Пратика по английскому языку 2015
учебно-методический материал по английскому языку (8 класс) на тему

Опубликовано 10.06.2015 - 12:08 - Glavatskikh Anna Nikolaevna

В нашей школе ежегодно проводиться практика по английскому языку. В этом году темой практики стало творчесво английских и аериканских писателей, т.к. 2015 год объявлен в России годом литературы

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В нашей школе ежегодно проводиться практика по английскому языку. В этом году темой практики стало творчество английских и американских писателей и поэтов, так как 2015 год объявлен в России годом литературы. В связи с этим мной были разработаны материалы для творческой работы учащихся.

В наше работе мы познакомились с творчеством У.Шекспира, О.Генри, М.Твена, Э.Хэмингуэя, С.Ликока, Дж.Лондона. И по прочтении рассказа мы оформляли «двуязычную книжку» и выражали свои впечатления об авторе или его произведении в жанре «синквейн». Синквейн – это творческая работа, которая имеет короткую форму стихотвоения, состоящая из пяти нерифмованных строк:

1 сторока – два прилагательных, характеризующих данное понятие

2 строка – три глагола, обозначающие действия в рамках заданной темы

4 строка – короткое предложение, рассказывающее суть темы или отношение к ней

5 строка – заключение состоящее из одного существительного, выражающее эмоции, личное отношение к теме.

Материалы для практики

Ernest Hemingway___________________________________

Ernest Miller Hemingway (July 21, 1899 – July 2, 1961) was an American author and journalist. His economical and understated style had a strong influence on 20th-century fiction, while his life of adventure and his public image influenced later generations. Hemingway produced most of his work between the mid-1920s and the mid-1950s, and won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1954. He published seven novels, six short story collections, and two non-fiction works. Additional works, including three novels, four short story collections, and three non-fiction works, were published posthumously. Many of his works are considered classics of American literature.

Эрнест Хемингуэй___________________________________

A DAY’S WAIT by E. Hemingway

He came into the room to shut the windows while me were still in bed and I saw he looked ill. He was shivering, his face was white, and he walked slowly as though it ached to move.

"What's the matter, Schatz?" (Schatz (нем.) – дорогой)

"I've got a headache".

"You better go back to bed".

"No, I am all right".

"You go to bed. I'll see you when I'm dressed".

But when I came downstairs he was dressed, sitting by the fire, looking a very sick and miserable boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead I knew he had a fever.

"You go up to bed," said, "you are sick".

"I am all right", he said.

When the doctor came he took the boy's temperature.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"One hundred and two."

Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different coloured capsules with instructions for giving them. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above one hundred and four degrees. This was a light epidemic of influenza and there was no danger if you avoided pneumonia.

Back in the room I wrote the boy's temperature down and made a note of the time to give the various capsules.

"Do you want me to read to you?"

"All right. If you want to," said the boy. His face was very white and there were dark areas under his eyes. He lay still in the bed and seemed very detached from what was going on.

I read about pirates from Howard Pyle's "Book of Pirates", but I could see he was not following what I was reading.

"How do you feel, Schatz?" I asked him. (Schatz (нем.) – дорогой)

"Just the same, so far," he said.

I sat at the foot of the bed and read to myself while I waited for it to be time to give another capsule. It would have been natural for him to go to sleep, but when I looked up he was looking at the foot of the bed.

"Why, don't you try to go to sleep? I'll wake you up for the medicine."

"I'd rather stay awake."

After a while he said to me. "You don't have to stay in here with me, Papa, if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me."

"No, I mean you don't have to stay if it's going to bother you."

I thought perhaps he was a little light-headed and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock I went out for a while…

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At the house they said the boy had refused to let anyone come into the room.

"You can't come in," he said. "You mustn't get what I have." I went up to him and found him in exactly the same position I had left him, white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staring still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.

I took his temperature.

"What is it?"

"Something like a hundred," I said. It was one hundred and two and four tenths.

"It was a hundred and two," he said.

"Who said so? Your temperature is all right," I said. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I don't worry," he said, "but I can't keep from thinking."

"Don't think," I said. "Just take it easy."

"I'm taking it easy," he said and looked straight ahead.

He was evidently holding tight onto himself about something.

"Take this with water."

"Do you think it will do any good?"

"Of course, it will."

I sat down and opened the "Pirate" book and commenced to read, but I could see he was not following, so I stopped.

102 градусов по Фаренгейту = 38,9 градусов по Цельсию

"About what time do you think I'm going to die?" he asked.

"What?"

"About how long will it be before I die?"

"You aren't going to die. What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, yes, I am. I heard him say a hundred and two."

"People don't die with a fever of one hundred and two. That's a silly way to talk."

