CLIMATE AND WEATHER IN GREAT BRITAIN 3 страница
It was quite late when we got back. We sat down to dinner. It was grand. When it was over all of us wanted to help clear the things up and wash the dishes, only Mother said that she would really much rather do it. When we all kissed Mother before going to bed, she said it had been the most wonderful day in her life and I think there were tears in her eyes.
(After S. Leacock)
1 to keep Mother's Day отмечать (праздновать) День Матери
2 for our sake ради нас
3 it turned out... оказалось, что
4 we got everything arranged for the trip мы все подготовили к поездке
LOOKING BACK ON EIGHTY YEARS
In my long life I have seen many changes in our habits and customs.
The world I entered when at the age of eighteen I became a medical student was a,world that knew nothing of planes, motor-cars, movies, radio or telephone.
When I was still at school a lecturer showed us boys a new machine which reproduced the human voice. It was the first gramophone. The world I entered was a world that warmed itself with coal fires, lit itself by gas and looked upon a bathroom as a luxury out of the reach.
It was a very cheap world. When I entered St Thomas's Hospital I took a couple of furnished rooms for which I paid 18s a week. My landlady provided me with a solid breakfast before I went to the hospital and high tea when I came back at half-past six, and the two meals cost me about 12s a week. I was able to live very comfortably, pay my fees, buy my necessary instruments, and clothe myself.
I had enough money to go to the theatre at least once a week. The pit, to which I went, was not the orderly thing it's now.
There were no queues. The crowd collected at the doors, and when they were opened there was a struggle, with a lot of pushing and elbowing and shouting to get a good place. But that was part of the fun.
Travelling was cheap, too, in those days. When I was twenty I went to Italy by myself for the six weeks of the Easter vacation.
I spent five years at St Thomas's Hospital. I was an unsatisfactory medical student, for my heart was not in it. I wanted, I had always wanted, to be a writer, and in the evening, after my tea, I wrote and read.
I wrote a novel, called Liza of Lambeth sent it to a publisher, and it was accepted. It appeared during my last year at the hospital and had something of a success. It was of course an accident, but naturally I did not know that. I felt I could afford to chuck medicine and make writing my profession; so three days after passing the final examinations which gave me my medical qualifications, I set out for Spain to learn Spanish and write another book. Looking back now, after these years, and knowing as I do the terrible difficulties of making a living by writing, I realise that I was taking a fearful risk. It never occurred to me. I abandoned the medical profession with relief, but I do not regret the five years I spent at the hospital, far from it .
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They taught me pretty well all I know about human nature, for in a hospital you see it in the raw. People in pain, people in fear of death, do not try to hide anything from their doctor, and if they do he can generally guess what they are hiding.
(After S. Maugham)
1 a luxury ['lAkJari] out of the reach недосягаемая роскошь
2 18$ a week 18 шиллингов в неделю
3 high tea "большой чай", ранний ужин с чаем
4 pay fees зд. платить за обучение
3 by myself сам, один
6 Liza of Lambeth "Лиза из Ламберта" (одно из ранних произведений Моэма)
7 to chuck разг. бросить, оставить
8 to make a living by writing зарабатывать на жизнь писательским трудом
9 far from it зд. наоборот
10 in the raw [ro:] без прикрас, в чистом виде, как есть
THE COP AND THE ANTHEM
On his bench in Madison Square, Soapy moved uneasily. Winter was coming and it was the time for him to look for shelter. Soapy's desires were not great. Three months in prison was what he wanted. There he was sure of a little food and a bed, safe from the winter wind and the cold.
For years prison had been his shelter during the winter. Now the time had come again. And that is why he moved uneasily on his bench.
Having decided to go to prison, Soapy at once set about fulfilling his desire.
There were many easy ways of doing this. The most pleasant was to dine well at some expensive restaurant, and then, after saying that he could not pay, be quietly arrested by a policeman and sent to prison by the judge.
