Short texts for reading

[Sergevna]

The Charm

by Jan Carew


'He's a brave man,' people say about me. 'He's never afraid.'

They are wrong. I wasn't always a brave man, and at times I was afraid — very afraid.

I am an important man now. I have an important job. People know me and like me. They don't know that I wasn't always brave. I will tell you the story.

I was a very shy young man. I didn't like talking to other young men; I was afraid. 'They'll laugh at me,' I thought.

Women were worse. I never spoke to them; I was always afraid of them.

I try to help shy people now. I never laugh at them, because I remember that time. I was very unhappy then.

Then there was a war between my country and another country. I had to be a soldier. Me! I was always afraid, but I had to be a soldier! And it was very dangerous.

I was afraid. The other soldiers didn't talk about it, but they knew. 'They're laughing at me,' I thought. 'They aren't afraid.' I was wrong, but I didn't know that. I felt very bad.

One day, I was in the town. I had two days holiday, away from the other soldiers. I wasn't with friends; I didn't have any friends. I was very unhappy. I walked slowly past some shops.

An old man stood by the road. There weren't many cars on it.

'Why doesn't he walk across the road?' I thought. 'Is he afraid?'

I went near him, and then I saw his eyes. 'Oh,' I thought. 'Now I know. He can't see! He wants to go across, but he can't go without help.'

Other people walked quickly past him. They had to go to work, or to their homes. They didn't help him; they didn't have time.

But I had time — a lot of time. 'I'm not doing anything,' I thought. 'Why can't I help him? I won't be afraid of him.'

I took the old man's arm, and I helped him across the road.

'Thank you!' he said. His hand felt my coat. 'This is a soldier's coat,' he said. 'Are you a soldier?'

'Yes.'

Perhaps I said it in a sad voice. The old man put a hand in his jacket. He took something out and gave it to me.

'Take this,' he said. 'It will help you. Wear it, and you'll be all right. Nothing bad will happen to you.'

He walked away, and I looked at the thing in my hand. It was a small charm — pretty, but strange.

'It's a girl's thing,' I thought, and I put it in my coat.

The next day we went to war. I was afraid — very afraid — but I remembered the charm in my coat. 'Perhaps the charm will help me,' I thought, so I took it with me.

Suddenly I wasn't afraid. Why? I didn't know. Was it the charm?

It was bad that day. Men died all round me. 'Perhaps I'll die next,' I thought. But I wasn't afraid!

Our leader was a brave man. He was in front of us, and we followed him. Suddenly he was down. He fell to the ground and didn't move. The other soldiers stopped. They were afraid.

I thought, 'Perhaps our leader isn't dead. I'll go and see.'

I went to him. The fighting was worse now, but I wasn't afraid. 'I've got the charm with me,' I thought. I'll be all right.'

I brought our leader back to a better place, and then I looked at him. He was very white and ill, but he wasn't dead. His eyes opened, and he smiled at me.

He spoke — not easily, but I heard him. 'Go in front!' he said. 'The men will follow you.'

The men followed me, and we fought well that day.

After that, I was fine. Later, I was a leader, too. The men were happy and followed me. People didn't laugh at me then.

'But is it right?' I thought, 'I'm not very brave. It's only the charm.'

I didn't tell people about the charm. I had friends for the first time, and I was happy.

One day we had to take an important bridge. There were a lot of soldiers on it, and they had big guns. The country was open, without any trees. It was very dangerous, and my men were afraid.

'We're going to die,' they said.

'Listen,' I told them.'I'll go first, and we'll run very quickly to the bridge. Don't be afraid. They can't kill us all. Follow me, and we'll take that bridge.'

I put my hand in my coat. But the charm wasn't there!

'What am I going to do?' I thought.'I can't be brave without the charm.'

I looked at the faces of my men. They weren't afraid now.

I thought, 'My words have helped them. They aren't afraid now. They're waiting for me. They'll follow me everywhere. I'm their leader, and I can't be afraid.'

I shouted: 'Let's go!'

We ran. We got to the bridge. We lost some men, but we got there! And we took the bridge!

I will never forget that day. I learnt something then about brave men. Brave men are afraid, too. But that doesn't stop them.

