The steppe was desolate and terribly quiet. In preparing the assignments, materials from textbooks L were used.

Crimson sunset, countless crowds, windy weather, pottery, debatable question, long line, woodshop, cranes nest, green paint, dirt floor, stone house, pocket watch, art gallery, cranberry jam, leather jacket, ice cover, monotonous sounds , remarkable abilities, tin soldiers, autumn weather, sandbar, pedigree cattle, genuine art, linen tablecloth, spicy salting, red sunset, rosy cheeks, pork carcass, silver spoon, straw mat, foggy morning, hurricane wind, valuable invention, iron fence, young naturalists.

Air, Painful, Razor, Spring, Passerine, Pigeon, Goose, Wooden, Daring, Divisional, Sole, Harvest, Serpentine, Cranberry, Oath, Commission, Leafy, Equine, Oily, Instant, Courageous, Dining, Ordinary, Window, Tin, oppositional, aquiline, donkey, fiery, reactionary, related, seed, sable, nightingale, salt, glass, telephone, solemn, traditional, duck, morning, economic, sensual, woolen, hawkish.

Lamb - early, epic - rook, pigeon - deep, kerosene - rat, chicken - old, lion - outlandish, sandy - head, cock - tire, owl - wine, string - young.

She was older, but as windy as her young lady. The forest drops its crimson dress. Lamb seemed to me the height of the art of cooking. In an instant, the savage meadow is covered with hills of bloody bodies. She's really strange, but I attribute everything

39 painful irritation. Instead of the old soiled boots, red morocco boots appeared on them. The night was dark, warm and windless. Yesterday's rampant blizzard fell asleep on animal paths, and snowflakes fall and fall on a quiet, thoughtful spruce. Sergeant-major Ponomarev sat on the dirt floor under the stone vault and thought. From time to time we pumped out water with a birch bark bucket. Manure smoked in the yards, filling the air with a strong and spicy smell. A crane's receding cry melts in the sky. Father-in-law tapped on the bast snuffbox. The cries of quails and the honey smells of cut grass rushed across the steppe. I was sitting in a tree at the edge of an oat field where a bear came every night.

The athlete was wearing a warm sweater knitted from pure wool. Outside, the hut was whitewashed with slaked lime. A freight train with platforms loaded with sand slowly passed by the station. The table was covered with a homespun tablecloth. There were many people, invited and uninvited. Potatoes fried in ghee were served as a side dish. Models of new costumes, cut and sewn by experienced craftsmen, were demonstrated. Forged on all four legs, the horse does not stumble. Part of the journey had to be done on unpaved roads. Vitamins are found mainly in raw, uncooked vegetables. There was not enough firewood in that military winter, they lived in unheated rooms. Fishermen ate fish soup and potatoes baked in ashes. Among other paintings at the exhibition, several were painted in watercolor. On sale there is a pair and fresh-frozen meat. Washed urgently linen is issued not starched, but ironed.

The Volga flowed under the windows, loaded barges under a tight sail went along it. The children of his relative, spoiled children, wanted to go there without fail. Pyotr Alekseevich stood near the gangway, throwing back a cloak woven with gold. So the vaunted feeling has changed you dignity. The stomach swells from the chaff, split, tormented, twisted, twisted, Kalina barely wanders. On his way to Moscow, for his own amusement, he humbled untrodden horses. The actor summed up his mustache with a burnt cork. The plowed earth was thickly blackened with greasy furrows. Under the embankment, in an unmown moat, she lies and looks, as if alive, in a colored scarf, thrown on braids, beautiful and young. Wasps hovered over a faceted vase of jam. The patched, torn short fur coat held on to him as if starched. Floor and weave

New furniture, left here from the summer, was covered with snow. The papers are as yellow as money - still whole, scratched, smeared, tied crosswise. Here and there a track of an abandoned, untraveled road peeped out from under the snow. We are all frightened, shot.

Along the sandy shore, dotted with sharp stones, the scouts walked to an unplowed field, stretching behind a small river they had not noticed before. They were supposed to deliver valuable information to the command.

The scouts entered the forest, and the commander, feeling that the fighters were tired, ordered them to stop near a huge spruce tree that had been blown down by a hurricane. A small fire was quickly lit, and potatoes baked in the ashes, which were washed down with icy spring water, reinforced the fighters, weary from the long march.

One of them was bandaging his shot arm, and his comrade, wounded in yesterday's battle, was thinking about something intently.

Unexpectedly, the commander, who was worried about the confused news received from the sentinels sent ahead, ordered to line up, and the scouts immediately rose from the ground. A wisp of smoke from the extinguished fire melted into the air, and, having laid the wounded comrades on a stretcher, the fighters, hung with weapons, silently moved forward.

When it got dark, they approached a deserted ravine, blackened on the outskirts of the forest, and settled down to rest, hoping to gain strength for a new transition.

Outraged, armed, completed, stifled, baked, deprived, loaded, lightened, generalized, struck, stopped, seduced, saved, burned, reduced, carried away.

Preserved, waxed, slaked, loaded, gilded, boiled, smoked, twisted, tinned, peeled, cobbled, soaked, baked, crushed, stewed, scientist.

The keys to women's happiness, to our free will, are abandoned, lost to God himself. Lydia was involved in political affairs. It would be desirable to see each other soon and talk about what he saw and heard. The Volga was deserted. The expanse of the plain poured into the sky hung with rare clouds. In a trough near

41 benches lay twisted linen. We must continue to do our job - dangerous and difficult, bequeathed by grandfathers and fathers. He accurately calculated the jump: the moment was precisely chosen, and the distance was measured - tick by tick. In a hare, the front legs are short, the hind legs are long. The yard is clean. Several minutes were won. It is, in a sense, sanctified by tradition as I present it. The boy was sitting on a greasy featherbed and, bowing his shaggy, uncombed head, read Stevenson avidly. The sun managed to ooze through the thin, thawing clouds with a second thinned light.

Full and short passive participles: articulated, chosen, nested, located, replaced.

In short passive participles, n. In the full passive participles presented in this text, nn is written because these words have a prefix.