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Soapy got up and walked out of the square and across the level sea of asphalt, where Broadway and Fifth Avenue flow together. He stopped at the window of a brightly lit cafe. Soapy was shaven, and his coat and tie were decent. But his boots and trousers were shabby. If he could reach a table in the restaurant and nobody saw him, he thought, success would be his. The upper part of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter's mind. A roasted duck, two bottles of wine, a cup of coffee, and a cigar would make him happy for the journey to his winter quarters.
But just as Soapy entered the restaurant door, the head waiter's eyes fell upon his shabby trousers and boots. Strong hands turned him round and pushed him to the sidewalk.
Soapy turned off Broadway.
He had to think of another way of getting to prison. At a corner of Sixth Avenue he saw a brightly lit shop window. Soapy took a stone and threw it at the glass and broke it. People came running around the corner, a policeman at their head. Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled when he saw the policeman's blue coat.
"Where is the man that has done it?" shouted the policeman.
"Do you think I have done it?" said Soapy in a friendly way.
The policeman did not understand Soapy's hint.
Men who break windows do not usually remain to speak to policemen. They run away. Just then the policeman saw a man who was hurrying to catch a car. Club in hand, he rushed after that man. Soapy had failed again.
On the opposite side of the street was a small and cheap restaurant. Soapy came in, sat down at a table, and ate a beefsteak and an enormous apple-pie. "Now call a policeman. I cannot pay. I have no money," said Soapy. "And don't keep a gentleman waiting."
"No cop for you," said the waiter, and seizing Soapy by the collar threw him out of the restaurant. Soapy got up and beat the dust from his clothes. He was in despair.
His last hope was to be caught for "disorderly conduct". Soapy began to yell at the top of his voice. He danced and cried like a madman. A policeman who was standing nearby turned his back to Soapy, and remarked to a passer-by: "It's one of those University lads. They are celebrating their traditional holiday. They are noisy; but they mean no harm". Soapy stopped in despair. He buttoned his thin coat against the cold wind and the rain, and walked on.
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At last he reached a street where there was little traffic and few pedestrians. At a quiet corner he suddenly stopped. There was an old church in front of him.
Through one window a soft light shone, and he heard the sweet music of the organ which made him come closer. The moon was above, cold and beautiful, and the music made Soapy suddenly remember those days when his life was full of such things as mothers and roses, and ambitions and friends, and pure thoughts, and clean collars.
The organ music set up a revolution in him. There was time yet. He was still young. He would get out of the mire. He would be somebody in the world. He would — Soapy felt a hand on his arm. He looked quickly around into the broad face of a policeman.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Nothing," said Soapy.
"Then come along," said the policeman.
"Three months' imprisonment," said the judge in the Police Court next morning.
(After O. Henry)
1 The Cop and the Anthem ['аепЭэт] "Полицейский и хорал"
2 Having decided to go to prison... Решив попасть в тюрьму...
3 set about fulfilling his desire приступил к осуществлению своего плана (желания)
4 to flow together сливаться
5 would raise no doubt [daut] in the waiter's mind не вызовет никаких сомнений у официанта
6 quarters ['kwo:t8z] зд. квартира, убежище
7 sidewalk ['saidwoik] амер. тротуар
8 Club in hand С дубинкой в руке
9 to keep waiting заставлять ждать
10 beat the dust from his clothes стряхнул пыль с одежды
11 disorderly conduct [dis,o:dali 'kondekt] нарушение общественного порядка, хулиганство
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12 to yell at the top of his voice вопить во все горло
13 they mean no harm они безобидны
14 mire['maia] трясина, болото
15 Police Court [pa'li:s ,ko:t] полицейский суд (по мелким делам)
THE PROBLEM OF THOR BRIDGE
It was a cold morning in October. I went down to breakfast and found that Sherlock Holmes' had already finished his meal.
"I am going to have a visitor," my friend said. "It's Neil Gibson, the Gold King. He wants to speak to me about the tragic end of his wife. You have probably read about it in the papers. The man is an American, but he bought a large estate in Hampshire some years ago. Here is a letter I received from him in the morning."