I will also remember that old man with the charm. 'It will help you,' he said.

He was right. I learnt to be brave without it.

I was a young man then, and now I am old.

I am a brave man, people think.

And, yes — they are right. I am.

[Sergevna]

The Memento

by O'Henry

The window of Miss D'Armande's room looked out onto Broadway and its theatres. But Lynette D'Armande turned her chair round and sat with her back to Broadway. She was an actress, and needed the Broadway theatres, but Broadway did not need her.

She was staying in the Hotel Thalia. Actors go there to rest for the summer and then try to get work for the autumn when the little theatres open again. Miss D'Armande's room in this hotel was a small one, but in it there were many mementoes of her days in the theatre, and there were also pictures of some of her best friends. She looked at one of these pictures now, and smiled at it.

'I'd like to know where Lee is now,' she said to herself.

She was looking at a picture of Miss Rosalie Ray, a very beautiful young woman. In the picture, Miss Ray was wearing a very short skirt and she was sitting on a swing. Every night in the theatre she went high in the air on her swing, over the heads of all the people.

When she did this, all the men in the theatre got very excited and stood up. This was because, when her long beautiful legs were high in the air, her yellow garter flew off and fell down to the men below. She did this every evening, and every evening a hundred hands went up to catch the garter. She did other things. She sang, she danced, but when she got onto her swing, all the men stood up. Miss Ray did not have to try very hard to find work in the theatre.

After two years of this, Miss D'Armande remembered, Miss Ray suddenly left the theatre and went to live in the country.

And seventeen minutes after Miss D'Armande said, 'I'd like to know where Lee is now', somebody knocked on the door.

It was, of course, Rosalie Ray.

'Come in,' Miss D'Armande called, and Miss Ray came in. Yes, it was Rosalie. She took off her hat, and Miss D'Armande could see that she looked very tired and unhappy.

'I've got the room above you,' Rosalie said. 'They told me at the desk downstairs that you were here.'

'I've been here since the end of April,' Lynnette replied. 'I begin work again next week, out in a small town. But you left the theatre three months ago, Lee. Why are you here?'

'I'll tell you, Lynn, but give me a drink first.' Miss D'Armande passed a bottle to her friend.

'Ah, that's good!' said Rosalie. 'My first drink for three months. Yes, Lynn, I left the theatre because I was tired of the life, and because I was tired of men — well, the men who come to the theatre. You know we have to fight them off all the time. They're animals! They ask you to go out with them, they buy you a drink or two — and then they think that they can do what they want! It's terrible! And we work hard, we get very little money for it, we wait to get to the top — and it never happens. But most of all, I left because of the men.

'Well, I saved two hundred dollars and when summer came, I left the theatre and went to a little village by the sea on Long Island. I planned to stay there for the summer, and then learn how to be a better actress.

'But there was another person who was staying in the same house — the Reverend Arthur Lyle. Yes, Lynn, a man of the church! When I saw him for the first time, I fell in love with him at once. He was a fine man and he had a wonderful voice!

'Well, it's only a short story, Lynn. A month later we decided to marry. We planned to live in a little house near the church, with lots of flowers and animals.

'No, I didn't tell him that I was an actress. I wanted to forget it and to put that life behind me.

'Oh, I was happy! I went to church, I helped the women in the village. Arthur and I went for long walks — and that little village was the best place in the world. I wanted to live there for ever . . .

'But one morning, the old woman who worked in the house began to talk about Arthur. She thought that he was wonderful, too. But then she told me that Arthur was in love once before, and that it ended unhappily. She said that, in his desk, he kept a memento — something which belonged to the girl. Sometimes he took it out and looked at it. But she didn't know what it was — and his desk was locked.

'That afternoon I asked him about it.

' «Ida,» he said, (of course, I used my real name there) «it was before I knew you, and I never met her. It was different from my love for you.»

' «Was she beautiful?» I asked.

' «She was very beautiful,» replied Arthur.

' «Did you see her often?»

' «About ten times,» he said.

' «And this memento — did she send it to you?»

' «It came to me from her,» he said.

' «Why did you never meet her?» I asked.

