, the witty story is French. The humorous story depends for its effect upon the manner of the telling; the comic story and the witty story upon the matter.

The humorous story may be long, and may wander around as much as it pleases, and arrive nowhere in particular; but the comic and witty stories must be brief and end with a point.

The humorous story is strictly a work of art – high art – and only an artist can tell it; but no art is necessary in telling the comic and the witty story; anybody can do it. The art of telling a humorous story – understand, I mean by word of mouth, not print – was created in America, and has remained at home.

The humorous story is told gravely. The teller does his best to conceal the fact that he suspects that there is anything funny about it; but the teller of the comic story tells you beforehand that it is one of the funniest things he has ever heard, then tells it with delight, and is the first person to laugh when he gets through. And sometimes, if he has had good success, he is so glad and happy that he will repeat the key sentence and look around from face to face, collecting applause, and then repeat it again. It is a pathetic thing to see.

Very often, of course, a humorous story finishes with a point or whatever you like to call it. Then the listener must be alert, for in many cases the teller will divert attention from that point by dropping it in a carefully casual and indifferent way.

But the teller of the comic story shouts the point at you every time. And when he prints it, in England, France, Germany, and Italy, he italicizes it, puts some exclamation marks after it, and sometimes explains it in a parenthesis. All of which is very depressing, and makes one want to give up joking and lead a better life.

Let me set down an instance of the comic method, using an anecdote which has been popular all over the world for twelve or fifteen hundred years. The teller tells it in this way:

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER

In the course of a certain battle a soldier whose leg had been shot off begged another soldier who was hurrying by to carry him to the rear. As the generous soldier, shouldering the unfortunate, helped him through the battlefield. The bullets and cannon balls were flying in all directions, and one of the latter took the wounded man’s head off, though his companion failed to see it. Soon he was called out by an officer, who said:

“Where are you going with that carcass?”

“To the rear, sir – he’s lost his leg!”

“His leg? You mean his head.”

The soldier put down his burden, and stood looking down upon it in great perplexity. At length he said:

“It is true, sir, just as you have said.” Then after a pause he added, “BUT HE TOLD ME IT WAS HIS LEG!!!!!”

Here the narrator bursts into explosion after explosion of thunderous horse-laughter, repeating the last sentence from time to time through his shriekings and suffocatings.

It takes only a minute and a half to tell that in its comic-story form; and isn’t worth the telling, after all. Put into the humorous-story form it takes ten minutes, and is about the funniest thing I have ever listened to.

He tells it in the character of an old farmer who has just heard it for the first time, thinks it is unspeakably funny, and is trying to repeat it to a neighbor. But he can’t remember it; so he gets all mixed up and wanders helplessly round and round. He puts in some details that don’t belong in the tale; takes them out and puts in others that are just as useless; makes minor mistakes now and then and stops to correct them; remembers things which he forgot to put in in their proper place and goes back to put them in there; stops his story telling in order to try to recall the name of the soldier that was hurt, and finally remembers that the soldier’s name was not mentioned – and so on, and so on, and so on.

The teller is innocent and happy and pleased with himself, and has to stop every little while to keep from laughing; but his body shakes in a jelly-like way; and at the end of the ten minutes the audience have laughed until they are exhausted, and the tears are running down their faces.

The simplicity and innocence and sincerity of the old farmer are perfectly simulated, and the result is a performance which is charming. This is art – and fine and beautiful, and only an artist can master it.

To string absurdities together in a wandering and sometimes purposeless way, and seem innocently unaware that they are absurdities, is the basis of the American art, if my position is correct. Another feature is the fast mentioning of the point. A third is the dropping of an important remark apparently without knowing it, as if one where thinking aloud. The fourth and last is the pause.

The pause is an exceedingly important feature in any kind of story. It is a delicate thing; for it must be exactly the right length – no more and no less – or it fails of its purpose and makes trouble.

On the platform I used to tell a ghost story that had a pause in front of the final sentence, and that pause was the most important thing in the whole story. If I got it the right length precisely, I could say the finishing sentence with effect enough to make some impressible girl deliver a little yelp and jump out of her seat – and that was what I was after. This story was called “The Golden Arm,” and was told in this fashion. You can practice with it yourself – and mind you look out for the pause and get it right.

The Golden Arm

Once upon a time there was a mean man, and he lived in the prairie all alone by himself, except he had a wife. And she died, and he took her to the prairie and buried her. Well, she had a golden arm – all solid gold, from the shoulder down. He was mean; and that night he couldn’t sleep, because he wanted that golden arm so bad.

At midnight he couldn’t stand it no more; so he got up, he did, and took his lantern and dug her up and got the golden arm. He bent his head down and walked and walked and walked through the snow. Then all of a sudden he stopped (make a considerable pause here, and look startled, and take a listening attitude) and said: “What’s that?”

And he listened – and listened – and the wind said (set your teeth together and imitate the singsong of the wind), “Bzzz-z-zzz” – and then, way back where the grave was, he heard a VOICE! – he heard a voice all mixed up in the wind – he could hardly tell them apart – ”Bzzz – zzz – W-h-o – g-o-t – m-y – g-o-l-d-e-n ARM?” (You must begin to shiver violently now.)

