Approximate range of problems. There was a problem on Christmas Eve. N.d.teleshov, Mitrich’s tree: commenting on the fipi text. Approximate range of problems 1 was Christmas Eve 2 migrant caretaker

Mitrich's Christmas tree A story for children by Nikolai Teleshov

I

It was Christmas Eve...
The caretaker of the resettlement barracks, a retired soldier with a beard gray as mouse hair, named Semyon Dmitrievich, or simply Mitrich, went up to his wife and said cheerfully, puffing on his pipe:
- Well, woman, what a thing I thought up!
Agrafena had no time; with her sleeves rolled up and her collar unbuttoned, she busied herself in the kitchen preparing for the feast.
"Listen, woman," Mitrich repeated.
- Rather than inventing things, I would take a whisk and take off the cobwebs! - answered the wife, pointing to the corners. - Look, the spiders were bred. Would go and dare!
Mitrich, not ceasing to smile, looked at the ceiling, where Agrafena was pointing, and said cheerfully:
- The web will not go away; estimate ... And you, listen, woman, what have I thought of something!
-- Well?
- There you go! You listen.
Mitrich blew a puff of smoke from his pipe and, stroking his beard, sat down on a bench.
“I’m saying, baba, that’s what,” he began briskly, but immediately faltered.
-- Well?
- Well, I say: everyone, they say, rejoices, everyone has his own: who has a new thing for the holiday, who will have feasts ... You, for example, will have a clean room, I will also have my own pleasure: I will buy wine and sausages! .. Everyone will have his own pleasure, - right?
“So what?” said the old woman indifferently.
“And then,” Mitrich sighed again, “that everyone will have a holiday as a holiday, but, I say, for the children, it turns out that there is no real holiday ... Do you understand? .. It is a holiday, but there is no pleasure ... I look at them, and I think; eh, I think it’s wrong!.. It is known, orphans... neither mother, nor father, nor relatives... I think to myself, a woman: it’s awkward!
“You can’t seem to be overheard,” Agrafena waved her hand and began to wash the benches.
But Mitrich did not stop.
“I thought, woman, this is what,” he said, smiling, “you need to amuse the children, woman! They’ll bring this, a Christmas tree, take it away with candles and gifts, and their children just even jump for joy! .. I think to myself, a woman: the forest is close to us ... I’ll cut down my Christmas tree and arrange such fun for the children that they will remember Mitrich all the century! Here, woman, what is the intention, huh?
Mitrich winked merrily and smacked his lips.
- What am I?
Agrafena was silent. She wanted to quickly tidy up and clean the room. She was in a hurry, and Mitrich only hindered her with his conversation.
- No, what, woman, intent, huh?
- Well, those with your intent! she shouted at her husband. Let go, there is no time to tell fairy tales with you!
Mitrich got up because Agrafena, having dipped a washcloth into a bucket, carried it to the bench right next to where her husband was sitting, and began to rub it. Jets of dirty water poured onto the floor, and Mitrich realized that he had come at the wrong time.
- All right, grandma! he said enigmatically. Children will remember Mitrich all the century! ..
“Obviously, there’s nothing for you to do.
- No, grandma! There is something to do: but it is said, I will arrange it - and I will arrange it! No wonder they are orphans, but Mitrich will not be forgotten all his life!
And, thrusting the extinguished pipe into his pocket, Mitrich went out into the yard.
II