' «She was far above me,» he answered. «But, Ida, it's finished. You're not angry, are you?»

«Why, no. I love you ten times more than before.»

And I did, Lynn. Can you understand that? What a beautiful love that was! He never met her, never spoke to her, but he loved her, and wanted nothing from her. He was different from other men, I thought — a really good man!

'About four o'clock that afternoon, Arthur had to go out. The door of his room was open, his desk was unlocked, and I decided to look at this memento. I opened the desk and slowly I took out the box and opened it.

'I took one look at that memento, and then I went to my room and packed my suitcase. My wonderful Arthur, this really good man, was no different from all the other men!'

'But, Lee, what was in the box?' Miss D'Armande asked.

'It was one of my yellow garters!' cried Miss Ray.

[Sergevna]

Mistaken Identity

by Mark Twain

Years ago I arrived one day at Salamanca, New York, where I was to change trains and take the sleeper. There were crowds of people on the platform, and they were all trying to get into the long sleeper train which was already packed. I asked the young man in the booking-office if I could have a sleeping-berth and he answered: «No.» I went off and asked another local official if I could have some poor little corner somewhere in a sleeping-car, but he interrupted me angrily saying, «No, you can't, every corner is full. Now, don't bother me any more,» and he turned his back and walked off. I felt so hurt that I said to my companion, «If these people knew who I was, they...»1 But my companion stopped me there,— «Don't talk such nonsense, we'll have to put up with this,» he said, «If they knew who you were, do you think it would help you to get a vacant seat1 in a train which has no vacant seats in it?»
This did not improve my condition at all, but just then I noticed that the porter of a sleeping-car had his eye on me. I saw the expression of his face suddenly change. He whispered to the uniformed conductor, pointing to me, and I realized I was being talked about. Then the conductor came forward, his face all politeness.
«Can I be of any service to you?» he asked. «Do you want a place in a sleeping-car?»
«Yes,» I said, «I'll be grateful to you if you can give me a place, anything will do.»
«We have nothing left except the big family compartment,» he continued, «with two berths and a couple of armchairs in it, but it is entirely at your disposal. Here, Tom, take these suitcases aboard!»
Then he touched his hat, and we moved along.3 I was eager to say a few words to my companion, but I changed my mind. The porter made us comfortable in the compartment, and then said, with many bows and smiles:
«Now, is there anything you want, sir? Because you can have just anything you want.»
«Can I have some hot water?» I asked.
«Yes, sir, I'll get it myself.»
«Good! Now, that lamp is hung too high above the berth. Can I have a better lamp fixed just at the head of my bed below the luggage rack, so that I can read comfortably?»
«Yes, sir. The lamp you want is just being fixed in the next compartment. I'll get it from there and fix it here. It'll burn all night. Yes, sir, you can ask for anything you want, the whole railroad will be turned inside out to please you.» And he disappeared.
I smiled at my companion, and said:
«Well, what do you say now? Didn't their attitude change the moment they understood I was Mark Twain? You see the result, don't you?» My companion did not answer. So I added, «Don't you like the way you are being served? And all for the same fare.»
As I was saying this, the porter's smiling face appeared in the doorway and this speech followed:
«Oh, sir, I recognized you the minute I set my eyes on you. I told the conductor so.»
«Is that so, my boy?» I said handing him a good tip. «Who am I?»
«Mr McCleilan, Mayor of New York», he said and disappeared again.

[Sergevna]

A Good Lesson

Once a rich Englishwoman called Mrs Johnson decided to have a birthday party. She invited a lot of guests and a singer. The singer was poor, but he had a very good voice.
The singer got to Mrs Johnson's house at exactly six o'clock as he had been asked to do, but when he went in, he saw through a door that the dining-room was already full of guests, who were sitting round a big table in the middle of the room. The guests were eating, joking, laughing, and talking loudly. Mrs Johnson came out to him, and he thought she was going to ask him to join them, when she said, «We're glad, sir, that you have come. You will be singing after dinner, I'll call you as soon as we're ready to listen to you. Now will you go into the kitchen and have dinner, too, please?»
The singer was very angry, but said nothing. At first he wanted to leave Mrs Johnson's house at once, but then he changed his mind and decided to stay and teach her and her rich guests a good lesson. When the singer went into the kitchen, the servants were having dinner, too. He joined them. After dinner, the singer thanked everybody and said, «Well, now I'm going to sing to you, my good friends.» And he sang them some beautiful songs.
Soon Mrs Johnson called the singer.
«Well, sir, we're ready.»
«Ready?» asked the singer. «What are you ready for?»
«To listen to you,» said Mrs Johnson in an angry voice.
«Listen to me? But I have already sung, and I'm afraid I shan't be able to sing any more tonight.»
«Where did you sing?»
«In the kitchen. I always sing for those I have dinner with.»

