Текст № 7 The pig
методическая разработка по английскому языку (8 класс) на тему

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 The pig

I wanted the partner for the business. I wanted him to be not too clever,  for I was the boss and he was to be my obedient servant. After a long search I found such a fellow in a far-away village in the West. He was tall and had red hair. His name was Rufe. He was chiefly famous for pig stealing. I told him what I wanted, and found him ready to become my assistance and to learn from me the high art of our profession. He said good-bye to his old mamma, and we set out on our journey.

We arrive at a little town. Just before our arrival a circus had come there, and we decided to start our business in that circus. An hour before the beginning of our performance I set up my little table at the entrance of the circus tent and began an innocent game of cards with some casual passers-by. Some people crowded round to watch our game. It was then that Rufe had to come and help me to swindle the crowd. But I waited for him in vain. I saw him once pass by and look at the circus pictures. But he did not come near my table.

The performance began and I had to give up my game. I went home. I was very angry with Rufe. I could not understand why he had not done as I had told him. When I came home Rufe was not in. I went straight to bed for I was very tired and disappointed. I had just fallen asleep when I loud squeal woke me. I knocked on the wall and shouted:

“Madam! Please, keep your baby quiet! Honest people can’t get their rest!”

“Sir”, answered the woman’s voice. “It’s not my baby. It’s the pig that your friend brought to his room an hour ago. I shall be grateful, sir, if you stop it’s squealing. I can’t sleep.”

I put on my trousers and went into Rufe’s room. He was pouring some milk into a plate on the floor for a very small white squealing pig.

“How is this, Rufe?” said I. “Why didn’t you do your part in our work tonight? And where does this pig come from?”

“Don’t be angry with me, Jeff,” said he, “you know that I have been famous for pig stealing. It has become a habit with me.”

“You are a vulgar peasant, Rufe,” said I, “I am afraid you will never learn the higher ways of our art. Anyhow, stop the squealing of that disgusting pig.”

“I see, that you don’t like pigs as I do,” said he. You don’t understand them. This little one is not at all disgusting. Just on the contrary. He is an animal of more than common intelligence. Some minutes ago he walked across the room on his hind legs.”

“Well, I am going back to bed,” said I. “Try and make your intelligent friend keep silence if you can.”

“He was hungry,” said Rufe. “Now he will go to sleep and keep silent.”

The next morning I got up early and asked the maid in the hotel to bring me the local newspaper. I always read the morning paper before breakfast. The first thing I saw in the paper was the large advertisement.

5000 reward!

        Five thousand dollars will be paid and no questions asked for the return of Beppo, the famous European educated pig that escaped or was stolen from the circus last night.

I folded up the paper, put it in my inside pocket and went to Rufe’s room. He was nearly dressed and was feeding the pig with the rest of the milk and some apple peelings.

“Good morning all,” said I gaily. “So we are up? And Piggy is having his breakfast? What do you intend doing with this pig, Rufe?”

“I am going to send him to my old mamma. He will be company for her while I am away.”

“He is a very fine pig,” said I, scratching him on the back.

“You called him disgusting last night,” said Rufe.

“He seems better for me this morning,” said I. “I was brought up on a farm, and I am very fond of pigs. I like this pig very much, and I’ll give you ten dollars for him.”

“I will not sell the pig,” said he.

“And why not?”  I asked, fearing that he had read the newspaper.

“Because it was very hard to steal him,” said Rufe.

I offered 100 $ for the animal. Rufe looked at me in the astonishment.

“What  do you want him for?” he asked.

“There is something attractive in this pig,” I explained, “ and I like pigs.”

“I will not take 250 $ for this animal,” said Rufe.

“Now listen,” said I, wiping my forehead. “I offer you 500 $.”

“Jeff,” said Rufe, “ it isn’t money. It is sentiment with me.”

“700 $,” said I.

“Make it 800 $,” said Rufe, “and I cast sentiment out of my heart.”

I took out my purse and counted him 800 $.

“I’ll take him into my room,” said I, “and lock him up till breakfast.”

I took the pig by the hind leg and rushed into the street. There I found an old Negro with a truck. I hired him, and we tired the pig in a sack and drove him in a circus.

We found a short fat man standing at the entrance of the circus tent.

“Are you a manager?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’ve got him,” said I.

“Got whom?’ he asked.

“I’ve got Beppo, the educated pig, in a sack in that truck. I found him in my garden this morning. Give me, please, the five thousand dollars in large bills.”

The manager turned and asked me to follow. We entered the tent. There I saw a black pig with a pink ribbon around his neck lying on some hay and eating carrots that a man was giving to him.

“Hey, Mack!” called the manager. “Is there anything wrong with the world famous Beppo this morning?”

“With Beppo? No.” said the man. “He has got his usual wonderful appetite.”

I pulled out the newspaper and showed the advertisement.

“It is a fake,” said he. “I don’t know anything about it. Good morning.”

I was beginning to see. I told the Negro to push his truck to the nearest alley. I took out my pig and gave him such a kick that he went squealing to the other end of the alley. Then I paid the Negro his fifty cents and worked to the newspaper office. The advertising man was sitting at the window.

“Do you remember,” I asked, “what the man was like who put in this advertisement?”

“He was very tall and had red hair,” he answered.

