С. А. Матвеев

It is a most extraordinary thing, but when I read a medicine advertisement I usually come to the conclusion that I am suffering from the disease that was described. One day I went to the British Museum to read about hay fever 1, I fancy I had it 2. I took the book, and read all I needed; and then I idly turned the leaves, and began to study diseases, generally. Immediately I understood that I had some fearful, devastating illness. I sat for a while, frozen with horror; and then, in despair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever 3 – read the symptoms – discovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months without knowing it – wondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitus’s Dance 4 – found, as I expected, that I had that too, – and so started alphabetically. I had every malady they wrote about! The only malady I had not got was housemaid’s knee 5

He could smell opium and he smiled with pleasure

“Yes – if Darcy does not put it off 65 again,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases. He likes to have his own way very well. But so we all do. He is rich, and many others are poor. Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are few people in my

“My daughter span five, five skeins today.

Chapter I Mr. Phileas Fogg 1 lived in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row 2 . He was one of the most noticeable members

One look at the man before me was enough. I saw the captain, and Black Dog, and the blind man, Pew, and I thought I knew what a pirate was like – a very different creature, according to me.

Now, how did he know that? he asked himself as he went down the stairs.

“Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”

Тот, кто не прилагает ни малейших усилий, не смеет завидовать таланту. Неумехи даже не представляют, сколько времени и сил тратят умехи, чтобы добиться цели.

One day Mongo is in his back yard digging a hole. His neighbour, seeing him there, decides to investigate. “What are you doing?” he asked. Mongo replies, “My goldfish died and I’m burying him.” “That’s an awful big hole for a goldfish, isn’t it?” asked the neighbour. Mongo shot back, “That’s because he’s inside your ugly cat!”