In the yard, here and there, wooden houses were scattered, covered with snow, clogged with boards; Behind the houses there was a wide snowy field, and further on one could see the tops of the city outpost... From early spring until late autumn, settlers passed through the city. There were so many of them, and they were so poor, that kind people built these houses for them, which were guarded by Mitrich. The houses were all overcrowded, and meanwhile the settlers kept coming and coming. They had nowhere to go, and so they scattered huts in the field, where they hid with their families and children in cold and bad weather. Some lived here for a week, two, and others for more than a month, waiting in line on the ship. In the middle of summer, such a multitude of people gathered here that the whole field was covered with huts. But by autumn the field was little by little empty, the houses were vacated and also empty, and by winter there was no one left except Mitrich and Agrafena, and a few other children, who was unknown.
"That's a mess, that's a mess!" - Mitrich reasoned, shrugging his shoulders. - Where to go with these people now? What are they? Where did they come from?
Sighing, he approached the child who stood alone at the gate.
- Whose are you?
The child, thin and pale, looked at him with timid eyes and was silent.
-- What is your name?
- Fomka.
-- Where? What is the name of your village?
The child did not know
"Well, what's your father's name?"
- Tyatka.
- I know that the father ... But does he have a name? Well, for example, Petrov or Sidorov, or, there, Golubev, Kasatkin? What is his name?
- Tyatka.
Accustomed to such answers, Mitrich sighed and, waving his hand, did not inquire any more.
- Parents, you know, lost, fool? - he said, stroking the child on the head. - And who are you? he said to another child. “Where is your father?”
-- Died.
- Died? Well, eternal memory to him! Where did mother go?
- Died.
- Did she die too?
Mitrich shrugged and, gathering such orphans, took them to the resettlement official. He also interrogated and also shrugged his shoulders.
Some of the parents died, others went somewhere, and Mitrich had eight such children for this winter, one less than the other. Where to put them? Who are they? Where did they come from? Nobody knew this.
"God's children!" Mitrich called them.
They were given one of the houses, the smallest one. There they lived, and there Mitrich decided to arrange a Christmas tree for them for the sake of the holiday, such as he saw among rich people.
"It's been said, I'll do it - and I'll do it!" he thought, walking across the yard.
III

First of all, he went to the church elder.
- So and so, Nikita Nazaritch, I am asking you with the most zealous request. Don't give up on a good deed.
-- What's happened?
"Order me to give out a handful of stumps... the tiniest... Because the orphans... neither father nor mother... I, therefore, am a resettlement watchman... Eight orphans are left... So, Nikita Nazaritch, lend me a handful."
- What do you need cinders for?
- I want to make a pleasure ... Light a Christmas tree, sort of like good people.
The elder looked at Mitrich and shook his head reproachfully.
“Are you out of your mind, old man, or something?” he said, continuing to shake his head. “Ah, old man, old man! Candles, I suppose, were burning in front of the icons, but would you give them out of stupidity?
“After all, cigarette butts, Nikita Nazaritch ...
- Get on, get on! - the headman waved his hand. - And how such nonsense came into your head, I'm surprised!
Mitrich approached with a smile, and walked away with a smile, but only he was very offended. It was also embarrassing in front of the church watchman, a witness to the failure, an old soldier like himself, who now looked at him with a grin and seemed to think: "What? Stumbled, old fuck! .." Wanting to prove that he did not ask for "tea" and did not fuss for himself, Mitrich went up to the old man and said:
- What is the sin here, if I take the cinder? I ask orphans, not myself... Let them rejoice... neither father, therefore, nor mother... To put it bluntly: God's children!
In short words, Mitrich explained to the old man why he needed the cinders, and again asked:
- What is the sin?
"Did you hear Nikita Nazaritch?" asked the soldier in his turn and winked merrily.
Mitrich bowed his head and thought. But there was nothing to be done. He raised his cap and, nodding to the soldier, said touchily:
- Well, then, be healthy. Goodbye!
- And what kind of cinders do you want?
- Yes, all the same ... you like the tiniest ones. Would lend a handful. You will do a good deed. No father, no mother ... Just - no one's children!
Ten minutes later Mitrich was walking through the city with a pocket full of butts, smiling merrily and triumphant. He also had to go to Pavel Sergeevich, the resettlement official, to congratulate him on the holiday, where he expected to rest, and if he was treated, then drink a glass of vodka. But the official was busy; without seeing Mitrich, he ordered me to say "thank you" to him and sent a fifty kopeck piece.
"Well, now it's all right!" Mitrich thought merrily.
Returning home, he did not say a word to his wife, but only laughed silently and thought out when and how to arrange everything.
"Eight children," Mitrich reasoned, curling his clumsy fingers in his hands, "so eight candies..."
Taking out the received coin, Mitrich looked at it and realized something.
- All right, grandma! he thought aloud. - and, laughing, went to visit the children.
Entering the barracks, Mitrich looked around and said cheerfully:
- Well, public, hello. Happy holiday!
In response, friendly children's voices rang out, and Mitrich, not knowing why he was rejoicing, was moved.
“Ah, you public-public!” he whispered, wiping his eyes and smiling. “Oh, you, such a public!
His heart was both sad and happy. And the children also looked at him, either with joy or with sadness.
IV