Thus Rufe had beaten me at my own game. He had proved a finer artist. Do you call this stealing? I call it legitimate and moral speculation. Buy low and sell high – doesn’t Wall Street run on these very principles?”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 The pig

I wanted the partner for the business. I wanted him to be not too clever,  for I was the boss and he was to be my obedient servant. After a long search I found such a fellow in a far-away village in the West. He was tall and had red hair. His name was Rufe. He was chiefly famous for pig stealing. I told him what I wanted, and found him ready to become my assistance and to learn from me the high art of our profession. He said good-bye to his old mamma, and we set out on our journey.

We arrive at a little town. Just before our arrival a circus had come there, and we decided to start our business in that circus. An hour before the beginning of our performance I set up my little table at the entrance of the circus tent and began an innocent game of cards with some casual passers-by. Some people crowded round to watch our game. It was then that Rufe had to come and help me to swindle the crowd. But I waited for him in vain. I saw him once pass by and look at the circus pictures. But he did not come near my table.

The performance began and I had to give up my game. I went home. I was very angry with Rufe. I could not understand why he had not done as I had told him. When I came home Rufe was not in. I went straight to bed for I was very tired and disappointed. I had just fallen asleep when I loud squeal woke me. I knocked on the wall and shouted:

“Madam! Please, keep your baby quiet! Honest people can’t get their rest!”

“Sir”, answered the woman’s voice. “It’s not my baby. It’s the pig that your friend brought to his room an hour ago. I shall be grateful, sir, if you stop it’s squealing. I can’t sleep.”

I put on my trousers and went into Rufe’s room. He was pouring some milk into a plate on the floor for a very small white squealing pig.

“How is this, Rufe?” said I. “Why didn’t you do your part in our work tonight? And where does this pig come from?”

“Don’t be angry with me, Jeff,” said he, “you know that I have been famous for pig stealing. It has become a habit with me.”

“You are a vulgar peasant, Rufe,” said I, “I am afraid you will never learn the higher ways of our art. Anyhow, stop the squealing of that disgusting pig.”

“I see, that you don’t like pigs as I do,” said he. You don’t understand them. This little one is not at all disgusting. Just on the contrary. He is an animal of more than common intelligence. Some minutes ago he walked across the room on his hind legs.”

“Well, I am going back to bed,” said I. “Try and make your intelligent friend keep silence if you can.”

“He was hungry,” said Rufe. “Now he will go to sleep and keep silent.”

The next morning I got up early and asked the maid in the hotel to bring me the local newspaper. I always read the morning paper before breakfast. The first thing I saw in the paper was the large advertisement.

5000 reward!

        Five thousand dollars will be paid and no questions asked for the return of Beppo, the famous European educated pig that escaped or was stolen from the circus last night.

I folded up the paper, put it in my inside pocket and went to Rufe’s room. He was nearly dressed and was feeding the pig with the rest of the milk and some apple peelings.

“Good morning all,” said I gaily. “So we are up? And Piggy is having his breakfast? What do you intend doing with this pig, Rufe?”

“I am going to send him to my old mamma. He will be company for her while I am away.”

“He is a very fine pig,” said I, scratching him on the back.

“You called him disgusting last night,” said Rufe.

“He seems better for me this morning,” said I. “I was brought up on a farm, and I am very fond of pigs. I like this pig very much, and I’ll give you ten dollars for him.”

“I will not sell the pig,” said he.

“And why not?”  I asked, fearing that he had read the newspaper.

“Because it was very hard to steal him,” said Rufe.

I offered 100 $ for the animal. Rufe looked at me in the astonishment.

“What  do you want him for?” he asked.

“There is something attractive in this pig,” I explained, “ and I like pigs.”

“I will not take 250 $ for this animal,” said Rufe.

“Now listen,” said I, wiping my forehead. “I offer you 500 $.”

“Jeff,” said Rufe, “ it isn’t money. It is sentiment with me.”

“700 $,” said I.

“Make it 800 $,” said Rufe, “and I cast sentiment out of my heart.”

I took out my purse and counted him 800 $.

“I’ll take him into my room,” said I, “and lock him up till breakfast.”

I took the pig by the hind leg and rushed into the street. There I found an old Negro with a truck. I hired him, and we tired the pig in a sack and drove him in a circus.

We found a short fat man standing at the entrance of the circus tent.

“Are you a manager?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’ve got him,” said I.

“Got whom?’ he asked.

“I’ve got Beppo, the educated pig, in a sack in that truck. I found him in my garden this morning. Give me, please, the five thousand dollars in large bills.”

The manager turned and asked me to follow. We entered the tent. There I saw a black pig with a pink ribbon around his neck lying on some hay and eating carrots that a man was giving to him.

“Hey, Mack!” called the manager. “Is there anything wrong with the world famous Beppo this morning?”

“With Beppo? No.” said the man. “He has got his usual wonderful appetite.”

I pulled out the newspaper and showed the advertisement.

“It is a fake,” said he. “I don’t know anything about it. Good morning.”

I was beginning to see. I told the Negro to push his truck to the nearest alley. I took out my pig and gave him such a kick that he went squealing to the other end of the alley. Then I paid the Negro his fifty cents and worked to the newspaper office. The advertising man was sitting at the window.

“Do you remember,” I asked, “what the man was like who put in this advertisement?”

“He was very tall and had red hair,” he answered.

Thus Rufe had beaten me at my own game. He had proved a finer artist. Do you call this stealing? I call it legitimate and moral speculation. Buy low and sell high – doesn’t Wall Street run on these very principles?”