And he began to shiver and said, “Oh, my! OH, my!” and the wind blew the lantern out, and the snow blew in his face, and he walked faster knee-deep in snow toward home, he was so scared – and pretty soon he heard the voice again, and (pause) it was coming AFTER him! „Bzzz – zzz – zzz W-h-o – g-o-t – m-y – g-o-l-d-e-n – ARM?“

When he got to the house, he rushed upstairs and jumped in the bed and covered up, head and ears, and lay there shivering and shaking – and then he hear it AGAIN! – and CLOSER! He heard (pause) – pat-pat-pat[14] – someone was COMING UPSTAIRS!

Then pretty soon he knew it was STANDING BY THE BED! (Pause.) Then – he knew it was BENDING DOWN OVER HIM. He could scarcely breathe! Then he felt something C-O-L-D! (Pause.)

Then the voice said, RIGHT AT HIS EAR – “W-h-o – g-o-t – m-y g-o-l-d-e-n ARM?” (You must wail it out; then you stare impressively into the face of the farthest-gone auditor – a girl, preferably. When the pause has reached exactly the right length, jump suddenly at that girl and yell, “YOU’VE got it!”)

If you’ve got the PAUSE right, she’ll give a dear little yelp and jump right out of her shoes. But you MUST get the pause right; and you will find it the most troublesome and uncertain thing you ever undertook.

A Letter from Santa Claus

Palace of Saint Nicholas in the Christmas Morning

My Dear Susy Clemens,

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me… I can read your and your baby sister’s fantastic words without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses. I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters – I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself – and kissed both of you, too… But… there were… one or two small orders which I could not accomplish.

There was a word or two in your mama’s letter which… I thought it was “a trunk full of doll’s clothes.” Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o’clock this morning to ask about it. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to the door. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak – otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse’s bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen. When I whistle through it, you must speak in the tube and say, “Welcome, Santa Claus!” Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be… and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to have in. Then when I say “Good-bye and a merry Christmas to my little Susy Clemens,” you must say “Good-bye, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much.” Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall. Then everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney in the hall – if it is a trunk you want…

If I leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I won’t have time to do such things. If my boot leaves a stain on the floor, leave it there always in memory of my visit. Whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl.

Whenever you are naughty and someone points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus’s boot made on the floor, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Vocabulary

A

abandon – покидать; оставлять

ability – способность

able – способный

abruptly – резко; отрывисто

absence – отсутствие

absently – рассеянно

absolutely – совершенно

absurd – нелепый, абсурдный

access – доступ, подход

accident – несчастный случай

ache – 1) боль 2) болеть, ныть

admiration – восхищение, восторг

admire – 1) восхищать(ся) 2) уважать 3) обожать

admiringly – восхищённо, с восхищением

admit – допускать; признавать

admonish – убеждать, наставлять, предостерегать

adorn – украшать

adventure – приключение

adventurer – искатель приключений

advertise – рекламировать

advertisement – реклама, объявление

advice – совет

afford – быть в состоянии; позволить себе

aftermath – последствия

afterwards – впоследствии, потом, позже

agitator – агитатор, подстрекатель

agreement – согласие, соглашение

agricultural – сельскохозяйственный

aimlessly – бесцельно

airily – легкомысленно, беззаботно; легко

ajar – приоткрытый

alarm – 1) сигнал 2) встревожить, насторожить

allure – очаровывать, манить, привлекать

alter – изменять, переделывать; измениться

alternate – чередовать(ся)

amateurish – непрофессиональный, дилетантский

amateurishness – непрофессионализм

amaze – поражать, удивлять

amazement – изумление

amazing – изумительный

ambitious – амбициозный, целеустремленный

amount – количество

annul – аннулировать, отменять

anonymous – анонимный, безымянный, неизвестный

antagonism – антагонизм, вражда

anti-social – необщительный, замкнутый

anxiety – тревога, беспокойство

apart – отдельно, в стороне

apathetic – апатичный, безразличный, равнодушный

apathetically – безразлично, равнодушно

apiece – за штуку, на каждого

apparent – очевидный, явный

appreciate – оценивать, ценить; понимать

ardent – ярый, пылкий, страстный

array – надевать одежду

articulation – произношение, артикуляция

artist – художник

ascetic – аскет, отшельник

ascribe – приписывать, придавать, относить

aside – в стороне

asleep – спящий

asperity – грубость, жесткость (о характере)

ass – осёл, глупец, упрямец

assault – оскорблять, нападать

assent – соглашаться

attitude – отношение

audience – публика

authoritatively – авторитетно

awe – трепет; благоговение

awful – ужасный

awkward – неуклюжий

awkwardly – неуклюже

B

babyish – ребяческий, детский

bachelor – холостяк

bang – 1) удар, стук 2) ударять, стучать; Don’t bang the door не хлопай дверью

barrel – бочка

bead – бусина

bean – боб, фасоль

beat – разбивать, бить(ся)