It was a clear frosty afternoon.
With an ax in his belt, in a sheepskin coat and a hat pulled down to the very eyebrows, Mitrich was returning from the forest, carrying a Christmas tree on his shoulder. And the Christmas tree, and the mittens, and the felt boots were fluffy with snow, and Mitrich's beard was frosted over, and his mustache was frozen, but he himself walked with an even, soldier's step, waving his free hand like a soldier. He was having fun, even though he was tired. In the morning he went to the city to buy sweets for the children, and for himself - vodka and sausages, which he was a passionate hunter, but he rarely bought it and ate only on holidays.
Without telling his wife, Mitrich brought the tree straight into the barn and sharpened the end with an axe; then he adjusted it so that it stood up, and when everything was ready, dragged it to the children.
- Well, the audience, now quietly! - he said, setting up the Christmas tree. - Here it thaws a little, then help!
The children looked and did not understand what Mitrich was doing, but he adjusted everything and kept saying:
-- What? Has it become crowded?.. I suppose you think, the audience, that Mitrich has gone mad, huh? Why, they say, makes it crowded? .. Well, well, the public, do not be angry! It won't be tight!
When the tree warmed up, the room smelled of freshness and resin. The children's faces, sad and thoughtful, suddenly cheered up... No one yet understood what the old man was doing, but everyone already anticipated pleasure, and Mitrich looked cheerfully at the eyes fixed on him from all sides.
Then he brought the stub ends and began to tie them with thread.
- Well, you, gentleman! - he turned to the boy, standing on a stool. - Give me a candle here ... Like that! You give me, and I'll tie.
-- And I! And I! voices were heard.
- Well, you too, - agreed Mitrich. - One hold the candles, the other the threads, the third give one, the fourth another ... And you, Marfusha, look at us, and you all look ... Here we are, that means we will all be in business. Right?
In addition to candles, eight sweets were hung on the Christmas tree, hooked on the lower knots. However, looking at them, Mitrich shook his head and thought aloud:
- But ... liquid, the audience?
He stood silently in front of the tree, sighed, and said again:
- Liquid, brothers!
But, no matter how fascinated Mitrich was with his idea, he could not hang anything on the Christmas tree, except for eight sweets.
-- Hm! - he reasoned, wandering around the yard. - What would you come up with? ..
Suddenly a thought came to him that he even stopped.
-- And what? - he said to himself. - Will it be right or not? ..
Lighting his pipe, Mitrich again asked himself the question: is it right or not?.. It seemed to come out "right"...
"They're little kids... they don't understand anything," the old man reasoned. I suppose we ourselves want to have some fun? .. Yes, and a woman needs to be regaled!
And without hesitation Mitrich decided. Although he was very fond of sausage and valued every piece, but the desire to treat him to glory overpowered all his considerations.
- Okay! .. I’ll cut off a circle for everyone and hang it on a thread. And I’ll cut off a slice of bread, and also on a Christmas tree. And I’ll hang a bottle for myself!.. And I’ll pour myself a drink, and I’ll treat the woman, and the orphans will have a delicacy! Hey Mitrich! exclaimed the old man cheerfully, slapping his thighs with both hands.
V