I took the letter and read the following:
"Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes, I can't see the best woman I have ever met go to her death.I must try to save her. I can't explain what has happened. But I know Miss Dunbar is innocent. She has a kind heart, she has never killed a fly. I'll come at eleven tomorrow. I'll give you all the money I have if only you can save her.
Yours truly, J. Neil Gibson"
"Now, Watson," said Sherlock Holmes after I finished reading the letter, "a few words about the story. This man is a great financier and a man of violent temper. He had a wife, a middle-aged woman, who died tragically some weeks ago.
There was also a young and very attractive governess in the house who looked after the two small children. These are the three people who are connected with the tragedy. And the place where the woman met her death is an old English estate. The wife was found in the garden, nearly half a mile from the house, late at night, with a revolver bullet through her brain. No revolver was found near her. No revolver near her, Watson — remember that."
"But why suspect the governess?" I asked.
"A revolver was found on the floor of her wardrobe with one bullet missing." He paused and repeated slowly, "On-thefloor-of-her-wardrobe."
Then he was silent for some time. "Yes, Watson, it was found. What do you say to that? Then the dead woman had a note asking her to come" to that place in the garden near the bridge. The note was signed by the governess.
Do you like that? And, at last, there's the motive.
Gibson is a millionaire. If his wife dies ... she will have everything — love, money, power. Remember, Watson, she is young and beautiful."
"Anything else against her?"
"She could not prove an alibi. She herself said she had been near Thor Bridge, the place where the woman was killed. Some passing villager had seen her there too, at about eleven o'clock. And here is our client, I think."
But it was not the client. The man who entered the room was a Mr Bates. We had never heard of him before. He was a thin, nervous man with frightened eyes.
He told us that he was the manager of Mr Gibson's estate, that Mr Gibson was a villain and a hard man; that he had treated his wife cruelly, and she had been very unhappy; that she had been a Brazilian, a creature of the Tropics, and she had loved him as such women could love.
"We all liked her and were sorry for her," he said, "and we hated him. He didn't love her. And one thing more. He is a liar.
Don't believe his words. That's all I have to say. Now I must go. I don't want to meet him here."
With a frightened look our strange visitor ran to the door and disappeared.
At eleven o'clock we heard heavy steps upon the stairs and the famous millionaire entered the room. As I looked at him I understood the fear and dislike of his manager. He was very tall, his face was hard and cruel, with deep lines upon it. Cold grey eyes looked at us each in turn.
"Let me tell you, Mr Holmes," he began, "that money is nothing to me in this case. This woman is innocent and this woman must be cleared. You must do it. Name the sum."
"I am not interested in money," my friend answered coldly.
"Well, if dollars are nothing to you, think of your reputation. Your name will be in every paper in England and America."
"Thank you, Mr Gibson. We are wasting time. It will probably surprise you to know that I prefer to work anonymously. Sit down, please, and give me the facts."
(After A. Conan Doyle)
1 Sherlock Holmes [J3:lok 'haumz]
2 Neil Gibson [,neil 'gibsan]
3 Hampshire ['haempjia] Гемпшир
4 I can't see the best woman I have ever met go to her death Я не могу допустить, чтобы лучшей из женщин, которых я когда-либо встречал, грозила смерть.
5 Dunbar ['dAnba:]
6 she has never killed a fly она и мухи не обидит
7 Yours truly Преданный Вам (обычная форма вежливости в конце письма)
8 Watson ['wotsan]
9 with a revolver bullet through her brain с простреленной головой
10 A revolver... with one bullet missing. Револьвер..., в котором не хватало одной пули.
11 a note asking her to come записка, в которой ее просили прийти
12 She could not prove an alibi ['aelibai] Она не могла доказать свое алиби (т.е. что ее не было на месте преступления в момент совершения убийства)
13 a Mr Bates некто мистер Бейтс
14 a Brazilian [bra'ziljan] бразилианка
15 the IVopics ['tropiks] тропики
16 with deep lines upon it испещренное глубокими морщинами
17 this woman must be cleared с этой женщины надо снять подозрение
18 I prefer to work anonymously [a'nonimasli] я предпочитаю работать так, чтобы мое имя оставалось неизвестным
A SOUND OF THUNDER
The sign on the wall read:
TIME SAFARI.