beer – пиво

before – перед

beg – просить; умолять

benignant – добрый, мягкий, великодушный

beware – остерегаться, опасаться

bewilder – ставить в тупик; смущать, озадачивать

bewitch – околдовывать, очаровывать, завораживать

bill – счёт, купюра

bit – кусочек; небольшое количество

bite – 1) укус 2) кусать

bitter – 1) горький 2) едкий

bitterly – 1) горько 2) с горечью

bizarre – странный, причудливый, необычный, диковинный

blacken – чернеть

blacksmith – кузнец

blame – осуждать, обвинять

blank – пустой, чистый

blaze – сиять, сверкать, пылать; гореть ярким пламенем

blind – слепой

blond – 1) белокурый, светловолосый 2) блондин

blood – кровь

blow – удар

blunder – 1) промах, просчет 2) грубо ошибаться, совершать промах

blunt – прямой; резкий

bluntly – тупо

branch – ветвь

breadth – ширина, широта (взглядов, кругозора)

breast – грудь

breath – дыхание; вздох

breathe – дышать

brief – короткий, краткий, лаконичный

briskly – 1) быстро 2) бодро, оживлённо

brunette – брюнетка

bubble – пузырь

bulky – громоздкий, большой, массивный

bull – бык

bulldog – бульдог

bunch – 1) пучок, связка 2) букет

bundle – связка

burst – 1) разрываться 2) burst into tears расплакаться 3) burst into ворваться 4) burst out внезапно начинать

bury – зарывать

busily – деловито, настойчиво

business – дело

businesslike – деловой, исполнительный

butcher – мясник

C

cafe – кафе

calculate – рассчитывать, вычислять

calf – телёнок

call – 1) звонить 2) звать 3) звонок 4) называть

calm – спокойный

calmly – спокойно

campaign – кампания

cancel – отменять, отказывать(ся)

candy – конфета

cannery – консервный завод

capacious – просторный, вместительный

capacity – физическая возможность

caprice – каприз, прихоть; непостоянство

captain – капитан

care – 1) забота 2) уход 3) заботиться о

career – карьера

careful – осторожный

carefully – внимательно

careless – легкомысленный, беззаботный

carelessly – 1) небрежно, беспечно, неосторожно 2) легкомысленно 3) бездумно

caress – 1) ласка, нежность 2) гладить, поглаживать

case – 1) случай 2) дело

cash – 1) наличные деньги 2) обналичивать деньги

cease – прекращать

chance – шанс; возможность

chant – петь

chap – парень, малец

chapter – глава

character – 1) характер, нрав 2) тип, фигура

charge – 1) запрашивать цену, требовать компенсацию за 2) записывать на счёт 3) плата 4) in charge – ответственный 5) take charge – возглавить, взять на себя ответственность

cheap – дешёвый

cheerily – оживлённо

chide – бранить, упрекать

chief – главный

chiefly – главным образом, в первую очередь

chill – 1) охлаждать, остужать; замерзать 2) холодный 3) холод

chimney – труба

china – фарфор

choice – выбор

choose – выбирать

chop – обрывать, рубить, отрезать

cigar – сигара

cigarette – сигарета

cleanliness – чистота; чистоплотность

cleanness – чистота

clear – ясный

clear-headed – с ясной головой

clerk – клерк, конторский служащий

climb – взбираться; подниматься, карабкаться

cloth – тканевый, матерчатый

clothes – одежда

clutch – зажать, сжимать, схватить

coarseness – грубость

coat – пальто

coffee – кофе

cog – зубец

coin – монета

commend – хвалить, одобрять

commit – совершать

common – общий, обычный, частый; common sense здравый смысл

companion – товарищ; собеседник; компаньон; спутник

company – общество; компания

comparatively – сравнительно, относительно, достаточно

compare – сравнивать

compassion – сострадание, сочувствие, участие

compel – заставлять, принуждать

conclude – заканчивать; делать вывод

conclusion – вывод

concrete – конкретный, реальный, определенный

confusion – путаница, неразбериха, беспорядок; замешательство, смятение

conjure – заклинать, колдовать, наколдовать

conquer – завоёвывать, захватывать

conscience – совесть

conscious – сознающий; находящийся в сознании

consciousness – осознание, самосознание

construction – строение, структура

contain – содержать в себе, включать, вмещать

contained – прош. вр. и прич. прош. вр. от contain

contemplatively – вдумчиво, задумчиво

contemptible – жалкий, ничтожный

conversation – разговор, беседа; общение

cool – 1) прохладный 2) невозмутимый 3) охлаждать

cooperative – совместный, объединённый

copy – копия, экземпляр (книги)

cordial – сердечный, искренний

corporation – объединение, общество

correct – 1) правильный 2) исправлять, скорректировать, править

correctly – правильно, верно

correlation – взаимосвязь, соотношение

costume – костюм; одежда

cough – 1) кашель 2) кашлять

counsel – 1) обсуждение, совещание 2) советовать, рекомендовать

count – 1) считать, насчитать 2) рассчитывать

counting-house – контора

couple – 1) пара 2) связывать

cousin – кузен, кузина

cow-barn – коровник

coward – 1) трус 2) трусливый

cowardly – трусливый, малодушный

cradle – колыбель

crafty – хитрый, лукавый, коварный

cranky – капризный, раздражённый

cranny – щель, трещина

crawl – ползать, ползти

cream – сливки

crumple – мять, комкать

crumpled – 1) мятый 2) прош. вр. и прич. прош. вр. от crumple

crush – давить, мять

cue – сигнал

cure – 1) лечение 2) лекарство

curious – любопытный

curiously – любопытно

curse – 1) проклятие 2) ругательство 3) проклинать, ругать(ся)