[Sergevna]

A Dog and Three Dollars

by Mark 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.

[Sergevna]

Tildy's Moment

by O'Henry

Bogle's Family Restaurant on Eighth Avenue is not a famous place, but if you need a large cheap meal, then Bogle's is the place for you. There are twelve tables in the room, six on each side. Bogle himself sits at the desk by the door and takes the money. There are also two waitresses and a Voice. The Voice comes from the kitchen.

At the time of my story, one of the waitresses was called Aileen. She was tall, beautiful and full of life. The name of the other waitress was Tildy. She was small, fat and was not beautiful.

Most of the people who came to eat at Bogle's were men, and they loved the beautiful Aileen. They were happy to wait a long time for their meals because they could look at her. Aileen knew how to hold a conversation with twelve people and work hard at the same time. And all the men wanted to take Aileen dancing or give her presents. One gave her a gold ring and one gave her a little dog.

And poor Tildy?

In the busy, noisy restaurant men's eyes did not follow Tildy. Nobody laughed and talked with her. Nobody asked her to go dancing, and nobody gave her presents. She was a good waitress, but when she stood by the tables, the men looked round her to see Aileen.

But Tildy was happy to work with no thanks, she was happy to see the men with Aileen, she was happy to know that the men loved Aileen. She was Aileen's friend. But deep inside, she, too, wanted a man to love her.

Tildy listened to all Aileen's stories. One day Aileen came in with a black eye. A man hit her because she did not want to kiss him. 'How wonderful to have a black eye for love!' Tildy thought.

One of the men who came to Bogle's was a young man called Mr Seeders. He was a small, thin man, and he worked in an office. He knew that Aileen was not interested in him, so he sat at one of Tildy's tables, said nothing, and ate his fish.

One day when Mr Seeders came in for his meal, he drank too much beer. He finished his fish, got up, put his arm round Tildy, kissed her loudly, and walked out of the restaurant.

For a few seconds Tildy just stood there. Then Aileen said to her, 'Why, Tildy! You bad girl! I must watch you. I don't want to lose my men to you!'

Suddenly Tildy's world changed. She understood now that men could like her and want her as much as Aileen. She, Tildy, could have a love-life, too. Her eyes were bright, and her face was pink. She wanted to tell everybody her secret. When the restaurant was quiet, she went and stood by Bogle's desk.

'Do you know what a man in the restaurant did to me today?' she said. 'He put his arm round me and he kissed me!'

'Really!' Bogle answered. This was good for business. 'Next week you'll get a dollar a week more.'

And when, in the evening, the restaurant was busy again, Tildy put down the food on the tables and said quietly, 'Do you know what a man in the restaurant did to me today? He put his arm round me and kissed me!'

Some of the men in the restaurant were surprised; some of them said, 'Well done!' Men began to smile and say nice things to her. Tildy was very happy. Love was now possible in her grey life.

For two days Mr Seeders did not come again, and in that time Tildy was a different woman. She wore bright clothes, did her hair differently, and she looked taller and thinner. Now she was a real woman because someone loved her. She felt excited, and a little afraid. What would Mr Seeders do the next time he came in?

At four o'clock in the afternoon of the third day, Mr Seeders came in. There were no people at the tables, and Aileen and Tildy were working at the back of the restaurant. Mr Seeders walked up to them.

Tildy looked at him, and she could not speak. Mr Seeders' face was very red, and he looked uncomfortable.

'Miss Tildy,' he said, 'I want to say that I'm sorry for what I did to you a few days ago. It was the drink, you see. I didn't know what I was doing. I'm very sorry.'