"I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can't live with forty-four degrees. I've got a hundred and two."

He had been waiting to die all day, ever since nine o'clock in the morning.

"You poor Schatz," I said. "It's like miles and kilometres. You aren't going to die. That's a different thermometre. On that thermometre thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it's ninety-eight."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I said. "It's like miles and kilometres. You know, like how many kilometres we make when we do seventy miles in the car?"

"Oh," he said.

But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himself relaxed too, finally, and the next day he was very slack and cried very easily at little things that were of no importance

William Shakespeare ______________________________

William Shakespeare (26 April 1564– 23 April 1616) was an English poet, playwright, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language. He is often called England's national poet. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.

Shakespeare was born and brought up in Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Between 1585 and 1592, he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part-owner of a playing company called the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men. Few records of Shakespeare's private life survive, and there has been considerable speculation about such matters as his physical appearance, sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether the works attributed to him were written by others.

Уильям Шекспир___________________________________

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AS YOU LIKE IT by W. Shakespeare

Many years ago, there lived in France two girls who were the very best of friends. They were cousins, and both were beautiful. The taller and stronger of them was called Rosalind, and the name of the other was Celia. Rosalind's father was a great duke, but his brother, Celia's father, had driven him out of his own dukedom. Many noblemen, who hated the cruel brother, but loved Rosalind's father, went with him, to live in the Forest of Arden.

When Rosalind's father was driven from the cas- tle, her uncle kept the girl there. She grew up together with his own little girl Celia. They grew up together, and Celia was so sweet and so kind to Rosalind that Rosalind sometimes forgot to be sad because her father had been driven away.

One of the truest friends of the former duke had been a brave knight called Sir Rowland. He was dead but he had left two sons. Oliver, the elder, was not a good brother. Instead of doing as his father had wished, and being kind to his younger brother whose name was Orlando, he gave him neither money nor any chance of learning anything, and made him take all his meals with the servants.

He hated Orlando because he was so brave and strong and handsome, and he was kinder to his horses than he was to Orlando. Sir Rowland had had an old servant named Adam. Adam loved Orlando, and was very sorry that Oliver was so cruel to his younger brother.

One day, when Orlando felt that he could not bear Oliver's cruelty any longer, he asked him to give him the money that his father had left him and let him go and seek his fortune. He said he couldn't go on doing nothing and learning nothing. But Oliver only laughed at him, and so the brothers had a quarrel. Oliver hated Orlando more than ever after that quarrel. He thought of the best way to kill him and to keep for himself the money that their father had left for Orlando.

About this time Celia's father gave a great wrestling match. He had a very strong paid wrestler of his own. This man wrestled so well that only the bravest had the courage to wrestle with him, for he often killed those with whom he wrestled. Orlando was a very good wrestler and was afraid of no one, so he made up his mind to go to the match and wrestle with this man.

When Oliver learned that Orlando intended to do this, he ordered the Duke's wrestler to come to his castle. He told the wrestler all sorts of lies about Orlando. He said that Orlando was one of the worst men in France, that the wrestle would be doing a good deed if he broke his neck. The wrestler promised to do his best to kill Orlando.

The following day the wrestling match took place on the grass in front of the Duke's castle. The Duke and all his noblemen came to see the sport, and Celia and Rosalind also came. For in those days it was the custom for ladies to look at things that now seem to us very cruel.

When Orlando came forward, he looked so young and brave and handsome that even the cruel duke who did not know who he was, was sorry to think that the wrestler would kill him.

"Try to persuade the lad not to wrestle," said the duke to Celia and Rosalind. "He has no chance at all. My man is sure to kill him."

Very kindly but urgently Celia and Rosalind begged Orlando not to wrestle.

But Orlando answered, "Do not think badly of me because I refuse to do what you wish.

It is not easy to say 'no' to ladies who are so kind and so fair. Let your beautiful eyes and good wishes go with me."

Then the wrestling began, and everyone expected the duke's wrestler to kill Orlando. But Orlando lifted the strong man up in his arms and threw him on to the ground. All the people shouted in admiration, and the duke called out, "No more! No more!"

He turned to his wrestler and asked him how he felt. But the man lay quite still and quiet, he could neither speak nor move.

"He cannot speak, my lord," said one of the noblemen. So the duke ordered his men to carry his wrestler away.

"What is your name, young man?" he asked of Orlando.

"Orlando, my lord, the younger son of Sir Rowland."

"Your father was my enemy," said the duke. "I would have been better pleased with your brave deed if you had told me of another father."

Then the duke and his lords and his servants went away, and Orlando was left alone with Rosalind and Celia. The girls went up to Orlando and praised him for his bravery.