Lightly wounded in twos and threes wandered along the open dusty road. The dust had not yet settled - the tanks went, huge, made of riveted sheets, with the noses of caterpillar gears turned up. The sun burned the painted floor, and blisters popped up on the painted window sills. A wall newspaper, colored with colored pencils, hung on the wall. Everyone is given a large buttered pancake. Frozen pigs - like firewood lie a mile away. He met everyone with a gift and a faceted glass. Here are the familiar, dozens of times traveled and traveled mountains. - Shoe would still be on copper, - the good fellow asks. - Forged are more fashionable! The distant glow of the long-set sun reluctantly illuminated the somehow leveled road, a piece of the destroyed fence and a hastily filled funnel. Do you remember a frantic day in the port... And why do I remember with such piercing clarity a quilted purple blanket in a duvet cover sewn from pieces, a clay pot with onion soup, I see how now a jar of candied quince jam. Burnt child dreads the fire.

Compound words: lightly wounded.

Wanderer.

In my youth, I had some fondness for fishing. I spent whole days until late at night on the water, and went to sleep anywhere, with the peasants. One day, when I came to spend the night with the miller, in the 42nd corner of the hut I noticed some man in tattered, torn clothes and holes in felted boots, although it was summer. He was lying on the floor with a knapsack under his head and a long staff under his arm. It would be a stranger. From time immemorial, there have been people in Russia who were going somewhere. It seemed that a vague idea of ​​some unknown region lived in their souls, where life is more righteous and better. Maybe they're running from something. But if they run, then, of course, from longing - this very special, incomprehensible, inexpressible, sometimes causeless Russian longing. In "Boris Godunov" Mussorgsky depicts with stunning force a peculiar representative of this wandering Russia - Varlaam. His gray beard is tangled and disheveled, at the end diverging with two corkscrews. Puffy, anemic, but with a bluish-red nose, he is an indispensable visitor to the flea market. It is he who walks there dark gray, all worn and rumpled, in his hat quilted on wadding. When Varlaam is baptized, he baptizes in his heart a stain of anguish, a stain of life. But nothing erases it: neither dance nor song. I don’t know, of course, whether such people are needed, whether it is necessary to arrange so that they become different. Don't know. I will only say one thing: these people are one of the most remarkable, although perhaps sad, colors of Russian life.

- Do you carry apples to sell? Nikita gave him an apple. - No, junker, I have nothing to chew on.
Having driven away from the camp, they met four tsabans; behind the oxen, swaying in the yokes, plows turned upside down with plowshares dragged, shaggy plows in coarse shirts walked - they eat porridge. Artyom stopped again and asked for a long time what the turn to Pestravka would be.
By noon the wind had died down, and waves of heat were coming along the edge of the steppe in the distance. Peering, Nikita distinguished in this exciting blue either a floating house, or a tree hanging above the ground, or a ship without masts. The carts were going. Grasshoppers crackled. And now a steady jellied ringing was heard across the steppe. Zaremka danced sideways in the hitching post, neighing loudly. Artyom turned around and said with a wink:
Ours is dusty!
Soon a trio flew past the wagons with the stout trot of Lord Byron, lifting his muzzle, with drooping tethers, gnawing the ground with anger. In the carriage sat my father in a burlap coat, akimbo; his beard flew in two directions in the wind; moving his cheerful eyes, he called out to Nikita:
- Do you want me? - And the troika sped away, Finally, from behind the edge of the steppe, two domes of the white church, cranes of wells, the tops of rare willows, haze, roofs, began to rise, and behind the steppe, clay-yellowish river sparkling in the sun, the whole village of Pestravka opened up, and behind it on the pasture - canvas booths and dark spots of herds.
The wagons drove at a trot across a shaky bridge, right above the water, passed the church square, where in the pink house, in the last window, a fat priest played the violin, turned along the pasture to the booths and stopped near the pottery row.
Nikita stood on the cart and saw: here, a gypsy, overgrown from the very eyes with a black beard, in a blue caftan with silver buttons open on his bare chest, looks into the teeth of a sick horse, and a frail peasant, her owner, looks with surprise at the gypsy. Here is a cunning old man persuading a frightened woman to buy a pot painted with herbs - he taps on it with his fingernail. “Yes, father, I don’t need such a pot,” the woman says. "You, beauty, you will not find such a pot - search the whole world." Here is a drunken peasant getting angry near the basket with eggs and shouting: “What kind of egg is this? Is this an egg - this is a feeble egg. Here in Koldyban we have an egg, in Koldyban we have chickens up to their necks in grain. Here come the girls in pink and yellow sweaters, in colorful half-shawls and turn to canvas booths, where, leaning over the counters, sellers shout, grab passers-by: “To us, to us, they bought from us ...” Dust, scream, horse neighing over fair. Clay whistles whistle. Raised shafts of wagons stick out everywhere. Here, moving around with his feet, pushing, a guy in a blue shirt torn on his shoulder is walking and stretching the accordion with all his strength: “Oh, Dunya, Dunya, Dunya! ..”
Artyom unharnessed the horses and began splitting the wagon. At that moment, a man in a military coat, with a saber on his belt harness, came up to him, looked at Artyom and shook his head. Artyom looked at him too and took off his hat.
“That’s when you came across to me, tramp,” said the mustachioed man, “of course, I’ll rot you now.”
“Your choice,” Artyom replied.
The mustachioed man took him by the elbow and dragged him. A cunning old man who was selling pots laughed after them. Mishka Koryashonok whispered anxiously to Nikita:
“Run away, find your father, tell him that the constable took Artyom to the klopovka, and I’ll watch the cart.”
Nikita got out of the crowd and ran across the trampled feather grass field to the horse pens, where he saw his father's carriage from a distance. Father, very cheerful, was standing at one of the pens with his hands in the pockets of his coat. Nikita began to tell about the incident with Artyom, but Vasily Nikitievich immediately interrupted:
- You see a bay stallion ... Ah, a stallion, oh, a rogue! ..
Three Bashkirs in faded quilted robes and eared hats walked along the paddock between the horses and tried to catch a nimble red colt with a lasso. But he, putting his ears on, showing his teeth, shied away, dodged the lasso and then rushed into the thick of the herd, then ran out into a spacious place. Suddenly he knelt down, crawled under the pole of the fence, lifted it up, jumped up on the other side and rushed at a merry gallop into the feather-grass steppe, blowing his mane and tail in the wind. Father even stamped his feet in pleasure.
The Bashkirs, waddling clubfoot, ran to the saddle horses, shaggy and undersized, easily fell into high saddles and galloped - two chasing a karak colt, the third - with a lasso - across from him. The stallion began to spin around the field, and every time a Bashkir jumped out to cut him off, screeching like an animal. The stallion darted about, and then a lasso was thrown around his neck. He flew up, but they began to whip him from the sides, strangle him with a lasso. The stallion staggered and fell. He was brought to the corral, trembling, in soap. The shriveled old Bashkir rolled off the saddle like a bag and went up to Vasily Nikitievich:
- Buy a stallion, tank.
The father laughed and went to another paddock. Nikita started talking about Artyom again.
“Oh, what a shame,” exclaimed the father, “really, what am I to do with this fool? Here's what - take two kopecks, buy a kalach, some fish and wait for me in the carts .... As for Zaremka, you know, I sold it to Medvedev - cheaply, but without any hassle. Get up, I'll be right there.
But "now" was a very long time. A large pale orange sun hung over the edge of the steppe, golden dust rose over the fair. They called for evening. Only then did the father appear. His face was embarrassed.
“I bought a batch of camels quite by accident,” he said, without looking Nikita in the eyes, “terribly inexpensive ... Why, haven’t they sent for the mare yet?” Strange. Well, did you sell a lot of apples? For sixty-five cents? Strange. So here's what: to hell with them, with these apples - I told Medvedev that I was selling them to him in addition to the mare ... Let's go help Artyom ...
Vassily Nikitievich put his arm around Nikita's shoulders and led him through the silent fair, between the wagons, which smelled of hay, tar and bread at dusk. Here and there a song was heard with a high undertone melting in the steppe. The horse neighed.
“You know,” my father stopped, his eyes flashed slyly, “I’ll get it at home for nuts ... Well, nothing. Tomorrow we'll go to see one trio - gray, in apples ... Anyway - one answer.