curtain – занавеска

D

daily – ежедневный

dairy – молочное хозяйство, маслобойня

damned – проклятый, чёртов

dance – танцевать, плясать

danger – опасность

dare – осмеливаться, отважиться, сметь

darkness – темнота

date – 1) дата 2) датировать

daughter – дочь

daytime – дневное время

daze – ошеломить

dazzle – ослеплять; поражать, изумлять

deaf – глухой

deal – 1) сделка 2) некоторое количество 3) заниматься

dearly – очень, чрезвычайно; нежно

debate – обсуждать, дискутировать, спорить

debt – долг

decent – добропорядочный, приличный

decently – прилично, порядочно

decline – отклонять

deeply – глубоко

defiant – вызывающий, дерзкий

definitive – окончательный, определённый

degeneration – упадок, вырождение

degradation – ухудшение, упадок

deliver – доставлять

demand – 1) спрашивать 2) требовать

den – логово, берлога

deny – отрицать, отклонять, отказывать

depart – уезжать, покидать

depth – пучина, глубина

descend – спускаться

describe – описывать

description – описание, характеристика

desert – оставлять, покидать

deserve – заслуживать

desire – 1) желать 2) желание

desirous – жаждущий, страстно желающий

desk – контора

despair – 1) отчаяние 2) отчаиваться

desperate – отчаянный, безрассудный

desperation – отчаяние, безысходность

despite – несмотря на, невзирая на

despondently – уныло, подавленно

destroy – разрушать

detect – находить, замечать

determined – решительный, непоколебимый

develop – развивать(ся), совершенствовать(ся)

development – развитие; рост, расширение

devil – дьявол

devote – посвящать

diagnostician – диагност

dictionary – словарь

die – умирать

diet – рацион, режим питания

difference – различие

different – разный

difficult – трудный

diffidence – робость, скромность, застенчивость, неуверенность

digest – переваривать (пищу)

dignify – облагораживать

diminish – уменьшать, убавлять, ослаблять

dine – обедать, есть

dining room – столовая

dinner – обед, ужин

direction – направление

dirt – грязь

dirty – грязный

disagree – не соглашаться, спорить, противоречить, расходиться во мнениях

disagreeably – неприятно; чересчур

disappear – исчезать

disappoint – разочаровывать

disappointment – разочарование

disapproval – неодобрение, недовольство; осуждение

discipline – дисциплина, порядок

discolor – обесцвечивать, выцветать, блёкнуть

discover – обнаруживать

discovery – открытие; находка

discuss – обсуждать, спорить

discussion – дискуссия, прения; разговор, беседа, рассуждение

disease – болезнь

disgrace – 1) позор 2) опозорить

disguise – переодеваться, маскироваться

dish-washer – посудомойка

display – 1) проявление 2) показывать, демонстрировать

distemper – болезнь, хандра

distribute – раздавать, распространять, распределять

disturb – беспокоить

divine – божественный, богоподобный

divinity – божество

dollar – доллар

door – дверь

dose – доза

double – 1) двойной 2) удваивать

doubt – 1) сомневаться 2) сомнение

down – вниз

down-town – деловая часть города

downstairs – 1) нижний этаж здания 2) вниз

dozen – дюжина

drag – тянуть, тащить

draw – 1) привлекать, влечь 2) приближаться 3) оформлять (документ) 4) рисовать

dreadful – ужасный

dream – 1) сон 2) мечта 3) мечтать

dreamily – мечтательно, задумчиво

dress – 1) платье 2) одеваться

drew – прош. вр. от draw

dried – сушёный, высушенный

drink – 1) пить 2) напиток

drive – 1) ехать 2) управлять 3) приводить 4) прогулка, катание

droop – поникнуть, увядать, обвисать

drown – тонуть; топить

drudgery – грязная работа

druggist – аптекарь

drunken – пьяный

dryer – сушилка, сушка

dubiously – с сомнением

due – должный; due to благодаря, из-за

dull – 1) скучный 2) тупой 3) притуплять

during – в течение

dusty – пыльный

duty – обязательство, долг

dwell – жить, обитать

E

eager – поспешный; страстно желающий

eagerly – поспешно; с нетерпением

earn – зарабатывать, получить, заслужить

earnestly – серьёзно, убедительно, настоятельно

earnestness – серьёзность; усердие, устремлённость

earthly – земной, мирской

easily – легко

east – восток

easy – легко; лёгкий

eat – есть

ebb – спад, упадок

economical – экономичный, экономный, бережливый

economist – экономист

edge – край

edition – издание, выпуск, тираж, публикация; редакция, версия

editor – редактор, издатель

educate – обучать, воспитывать

education – образование

effect – 1) результат; эффект, воздействие 2) осуществлять, производить

efficacy – эффективность, действенность

effort – усилие

effusively – несдержанно, бурно, демонстративно

egotistic – эгоцентричный, эгоистичный

either – 1) один из двух either … or или … или 2) тоже (нет)