Celia was sad that her father had spoken so unkindly to Orlando. And Rosalind, taking a gold chain off her own neck, gave it to him. She would have given him a richer gift, she said, if she had not been only a poor girl. Orlando loved them both for their goodness, but he loved Rosalind so much that he made up his mind to marry her one day, if she would agree to marry him.

Meanwhile the duke was angry with Orlando, the son of his enemy, for having defeated his wrestler, and he was angry with Rosalind for having given Orlando her gold chain.

The more the duke thought of these things, the angrier he grew. At last he told Rosalind to leave his castle.

"If you are found even twenty miles from here within the next ten days, you shall die," he said.

Celia was very sad at her father's cruelty to Rosalind, who was so dear to her. She begged the duke not to be so unkind, but he refused to listen to her. Then she told him that if he sent Rosalind away, he must send her away, too, because she could not live without Rosalind.

"You are a fool!" her father shouted. He told Rosalind that she would be killed if she did not go at once.

But Celia would not let Rosalind go alone. So they made up their minds to travel together to the forest of Arden, where Rosalind's father and his friends were hiding. They knew they might meet robbers on their way, so Celia stained her face to make it look sunburned, and dressed herself like a poor country girl. Rosalind put on boy's clothes, and took a little axe and spear with her.

Now the duke, Celia's father, had a jester called Touchstone. This jester was a very funny fellow who was always talking nonsense and joking. He was very fond of his young mistress Celia.

"What if we took Touchstone with us?" said Rosalind when they were ready to start on their way. "Will he not be a comfort to us?"

"He will go all over the wide world with us," said Celia. "Let me ask him to come."

So when Rosalind and Celia went off to the forest, kind Touchstone led the way. In his red clothes, with the bells on his cap jingling, he cheerfully stepped out in front of them, carrying their bundle of food and clothes. And when night fell and the forest was dark, and Rosalind and Celia grew tired and sad, Touchstone's merry face and the jokes he made, soon cheered the two girls up again.

While these things were happening, Oliver was planning how to kill Orlando. He hated him all the more when he heard people praising him. He made up his mind to have him murdered in some way or other.

Adam, the old servant, warned Orlando of the danger. Orlando decided to go to the Forest of Arden, and Adam said he would go with him as well.

Orlando had no money, but Adam gave him all his savings, and so they too went off to the Forest. Far away, in the woods Rosalind's father and his friends led a happy life together. They hunted wild animals, and had plenty of good food. They often feasted under the thick green trees. As they feasted together one day, a young man rushed out from among the trees, his drawn sword in his hand.

"Stop, and eat no more!" he cried.

The duke and his friends asked him what he wanted.

"Food," he said. "I am almost dying for want of food."

They asked him to sit down and eat, but he refused because an old man who had followed him out of deep love was in the wood, dying of hunger. He said he would eat nothing until he had first fed him.

The young man was Orlando, and when the duke and his followers had helped him to bring Adam to where they were, and fed them both, the old man and his young master grew quite strong again. When the duke learned that Orlando was the son of his friend Sir Rowland, he welcomed him and the faithful old servant more warmly still.

So Orlando lived happily with the duke and his friends in the forest, but all the time he was thinking of Rosalind. Every day he wrote poems about her, and pinned them on trees in the wood or carved them deep in the bark of the trees.

Now Rosalind and Celia and Touchstone had also come safely to the forest, and were living in a little. cottage that belonged to a shepherd there.

Rosalind loved Orlando as much as he loved her, and when she read the verses that Orlando had left on the trees, she was happy, for she knew that he had not forgotten her.

At last one day she and Celia met Orlando. He did not recognise them in the clothes they were wearing. And with their faces stained brown, he took them for the shepherd boy and his sister that they pretended to be.

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He became great friends with them, and often came to see them in their. little cottage, and talked to them of Rosalind, the beautiful lady that he loved.

Meanwhile Orlando's brother was punished severely for his cruelty. When Orlando went away, Celia's father thought that Oliver had killed his brother. He took Oliver's land away from him, and told him never to come back to his court until he had found Orlando.

So Oliver went away alone, to look for his brother. He looked for him week after week in vain, until his clothes were worn and his hair so long and dirty that he looked like a beggar. On his way from Rosalind's cottage, Orlando came on him one day. Oliver was lying fast asleep under an old oak. Round his neck there was a big snake that was just going to bite him and kill him when it saw Orlando and escaped Even as it went away, Orlando saw another awful danger near his unkind brother. A hungry lion was hiding under some bushes, ready to kill the sleeping men.

For a moment Orlando thought only of his brother's cruelties. He knew that he well deserved death. Twice he turned away to leave him, but he had too kind a heart to do so cruel a thing, even to his worst enemy.