As soon as it got dark, the Christmas tree was lit. It smelled of melted wax, resin and greenery. Always gloomy and thoughtful, the children shouted with joy, looking at the lights. Their eyes brightened, their faces flushed, and when Mitrich ordered them to dance around the Christmas tree, they, clutching their hands, jumped up and made a noise. For the first time, laughter, cries and talk revived this gloomy room, where from year to year only complaints and tears were heard. Even Agrafena clasped her hands in surprise, while Mitrich, rejoicing from the bottom of his heart, clapped his hands and shouted:
- That's right, the audience! .. That's right!
Then he took the harmonica and, playing in every way, sang along:

The men were alive
Mushroom mushrooms grew, -
Good good,
Good-hundred, good!

Well, baba, now let's have a bite! - said Mitrich, putting down the harmonica. - Audience, at attention! ..
Admiring the Christmas tree, he smiled and, propping his sides with his hands, looked first at the pieces of bread hanging on threads, then at the children, then at the mugs of sausage, and finally commanded:
-- Public! Get in line!
Taking a piece of bread and sausage from the Christmas tree, Mitrich dressed all the children, then took off the bottle and drank a glass with Agrafena.
- What, woman, am I? he asked, pointing to the children. “Look, the orphans are eating!” Chewing! Look, grandma! Rejoice!
Then he again took the harmonica and, forgetting his old age, began to dance with the children, playing and singing along:
Good, good, good-hundred, good!
The children jumped, squealed merrily and whirled, and Mitrich did not lag behind them. His soul was filled with such joy that he did not remember if there had ever been such a holiday in his life.
-- Public! he finally exclaimed.
The children screamed with joy and rushed to the Christmas tree, and Mitrich, touched almost to tears, whispered to Agrafena:
“Good, baba!.. You can directly say: right!..

It was the only bright holiday in the life of the resettlement "God's children".
None of them will forget Mitrich's Christmas tree!

I
It was Christmas Eve...

The caretaker of the resettlement barracks, a retired soldier with a beard gray as mouse hair, named Semyon Dmitrievich, or simply Mitrich, went up to his wife and said cheerfully, puffing on his pipe:

Well, woman, what a thing I thought up!

Agrafena had no time; with her sleeves rolled up and her collar unbuttoned, she busied herself in the kitchen preparing for the feast.

Listen, woman, - repeated Mitrich. - I'm telling you what I thought!

Than to invent things, I would take a whisk and take off the cobwebs! answered the wife, pointing to the corners. - Look, the spiders were bred. Would go and dare!

Mitrich, not ceasing to smile, looked at the ceiling, where Agrafena was pointing, and said cheerfully:

The web won't go away; estimate ... And you, listen, woman, what have I thought of something!

Here are those and well! You listen.

Mitrkch blew a puff of smoke from his pipe and, stroking his beard, sat down on a bench.

I say, woman, that's what, - he began briskly, but immediately faltered. - I say, the holiday is coming ...

And for everyone it is a holiday, everyone rejoices in it ... Right, woman?

Well, I say: everyone, they say, rejoices, everyone has his own: who has a new thing for the holiday, who will have feasts ... You, for example, will have a clean room, I also have my own pleasure: I will buy myself some wine and sausages! ..

Everyone will have their own pleasure, right?

So what? the old woman said indifferently.

And then, - Mitrich sighed again, - that everyone will have a holiday as a holiday, but, I say, for the children, it turns out that there is no real holiday ... Do you understand? .. It is a holiday, but there is no pleasure ... I look at them, and I think; oh, I think it’s wrong! .. It is known, orphans ... no mother, no father, no relatives ... I think to myself, a woman:

clumsy! .. Why is this - a joy to every person, but nothing to an orphan!

You, apparently, can not be overheard, - Agrafena waved her hand and began to wash the benches.

