II. ТЕКСТЫ, В КОТОРЫХ ПРЕОБЛАДАЕТ ИНФОРМАЦИЯ ВТОРОГО РОДА
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Alan Marshall
How My Friends Keep Me Going 2
It is 10 a. m. and I have just taken the liver oil recommended by my grandmother. In two hours I shall take four concentrated liver pills and a spoonful of digestive powder, all supplied by my friends. I shall then lunch on nuts and raisins and finish up with
1 what we hold to be the best class - который мы считаем лучшим
2 to keep going - укреплять здоровье
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a teaspoonful of my after-meals digestive powder and a wineglass of tonic1.
I blame my friends for my sad condition.
A few weeks ago I could eat pork chops and cucumber salad. Now these dishes cause a state of seasickness.
It is all due to my desire to "keep going."
George started it: "You look white. You must eat plenty of raw liver. It makes blood." "I don't like the taste of raw liver," I said.
"You take it in pills," he said. "It's concentrated. Each pill represents half a pound of liver, and you take four before each meal."
"That makes six pounds of liver a day, "I said. "Isn't it too much?"
"I think not," said George.
Next day I met Bill. He recommended me the tonic.
George gave me the powder2 to be taken after meals and Alf the powder to be taken before eating. My grandmother re- commended the liver oil. I followed the advice of my friends. Now I had to prepare for bed an hour earlier to get through all the things I had to take. But I got worse and worse. Then I couldn't sleep.
I told George: "I can't sleep."
He took me aside and gave me some tablets. They were the smallest tablets I had ever seen. You've never seen such small tablets.
"Take one when you get into bed," he said, "but don't tell anyone that I gave them to you. They are prohibited," he said. "I got them from a chap that knows a doctor and they're only to be taken when you can't possibly sleep."
I took two on Sunday night. When I woke up the house was full of my friends. There was a doctor standing by my bed and it was Tuesday afternoon. Well! I must have slept. All my friends had their hats off and they are the sort of friends who wear their hats anywhere.
Keeping going is too dangerous.
1 tonic - укрепляющее средство
2 powder — порошок
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2
W.Jacob
Fair Emily
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A few days passed, and Captain Brisket came to Mr. Chalk's house.
Mr. and Mrs. Chalk were talking with Captain Bowers who had come with the hope to find out something about the stolen map.
"Captain Brisket," said the maid, opening the door.
Having shaken hands with everybody, Captain Brisket said: "Mr. Chalk, the Fair Emily is waiting for you."
"The fair who?" cried Mrs. Chalk in a terrible voice. Captain Brisket turned and looked at her in amazement.
"Emily who?" "Emily what!" "Why, it's a..."
"Hush!" said Mr. Chalk in fear. "It's a secret."
"It's a secret," said Captain Brisket, nodding calmly at Mrs. Chalk.
'A... secret?" cried Mrs Chalk. "You sit there and dare to tell me that?"
"It isn't my secret," said the frightened Mr. Chalk.
"It isn't his secret," repeated Captain Brisket.
"What has she got to do with my husband?" asked Mrs. Chalk.
There was no answer. Mrs. Chalk sat helplessly in her chair, looking
from her husband to Captain Brisket. Captain Bowers suddenly
broke the silence.
"What's her tonnage?" he asked, turning to Brisket.
"Two hundred and forty..."
Captain Brisket stopped dead, then said looking at Mrs. Chalk:
"The Fair Emily is a ship."
"It's a ship," repeated Captain Bowers, "a shipl For some reason, best known to himself, Mr. Chalk wants to keep the matter secret."
"Is this true, Thomas?" asked Mrs. Chalk.
"Yes, my dear," was the reply.
"Then, why didn't you tell me about it at once?"
"I... I wanted to give you a surprise... I have bought a ship to go
for a little cruise, just for pleasure."
"With Tredgold and Stobell," said Captain Bowers, very loudly and distinctly. Mrs. Chalk paid no attention to what he said. Speaking about the schooner as "our yacht," she at once began
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to discuss the voyage, the dresses she would take with her and so on.
Mr. Chalk kept silent. Then Captain Bowers rose thoughtfully, shook hands and left.
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3
W. S. Maugham
Foinet's Advice
Philip knew that Foinet lunched at a little restaurant in the Rue
d' Odessa, and he hurried his own meal so that he could go and wait outside till the painter came out. Philip walked up and down the crowded street and at last saw Monsieur Foinet walking towards him; Philip was very nervous, but he made himself go upt o him. "I should like to speak to you for one moment," he began. Foinet gave him a quick look, recognized him, but he did not smile a greeting. "Speak," he said.
"I've been working at the studio nearly two years now under you1.I want to ask you to tell me frankly if you think it worth while for me to continue," Philip's voice was shaking a little. Foinet walked on without looking up.