He fought the lion and killed it, but not before it had torn his arm with its sharp teeth.

The noise of the fight awoke Oliver, who saw that Orlando was risking his own life to save him. Ashamed of what he had done to Orlando, Oliver told his brother how sorry he was, and begged his pardon, and they became friends. Orlando took his brother to the duke, and he was fed and clothed there.

When Rosalind saw a handkerchief stained with Orlando’s blood, and realised that he had been wounded, she fainted. Thinking that she was a boy, those who were near her, laughed at her for being so womanish.

But soon Rosalind told them her secret.

When the duke learned that Rosalind was his own daughter, and Orlando learned that the shepherd boy was his own fair Rosalind, there were no other men in all France as happy as the duke and Orlando.

Rosalind and Orlando were married at once, and on the same day Oliver, who was truly sorry for the bad deeds he had done, was married to Celia. Just then a messenger came to the duke and said that his brother, Celia’s father had been sorry for his cruelty and had returned his brother’s dukedom to him.

So they were all happy there under the green trees.

Jack London_______________________________________

John Griffith Chaney (January 12, 1876 – November 22, 1916) was an American author, journalist, and social activist. He was one of the first fiction writers to obtain worldwide celebrity and a large fortune from his fiction alone. London was a passionate advocate of unionization, socialism, and the rights of workers. He wrote several powerful works dealing with these topics.

Джек Лондон

THE BANKS OF SACRAMENTO by J. London

"Young" Jerry was a fourteen-year-old boy with red hair, blue eyes and freckled skin. Together with his father "old" Jerry, he lived on the bank of the Sacramento in California. "Old" Jerry was an old sailor who had been given a job at the Yellow Dream mine and was in charge of the ore cables (cable – трос) that ran across the river. On the bank one could see a steel drum round which the endless cable passed. An ore car (ore car – вагонетка), when loaded, crossed the river, carried down by its own weight and dragging back, at the same time, an empty car travelling in the opposite direction along the same cable. The Yellow Dream mine had been abandoned and the cars were no longer used for carrying ore, but "old" Jerry still remained watchman over the cables.

That morning "young" Jerry was alone in the cabin. His father had gone to San Francisco and was not to be back till next day. It was raining heavily all the morning and Jerry decided not to go out, when, at one o'clock, there came a knock at the door. A man and a woman came in. They were Mr. and Mrs. Spillane, ranchers who lived a dozen miles back from the river.

"Where is your father?" Spillane asked, and Jerry noticed that both he and his wife were excited.

"San Francisco," Jerry answered briefly.

"We've got to get across, Jerry," Spillane continued, taking his wife by the hand, "her father's been badly wounded in an explosion; he's dying. We've just been told. Will you run the cable (cable – трос) for us?"

Jerry hesitated. Of course, he had worked the cable many times, but only with the help of his father.

I'll stand for the risk," Spillane added, "don't you see, kid, we've simply got to cross."

Jerry nodded his head. They all came out into the raging storm, and the man and the woman got into the ore car (ore car – вагонетка).

"Let's get started!" Spillane shouted to make himself heard above the roar of the wind. Jerry slowly and carefully let the car go, and the drum began to go round and round. Jerry carefully watched the cable passing round the drum.

"Three hundred feet" he was saying to himself, "three hundred and fifty, four hundred –" The cable stopped. Something had gone wrong.

The boy examined the drum closely and found nothing the matter with it. Probably it was the drum on the other side that had been damaged ...

He was afraid at the thought of the man and woman hanging out there over the river in the driving rain. Nothing remained but to cross over to the other side by the Yellow Dragon cable some distance up the river. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He was already wet to the skin as he ran along the path to the Yellow Dragon. Safely across, he found his way up the other bank to the Yellow Dream cable (cable – трос). To his surprise, he found the drum in perfect working order. From this side the car with the Spillanes was only two hundred and fifty feet away. So he shouted to the man to examine the trolley of his car. The answering cry came in a few moments.

"She's all right, kid!"

Nothing remained but the other car which hung somewhere beyond Spillane's car.

The boy's mind had been made up. In the toolbox by the drum he found an old monkey-wrench (monkey-wrench – разводной ключ), a short iron bar and a few feet of rope. With the rope he made a large loop round the cable on which the empty car was hanging. Then he swung out over the river, sitting in the rope loop and began pulling himself along the cable by his hands.

And in the midst of the storm which half blinded him he arrived at the empty car in his swinging loop. A single glance was enough to show him what was wrong. The front trolley wheel had jumped off the cable, and the cable had been jammed between the wheel and the fork. It was clear that the wheel must be removed from the fork.