In the evening, on a fresh cart wheat straw, Nikita was returning from the threshing. A narrow strip of sunset, dull and crimson in autumn, burned out over the steppe, over ancient mounds - traces of those who passed here in time immemorial nomads.
In the twilight, furrows of arable land could be seen on the deserted compressed fields. Here and there near the ground the fire of the plow camp burned red, and a bitter haze wafted. The cart creaked and rocked. Nikita lay on his back with his eyes closed. Fatigue buzzed sweetly throughout my body. He half-asleep recalled that day...
... Four pairs of strong mares walk in a circle of a threshing drive. In the middle, on the pivot, on the seat, Mishka Koryashonok slowly spins, shouts, snaps his whip.
From the wooden flywheel, clapping, an endless belt runs away to the red threshing machine, big as a house, madly shaking with straw walkers and sieves. Howls, sinking, hoots, a drum roars ferociously, far audible in the steppe, - it eats the scattered sheaves, drives straw and grain into the dusty bowels of the threshing machine. Vasily Nikitievich himself asks, in deaf glasses, in bare hair to the elbow, in a shirt stuck to his wet back - all dusty, with a chaff beard, with a black mouth. Creaky wagons with sheaves drive up. Spreading his legs, the guy runs after the cart, grabbing a huge pile of straw, stands on the board and trot drags the straw to the omets. Old men toss eggs with long wooden pitchforks. The worries, labors and anxieties of the whole year come to an end. All day long songs are heard, jokes are made. Artyom, who was throwing sheaves from the wagons to the flying threshing machines, was caught by the girls between the carts, tickled - he was afraid of being tickled, - knocked down, stuffed him under his clothes with chaff. That was laughter!
… Nikita opened his eyes. It swayed, the cart creaked. It was completely dark in the steppe now. The entire sky is strewn with the August constellations. The bottomless sky shimmered as if a breeze was blowing through the stardust. The Milky Way spread out with a luminous mist. On the cart, as in a cradle, Nikita floated under the stars, calmly looked at distant worlds.
“All this is mine,” he thought, “someday I will sit on an airship and fly away ...” And he began to imagine a flying ship with wings like a mouse’s, a black desert of the sky and the approaching azure coast of an unknown planet, silvery mountains, wonderful lakes, outlines of castles and figures and clouds flying over the water, which are at sunset.
The wagon began to descend the hill. Dogs wandered in the distance. Pulled dampness from the ponds. We entered the yard. Warm, cozy light poured from the windows of the house, from the dining room.

Autumn came, the earth sank to rest. Later, the sun rose, not warming, old, - he no longer cared about the earth. The birds have flown. The garden was empty, the leaves were falling. They pulled the boat out of the pond and put it upside down in the barn.
In the mornings now, in places where the shadows from the roofs fell, the grass was gray, touched with frost. On the hoarfrost, on the autumn-green grass, geese walked to the pond - the geese grew fat, rolled over like clods of snow. Twelve girls from the village were chopping cabbage in a large log near the people's, singing songs, banging their choppers on the whole yard. From the cellar, where butter was churned, Dunyasha ran in, gnawed on the stumps - she became even prettier in the autumn, and was filled with a blush, and everyone knew that she ran to the people's room not to gnaw the stumps and laugh with the girls, but then to see her from the window a young worker Vasily, the same thing - blood with milk. Artyom completely hung his nose - he repaired the clamps in the human.
Mother moved to the winter half. Furnaces were lit in the house. Akhilka the hedgehog dragged rags and pieces of paper under the sideboard and strove to fall asleep for the whole winter. Arkady Ivanovich was whistling in his room. Through the crack in the door, Nikita saw Arkady Ivanovich standing in front of the mirror and, holding himself by the tip of his beard, whistled thoughtfully: clearly, the man was planning to marry.
Vasily Nikitievich sent a convoy with wheat to Samara and left the next day himself. Before leaving, he had long conversations with his mother. She was waiting for a letter from him.
A week later, Vasily Nikitievich wrote:

“I sold the bread, imagine - successfully, more expensive than Medvedev. The matter with the inheritance, as one might expect, did not move a single step. Therefore, of course, the second solution suggests itself, which you so opposed, dear Sasha. We can't live apart even this winter. I advise you to hurry with your departure, as classes at the gymnasium have already begun. Only as a separate exception will Nikita be allowed to take the entrance exam for the second grade. By the way, they offer me two amazing Chinese vases - this is for our city apartment; only the fear that you will be angry keeps me from buying for the time being.”