And Mr Seeders left.

But Tildy ran into the kitchen, and she began to cry. She could not stop crying. She was no longer beautiful. No man loved her. No man wanted her. The kiss meant nothing to Mr Seeders. Tildy did not like him very much, but the kiss was important to her – and now there was nothing.

But she still had her friend, and Aileen put her arm round Tildy. Aileen did not really understand, but she said, 'Don't be unhappy, Tildy. That little Seeders has got a face like a dead potato! He's nothing. A real man never says sorry!'

[Sergevna]

The Pack of Biscuits

One night there was a woman at the airport who had to wait for several hours before catching her next flight. While she waited she bought a book and a pack of biscuits to spend the time. She looked for a place to sit and waited. She was deep into her book, when suddenly she realized that there was a young man sitting next to her who was stretching his hand, with no concern whatsoever, and grabbing the pack of cookies lying between them. He started to eat them one by one. Not wanting to make a fuss about it she decided to ignore him.

The woman, slightly bothered, ate the cookies and watched the clock, while the young and shameless thief of biscuits was also finishing them. The woman started to get really angry at this point and thought, «If I wasn't such a good and educated person, I would have given this daring man a black eye by now.» Every time she ate a biscuit, he had one too. The dialogue between their eyes continued and when only one biscuit was left, she wondered what was he going to do. Softly and with a nervous smile, the young man grabbed the last biscuit and broke it in two. He offered one half to the woman while he ate the other half. Briskly she took the biscuit and thought, «What an insolent man! How uneducated! He didn't even thank me!»

She had never met anybody so fresh and sighed relieved to hear her flight announced. She grabbed her bags and went towards the boarding gate refusing to look back to where that insolent thief was seated. After boarding the plane and nicely seated, she looked for her book which was nearly finished by now. While looking into her bag she was totally surprised to find her pack of biscuits nearly intact. If my biscuits are here, she thought feeling terribly, those others were his and he tried to share them with me. Too late to apologize to the young man, she realized with pain, that it was her who had been insolent, uneducated and a thief, and not him!

[Sergevna]

What's the Miracle's Cost?

Tess was eight years old. One day she heard that her Mom and Dad were talking about her little brother, Andrew. All she knew was that he was very ill and they were completely out of money. They were moving to an apartment complex the following month because Daddy didn't have the money for the doctor bills and the house. Only a very costly surgery could save him now and there was no-one to loan them the money. She heard Daddy say to her tearful Mother, "Only a miracle can save him now."

Tess went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jar from the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes. She carefully put the coins back in the jar and she slipped out the back door and made her way to Rexall's Drug Store.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention but he was talking to another man. Tess twisted her feet to make a noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with a disgusting sound. No good. Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

"And what do you want?" the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice. "I'm talking to my brother from Chicago.  I haven't seen him in ages," he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

"Well, I want to talk to you about my brother," Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. "He's really, really sick ... and I want to buy a miracle."

"I beg your pardon?" said the pharmacist.

"His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?"

"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you," the pharmacist said.

"Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs."

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man. He stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does you brother need?"

"I don't know," Tess replied. There were tears in her eyes. "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money.

"How much do you have?" asked the man from Chicago.

"One dollar and eleven cents," Tess answered. "And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "A dollar and eleven cents — the exact price of a miracle for little brothers." He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he took her hand and said, "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the kind of miracle you need."

That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well. Mom and Dad were happily talking about this event. "That surgery," her mom whispered, "was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost."

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost... one dollar and eleven cents... plus the faith of a little child.

[Sergevna]

PUPPIES FOR SALE
A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups and set about Nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving the last nail into the post, he Felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the Eyes of a little boy.
Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."
"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money."
The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. "I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?"
"Sure," said the farmer.
And with that he let out a whistle,"Here,Dolly!" he called.
Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.

As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared; this One noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up....
"I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the runt.
The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would."
With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself To a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need Someone who understands."

The world is full of people who need someone who understands.

[Sergevna]

THE 4 WIVES
There was a rich merchant who had 4 wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to delicacies. He took great care of her and gave her nothing but the best.