He began hammering on the key (key – зд. шплинт) that held the wheel on its axle (axle – ось). He hammered at it with one hand and tried to hold himself steady with the other. The wind kept on swinging his body and often made his blows miss. At the end of half an hour the key had been hammered clear but still he could not draw it out. A dozen times it seemed to him that he must give up in despair. Then an idea came to him – he searched his pockets and found a nail. Putting the nail through the looped head of the key he easily pulled it out. With the help of the iron bar Jerry got the wheel free, replaced the wheel, and by means of the rope pulled up the car till the trolley once more rested properly on the cable (cable – трос).

He dropped out of his loop and down into the car which began moving at once. Soon he saw the bank rising before him and the old familiar drum going round and round.

Jerry climbed out and made the car fast. Then he sank down by the drum and burst out crying. He cried because he was tired out, because his hands were all cut and cold and because he was so excited. But above all that was the feeling that he had done well, that the man and woman had been saved.

Yes, Jerry was proud of himself and at the same time sorry that his father had not been there to see!

Jack London_______________________________________

Джек Лондон

THE SCHOLARSHIP from “Green Years” by A. J. Cronin

… Robert Shannon will be able to continue his studies only if he gets the scholarship founded by Sir John Marshall, but his best friend Gavin becomes his rival.

It was the first day of the Easter Holidays. I was going fishing with Gavin. The last pleasure I allowed myself before beginning to prepare for the Marshall.

We met early in the morning. Gavin was waiting for me. Impossible to describe the silent joy of our meeting... We walked side by side through the quiet village to the lake.

“No fishing until evening, I am afraid”, Gavin murmured. “No wind and the day is too bright”.

Until the sun went down, Gavin and I sat on an upturned boat, outside his father's fishing hut. We spoke very little. At seven o'clock, after Mrs. Glen, the woman of the cottage had given us some tea and boiled eggs and milk, we pushed the boat into the water. I took the oars. When we were far from the shore, Gavin spoke, hidden by the growing darkness.

“I understand you are sitting the Marshall, Robie?”

I was greatly surprised. “Yes… How did you know?”

“Mrs. Keith told my sister”, Gavin paused, breathing heavily. “I am trying for it too”.

I looked at him in silence. I was shocked and confused.

“But Gavin… You do not need the money!”

NOTES:

rival – конкурент

scholarship – стипендия

Easter Holidays – пасхальные каникулы

oars – весла

to sit the Marshall – сдавать экзамены на стипендию Маршалла

I was silent. I knew that Gavin adored his father; and I had heard whispers that all was not well with the Mayor's business. Yet his words came as an unexpected blow.

"All the cleverest boys in the country are competing," he continued. "One more won't make much difference. Besides there is the honour of the town. It is twelve years since a Levenford boy took the scholarship." He drew a deep breath. “One of us must win it”.

“You may be the one, Gavin”, I said in a low voice; I knew he was a fine scholar.

Gavin replied slowly. “I would like to win for my father’s sake. But I think you have a better chance”. He paused. “If you win, will you go on to be a doctor?”

Gavin was the only person on earth to whom I could tell the truth. I said: “I wish with all my heart to be a medical biologist, you know, a doctor who does research”. There was a long pause.

“Yes”, Gavin said thoughtfully. “It is bad that we have to fight each other over the scholarship. But, it will not affect our friendship, of course”.

Yet I felt a sudden sadness in my heart. I thought: “Gavin and I… One of us must be defeated”.

Mark Twain

Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910), better known by his pen name Mark Twain, was an American author and humorist. He wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876) , Adventures of Huckleberry Finn(1885), the latter often called "The Great American Novel".

Twain grew up in Hannibal, Missouri, which provided the setting for Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. After an apprenticeship with a printer, he worked as a typesetter and contributed articles to the newspaper of his older brother, Orion Clemens. The short story brought international attention, and was even translated into classic Greek. His wit and satire, in prose and in speech, earned praise from critics and peers, and he was a friend to presidents, artists, industrialists, and European royalty.

Марк Твен

A DOG AND THREE DOLLARS by M. Twain

I have always believed that a man must be honest. "Never ask for money you have not earned", I always said.

Now I shall tell you a story which will show you how honest I have always been all my life.

A few days ago at my friend's house I met General Miles. General Miles was a nice man and we became great friends very quickly.

"Did you live in Washington in 1867?" the general asked me.

"Yes, I did," I answered.

"How could it happen that we did not meet then?" said General Miles.

"General", said I. "We could not meet then. You forget that you were already a great general then, and I was a poor young writer whom nobody knew and whose books nobody read. You do not remember me, I thought, but we met once in Washington at that time."