Mother hesitated for a moment. Anxiety about Vasily Nikitievich's possession of a lot of money, and especially the danger of him buying unnecessary Chinese vases for anyone in the world, forced Alexandra Leontievna to get ready in three days. The furniture necessary for the city, large chests, casks with salting and living creatures, mother sent with a wagon train. Light herself, on two troikas, with Nikita, Arkady Ivanovich and Vasilisa the cook, she went ahead. The day was gray and windy. Around the desert stubble and arable land. Mother felt sorry for the horses, she went jogging. In Koldyban we spent the night at an inn. The next day, towards dinner, the domes of churches and the chimneys of steam mills rose from behind the flat edge of the steppe, out of the gray mist. Mother was silent: she did not like the city, city life. Arkady Ivanovich was biting his beard with impatience. We drove for a long time past stinking fat-burning factories, past timber warehouses, passed a dirty settlement with taverns and grocers, crossed a wide bridge, where the suburban guys, mustard-makers, were naughty at night; here are the gloomy log barns on the steep bank of the Samarka River - the tired horses went uphill, and the wheels rattled along the pavement. Cleanly dressed passers-by looked with surprise at the carriages covered with mud. It began to seem to Nikita that both carriages were clumsy and ridiculous, that the horses - of various colors, rustic - if only to turn off the main street! Here, a black trotter harnessed to a varnished charaban flew past, strongly clapping its horseshoes.
“Sergey Ivanovich, why are you driving like that, hurry up,” said Nikita ...
- And so we'll get there.
Sergei Ivanovich sat sedately and sternly on the box, holding the troika at a trot. Finally, we turned into a side street, drove past the fire tower, where a big-faced guy in a Greek helmet was standing at the gate, and stopped at a white one-story house with a cast-iron porch across the entire sidewalk. The joyful face of Vasily Nikitievich appeared in the window. He waved his hands, disappeared, and a minute later opened the front door himself.
Nikita ran into the house first. In a small, white-pasted, completely empty room, it was light, smelled of oil paint, on a shiny painted floor against the wall stood two Chinese vases that looked like washing jugs. At the end of the hall, in an archway with white columns reflected in the floor, a girl in a brown dress appeared. Her hands were tucked under a white apron, her yellow shoes were also reflected in the floor. Her hair was combed into a braid, behind her ears on the back of her head a black bow. Blue eyes looked sternly, even narrowed a little. It was Lily. Nikita stood in the middle of the hall, stuck to the floor. Lilya must have been looking at him just as passers-by on the main street looked at the Sosnovka chariots.
– Did you receive my letter? she asked. Nikita nodded to her. - Where is it? Give me this minute.
Although the letter was not with him, Nikita nevertheless rummaged in his pocket. Lily looked him in the eye, angrily...
“I wanted to answer, but…” Nikita muttered.
- Where is it?
- In a suitcase.
“If you don’t give it back today, it’s all over between us ... I am very sorry that I wrote to you ... Now I have entered the first grade of the gymnasium.
She pursed her lips and stood on tiptoe. It was only now that Nikita realized that he hadn't replied to the purple letter... He swallowed his saliva, unsticked his legs from the mirrored floor... Lilya immediately hid her hands under her apron again, her nose turned up. Long eyelashes closed completely from contempt.
“Forgive me,” Nikita said, “I’m terrible, terrible ... It’s all horses, reaping, threshing, Mishka Koryashonok ...
He blushed and lowered his head. Lily was silent. He felt disgusted with himself, sort of like a cow patty. But at that moment, Anna Apollosovna's voice boomed in the hallway, greetings and kisses were heard, the heavy footsteps of the coachmen carrying in the suitcases sounded ... Lily whispered angrily, quickly:
- They see us ... You are impossible ... Take on a cheerful look ... maybe I will forgive you this time ...
And she ran into the hallway. From there, through the empty echoing rooms, her thin voice rang:
- Hello, Aunt Sasha, welcome!
Thus began the first day of a new life. Instead of a calm, joyful rural expanse - seven cramped, uninhabited rooms, outside the window - lorries rumbling over the cobblestones and hurrying, all dressed like a zemstvo doctor from Pestravka, Verinosov, anxious people run, covering their mouths with their collars from the wind carrying papers and dust. Fuss, noise, excited conversations. Even the hours here were different, they flew. Nikita and Arkady Ivanovich arranged Nikitin's room, arranged furniture and books, hung curtains. At dusk Victor came straight from the gymnasium and told me that the fifth graders smoked in the lavatory and that the arithmetic teacher in their class was glued to a chair smeared with gum arabic. Victor was independent and scattered. He begged Nikita for a penknife with twelve blades and went "to a certain comrade - you don't know him" - to play feathers.
At dusk Nikita was sitting by the window. The sunset outside the city was still the same - rural. But Nikita, like Zheltukhin behind gauze, felt like a captured prisoner, a stranger - exactly like Zheltukhin. Arkady Ivanovich entered the room, wearing a coat and hat, holding a clean handkerchief in his hand, spreading the smell of cologne.
I'm leaving, I'll be back at nine o'clock.
– Where are you going?
“Where I am not yet. He chuckled. - What, brother, how did Lily accept you - right in the pitchfork ... It's okay, you'll make yourself happy. And even that is partly good - to lower the village fat ... - He turned on his heel and went out. In one day he became a completely different person.
That night, Nikita dreamed that he, in a blue uniform with silver buttons, was standing in front of Lily and saying sternly:
Here is your letter, take it.
But with these words he woke up and again saw how he was walking along the gleaming floor and saying to Leela:
- Take your letter.
Lily's long eyelashes rose and fell, her independent nose was proud and alien, but just about the nose and the whole face will cease to be strangers and laugh ...
He woke up, looked around - the strange light of a street lamp lay on the wall ... And again Nikita dreamed the same thing. Never in reality had he loved this incomprehensible girl so much ...
The next morning my mother, Arkady Ivanovich and Nikita went to the gymnasium and talked to the headmaster, a thin, gray-haired, stern man who smelled of copper. A week later, Nikita passed the entrance exam and entered the second grade ... Nikita's childhood The initial chapters of the story were first published in the two-week children's magazine The Green Stick, Paris, 1920, No. 2, 3, 4, 5-6. Beginning with the chapter "Separation" and ending with the chapter "How I drowned" - in the magazine "Spolohi", Berlin, 1922, No. 5.
The title of these publications was: "A Tale of Many Excellent Things." Recent chapters, starting with the chapter "Holy Week", were first published in a separate edition of the story (the title "The Tale of Many Excellent Things", the subtitle "Nikita's Childhood", Helikon publishing house, Moscow - Berlin, 1922). Subsequently, already under the firmly established title, "Nikita's Childhood" was repeatedly reprinted in the form of separate books or included in collections and collected works of the writer.
The story was written in 1919-1920. According to the writer himself, the idea to write "Nikita's Childhood" appeared and took shape in him in connection with one external circumstance - he promised the publisher of a children's magazine published in Paris ("The Green Stick") to give a short children's story: "I started - and it was as if a window opened in the distant past with all the charm, tender melancholy and sharp perceptions of nature, which are in childhood ”(Poln. sobr. soch., vol. 13, p. 563).
"Nikita's Childhood" is an autobiographical story. The scene quite accurately reproduces the atmosphere of the small estate of the writer's stepfather A. A. Bostrom, where Tolstoy grew up. Even the name of the estate, Sosnovka, is preserved in the story. Childhood impressions, A. Tolstoy's memories of his early life in the Samara province were included in the content of his work. In one of his autobiographical notes, A. Tolstoy wrote about himself as follows: “I grew up alone, in contemplation, in dissolution, among the great phenomena of earth and sky. July lightning over the dark garden; autumn mists like milk; a dry twig sliding under the wind on the first ice of the pond; winter blizzards, falling asleep with snowdrifts of the hut to the very chimneys; spring noise of waters; the cry of rooks arriving at last year's nests; people in the cycle of the seasons; birth and death are like the rising and setting of the sun, like the fate of grain; animals, birds; boogers with red faces living in the crevices of the earth; the smell of a ripe apple, the smell of a fire in a twilight hollow; my friend Mishka Koryashonok and his stories; winter evenings under a lamp, books, daydreaming…” (Poln. sobr. soch., vol. 13, pp. 557–558). Just in such an atmosphere, the little hero of A. Tolstoy's story, Nikita, grows and forms.
Nikita's parents largely repeat the real features of the writer's stepfather and mother. Nikita's mother's name is the same as the writer's mother, Alexandra Leontievna. For the image of the teacher, the prototype was the seminarian-tutor, Arkady Ivanovich Slovokhotov, who prepared the future writer for entering secondary school. educational institution. Nikita's relationship with village children - with Mishka Koryashonok and Styopka Karnaushkin, their friendship and friendly games are also autobiographical, as well as a number of details and details. True, we must not forget at the same time that the raw material of memories, real facts early biography A. Tolstoy in the story have undergone significant processing, appearing to us already artistically realized.
A. Tolstoy's work on "Nikita's Childhood" was based on some previous experience of the writer in this regard. In 1912, Tolstoy wrote a short story "Logutka", depicting the atmosphere of the estate and the village in a famine lean year, a story that can be considered a small sketch, a preparatory sketch for the story "Nikita's Childhood".
Much earlier, in 1902, in one of his letters to his mother, Alexei Tolstoy, then still a novice writer, announced his intention to work on the topic of childhood memories: “... it seems that I will participate in the Young Reader magazine if Nikolai (N. A. Shishkov, A. Tolstoy's uncle - A. A.) will approve my works, that would also be good. I've Already Started - Childhood Memories; seems to be successful” (Poln. sobr. soch., vol. 15, p. 355).
This plan was not carried out. A. Tolstoy created only a small autobiographical fragment, which was not published during the life of the writer. It was published in the 15th volume of the Complete Works under the conditional title "I am lying in the grass." These memories of childhood represent one of the earliest literary works A. Tolstoy.
With its separate episodes (lunch in the servants' room, teaching the boy to ride a horse, a winter evening by the lamp under the howl of a blizzard, the onset of spring and the first field work), this fragment clearly anticipates some of the pages of the later written "Nikita's Childhood".
The story "Childhood of Nikita" is connected with the tradition of the autobiographical genre in our classical literature, but going along with such works as "Childhood. Adolescence" by Leo Tolstoy, "Childhood of Bagrov's grandson" by S. Aksakov, "Childhood", "In people" by M. Gorky, - the story of Alexei Tolstoy "Nikita's Childhood" in his general content and construction reveals many new and original. In particular, the story in it, unlike the works mentioned above, comes from the third person.
The first printed text of "Nikita's Childhood" has some differences from the text of the book in its reprints. First of all, a number of stylistic corrections were gradually introduced into the story. But even in terms of its content, the layout of chapters, and their titles, the early printed text underwent some changes.
So, for example, the chapter "The Last Evening" was not originally. There was only her ending - the teacher Arkady Ivanovich, after the end of the Christmas holidays, wakes up Nikita for classes in the morning. The author's introduction of the chapter "The Last Evening" created a softer, smoother transition from the image of festive entertainment and the arrival of guests to the everyday life in Sosnovka.
The chapter with the title "What was brought on the cart" did not exist independently either. The text of its first half (ending with the words of Mishka Koryashonka: "Gifts, tea, they brought") was included in the previous chapter "Christmas Tree Box". The rest of the text of the chapter "What was brought on the cart" was a separate small chapter with the title "Boat". After the following chapter "The Christmas tree" there was the heading "What was in the vase on the wall clock", and this chapter began with the text of the present chapter "Victor's Failure" (ending with the mention of the moment Nikita left through the pond to the house). Next, close to this, there was a piece of text depicting Nikita at home (he hears Lily's words about the Valentina doll, he feels a sense of happiness and writes his poems about the forest). Then came the text of the second half of the chapter "Victor's failure", and after that the whole second part of the chapter "What was in the vase on the wall clock" was given - from the words "Victor returned at dusk" and including the episode of the children discovering the ring.
This part of the chapter "What was in the vase on the wall clock" in its original form was distinguished by a more detailed text. The atmosphere of mystery and mystery (incomprehensible coincidence of Nikita's dream with reality, the resemblance of Lily and the lady from an old portrait, etc.) came out in her especially sharply.
The following is the text of the second half of the chapter "What was in the vase on the wall clock" as it was in the magazine "Green Stick", No. 5-6 for 1920:
“The oak halves of the doors to the adjacent dark room turned out to be ajar.
- Is there a clock? Lily asked.
- Even further, in the third room.
- Don't be afraid, Nikita.
- What nonsense? I'll go to any dark room.
Nikita pulled half of the doors, it suddenly creaked, and the mournful creak was muffled in the empty rooms. Lily grabbed Nikita's hand. The flashlight trembled, and its red reflections flew over the white walls.
The children nevertheless made up their minds and entered the door. Here, through two semicircular windows, moonlight poured in and lay in bluish squares on the parquet. Striped armchairs stood side by side on crooked legs against the wall, and in the corner a wide, low, deep sofa. Nikita's head began to spin, as he had already seen this room once before.
“Look, here they are,” he whispered, pointing to two portraits of an old man and an old woman hanging side by side on the wall. But strangely, the portraits seemed quite small, cracked and dark. Only their eyes were clearly visible.
The children tiptoed across the moonlit room and turned around at the carved low door. So it is, portraits, two dark spots staring at them intently.