elaborate – разрабатывать

electric – электрический

elemental – стихийный

elementary – элементарный, простейший, простой

elevate – поднимать

elicit – извлекать

eligible – подходящий, приемлемый

else – ещё

embarrassment – смущение, замешательство

emotion – эмоция, чувство, волнение

emphasis – придание особого значения; акцент

employment – наём на работу, трудоустройство; занятость

empty – 1) пустой 2) опорожнять, опустошать; пустеть

enable – давать возможность, способствовать, позволять

encourage – ободрять, поддерживать

endless – бесконечный

endlessly – бесконечно

endure – переносить, терпеть; вынести

enemy – враг

energy – энергия

engage – 1) вовлекать, приглашать, привлекать 2) делать предложение (о помолвке)

engagement – помолвка

engineer – инженер, механик

English – английский

enigma – загадка

enjoy – наслаждаться, получать удовольствие; пользоваться; иметь, обладать

enjoyment – наслаждение, удовольствие

ennoble – облагораживать, возвышать

enormous – огромный

enough – достаточно

enslave – порабощать, брать в рабство

enter – входить

entertainment – развлечение, досуг; приём гостей

enthusiastic – восторженный

enthusiastically – с упоением, восторженно, увлечённо

entire – полный

envelope – 1) конверт 2) кутаться

envy – 1) зависть 2) завидовать

episode – эпизод; случай

equal – равный

equality – равенство

equivocate – сбивать с толку, увиливать

essay – очерк, сочинение, эссе

estate – поместье, имение

estrangement – отчуждение, отдаление

eternal – вечный, бессмертный; постоянный

ethereal – эфирный, бесплотный; неземной

etiquette – этикет

even – даже

event – событие, происшествие, случай

everlasting – вечный, бесконечный, вековечный, непреходящий, извечный

evident – явный, очевидный

evil – 1) зло 2) злой 3) the Evil One дьявол

exactly – точно

exaggeration – преувеличение

exalt – восхвалять, возвеличивать, возносить

examination – экзамен

examiner – обозреватель

example – пример

excellent – отличный

except – кроме

excited – возбуждённый

excitement – волнение

exclaim – восклицать

exclamation – восклицание, возглас

excuse – 1) извинение 2) отговорка, оправдание 3) извиняться, извинять

exercise – 1) тренировать(ся) 2) применять 3) упражнение

exertion – усиление, напряжение

exhausted – изнурённый, истощённый, измученный

exhausting – изнурительный, утомительный, изматывающий

exhaustion – истощение, измождение

exhort – увещевать, настаивать, уговаривать

exile – 1) ссылка, изгнание 2) отправлять в ссылку, отлучать

exist – существовать, быть; иметься

existence – существование

expand – расширять, распространять(ся)

