Топик: Тексты для экзамена 11 класса

A Cent Cut into Two Pieces

I worked at an office . I wrote short stories about life in New York. One day, as engaged at the office , Tripp came in. I didn’t know exactly where Tripp was working, but he was very poor. He was pale and unhealthy , and whenever he came I knew that he was going to ask me for a dollar , and then spend it on whisky.

This time Tripp looked more unhappy then ever.

“Well , Tripp , how are you?” said I. “Have you got a dollar, Mr. Chalmers?” asked Tripp. “Would you like a good plot for a story? I’ve got an excellent one. It will probably cost you a dollar or two.”

“ What is the story?” I asked impatiently.

“ It’s a girl. A real beauty . She had lived in a village for twenty years and has never seen New York City before. I happened to meet her in the street. I was passing by when she addressed me and asked where she could find George Brown. Asked me where she could find Gorge Brawn in New York! She comes from a little village and has seen nothing in her life but farms. I talked to her . She told me she was going to marry farmer next week. But there had been a certain Gorge Brown who had left the village some years ago and gone to the city to earn money.

He never returned to the village. But before marrying the farmer , Ada- her mane is Ada – wants to find Gorge Brown and to have a talk with him as she seems to care for him still. That is why she has come to New York … I couldn’t leave her along. She told me that she had spent all her money and that she didn’t know what to do and where to go. So I took her to a boarding house and left her there. I want you to come with me to see her.”

“ What nonsense you are talking , Tripp,” said I. “ I thought you said you had a plot of a story.”

“Oh , it will make a story , I assure you,” said Tripp. “ You can describe the girl and add a lot about true love – well , you know how to do it and it will cost you only four dollars.”

“how will it cost me four dollars?” I asked.

“ One dollar to the landlady in the boarding house,” Tripp answered , “ and two dollars to pay the girl’s fare home.”

“ And the fourth dollar?” I asked .

“One dollar to me ,” said Tripp, “ for whisky . Are you coming?”

There was nothing to be done but I said to myself that Tripp

Would never persuade me to give him his dollar for whisky. Angrily I accompanied him to the boarding house. Tripp was right; she was a beauty. We found Ada comfortably sitting in an armchair and crying. She told me everything. When she spoke about Gorge Brown tears came to her eyes. What could I do? I was not George.

“ Gorge and I ,” she went on , “ loved each other. When he was nineteen- that had six years ago – he left the village and went to New York to earn money. He said he would come back for me. But I never heard from him any more. On the day we parted Gorge and I cut a cent into two pieces. I took one piece and he took the other , and we promised to be devoted to each other. Something has happened to him , I am sure . It certainly was very silly of me to come here looking for him. I never ever suspected what a big place New York is.”

And then Tripp and I told her how important it was for her to stop looking for the unlucky Gorge and to return home at once.

I paid the landlady a dollar , and the three of us left the boarding house . I bought a ticket and a red rose for Ada. We saw her off. And then Tripp and I looked at each other. Tripp seemed even more unhappy then usual.

“ Can’t you make a story of it?” he asked me. “ not a line,” said I. “ There is nothing interesting in this little adventure : but we have helped Ada. Let us try to forget it,” said I. I did not want to give Tripp his dollar for whisky. Just as we were walking toward the bus stop, Tripp took out his handkerchief, and I saw a cheap silver watch chain. Something was hanging on the watch chain. It was a half of a cent that had been cut into halves.

‘What?” I said , looking at him with surprise. “Oh , yes,” he answered,” my real name Gorge Brown. But what’s the use?”

Without another word I took Tripp’s whisky dollar out of my pocket and put it into his hand.

( After O.Henry)

A Friend In Need

For thirty years now I have been studying my fellowmen. I do not know very much about them, and yet I suppose it by the face that for the most part we judge the persons we meet. We draw our conclusions from the shape of the jaw , the look in the eyes, the contour of the month. I wonder if we are more often fight than wrong . I shrug my shoulders when people tell me that their first impression of a person are always right. For my own part I find that the longer I know people the more they puzzle me; my oldest friends are just those of whom I can say that I don’t know anything about them.

These reflections have occurred to me because I read in this morning’s paper that Edward Hyde Burton had died at Kobe. He was a merchant and he had been in business in Japan for many years. I knew him very little , but he interested me because once he gave me a great surprise. Unless I heard the story from own lips should never have believed that he was capable of such an action. It was the more startling because both his appearance and his manner suggested a very different man.

He was a tiny little fellow , not much more than five feet four in height , and very slender, with white hair , a red face much wrinkled, and blue eyes. I suppose he was about sixty when I knew him . He was always neatly dressed , in accordance with his age and station

Though his office were in Kobe Burton often came down to Yokohama. It happened that on one occasion I had to spend o few days there , waiting for a ship, and I was introduced to him at the British club. We played bridge together. He did not talk to be much, but what he said was sensible. He had a quiet dryhumour. He seemed to be popular at the club and afterwards , when he had gone they described him as one of the best.

It happened that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel and next day he asked me too dine with him. I met his wife , fat elderly and smiling , and his two daughters . I think the chief that struck me about Burton was his kindliness. There was something very pleasing in his mild blue eyes. His voice was gentle; you could not imagine that he could raise it in anger. He liked his game of cards and his cocktail, he could tell with point a good story , and in his youth he had been something of an athlete. He was a rich man and he had made every penny himself. I suppose one thing that made you like him was that he was so small and frail; you wanted to protect him. You felt that he could not bear to hurt a fly.

One afternoon I was sitting in the lounge of the Grand Hotel.

Burton came into the lounge and caught sight of me. He seated himself in the chair next to mine.

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