But Mitrich did not stop.

I thought, woman, this is what, - he said, smiling, - it is necessary, woman, to amuse the children! They’ll bring this, a Christmas tree, take it away with candles and gifts, and their children just even jump for joy! .. I think to myself, a woman: the forest is close to us ... I’ll cut down my Christmas tree and arrange such fun for the children that they will remember Mitrich all the century!

Here, woman, what is the intention, huh?

Mitrich winked merrily and smacked his lips.

What am I?

Agrafena was silent. She wanted to quickly tidy up and clean the room. She was in a hurry, and Mitrich only hindered her with his conversation.

No, what, woman, is the intent, huh?

Well, those with your intent! she shouted at her husband. - Let something that sat down from the bench! Let go, there is no time to tell fairy tales with you!

Mitrich got up because Agrafena, having dipped a washcloth into a bucket, carried it to the bench right next to where her husband was sitting, and began to rub it. Jets of dirty water poured onto the floor, and Mitrich realized that he had come at the wrong time.

Okay, grandma! he said enigmatically. - I'll arrange some fun, so I suppose you yourself will say thank you! .. I say, I'll do it - and I'll do it! Children will remember Mitrich all the century! ..

Apparently, there is nothing for you to do.

No, grandma! There is something to do: but it is said, I will arrange it - and I will arrange it! No wonder they are orphans, but Mitrich will not be forgotten all his life!

And, thrusting the extinguished pipe into his pocket, Mitrich went out into the yard.

II
In the yard, here and there, wooden houses were scattered, covered with snow, clogged with boards; behind the houses there was a wide snowy field, and then the tops of the city outpost were visible ... From early spring until late autumn, settlers passed through the city. There were so many of them, and they were so poor, that kind people built these houses for them, which were guarded by Mitrich.

The houses were all overcrowded, and meanwhile the settlers kept coming and coming. They had nowhere to go, and so they scattered huts in the field, where they hid with their families and children in cold and bad weather. Some lived here for a week, two, and others for more than a month, waiting in line on the ship. In the middle of summer, such a multitude of people gathered here that the whole field was covered with huts. But by autumn the field was little by little empty, the houses were vacated and also empty, and by winter there was no one left except Mitrich and Agrafena, and a few other children, who was unknown.

That's a mess, that's a mess! Mitrich reasoned, shrugging his shoulders. - Where to go now with these people? What are they? Where did they come from?

Sighing, he approached the child who stood alone at the gate.

Whose are you?

The child, thin and pale, looked at him with timid eyes and was silent.

What is your name? - Fomka.

Where? What is the name of your village?

The child did not know.

Well, what's your father's name?

I know that tyatka... Does he have a name? Well, for example, Petrov or Sidorov, or, there, Golubev, Kasatkin?

What is his name?

Accustomed to such answers, Mitrich sighed and, waving his hand, did not inquire any more.

Parents something to know, lost, fool? he said, stroking the child's head. - And who are you? he said to another child. - Where is your father?

Died? Well, eternal memory to him! Where did mother go?

She died.

Did she die too?

Mitrich shrugged and, gathering such orphans, took them to the resettlement official. He also interrogated and also shrugged his shoulders.

Some of the parents died, others went somewhere, and Mitrich had eight such children for this winter, one less than the other. Where to put them?

Who are they? Where did they come from? Nobody knew this.

"God's children!" - Mitrich called them.

They were given one of the houses, the smallest one. There they lived, and there Mitrich decided to arrange a Christmas tree for them for the sake of the holiday, such as he saw among rich people.

“It is said, I will do it - and I will do it! he thought as he walked across the yard. - Let the orphans rejoice! I’ll compose such fun that they won’t forget Mitrich for the rest of his life!”

III
First of all, he went to the church elder.

So and so, Nikita Nazaritch, I make a most zealous request to you. Don't give up on a good deed.

What's happened?