expectantly – выжидающе

expect – ожидать

expensive – дорогой

experience – опыт

experiment – эксперимент

explain – объяснять

explanation – объяснение

explode – взрывать(ся), разразиться, лопнуть

exploit – использовать, эксплуатировать

express – выражать

expression – выражение

exquisite – изысканный, изящный

extra – дополнительный

extract – вытаскивать, вытягивать, извлекать, получать

exuberantly – бурно, буйно

exultantly – ликующе, торжественно

eyeglasses – очки

F

face – 1) лицо 2) сталкиваться 3) стоять лицом к

facetious – игривый, шуточный

facetiousness – игривость

fact – факт; in fact на самом деле

factory – завод, фабрика

fade – обесцвечивать(ся), угасать, блекнуть, увядать

fail – 1) потерпеть неудачу, не удаваться 2) неудача, провал

failure – неудача, провал; ошибка

faint – 1) слабый 2) слабеть

faintly – слабо

fair – светлый, белокурый

fairyland – сказочная страна, волшебная страна

faith – вера, доверие

faithful – верный

fakir – факир

fall – 1) падать 2) падение 3) fall asleep заснуть 4) fall for влюбиться

false – неверный

falter – запинаться, спотыкаться; колебаться, действовать нерешительно

fame – 1) слава, популярность 2) репутация

familiar – знакомый, привычный

famine – голод

famous – знаменитый

fantastic – фантастический, сказочный

fascinate – очаровывать, восхищать, завораживать

fashion – мода

fast – быстрый

fat – толстый

fate – судьба

fatherly – отечески, по-отцовски

fault – ошибка, вина

favorable – благоприятный, благосклонный; выгодный

favourite – 1) любимый, излюбленный 2) фаворит, любимец

fear – 1) страх 2) бояться

fee – взнос, платёж

feed – кормить, питаться

fellow – человек, парень

fervently – усердно, истово, горячо, пылко

fever – жар

few – 1) мало 2) a few несколько

fiction – художественная литература, фантастика, вымысел

field – поле

final – завершающий

finally – наконец

firm – твёрдый

first-class – первый класс

fit – подходить, годиться, приспосабливаться

fix – 1) замереть, пристально смотреть 2) починить 3) уладить

flash – сверкать, вспыхивать

flaw – недостаток, изъян, порок

flesh – плоть, тело

flow – течь, литься

flush – краснеть

fold – складывать

follow – следовать за

foolish – глупый

forbid – запрещать

force – 1) сила 2) принудить силой, заставить

forefinger – указательный палец

forehead – лоб

fossil – ископаемое

fragment – обломок, осколок

frail – слабый, хилый, хрупкий

frank – откровенный

frankly – откровенно

fraternity – братство, содружество, община

fright – сильный внезапный испуг; страх

frighten – пугать

frightened – испуганный

frown – хмуриться

fruitless – бесполезный, безрезультатный, безуспешный

fulfil – исполнять, выполнять, осуществлять

function – деятельность; функция, назначение

further – дальнейший, дальше

furthermore – кроме того, помимо

G

gag – давиться

gain – приобретать; зарабатывать

gang – банда, шайка

gardener – садовник

gas – бензин, топливо, горючее

gasp – 1) задыхаться; дышать с трудом 2) открывать рот 3) охать

gate – ворота

gather – 1) собирать(ся) 2) выяснить

gaze – пристально глядеть, уставиться

general – общий

generous – щедрый, великодушный, благородный

generously – щедро, великодушно

genius – гений, гениальность

gentleman – господин, мужчина, джентльмен

gently – нежно

gesture – жест

get – 1) получать 2) становиться 3) get along with – поладить 4) get back – вернуться 5) get down – спуститься 6) get in – войти 7) get on fire – загореться 8) get on with – приступить к 9) get out – выбраться 10) get up – вставать

giant – гигант, великан

giggle – хихикать

glad – радостный

glance – 1) взгляд 2) взглянуть

glare – сверкать, блестеть

glass – 1) стекло 2) стакан

glimpse – беглый взгляд

glisten – блестеть, сверкать, сиять

gloomily – мрачно, хмуро

glorify – прославлять, восхвалять

glove – перчатка

glow – светить, сиять

God – Бог

goddess – богиня

gold – золото

golden – золотой

goodness – добродетель

gossip – сплетня

graceful – грациозный

grain – зерно, крупа

grammar – грамматика, правописание

grand – большой

grant – одарить

grass – трава

grateful – благодарный

grave – 1) серьёзный, мрачный 2) могила

gravely – серьёзно

greatly – значительно, существенно

greedy – жадный, алчный, скупой

greengrocer – зеленщик

greet – приветствовать

grimly – мрачно, угрюмо

grin – 1) усмехаться, ухмыляться 2) усмешка

grit – скрипеть

groan – 1) стонать, стенать, охать 2) стон

grocer – бакалейщик

grocery – бакалея, бакалейная лавка

gross – грубый

ground – земля

guarantee – гарантировать

guardian – опекун, попечитель

guess – 1) гадать, догадываться 2) полагать

guy – парень

H

habit – привычка

haggard – измождённый

halt – останавливаться, прекращать

handiwork – рукоделие, ручная работа

handkerchief – носовой платок

handle – справиться; уладить

handsome – красивый

happen – случаться, происходить

happiness – счастье

hardly – едва

harshly – жёстко, сурово, грубо

haste – спешка

hasten – спешить

hastily – поспешно

haunt – неотвязно преследовать

headquarters – штаб

healthy – здоровый

heap – 1) куча 2) складывать в кучу

hearty – здоровый, крепкий

heat – жара

heave – поднимать

heavily – тяжело

heavy – тяжёлый

hell – ад

hemorrhage – кровотечение, кровоизлияние

heritage – наследие

hint – 1) намёк 2) намекать

hire – 1) наём 2) нанимать

hit – 1) успех, удача 2) удар 3) ударить, бить

hoarse – хриплый

hobo – 1) бродяга 2) бродяжничать

hole – дыра

holiday – праздник, нерабочий день; каникулы

hollow – ямочка; hollows in his cheeks ямочки на щеках

holy – священный, святой

homely – домашний

honest – честный

honestly – честно

honor – 1) честь, уважение, почтение 2) почитать, удостаивать, чествовать

honorable – почётный, удостоенный, почтенный

honorarium – гонорар

hook – ударить

hooligan – хулиган

hopeless – безнадёжный, безвыходный, безысходный

hopelessly – безнадёжно

horrible – ужасный, страшный

horror – ужас

hostile – враждебный, недружелюбный

hug – крепко обнимать

humanly – человечно, гуманно

humbly – скромно

humility – смирение, скромность, покорность

humorous – юмористический, шутливый, шуточный, комический

hunger – голод

hungrily – жадно; с жадностью

hungry – голодный

hurriedly – поспешно, торопливо, наспех

hurt – ранить

hush – тихо!