I remember it very well. I was poor then and very often I did not have money even for my bread. I had a friend. He was a poor writer too. We lived together. We did everything together: worked, read books, went for walks together. And when we were hungry, we were both hungry. Once we were in need of three dollars. I don't remember why we needed these three dollars so much, but I remember well that we had to have the money by the evening.

"We must get these three dollars," said my friend. "I shall try to get the money, but you must also try."

I went out of the house, but I did not know where to go and how to get the three dollars. For an hour I was walking along the streets of Washington and was very tired. At last I came to a big hotel. "I shall go in and have a rest," I thought.

I went into the hall of the hotel and sat down on a sofa. I was sitting there when a beautiful small dog ran into the hall. It was looking for somebody. The dog was nice and I had nothing to do, so I called it and began to play with it.

I was playing with the dog, when a man came into the hall. He wore a beautiful uniform and I knew at once that he was General Miles. I knew him by his pictures in the newspapers. "What a beautiful dog!" said he. "Is it your dog?"

I did not have time to answer him when he said, "Do you want to sell it?"

"Three dollars", I answered at once.

"Three dollars?" he asked. "But that is very little. I can give you fifty dollars for it."

"No, no. I only want three dollars."

"Well, it is your dog. If you want three dollars for it, I shall be glad to buy your dog."

General Miles paid me three dollars, took the dog and went up to his room.

Ten minutes later an old man came into the hall. He looked round the hall. I could see that he was looking for something.

"Are you looking for a dog, sir?" I asked.

"Oh, yes! Have you seen it?" said the man.

"Your dog was here a few minutes ago and I saw how it went away with a man," I said. "If you want, I shall try to find it for you."

The man was very happy and asked me to help him.

"I shall be glad to help you, but it will take some of my time and..."

"I am ready to pay you for your time," cried the man. "How much do you want for it?"

"Three dollars," answered I.

"Three dollars?" said the man. "But it is a very good dog. I shall pay you ten dollars if you find it for me."

"No sir, I want three dollars and not a dollar more," said I.

Then I went up to General Miles's room. The General was playing with his new dog." I came here to take the dog back", said I.

"But it is not your dog now – I have bought it. I have paid you three dollars for it," said the General.

"I shall give you back your three dollars, but I must take the dog back", answered I. "But you have sold it to me, it is my dog now."

"I could not sell it to you, sir, because it was not my dog."

"Still you have sold it to me for three dollars." "How could I sell it to you when it was not my dog? You asked me how much I wanted for the dog, and I said that I wanted three dollars. But I never told you that it was my dog."

General Miles was very angry now.

"Give me back my three dollars and take the dog," he shouted. When I brought the dog back to its master, he was very happy and paid me three dollars with joy. I was happy too because I had the money, and I felt I earned it.

Now you can see why I say that honesty is the best policy and that a man must never take anything that he has not earned.

O. Henry

William Sydney Porter (September 11, 1862 – June 5, 1910), known by his pen name O. Henry, was an American writer. O. Henry's short stories are known for their wit, wordplay, warm characterization, and surprise endings.

His parents were Dr. Algernon Sidney Porter, a physician, and Mary Jane Virginia Swaim Porter. When William was three, his mother died from tuberculosis, and he and his father moved into the home of his paternal grandmother. Porter graduated from his aunt Evelina Maria Porter's elementary school in 1876. He then enrolled at the Lindsey Street High School. He started working in his uncle's drugstore and in 1881, at the age of nineteen; he was licensed as a pharmacist. At the drugstore, he also showed off his natural artistic talents by sketching the townsfolk. Porter took a number of different jobs over the next several years, first as pharmacist then as a draftsman, bank teller and journalist. Porter led an active social life, including membership in singing and drama groups. He was a good singer and musician. He played both the guitar and mandolin

О. Генри

THE GREEN DOCTOR by O. Henry

Rudolf Steiner, a young piano salesman, was a true adventurer. Few were the evenings when he did not go to look for the unexpected. It seemed to him that the most interesting things in life might lie just around the corner. He was always dreaming of adventures.

Once when he was walking along the street his attention was attracted by a Negro handing out a dentist's cards. The Negro slipped a card into Rudolf's hand. He turned it over and looked at it. Nothing was written on one side of the card; on the other three words were written: "The Green Door". And then Rudolf saw, three steps in front of him, a man throw away the card the Negro had given him as he passed. Rudolf picked it up. The dentist's name and address were printed on it.

The adventurous piano salesman stopped at the corner and considered. Then he returned and joined the stream of people again. When he was passing the Negro the second time, he again got a card. Ten steps away he examined it. In the same handwriting that appeared on the first card "The Green door" was written upon it. Three or four cards were lying on the pavement. On all of them were the name and the address of the dentist. Whatever the written words on the cards might mean, the Negro had chose him twice from the crowd.