"I'm very poor," Philip continued. "If I have no talent I would rather do something else." Foinet turned round. "Let us go to your studio. You shall show me your works." "Now?" cried Philip. "Why not?" Philip had nothing to say. He felt terribly frightened. In his heart he hoped that Foinet would look at his pictures, would shake his hand and say: "Not bad. Go on, my boy. You have talent, real talent."
They arrived at the house. Philip suddenly felt that he did not want to know the truth; if he could he would have asked Foinet to go away. In the room Foinet sat down; and Philip without a word placed before him two portraits, two or three landscapes, and a number of sketches. "That's all," he said with a nervous laugh.
Foinet lit a cigarette. "You have very little money?" he asked at last. "Very little," answered Philip, with a sudden feeling of cold at his heart. "Not enough to live on."
1 to work under smb. - работать под чьим-либо руководством
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"With hard work there is no reason why you should not become
a painter. You would find hundreds who painted worse than you, hundreds who painted as well. I see no talent in anything you have shown me. You will never be anything but mediocre. But if you were to ask me my advice, I should say: try your luck at something else. It sounds very hard but let me tell you this: I would give all I have in the world if someone had given me this advice when I was your age and I had taken it."
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Philip looked up at him with surprise.
"It's cruel to discover one's mediocrity only when it is too late." He gave a little laugh as he said the last words and quickly walked out of the room.
4
Alfred Coppard
Tribute
Two honest young men, Tony Vassal and Nathan Regent1, lived in Braddle and worked together at the factory at Braddle. Tony married Patience Smith and Nathan married a rich girl.
About that time, you must know, the country started a war. The war demanded much money of Braddle. The workers of the Braddle factory worked day and night to provide money for the war. Almost everybody in Braddle became white and thin because they worked from morning till night. Not quite everybody, for the Regents' wealth increased so much that they did not know what to do with it; their faces were neither white nor thin!
"In times like these," said Nathan's wife, "we must help our country still more, still more we must help; let us lend our money to the country."
"Yes," said Nathan.
So they lent their money to their country. The country paid them tribute. And as their wealth continued to increase, they helped their country more and more, and received more tribute for that.
"In times like these," said the country, "we must have more men, more men we must have."
1 обратите внимание на говорящие имена и фамилии персонажей
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"What can we do to help our country?" asked Tony Vassall of his master, "we have no money to lend."
"But you can give your strong son Dan," answered his master. Tony gave his son Dan to the country.
"Good-bye, dear son," said his father, and his brother, and his sister Nancy said "Good-bye." His mother kissed him.
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Dan fell in battle; his sister Nancy took his place at the factory. Soon the neighbours said to Tony Vassal, "What a fine strong son
is your young Albert Edward!"
And Tony gave his son Albert Edward to the country.
"Good-bye, dear son," said his father; his sister kissed him, his
mother cried.
Albert Edward fell in battle; his mother took his place at the factory. But the war did not stop. And Tony Vassal went to battle and fell too. The country gave Patience a pension; but she died of grief. Many people died in those days, it was not strange at all. Nathan and his wife got so rich that after the war they died of over-eating, and their daughter Olive got great wealth,
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P. G. Wodehouse
Deep Waters
According to some historians, there was a young man in Rome who was a brilliant swimmer. When people said "he swims like a fish," others used to answer, "no, the strongest fish swim like him!" George Callender was such a swimmer too. George moved through
the sea as silently and as powerfully as a torpedo. When he swam the crawl, people opened their mouths and forgot to close them.
George came to Marvis Bay on the sea coast one evening in July. Marvis Bay is a pleasant place, visited by many tourists and people on vacation. George stood on the pier looking down into the water when he noticed a beautiful girl swimming in the water near the pier. She swam well. As a specialist, George could see that immediately. He watched with admiration, as she moved easily and quickly over the waves towards the pier. As she came nearer, he leaned over the rail to see her better. At that moment, the girl turned to swim on her back; and her eyes met his. Then she turned over again and disappeared under the pier. Now George leaned
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over still farther, so far that his hat fell off his head. He tried to catch his hat with one hand — and lost his balance and fell into the water. George shook the water out of his eyes and was about to begin swimming to the shore, but at this moment, he felt two strong hands under his back and a voice in his ear said: "Don't be afraid; don't struggle; there is no danger."
George did not struggle, he was working out a plan of action. For a young man one of the most difficult things in the world is to be introduced to the girl of his dreams. What a wonderful oppor- tunity this was for George! They were not yet friends, but they had met. A girl who has saved a man from death in the sea cannot pass by him the next day without speaking to him.
"It was wonderful!" George said with deep feeling. "You are the bravest, the finest, the best..." He saw that she was smiling.
"You must learn to swim," the girl said. "I can teach you in a week." Like all decent people, George didn't like liars, and ordinarily he didn't tell lies. But this time the struggle between George and George's conscience was short. His conscience had no chance to win from the beginning.
"I'll be glad and thankful if you will," said George. And even before he finished saying the words, he knew that he would have to continue telling lies for many days. The true explanation was impos- sible. But his heart was not heavy; it even sang a little.
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F. R. Barratt
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