Exercise 223
[- -]: [=-], [=-], [--], [- =]. (Explanation meaning.)
[- (=) and (=)]: [(-), (-), (-), (-), (-) and (-) =]. (Explanation meaning.)
[--]: [=-]... (The padding value.)
[- -]. [- =], io [=-]: [- (=) and (=)]. (Explanation meaning.)
[-AND- -]. (Explanation meaning.)
"3) I peered: a boor stretched a large field open on all sides ...
5) It is strange: this quiet, plaintive voice swelled in me, too, a mystical foreboding of dreaded fear.
Exercise 224
A) Motley, Zkelt, ?inyut, turns white, fanned, swooned; frantic, they come running.
B) Bells, (x) machine, Yayuzdik, boloїa, Extends, C) Cry, ^ o ^ yt, (stagnant; sentence, v ^ as ї, I disassemble.
D) Crimson, large; yіly, SHІlot *, yedve5?onok. Exercise 225
Scientists say that the ice of the North Pole is melting and will disappear completely in the next century due to global warming.
Studies show that the temperature of the water directly under the ice rises surprisingly quickly. Perhaps, for some period of the year, the ice will disappear: already now the amount of ice drifting from the Arctic to the coast of Greenland has decreased by about 40%.
What?
x I ^
"(What). Difficult sub. with an adjective will explain.
What?
X I ^
, (What). Difficult sub. with an adjective will explain.
for what reason?
X 1 ^
, (because). Difficult sub. with an adjectival reason.
Subordinating conjunctions disappear. A colon appears in their place.
Exercise 226
1) Serpilin was worried: what if the pilot would not make it in time before dark to Moscow ... Only when Ryazan passed under the wing on the right, he calmed down: there was nowhere to land between Ryazan and Moscow. 2) There were all sorts of days: either the sun burned with fire from the shining azure, then the clouds piled up like mountains and rolled with terrifying thunder, then violent downpours fell on the steamer and the sea in floods ... 3) Everything merged, everything mixed up: the earth, the air, the sky turned into an abyss of boiling snow dust. 4) Finally, the long-awaited time has come: the grass has turned green, the trees have blossomed, the bushes have dressed, the nightingales sang... 5) The sun is laughing... Nature is rejoicing! Everywhere freedom, peace and freedom, only the river is angry at the mill: there is no space for it ... captivity is bitter! 6) The Monkey's mouth is full of trouble: she will carry the block, then this way, then she will grab him, then she will drag him, then she will roll ... 7) And my advice is this: take on what you are related to.
1) [=]:[- =]-
[- =], [- =]: [(-), (-), (-) =].
[=-]: [=-], [=-], [=-], [=-]...
1) The sickle or bothered: what if the pilot does not have time on_time and _dark o_v_m os_kvu ...
Narrative, non-exclamation.
Two grammatical bases means complex; 1st basis single-sided, 2nd - double-sided.