______________________________________________________________________

Standing aside from the crowd, the young man looked at the building in which he thought his adventure must lie. It was a five-storey building. On the f irst floor there was a store. The second up were apartments.

After finishing his inspection Rudolf walked rapidly up the stairs into the house. The hallway there was badly lighted. Rudolf looked toward the nearer door and saw that it was green. He hesitated for a moment, then he went straight to the green door and knocked on it. The door slowly opened. A girl not yet twenty stood there. She was very pale and as it seemed to Rudolf was about to faint. Rudolf caught her and laid her on a sofa. He closed the door and took a quick glance round the room. Neat, but great poverty was the story he read.

"Fainted, didn't I?" the girl asked weakly. "Well, no wonder. You try going without anything to eat for three days and see."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Heavens!" cried Rudolf, jumping up. "Wait till I come back." He rushed out of the green door and in twenty minutes he was back with bread and butter, cold meat, cakes, pies, milk and hot tea.

"It is foolish to go without eating. You should not do it again," Rudolf said. "Supper is ready."

When the girl cheered up a little she told him her story. It was one of a thousand such as the city wears with indifference every day – a shop girl's story of low wages; of time lost through illness; and then of lost jobs, lost hope and unrealised dreams and – the knock of the young man upon the door.

Rudolf looked at the girl with sympathy.

"To think of you going through all that," he exclaimed. "And you have no relatives or friends in the city?"

"None whatever."

"As a matter of fact, I am all alone in the world too," said Rudolf after a pause.

"I am glad of that," said the girl, and somehow it pleased the young man to hear that she approved of his having no relatives.

Then the girl sighed deeply. "'I'm awfully sleepy," she said.

Rudolf rose and took his hat.

"How did it happen that you knocked at my door?" she asked.

"One of our piano tuners lives in this house. I knocked at your door by mistake."

There was no reason why the girl should not believe him.

In the hallway he looked around and discovered to his great surprise that all the doors were green.

In the street he met the same Negro. "Will you tell me why you gave me these cards and what they mean?" he asked.

Pointing down the street to the entrance to a theatre with a bright electric sign of its new play, "The Green Door", the Negro told Rudolf that the theatre agent had given him a dollar to hand out a few of his cards together with the dentist's.

"Still it was the hand of Fate that showed me the way to her," said Rudolf to himself.

Stephen Leacock

Stephen P. H Butler Leacock, (30 December 1869 – 28 March 1944) was a Canadian teacher, political scientist, writer, and humourist. Between the years 1910 and 1925, he was the most widely read English-speaking author in the world. He is known for his light humour along with criticisms of people's follies.

Leacock was born in England. His father, Peter Leacock, and his mother, Agnes Emma Butler Leacock, were both from well-to-do families. The family, eventually to consist of eleven children, immigrated to Canada in 1876, settling on a one hundred-acre farm in Sutton, Ontario. There Stephen was home-schooled until he was enrolled in Upper Canada College, Toronto. He became the head boy in 1887, and then entered the University of Toronto to study languages and literature. Despite completing two years of study in one year, he was forced to leave the university because his father had abandoned the family. Instead, Leacock enrolled in a three-month course to become a qualified high school teacher. Leacock published many humorous articles in Canadian and American magazines. Leacock became popular not only in Canada but in the United States and Britain.

Стивен Батлер Ликок

THE READING PUBLIC by S. Leacock

"Wish to look about the store? Oh, by all means, sir," said the manager of one of the biggest book stores in New York. He called to his assistant, "Just show this gentleman our ancient classics – the ten-cent series." With this he dismissed me from his mind.

In other words he had guessed at a glance that I was a professor. The manager of the biggest book store cannot be deceived in a customer. He knew I would hang around for two hours, get in everybody's way, and finally buy the Dialogues of Plato for ten cents.

He despised me, but a professor standing in a corner buried in a book looks well in a store. It is a sort of advertisement.

So it was that standing in a far corner I had an opportunity of noticing something of this up-to-date manager's methods with his real customers.

"You are quite sure it's his latest?" a fashionably dressed woman was saying to the manager.

"Oh, yes, madam, this is Mr. Slush's very latest book, I assure you. It's having a wonderful sale." As he spoke he pointed to a huge pile of books on the counter with the title in big letters – Golden Dreams.

"This book," said the lady idly turning over the pages, "is it good?"

______________________________________________________________________

"It's an extremely powerful thing," said the manager, "in fact it's a masterpiece. The critics are saying that without exaggeration it is the most powerful book of the season. It is bound to make a sensation."

"Oh, really!" said the lady. "Well, I think I'll take it then."