I

ignore – игнорировать

ill – больной

illegitimate – незаконный

illness – болезнь

illusion – иллюзия

image – образ

imaginary – воображаемый

imagination – воображение

imagine – воображать

immediately – тотчас же

immense – безмерный

immensely – безмерно

immerse – погружать

immortal – бессмертный

impassable – непроходимый

impatience – нетерпение

impatient – нетерпеливый

impatiently – нетерпеливо

impediment – помеха

important – важный

impose – возлагать

impossible – невозможный

impress – впечатлять

impressive – впечатляющий

improvement – улучшение

in – в

inch – дюйм

incident – случай

including – включая, в том числе

incredible – немыслимый

indeed – действительно

independent – независимый

indifferent – равнодушный

indignation – негодование

individual – индивидуальный

indoors – внутри дома

inevitable – неизбежный

infection – инфекция

inferior – подчинённый

inform – сообщать

information – информация

inhabit – населять

inhabitant – житель

inheritance – наследование

inherit – наследовать

inhuman – бесчеловечный

initial – исходный

injured – раненый

inmate – житель

inn – постоялый двор

innocence – невинность

innocent – невинный

inquire – спрашивать

inquiry – вопрос; запрос

insane – безумный

inscribe – записывать

inscription – надпись

insect – насекомое

inside – внутри

insides – внутри

insist – настаивать

inspect – внимательно осматривать

inspector – надсмотрщик

inspire – вдохновлять

instance —: for instance – например

instantly – тотчас

instead – вместо

institution – учреждение, институт

intelligence – интеллект

intelligent – умный

intend – намереваться

intensely – напряжённо

intention – намерение

interest – 1) интерес 2) интересовать

interesting – интересный

interfere – вмешиваться

interrogate – расспрашивать

interrogator – допрашивающий

interrupt – прерывать

interruption – прерывание

intervene – вмешиваться

into – в, на, внутрь

intrigue – интриговать

introduce – представлять

invaluable – бесценный

invent – изобретать

invisible – невидимый

invite – приглашать

involuntary – ненамеренный

inward – внутренний

irregular – неправильный

irritated – раздражённый

irritation – раздражение

J

jewel – ювелирное изделие

job – работа

join – присоединяться

journey – путешествие

judge – судить

judgement – решение, заключение

jug – кувшин

K

keen – проявляющий активный интерес

keep – 1) держать 2) сохранять

kerosene – керосин

key – ключ

kid – 1) ребёнок 2) шутить

kill – убивать

kind – доброта

kiss – 1) поцелуй 2) целовать

kitchen – кухня

knee – колено

knife – нож

knock – 1) стучать 2) стук

knowledge – знание

L

labor – 1) труд 2) трудиться

lament – 1) сокрушаться, горевать, скорбеть 2) сетование, причитание

landlady – домовладелица, хозяйка гостиницы

landlord – землевладелец

languid – вялый, апатичный

lap – колени

largely – в значительной степени

last – 1) последний 2) длиться, продолжаться

laundry – прачечная

laundrying – стирка

law – закон

lawyer – юрист, адвокат

lay – 1) положить 2) лежать

lazy – ленивый

lead – 1) вести 2) руководство, указание

leader – глава

lean – 1) опираться 2) наклоняться

leap – прыгать

least – 1) малейший 2) at least как минимум

leather – кожа

leave – покидать, уезжать

lecture – лекция

leer – злобный взгляд

less – меньший, менее

liar – лгун

liberty – свобода

librarian – библиотекарь

library – библиотека

license – регистрация

lick – облизывать

livelihood – средства к существованию

living-room – гостиная

loaf – бездельничать, шататься

loathe – ненавидеть, презирать

local – местный

looking-glass – зеркало

lose – 1) терять, теряться 2) проигрывать

loss – потеря, утрата

lounge – бездельничать

lover – возлюбленный

low – 1) низкий 2) тихий

lucky – удачливый

luggage – багаж

luminous – светлый

lunatic – сумасшедший

lurking – притаившийся

M

machinery – машинное оборудование, механизм

mad – сумасшедший

madness – безумство

magazine – журнал

magnificent – великолепный, роскошный

maid – горничная

maiden – дева, девушка

meal – приём пищи, еда

meaningless – бессмысленный

mere – простой, не более чем

merely – только, просто

merrily – весело

midnight – полночь

miserable – жалкий

misjudge – недооценивать

moustache – усы

mutter – бормотать

N

narrow – 1) узкий 2) сужаться

nearly – почти

necessary – необходимый

negative – отрицание

nestle – прижаться, примоститься

nevertheless – однако, впрочем

noble – благородный

nobleman – аристократ, дворянин

O

object – 1) объект, предмет 2) цель 3) возражать

obscured – неясный, неизвестный

obsessed – одержимый

obstinate – упрямый

occasionally – иногда

odor – запах, аромат

offend – обижать

offer – 1) предлагать 2) предложение

onward – вперёд

opinion – взгляд, мнение

opportunity – возможность

opposite – 1) противоположный 2) напротив

otherwise – иначе

ought – следует

oven – печь