4- [=]:[-=]¦
5. The content of the 1st part is explained in the 2nd part.
2. The spelling of prefixes pre- and pre- determines their meaning: Attach- Pre- 1) Accession, approximation, addition: bring, move, attach, attach, attach. 1) Close to the meaning of the word "very"; kind, exalt, exaggerate, fulfill, transcend. 2) Location near something: seaside, suburb, school, railway station. 2) Close to the meaning of the prefix re-, interrupt, endure, successor, transform, stop, block.
3. Not with nouns:
Sloppy, absurdity, bad weather, scoundrel, undergrowth, ignoramus.
Misfortune (trouble), enemy (enemy), falsehood (lie).
Not happiness, but misfortune brought us closer; it was not his abilities that saved him, but his great perseverance; he is my enemy, but my enemy.
Exercise 227
obrisch.
And he said, flashing his eyes: “Guys! Isn't Moscow behind us? (Ger. about .; appeal.)
inverted
The old man replies to her with a bow: “Have mercy, madam fish!” (Appeal.)
B) Everything was gray: the sky, the smoke above the roofs, the very air. (Un-union. compound sentence; single member sentence)
Sometimes a person has the opportunity to observe something extraordinary, such as: the eruption of a fire-breathing mountain that destroyed the flourishing villages. the uprising of the oppressed people against the all-powerful ruler or the invasion of the land of the homeland of the invader ...
They got a bad share: not many returned from the field. (Unionless compound sentence)
I look to the south: the fields are ripe, like thick reeds, they are moving quietly. (Unionless compound sentence; compare)
The property of the mirror was: it was able to speak. (Unionless compound sentence)
Exercise 228 Colon is used Examples After the words of the author before direct speech. In his sleep, he always whispered: "Mom, mom!" After the generalizing word before homogeneous members. Snow lay everywhere: on the slopes of the mountain, on the branches of trees. Between parts of a complex non-union sentence with the meaning of reason, explanation, addition. I trust those who love: they are magnanimous. (Meaningful reasons.) Objects lost their shape: everything merged first into a gray, then into a dark mass. (Meaningful explanation.) And here's what I noticed: near some houses, poplars dry. (Supplement value.)
Exercise 229
In half an hour the weather had time to change: the fog spread over the sea gathered into gray, dull, damp clouds and covered the sun; some kind of sad drizzle pours from above and wets the roofs, sidewalks and soldiers' overcoats ... 2) I listened with curiosity to the conversations of soldiers and officers and carefully peered into the expressions of their physiognomies; but I could definitely not see in anyone a shadow of the anxiety that I myself experienced: jokes, laughter, stories expressed general carelessness and indifference to the impending danger. 3) Four people ... young officers were in different corners of the room: one of them, putting some kind of fur coat under his head, was sleeping on the sofa; the other, standing at the table, was cutting roast lamb... 4) Volodya was extremely delighted: the thought of danger did not occur to him. 5) You are not in the mood for these stories, which you will listen to for a long time in all corners of Russia: you want to go to the bastions as soon as possible, namely to the fourth, about which you have been told so many and so differently. 6) The officer urged the coachman: he seemed to want to come as soon as possible.
1)[-=]:[-= and =];[-= and =]...
[-= and =]; but [-=], (which =): [-, -, - =].
[-=]:[-=]; [-=].-
5) [=], (which - ==): [- -], (about which =).
1) At half an hour, the weather had time to change: the fog spread over the sea gathered in ?? DY ?, high, damp clouds and covered the sun; some kind of sad drizzle is pouring from above, soaking dazzi, sidewalks and Roldat overcoats ...
Narrative, non-exclamation.
Three grammatical bases means complex; bases are two-part.
Communication is unionless; proposal is non-union.
[-=]: [- (=) and (=)]; [- (=) and (=)].
In the 2nd and 3rd parts, the content of the 1st is explained.
Volodya was extremely delighted: the thought of danger did not occur to him.
1. Narrative, non-exclamation.
Two grammatical bases means complex; bases - two-component.
Communication is unionless; proposal is non-union.
[-=]:[=-]
The 2nd part explains the content of the 1st.
Scatters^o^.
Half an orange, half a lemon, half Moscow, half a garden.
Exercise 230
By which artist does this painting belong?
What do you know about the artist himself, what is his fate?
The scene of the picture is an episode of hostilities, the capture of a fortress.
The foreground is a mortally wounded soldier who will soon die.
Description of a person - clothes, age. He was just wounded - he had not yet had time to fall. Facial expression, figure.
What is this soldier thinking now? Perhaps he regrets that he participated in the war or is proud of his duty.
The meaning of the name, the unusualness of the chosen character.
Your feelings from the picture, emotions, impressions, memories of other terrible wars of mankind, of countless losses and death.
ZSP-11
Something flashed between the trees.
Some puddles appeared.
cr. incl.
Half the field had already been plowed.