Order to give out a handful of cinders ... the most ma

little ones... Because the orphans... neither father nor mother... I, therefore, am the resettlement watchman... There are eight orphans left... So, Nikita Nazaritch, lend me a handful.

What do you need cinders for?

I want to make a pleasure ... Light a Christmas tree, sort of like good people.

The elder looked at Mitrich and shook his head reproachfully.

Are you out of your mind, old man, or something? he said, continuing to shake his head. - Oh, old man, old man! Candles, I suppose, were burning in front of the icons, but would you give them out of stupidity?

After all, cinders, Nikita Nazaritch ...

Get up, get up! The elder waved his hand. - And how such nonsense came to your head, I wonder!

Mitrich approached with a smile, and walked away with a smile, but only he was very offended. It was also embarrassing in front of the church watchman, a witness to the failure, an old soldier like him, who now looked at him with a grin and seemed to think: “What?

I stumbled on, you old bastard!..” Wanting to prove that he was not asking for “tea” and was not fussing for himself, Mitrich went up to the old man and said:

What is the sin here, if I take the cinder? I ask orphans, not myself ... Let them rejoice ... neither father, therefore, nor mother ... To put it bluntly: God's children!

In short words, Mitrich explained to the old man why he needed the cinders, and again asked:

What is the sin here?

Have you heard Nikita Nazaritch? the soldier asked in his turn and winked merrily. - That's just the point!

Mitrich bowed his head and thought. But there was nothing to be done. He raised his cap and, nodding to the soldier, said touchily:

Well, then be healthy. Goodbye!

And what kind of cinders are you?

Yes, all the same ... he likes the smallest. Would lend a handful. You will do a good deed. No father, no mother ... Just - no one's kids!

Ten minutes later Mitrich was walking through the city with a pocket full of butts, smiling merrily and triumphant.

He also had to go to Pavel Sergeevich, the resettlement official, to congratulate him on the holiday, where he expected to rest, and if he was treated, then drink a glass of vodka. But the official was busy; without seeing Mitrich, he ordered me to say "thank you" to him and sent a fifty kopeck piece.

“Well, okay now! Mitrich thought cheerfully. - Now let the woman say what she wants, and I'll make fun for the kids! Now, woman, coven!

Returning home, he did not say a word to his wife, but only laughed silently and thought out when and how to arrange everything.

“Eight children,” Mitrich reasoned, bending his clumsy fingers on his hands, so eight sweets ...

Taking out the received coin, Mitrich looked at it and realized something.

Okay, grandma! he thought aloud. - You look at me! - and, laughing, went to visit the children.

Entering the barracks, Mitrich looked around and said cheerfully:

Well hello people. Happy holiday!

Oh, you public, public! .. - he whispered, wiping his eyes and smiling. - Oh, you, such an audience!

His heart was both sad and happy. And the children also looked at him, either with joy or with sadness.

IV
It was a clear frosty afternoon.

With an ax in his belt, in a sheepskin coat and a hat pulled down to the very eyebrows, Mitrich was returning from the forest, carrying a Christmas tree on his shoulder. And the Christmas tree, and the mittens, and the felt boots were fluffy with snow, and Mitrich's beard was frosted over, and his mustache was frozen, but he himself walked with an even, soldier's step, waving his free hand like a soldier. He was having fun, even though he was tired.

In the morning he went to the city to buy sweets for the children, and for himself vodka and sausages, which he was a passionate hunter for, but he rarely bought it and ate it only on holidays.

Without telling his wife, Mitrich brought the tree straight into the barn and sharpened the end with an axe; then he adjusted it so that it stood up, and when everything was ready, dragged it to the children.

Well, audience, now quietly! - he said, setting up the Christmas tree. - That's a little thawed, then help!

The children looked and did not understand what Mitrich was doing, but he adjusted everything and kept saying:

What? Has it become crowded?.. I suppose you think, the audience, that Mitrich has gone mad, huh? Why, they say, makes it crowded? .. Well, well, the public, do not be angry! It won't be tight!