He also loved the 3rd wife very much. He's very proud of her and always wanted to show off her to his friends. However, the merchant is always in great fear that she might run away with some other men.

He too, loved his 2nd wife. She is a very considerate person, always patient and in fact is the merchant's confidante. Whenever the merchant faced some problems, he always turned to his 2nd wife and she would always help him out and tide him through difficult times.

Now, the merchant's 1st wife is a very loyal partner and has made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and business as well as taking care of the household. However, the merchant did not love the first wife and although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her.

One day, the merchant fell ill. Before long, he knew that he was going to die soon. He thought of his luxurious life and told himself, "Now I have 4 wives with me. But when I die, I'll be alone. How lonely I'll be!"

Thus, he asked the 4th wife, "I loved you most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No way!" replied the 4th wife and she walked away without another word.

The answer cut like a sharp knife right into the merchant's heart. The sad merchant then asked the 3rd wife, "I have loved you so much for all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No!" replied the 3rd wife. "Life is so good over here! I'm going to remarry when you die!" The merchant's heart sank and turned cold.

He then asked the 2nd wife, "I always turned to you for help and you've always helped me out. Now I need your help again. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?" "I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!" replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only send you to your grave." The answer came like a bolt of thunder and the merchant was devastated.

Then a voice called out : "I'll leave with you. I'll follow you no matter where you go." The merchant looked up and there was his first wife. She was so skinny, almost like she suffered from malnutrition. Greatly grieved, the merchant said, "I should have taken much better care of you while I could have !"

Actually, we all have 4 wives in our lives

a. The 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it'll leave us when we die.

b. Our 3rd wife ? Our possessions, status and wealth. When we die, they all go to others.

c. The 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how close they had been there for us when we're alive, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave.

d. The 1st wife is in fact our soul, often neglected in our pursuit of material, wealth and sensual pleasure.

Guess what? It is actually the only thing that follows us wherever we go. Perhaps it's a good idea to cultivate and strengthen it now rather than to wait until we're on our deathbed to lament

[Sergevna]

 GENEROSITY

Mahatma Gandhi went from city to city, village to village collecting funds for the Charkha Sangh. During one of his tours he addressed a meeting in Orissa. After his speech a poor old woman got up. She was bent with age, her hair was grey and her clothes were in tatters. The volunteers tried to stop her, but she fought her way to the place where Gandhiji was sitting. "I must see him," she insisted and going up to Gandhiji touched his feet. Then from the folds of her sari she brought out a copper coin and placed it at his feet. Gandhiji picked up the copper coin and put it away carefully. The Charkha Sangh funds were under the charge of Jamnalal Bajaj. He asked Gandhiji for the coin but Gandhiji refused. "I keep cheques worth thousands of rupees for the Charkha Sangh," Jamnalal Bajaj said laughingly "yet you won't trust me with a copper coin." "This copper coin is worth much more than those thousands," Gandhiji said. "If a man has several lakhs and he gives away a thousand or two, it doesn't mean much. But this coin was perhaps all that the poor woman possessed. She gave me all she had. That was very generous of her. What a great sacrifice she made. That is why I value this copper coin more than a crore of rupees."

[Sergevna]

The Window" (Author unknown)

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man  was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and   families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military  service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the  man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where  his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and  color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while  children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite  detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.  Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive  words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should hehave all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see  anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt  ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He   began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that  window - and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window  began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man   watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking  stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.

The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no  words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he  could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his   first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

Moral of the story:

The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice...it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.

The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like   programs, awaiting the code that will determine behaviors; like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging, and uplifting thoughts, if we continue to bite our lips  just before we begin to grumble and complain, if we shoot down that seemingly harmless negative thought as it germinates, we will find that there is much to rejoice about.

[Sergevna]

DETERMINATON

In 1883, a creative engineer named John Roebling was inspired by an idea to build a spectacular bridge connecting New York with the Long Island. However bridge building experts throughout the world thought that this was an impossible feat and told Roebling to forget the idea. It just could not be done. It was not practical. It had never been done before.