Hello internet users. Need your help with an answer.
Write off. Explain (verbally) the spelling of n or nn.
I. 1) The day was gray and windy..th. Around are empty..s
stubble and arable land. (A. N. T.) 2) In a small, oklee .. om be-
in the smoky, completely empty hall it was light, it smelled of oil .. oh
paint, on a shiny, more beautiful .. th floor against the wall stood
two Chinese vases. (A. N. T.) 3) To the stables, barns and
kitchens were used full-weight .. logs, defined
delo .. s for centuries of standing ... Everything was fitted .. but tightly
and as it should. (G.) 4) With a desperate ..th cry, Nikita threw-
sit on the floor. (A. N. T.) 5) Smart .. the boy likes
wailed to the sailor. (N.O.) 6) In the hallway I met him [Dubrov-
nanny] and with tears hugged her educator ..ik. (P.)
7) What is a stationmaster? Real pain..ik
fourteenth grade. (P.) 8) Hall and guests .. th were dark
us. (P.)
II. 1) Ivan Ilyich and Dasha settled on a farm in ma-
for .. oh hut. (A.N.T.) 2) Alexei unfolded the rag, you-
zero crow .. hours. (A. N. T.) 3) His unkempt.. hair
fell on my eyes in a wave. (F. Sh.) 4) There were
high rooms with whitewashed walls and unpainted
floors. 5) I will never forget this fabulous walk
among the tall pines along the sand, mixed with pine needles. (F. Sh.)
6) The candle was extinguished..a. (Kor.) 7) The steppe was empty ..a,
appallingly quiet. (Shol.)

Autumn came, the earth sank to rest. Later, the sun rose, not warming, old, - he no longer cared about the earth. The birds have flown. The garden was empty, the leaves were falling. They pulled the boat out of the pond and put it upside down in the shed.

In the mornings now, in places where the shadows from the roofs fell, the grass was gray, touched with frost. On the hoarfrost, on the autumn-green grass, geese walked to the pond, the geese grew fat, rolled over like clods of snow. Twelve girls from the village were chopping cabbage in a large log near the people's, singing songs, banging the whole yard with choppers. From the cellar, where butter was churned, Dunyasha ran, gnawed on stalks, - she became even prettier in autumn, and was filled with a blush, and everyone knew that she ran to the people's room not to gnaw stalks and laugh with the girls, but then to see her from the window a young worker Vasily, the same thing - blood with milk. Artyom completely hung his nose and repaired it in human collars.

Mother moved to the winter half. Furnaces were lit in the house. Akhilka the hedgehog dragged rags and pieces of paper under the sideboard and strove to fall asleep for the whole winter. Arkady Ivanovich was whistling in his room. Through the crack in the door, Nikita saw Arkady Ivanovich standing in front of the mirror and, holding himself by the tip of his beard, whistled thoughtfully: clearly, the man was planning to marry.

Vasily Nikitievich sent a convoy with wheat to Samara and left the next day himself. Before leaving, he had long conversations with his mother. She was waiting for a letter from him.

A week later, Vasily Nikitievich wrote:

“I sold the bread, imagine - successfully, more expensive than Medvedev. The matter with the inheritance, as one might expect, did not move a single step. Therefore, of course, the second solution suggests itself, which you so opposed, dear Sasha. We can't live apart even this winter. I advise you to hurry with your departure, as classes at the gymnasium have already begun. Only as a separate exception will Nikita be allowed to take the entrance exam for the second grade. By the way, they offer me two amazing Chinese vases - this is for our city apartment; only the fear that you will be angry keeps me from buying for the time being.”

