вторник, 27 мая 2014 г.


On his bench in Madison Square, Soapy moved uneasily. Winter was coming and it was the time for him to look for shelter. Soapy's desires were not great. Three months in prison was what he wanted. There he was sure of a little food and a bed, safe from the winter wind and the cold.
For years prison had been his shelter during the winter. Now the time had come again. And that is why he moved uneasily on his bench.
Having decided to go to prison, Soapy at once set about fulfilling his desire.
There were many easy ways of doing this. The most pleasant was to dine well at some expensive restaurant, and then, after saying that he could not pay, be quietly arrested by a policeman and sent to prison by the judge.
Soapy got up and walked out of the square and across the level sea of asphalt, where Broadway and Fifth Avenue flew together.
He stopped at the window of a brightly lit cafe. Soapy was shaven, and his coat and tie were decent. But his boots and trousers were shabby. If he could reach a table in the restaurant and nobody saw him, he thought, success would be his. The upper part of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter's mind. A roasted duck, two bottles of wine, a cup of coffee, and a cigar would make him happy for the journey to his winter quarters.
But just as Soapy entered the restaurant door, the head waiter's eyes fell upon his shabby trousers and boots. Strong hands turned him round and pushed him to the sidewalk.

четверг, 15 апреля 2010 г.


I addressed the letter to Ebenezer Dorset, and put it into my pocket. As I was leaving, the boy came up to me and said:
“Snake-eye, you said I could play the Black Scout while you are away.”
“Play it, of cause,” said I. “Mr. Bill will play with you. What kind of game is it?”
“I am the Black Scout and I have to ride a horse. I am tired of playing Indian[1]… I want to be the Black Scout.”
“But what am I to do?”[2] asked Bill.
“You are the horse,” said the boy. “Get down on your hands and knees[3] and I`ll ride on you.”
“How far are you going to ride?” asked Bill.
“Ninety miles,” was the answer.
“Ninety miles!” said Bill. “For Heaven`s sake, Sam, hurry back. Return as quickly as you can. I`m sorry we didn`t ask for a thousand dollars only!”

суббота, 27 марта 2010 г.


I am going to tell you a story about how we tried to kidnap a child.

Bill and I were in a small town in the state of Alabama when the idea of kidnapping came to us. We needed money. Kidnapping seemed to us the best way to get a lot of money. It did not take us long to select a child for kidnapping. We selected the only child of a rich man named Ebenezer Dorset.

The kid was a boy of ten, with a face full of freckles. His hair was red, in fact it was bright red. We hoped that Ebenezer would be glad to give us a ransom of two thousand dollars for his son. But wait till I tell you the story.

About two miles from the town there was a little mountain covered with a thick wood. There was a cave in the mountain. We kept our food and things in the cave.

One evening we drove in a buggy past Ebenezer`s house. The kid was in the street. He was throwing stones at a cat.

пятница, 12 марта 2010 г.



The conversation I am going to tell you about took place in the reporter`s room of «The Morning Beacon».[2]  I was doing some work for this newspaper. I wrote about anything I could see in New York City during my long walks about its streets. I had very little money because I had no regular work.[3]

One day Tripp came in and stopped at my table. Tripp was working in the printing department. I think he had something to do[4] with pictures, because he always smelled of photographers` chemicals and his hands were always stained and burnt with acids. He was about twenty-five but looked forty. Half of his face was covered with a short red beard, which looked like a door-mat. He looked pale, miserable and unhealthy. 

четверг, 4 марта 2010 г.


If a man disappears in a big city – it is very difficult to find him, - no matter[1] how many policeman and sleuths will look for him. Very often he is not found by them. Sometimes he appears again but under another name. And sometimes after a year or two the sleuths find out that he was simply moved from one house to the next one.[2]

I am going to tell you about the interesting case of Mary Snyder.

среда, 10 февраля 2010 г.




Lou[2] and Nancy were friends. They came to New York to find work because there was not enough to eat at their homes. Nancy was nineteen. Lou was twenty. Both Nancy and Lou[3] were very pretty. Lou found work in a laundry. She was an ironer. Nancy began to work as a sales-girl.

At the end of six months of their life in the big city, Lou met a young man named Dan. They soon became good friends. In fact they fell in love with each other. They went out[4] together several times a week.

среда, 3 февраля 2010 г.



When in the evening Mr. Towers Chandler appeared in the streets of New York people took him for[2] a rich young man. He was handsome, well dressed and sure on himself. In a word,[3] he looked like a typical clubman going out to have a good time. No one knew that he was not rich. He was in fact quite poor.

Chandler was twenty-two years old. He worked in the office of an architect and got eighteen dollars a week. At the end of each week he put aside one dollar out of his salary. At the end of each ten weeks he ironed his evening suit and went out to have a good time. He usually dined at a fashionable restaurant where there was wine and music. It took him ten weeks[4] to accumulate his capital of ten dollars and it took him only a few hours to spend it, playing the role of a rich idler.