When the tree warmed up, the room smelled of freshness and resin. The children's faces, sad and thoughtful, suddenly cheered up... No one yet understood what the old man was doing, but everyone already anticipated pleasure, and Mitrich looked cheerfully at the eyes fixed on him from all sides.

Then he brought the stub ends and began to tie them with thread.

Come on, you cavalier! - he turned to the boy, standing on a stool. Let's have a candle here ... Like this! You give me, and I'll tie.

Well, and you, - Mitrich agreed. - One hold the candles, the other the threads, the third let's do one thing, the fourth another ...

And you, Marfusha, look at us, and you all look ... Here we are, which means that we will all be in business. Right?

In addition to candles, eight sweets were hung on the Christmas tree, hooked on the lower knots. However, looking at them, Mitrich shook his head and thought aloud:

But ... liquid, the audience?

He stood silently in front of the tree, sighed, and said again:

Liquid, brothers!

But, no matter how fascinated Mitrich was with his idea, he could not hang anything on the Christmas tree, except for eight sweets.

Hm! - he reasoned, wandering around the yard. - What would you come up with?

Suddenly a thought came to him that he even stopped.

And what? he said to himself. -Will it be right or not?

Lighting his pipe, Mitrich asked himself again:

right or wrong? .. It seemed to be “correct” ...

They are small kids ... they don’t understand anything, the old man reasoned. - Well, then, we will amuse them ...

What about yourself? I suppose we ourselves want to have some fun? .. Yes, and a woman needs to be regaled!

And without hesitation Mitrich decided. Although he was very fond of sausage and valued every piece, but the desire to treat him to glory overpowered all his considerations.

Okay! .. I’ll cut off a circle for everyone and hang it on a thread. And I’ll cut off a slice of bread, and also on a Christmas tree.

And I’ll hang a bottle for myself!.. And I’ll pour myself a drink, and I’ll treat the woman, and the orphans will have a delicacy! Hey Mitrich! exclaimed the old man cheerfully, slapping his thighs with both hands. - Oh yes, entertainer!

V
As soon as it got dark, the Christmas tree was lit. It smelled of melted wax, resin and greenery. Always gloomy and thoughtful, the children shouted with joy, looking at the lights. Their eyes brightened, their faces flushed, and when Mitrich ordered them to dance around the Christmas tree, they, clutching their hands, jumped up and made a noise. For the first time, laughter, cries and talk revived this gloomy room, where from year to year only complaints and tears were heard. Even Agrafena clasped her hands in surprise, while Mitrich, rejoicing from the bottom of his heart, clapped his hands and shouted:

That's right, the audience!.. That's right!

Then he took the harmonica and, playing in every way, sang along:

The men were alive

Mushrooms grew,

Good good,

Good-hundred, good!

Well, baba, now let's have a bite! - said Mitrich, putting down the harmonica. Audience, take it easy!

Admiring the Christmas tree, he smiled and, propping his sides with his hands, looked first at the pieces of bread hanging on threads, then at the children, then at the mugs of sausage, and finally commanded:

Public! Get in line!

Taking a piece of bread and sausage from the Christmas tree, Mitrich dressed all the children, then took off the bottle and drank a glass with Agrafena.

What, woman, am I? he asked, pointing to the children. - Look, after all, orphans are chewing! Chewing! Look, grandma! Rejoice!

Then he again took the harmonica and, forgetting his old age, began to dance with the children, playing and singing along:

Good good,

Good-hundred, good!

The children jumped, squealed merrily and whirled, and Mitrich did not lag behind them. His soul was filled with such joy that he did not remember if there had ever been such a holiday in his life.

Public! he exclaimed at last. - Candles are burning down ... Take yourself a piece of candy, and it's time to sleep!

The children screamed with joy and rushed to the Christmas tree, and Mitrich, touched almost to tears, whispered to Agrafena:

Well, baba!.. You can directly say it right!..