Suddenly she remembered something. "Oh, and will you give me something f or my husband? He's going down south. You know the kind of thing one reads on vacation?"

"Oh, perfectly, madam. I think we have just what you husband wants. Seven Weeks in the Sahara, dollars; Six Months in a Waggon, 6 dollars; Afternoons in an Oxcart, two volumes, 4 dollars 30 cents. Or here, now, Among the Cannibals of Corfu, or Among the Monkeys of New Guinea, 10 dollars." And with this the manager laid his hand on another pile as numerous as the pile of Golden Dreams.

' It seems rather expensive,» remarked the lady.

"Oh, a most expensive book," repeated the manager in a tone of enthusiasm. "You see, it's the illustrations, actual photographs of actual monkeys; and the paper."

The lady bought Among the Monkeys.

Another lady entered. A widow, judging by her black dress.

"Something new in fiction," repeated the manager, "yes, madam, here's a charming thing, Golden Dreams,– a very sweet story. In fact, the critics are saying it's the sweetest thing Mr. Slush has done."

"Is it good?" said the lady.

"It's a very charming love story. My wife was reading it aloud only last night. She could hardly read for tears."

"I suppose it's quite a safe book?" asked the widow anxiously. "I want it for my little daughter."

"A assure you it's perfectly safe. In fact, it is written quite in the old style, like the dear old books of the past; quite like –" here the manager paused with a slight doubt – "Dickens and Fielding and – er – so on."

The widow bought the Golden Dreams, received it wrapped up, and passed out.

"Have you any good light reading?" called out the next customer in a loud cheerful voice – he had the air of a man starting on a holiday.

"Yes," said the manager, and his face almost broke into a laugh.

"Here's an excellent thing, Golden Dreams; quite the most humorous book of the season. My wife was reading it last night. She could hardly read for laughing."

After that the customers came and went in a string. To one lady Golden Dreams was sold as exactly the reading for a holiday, to another as the very book to read after a holiday; another bought it as a book for a rainy day, and a fourth as the right sort of reading for a fine day.

Among the Monkeys was sold as a sea story, a land story, a story of the jungle, a story of the mountains; each time at a different price.

After a busy two hours I drew near and from a curiosity that I couldn't resist said, "That book, Golden Dreams, you seem to think it's a very wonderful book?"

The manager knew that I had no intention of buying the book, so he shook his head. "Frankly speaking, I imagine it's perfectly rotten."

"Haven't you read it?" I asked in amazement.

"Dear me, no!" said the manager. His air was that of a milkman who is offered a glass of his own milk. "A pretty time I'd have if I tried to read all the new books. It's quite enough to keep track of them without that."

"But those people," I went on, deeply puzzled, "won't they be disappointed?"

"By no means!" he said. "They won't read it. They never do."

"But at any rate your wife thought it a fine story," I insisted.

The manager smiled widely. "I am not married, sir."

По теме: методические разработки, презентации и конспекты

ГИА по английскому языку 2015

ГИА по английскому языку 2015...

календарно-тематическое планирование. английский язык 5 класс 2015/2016 учебник: английский язык серии "Звездный английский"

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Уильям Шекспир___________________________________

Джек Лондон

THE BANKS OF SACRAMENTO by J. London

Джек Лондон

Марк Твен

O. Henry

О. Генри

Stephen Leacock

Стивен Батлер Ликок

По теме: методические разработки, презентации и конспекты

ГИА по английскому языку 2015

календарно-тематическое планирование. английский язык 5 класс 2015/2016 учебник: английский язык серии "Звездный английский"

План проведения недели английского языка 2015-2016 учебный год

Итоги сдачи ОГЭ по английскому языку_2015-2016

Конкурс песни на английском языке 2015

Протокол муниципальной олимпиады по английскому языку 2015-2016 учебный год

Промежуточная аттестация по английскому языку 2015-2020гг

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Предварительный просмотр:

Уильям Шекспир___________________________________

Джек Лондон

THE BANKS OF SACRAMENTO by J. London

Джек Лондон

Марк Твен

O. Henry

О. Генри

Stephen Leacock

Стивен Батлер Ликок

По теме: методические разработки, презентации и конспекты

ГИА по английскому языку 2015

календарно-тематическое планирование. английский язык 5 класс 2015/2016 учебник: английский язык серии "Звездный английский"

План проведения недели английского языка 2015-2016 учебный год

Итоги сдачи ОГЭ по английскому языку_2015-2016

Конкурс песни на английском языке 2015

Протокол муниципальной олимпиады по английскому языку 2015-2016 учебный год

Промежуточная аттестация по английскому языку 2015-2020гг

Пратика по английскому языку 2015
учебно-методический материал по английскому языку (8 класс) на тему