SAFARIS TO ANY YEAR IN THE PAST.
YOU NAME THE ANIMAL.
WE TAKE YOU THERE.
YOU SHOOT IT.
Eckels put his hand into his pocket and slowly took out a check for ten thousand dollars.
"Does this safari guarantee I come back alive?" he asked the man behind the desk.
"We guarantee nothing," said the official, "except the dinosaurs." He turned.
"This is Mr Travis, your Safari Guide in the Past.
He'll tell you what and where to shoot. If he says no shooting, no shooting."
"Hell and damn," Eckels said, looking at the flickering Time Machine.
"A real Time Machine! If the election had gone badly yesterday, I might be here now running from the results. Thank God, Keith won. He'll make a fine President of the United States."
"Yes," said the man behind the desk. "We're lucky. If Deutscher had won, we'd have the worst dictatorship. People came to us, you know, joking but not joking.
Said if Deutscher became President they wanted to go live in 1492. Of course, our business is to organize Safaris, not Escapes. Anyway, Keith's President now.
All you've got to worry about is — "
"Shooting my dinosaur," Eckels finished it for him.
"A Tyrannosaurus rex. The Thunder Lizard, the most terrible monster in history.
Sign this paper. Anything happens to you, we're not responsible.
Those dinosaurs are hungry".
Eckels flushed angrily.
"You're trying to scare me! "
"Frankly, yes. We don't want anyone here who'll panic at the first shot. Six Safari Guides were killed last year, and a dozen hunters. We're here to give you the biggest thrill a real hunter ever had. Travelling you back sixty million years!"
First a day and then a night and then a day and then a night, then it was day-night-day-night-day.
A week, a month, a year, a decade! AD 2055. AD 2019. 1999. 1957. Gone!
The machine roared.
They put on their oxygen helmets and tested the intercoms.
The Machine slowed, then stopped.
They were in an old time, a very old time indeed, three hunters and two Safari Guides with their blue metal guns across their knees.
"Christ isn't born yet," said Travis.
"Moses has not gone to the mountain to talk with God. The Pyramids are still in the earth. Remember that, Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler — none of them exists."
The men nodded.
"That" — Mr Travis pointed — "is the jungle of sixty million two thousand and fifty-five years before President Keith."
He indicated a metal path running across the steaming swamp, among giant ferns and palms.
"And that," he said, "is the Path laid by Time Safari for your use. It is six inches above the earth. It's made of an anti-gravity metal. Its purpose is to keep you from touching" this world of the past in any way. Stay on the Path. Don't go off it. I repeat. Don't go off. For any reason! And don't shoot any animal we don't okay."
"Why?" asked Eckels.
"We don't want to change the Future.
We don't belong here in the Past."
"That's not clear," said Eckels.
"All right," Travis continued, "say you step on a mouse here and kill it. That means all the future families of this one mouse are destroyed, right?"
"Right."
"And all the families of the families of that one mouse! You destroy one, then a dozen, then a thousand, a million, a billion possible mice!"
"So they're dead," said Eckels. "So what?"
"So what? Well, what about the foxes that'll need those mice to survive? For want often mice, a fox dies. For want of ten foxes, a lion starves. For want of a lion, thousands of insects and billions of other life forms are thrown into destruction".
Fifty-nine million years later, a cave man, one of a dozen in the entire world, goes hunting saber-tooth tigers for food. But you, friend, have stepped on all the tigers in that region. By stepping on one single mouse. So the cave man starves. And the cave man is an entire future nation. Destroy this one man, and you destroy a race, a nation, an entire history of life. Perhaps Rome never rises on its seven hills. Perhaps Europe is forever a dark forest. Perhaps there'll never be a United States at all. So be careful. Stay on the Path. Never step off!"
(After R. Bradbury)
1 Hell and damn [daem] разг. Черт возьми
2 Deutscher f'doitja] нем. немец ("говорящая" фамилия кандидата является намеком на Гитлера и немецкий фашизм)
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