overcoat – пальто, плащ

overdue – просроченный, запоздалый

overstudy – чрезмерно много учиться

overwhelm – переполнять, ошеломлять

owe – задолжать

owner – владелец

P

pack – упаковывать

page – лист, страница

pair – пара

pale – 1) бледный 2) бледнеть

pant – задыхаться

paradox – парадокс

paragraph – пункт, параграф

pardon – прощение, извинение

parent – родитель

particularly – особенно

party – вечеринка

passage – проход

pass – 1) проходить 2) проводить (время) 3) передавать

passion – страсть

passionately – страстно

passive – пассивный, инертный

patience – терпение

patient – 1) терпеливый 2) больной, пациент

pause – 1) пауза 2) делать паузу, останавливаться

pavilion – павильон, беседка

pawn – 1) залог 2) закладывать

pawnbroker – ростовщик, работник ломбарда

payment – плата

pearl – жемчужина, жемчуг

peculiarly – особенно, странно

penniless – нищий

permission – разрешение

permit – разрешать

perpetual – вечный, постоянный

perplexed – озадаченный

persist – упорствовать

perturb – беспокоить

pile – куча, стопка

pillow – подушка

pinch – сжать

pitifully – жалобно

plaint – жалоба

plead – просить, умолять

pull – тянуть

pulse – пульс

punch – ударить кулаком

purchase – 1) покупка 2) покупать

purely – чисто, исключительно

pursue – преследовать

puzzle – 1) головоломка, загадка 2) озадачивать

Q

quantity – количество

quart – кварта

quarter – четверть

quietly – тихо

quit – уходить

quite – вполне

quizzical – насмешливый, шутливый

quote – цитировать

R

rag – тряпьё, лохмотья

rage – гнев, ярость

rail-road – железная дорога

rather – довольно

rational – разумный

reading-room – читальный зал

rescue – спасать

reside – проживать, жить

restless – беспокойный, неугомонный

retain – удерживать, сохранять

rhythm – ритм

ribbon – лента

rival – соперник

rob – грабить

robber – грабитель

romance – романтика

rough – грубый

roughly – грубо, резко

rush – 1) спешка 2) мчаться, устремляться

S

sack – мешок

salary – заработная плата, жалованье

saloon – салон; зал

satisfaction – удовлетворение

satisfy – удовлетворять

selfish – эгоистичный

servant – слуга

shake – 1) трясти, потрясать 2) shake hands пожимать руки

shame – 1) стыд 2) досада

share – 1) доля 2) делиться

sharp – острый

sharply – резко

sincerely – искренне

T

tailor – портной

taste – 1) вкус 2) пробовать, быть на вкус

telegram – телеграмма

telegraph – 1) телеграф 2) посылать по телеграфу

temptation – искушение, соблазн

tender – 1) нежный, ласковый 2) чуткий

terrible – ужасный

terrific – потрясающий

terror – страх, ужас

U

ultimate – основной

unable – неспособный

unafraid – бесстрашный

unless – если не

utter – произносить

V

vacation – отпуск

valley – долина

value – 1) ценность 2) ценить

various – различный

vast – обширный

vocation – призвание, профессия

volume – том

voyage – путешествие

W

wage – заработная плата

wagon – повозка, фургон

wander – бродить

waste – тратить впустую, терять

whiskey – виски

Y

yearn – жаждать, стремиться

yell – кричать

youth – 1) юность 2) юноша

youthful – молодой

Примечания

1

He then went out and took in his sign. – Тогда он вышел на улицу и снял вывеску.

2

poor policy – зд. плохое решение

3

I believe that would have cured me, if it had not been for young Wilson. – Думаю, меня бы это вылечило, если бы не мой друг Уилсон.

4

have taken to their bosom – они пригрели

5

…have never failed to even sleep together on any night since they were born – …ни ночи с самого рождения они не спали порознь.

6

Good Templars – Орден добрых тамплиеров (занимается пропагандой здорового образа жизни, отказа от наркомании и алкоголизма, по нынешний день работает в нескольких европейских странах)

7

I was already tired of riding second-class on first-class tickets, so I took him up. – Мне уже надоело ездить в вагонах второго класса по билетам первого класса, и я поймал его на слове.

8

“Du lieber Gott!” – Боже мой! (нем.)

9

Send up the trunks. – Велите принести в номера наши чемоданы!

10

I “had him” again. – Снова моя взяла.

11

…846 times 2,500 are 2,115,000 – …846 умножить на 2 500 будет 2 115 000.

12

…and hit him in the rear —..и дал ему хорошего шлепка…

13

…and brained them all with an ax one night – …и однажды ночью разбил им всем головы топором.

14

pat—pat-pat – топ-топ-топ (звук шагов)

Content

Марк Твен / Mark Twain
Смешные рассказы / The Funny Stories

How to Cure a Cold

The McWilliamses And The Burglar Alarm

To Raise Poultry

The Siamese Twins

How I Edited an Agricultural Paper (Once)

Playing the Courier

About Barbers

The Danger of Lying in Bed

Speech on the Weather

The Story of the Good Little Boy

The Story of the Bad Little Boy

How to Tell a Story

The Golden Arm

A Letter from Santa Claus

Vocabulary

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J

K

L

M

N

O

P

Q

R

S

T

U

V

W

Y

Примечания