Roebling could not ignore the vision he had in his mind of this bridge. He thought about it all the time and he knew deep in his heart that it could be done. He just had to share the dream with someone else. After much discussion and persuasion he managed to convince his son Washington, an up and coming engineer, that the bridge in fact could be built.

Working together for the first time, the father and son developed concepts of how it could be accomplished and how the obstacles could be overcome. With great excitement and inspiration, and the headiness of a wild challenge before them, they hired their crew and began to build their dream bridge.

The project started well, but when it was only a few months underway a tragic accident on the site took the life of John Roebling. Washington was injured and left with a certain amount of brain damage, which resulted in him not being able to walk or talk or even move.


"We told them so."
"Crazy men and their crazy dreams."
"It`s foolish to chase wild visions."

Everyone had a negative comment to make and felt that the project should be scrapped since the Roeblings were the only ones who knew how the bridge could be built. In spite of his handicap Washington was never discouraged and still had a burning desire to complete the bridge and his mind was still as sharp as ever.

He tried to inspire and pass on his enthusiasm to some of his friends, but they were too daunted by the task. As he lay on his bed in his hospital room, with the sunlight streaming through the windows, a gentle breeze blew the flimsy white curtains apart and he was able to see the sky and the tops of the trees outside for just a moment.

It seemed that there was a message for him not to give up. Suddenly an idea hit him. All he could do was move one finger and he decided to make the best use of it. By moving this, he slowly developed a code of communication with his wife.

He touched his wife's arm with that finger, indicating to her that he wanted her to call the engineers again. Then he used the same method of tapping her arm to tell the engineers what to do. It seemed foolish but the project was under way again.

For 13 years Washington tapped out his instructions with his finger on his wife's arm, until the bridge was finally completed. Today the spectacular Brooklyn Bridge stands in all its glory as a tribute to the triumph of one man's indomitable spirit and his determination not to be defeated by circumstances. It is also a tribute to the engineers and their team work, and to their faith in a man who was considered mad by half the world. It stands too as a tangible monument to the love and devotion of his wife who for 13 long years patiently decoded the messages of her husband and told the engineers what to do.

Perhaps this is one of the best examples of a never-say-die attitude that overcomes a terrible physical handicap and achieves an impossible goal.

Often when we face obstacles in our day-to-day life, our hurdles seem very small in comparison to what many others have to face. The Brooklyn Bridge shows us that dreams that seem impossible can be realised with determination and persistence, no matter what the odds are.

Even the most distant dream can be realized with determination and persistence.

[born to be wild]

April Fool's Day
April Fool's Day, sometimes called All Fool's Day, is on the first of April every year. People can play practical jokes. That's why you shouldn't believe what is said to you and you should be doubtful of the people around you on this day. Someone might change the time on another person's alarm to make him wake up very early or very late. Or she / he may put a lot of pepper in another's food. Of course all this is done just for fun. when the trick is played people say "April Fool" to make the poor person realize that it was just a joke.
Some of the well known and most successful pranks or practical jokes were on the media - television, radio stations, newspapers... For instance, a BBC television program ran a famous hoax in 1957, showing Italians harvesting spaghetti from trees. A large number of people contacted the BBC wanting to know how to cultivate spaghetti trees. In 2008, the BBC again reported on a newly discovered colony of flying penguins showing people walking with the penguins in Antarctica, and following their flight to the Amazon rainforest.

[born to be wild]

       
                      Гость: "Тонкий английский юмор, оборжаться прям".

- Английский аристократ поздно вечером звонит домой. Трубку берет слуга.
- Том?
- Да, сэр!
- Поди проверь, что делает моя жена. Через минуту Том возвращается и невозмутимо докладывает:
- Спит с вами, сэр!
- Что?! Том, возьми в моем кабинете ружье и застрели их обоих!
Трубку не клади: как убьешь - доложишь. Минут через двадцать слуга подходит к телефону:
- Алло? Готово, сэр!
- Том, почему ты так долго возился с ними?
- Никак не мог попасть в вашу жену, сэр. Она бегала вокруг фонтана в гостиной.
- Что ты мелешь, Том? У меня в гостиной нет фонтана!
- Простите, сэр, но фонтан есть.
- Ах, черт, похоже, я опять набрал не тот номер...