Mother hesitated for a moment. Anxiety about Vasily Nikitievich's possession of a lot of money, and especially the danger of him buying unnecessary Chinese vases for anyone in the world, forced Alexandra Leontievna to get ready in three days. The furniture necessary for the city, large chests, casks with salting and living creatures, mother sent with a wagon train. Light herself, on two troikas, with Nikita, Arkady Ivanovich and Vasilisa the cook, she went ahead. The day was gray and windy. Around the desert stubble and arable land. Mother felt sorry for the horses, she went jogging. In Koldyban we spent the night at an inn. The next day, towards dinner, the domes of churches and the chimneys of steam mills rose from behind the flat edge of the steppe, out of the gray mist. Mother was silent: she did not like the city, city life. Arkady Ivanovich was biting his beard with impatience. We drove for a long time past stinking fat-burning factories, past timber warehouses, passed a dirty settlement with taverns and grocers, crossed a wide bridge, where the suburban guys, mustard-makers, were naughty at night; here are the gloomy log barns on the steep bank of the Samarka River - the tired horses went uphill, and the wheels rattled along the pavement. Cleanly dressed passers-by looked with surprise at the carriages covered with mud. It began to seem to Nikita that both carriages were clumsy and ridiculous, that the horses - variegated, rustic - if only to turn off the main street! Here, a black trotter harnessed to a varnished charaban flew past, strongly clapping its horseshoes.

Sergey Ivanovich, why are you driving like that, hurry up, - said Nikita ...

And so we'll get there.

Sergei Ivanovich sat sedately and sternly on the box, holding the troika at a trot. Finally, we turned into a side street, drove past the fire tower, where a big-faced guy in a Greek helmet was standing at the gate, and stopped at a white one-story house with a cast-iron porch across the entire sidewalk. The joyful face of Vasily Nikitievich appeared in the window. He waved his hands, disappeared, and a minute later opened the front door himself.

Nikita ran into the house first. In a small, white-pasted, completely empty room, it was light, smelled of oil paint, on a shiny painted floor against the wall stood two Chinese vases that looked like washing jugs. At the end of the hall, in an archway with white columns reflected in the floor, a girl in a brown dress appeared. Her hands were tucked under a white apron, her yellow shoes were also reflected in the floor. Her hair was combed into a braid, behind her ears on the back of her head a black bow. Blue eyes looked sternly, even narrowed a little. It was Lily. Nikita stood in the middle of the hall, stuck to the floor. Lilya must have been looking at him just as passers-by on the main street looked at the Sosnovka chariots.

Did you receive my letter? she asked. Nikita nodded to her. - Where is it? Give me this minute.

Although the letter was not with him, Nikita nevertheless rummaged in his pocket. Lily looked him in the eye, angrily...

I wanted to answer, but ... - Nikita muttered.

Where is it?

In a suitcase.

If you don’t give it back today, it’s all over between us ... I am very sorry that I wrote to you ... Now I have entered the first grade of the gymnasium.

She pursed her lips and stood on tiptoe. It was only now that Nikita realized that he hadn't replied to the lilac letter... He swallowed his saliva, unsticked his legs from the mirrored floor... Lily immediately hid her hands under her apron again - her nose rose. Long eyelashes closed completely from contempt.

Forgive me, - Nikita said, - I'm terrible, terrible ... These are all horses, reaping, threshing, Mishka Koryashonok ...

He blushed and lowered his head. Lily was silent. He felt disgusted with himself, sort of like a cow patty. But at that moment, Anna Apollosovna's voice boomed in the hallway, greetings and kisses were heard, the heavy footsteps of the coachmen carrying in the suitcases sounded ... Lily whispered angrily, quickly:

They see us... You are impossible... Put on a cheerful face... maybe I'll forgive you this time...

And she ran into the hallway. From there, through the empty echoing rooms, her thin voice rang:

Hello, aunt Sasha, welcome!

Thus began the first day of a new life. Instead of a calm, joyful country expanse, there are seven cramped, uninhabited rooms, outside the window lorries rumbling over the cobblestones and hurrying, all dressed like a zemstvo doctor from Pestravka, Verinosov, anxious people run, covering their mouths with their collars from the wind carrying papers and dust. Fuss, noise, excited conversations. Even the hours went differently here - they flew. Nikita and Arkady Ivanovich arranged Nikitin's room, arranged furniture and books, hung curtains. At dusk Victor came straight from the gymnasium and told me that the fifth graders smoked in the lavatory and that the arithmetic teacher in their class was glued to a chair smeared with gum arabic. Victor was independent and scattered. He begged Nikita for a penknife with twelve blades and went "to one comrade - you don't know him" - to play feathers.

At dusk Nikita was sitting by the window. The sunset outside the city was still the same rural one. But Nikita, like Zheltukhin behind gauze, felt like a captured prisoner, a stranger - exactly like Zheltukhin. Arkady Ivanovich entered the room, wearing a coat and hat, holding a clean handkerchief in his hand, spreading the smell of cologne.

I'm leaving, I'll be back at nine o'clock.

Where are you going?

Where I am not yet. - He chuckled. - What, brother, how did Lily accept you, - right into the pitchfork ... Nothing, you'll make yourself happy. And even that's kind of good to lower the village fat ... - He turned on his heel and went out. In one day he became a completely different person.

That night, Nikita dreamed that he, in a blue uniform with silver buttons, was standing in front of Lily and saying sternly:

Here is your letter, take it.

But with these words he woke up and again saw how he was walking along the gleaming floor and saying to Leela:

Take your letter.

Lily's long eyelashes rose and fell, her independent nose was proud and alien, but just about the nose and the whole face will cease to be strangers and laugh ...

He woke up, looked around - the strange light of a street lamp lay on the wall ... And again Nikita dreamed the same thing. Never in reality had he loved this incomprehensible girl so much ...

The next morning my mother, Arkady Ivanovich and Nikita went to the gymnasium and talked to the headmaster, a thin, gray-haired, stern man who smelled of copper. A week later, Nikita passed the entrance exam and entered the second grade ...