It was the only bright holiday in the life of the resettlement "God's children".

None of them will forget Mitrich's Christmas tree!

We analyze the original text of N.D. Teleshov about the Christmas tree.
I. Read the text carefully. Determine his style and the predominant type of speech. Answer the question: What is the text about? Determine its theme.
Text.
(1) It was Christmas Eve...
(2) The caretaker of the resettlement barracks, a retired soldier, with a beard as gray as mouse hair, named Semyon Dmitrievich, or simply Mitrich, went up to his wife and said cheerfully:
- (3) Well, woman, what a thing I thought up! (4) I say, the holiday is coming ... (5) And for everyone it is a holiday, everyone rejoices in it ... (6) Everyone has their own: who has a new thing for the holiday, who will have feasts ... (7) You, for example, will have a clean room, I also have my own pleasure: I’ll buy myself sausages! .. - (8) So what? the old woman said indifferently.
- (9) And then, - Mitrich sighed again, - that everyone will have a holiday as a holiday, but, I say, it turns out that the kids don’t have a real holiday ... (10) I look at them - and my heart bleeds: oh, I think it’s wrong! Amuse the kids! .. (15) I saw a lot of people ... and ours, and I saw everyone ... (16) I saw how they like to amuse children for the holiday. (17) They will bring a Christmas tree, remove it with candles and gifts, and their children just even jump for joy!
(19) Mitrich winked merrily, smacked his lips and went out into the yard.
(20) Around the yard, here and there, wooden houses were scattered, covered with snow, clogged with boards. (21) From early spring to late autumn, settlers passed through the city. (22) There were so many of them, and they were so poor, that good people built these houses for them, which were guarded by Mitrich. (23) By the fall, the houses were vacated, and by winter there was no one left except Mitrich and Agrafena, and even a few children, no one knows whose. (24) For these children, the parents either died or went to no one knows where. (25) Mitrich had eight such children this winter. (26) He settled them all together in one house, where he was going to arrange a holiday today.
(27) First of all, Mitrich went to the church warden to beg for stubs of church candles to decorate the Christmas tree. (28) Then he went to the resettlement official. (29) But the official was busy; without seeing Mitrich, he ordered me to say "thank you" to him and sent a fifty kopeck piece.
(30) Returning home, Mitrich did not say a word to his wife, but only laughed silently and, looking at the coin, figured out when and how to arrange everything.
(31) “Eight children,” Mitrich reasoned, bending his clumsy fingers on his hands, “so eight candies ...”
(32) ... It was a clear frosty afternoon. (33) With an ax in his belt, in a sheepskin coat and a hat, Mitrich returned from the forest, dragging a Christmas tree on his shoulder. (34) He had fun, although he was tired. (35) In the morning he went to the city to buy sweets for the children, and sausages for himself and his wife, to which he was a passionate hunter, but he rarely bought it and ate only on holidays.
(36) Mitrich brought a Christmas tree, sharpened the end with an ax; then he adjusted it to stand, and when everything was ready, dragged it to the children in the barracks.
(37) When the tree warmed up, the room smelled of freshness and resin. (38) Children's faces, sad and thoughtful, suddenly cheered up ... (39) No one yet understood what the old man was doing, but everyone already foresaw pleasure, and Mitrich looked cheerfully at the eyes fixed on him from all sides.
(40) When the candles and sweets were already on the Christmas tree, Mitrich thought: the decoration was poor. (41) No matter how fond he was of his idea, however, he could not hang anything on the Christmas tree, except for eight sweets.
(42) Suddenly such an idea came to him that he even stopped. (43) Although he was very fond of sausage and valued every piece, but the desire to treat to glory overpowered all his considerations:
- (44) I will cut off a circle for everyone and hang it on a thread. (45) And slices of bread, and also on the Christmas tree.
(46) As soon as it got dark, the Christmas tree was lit. (47) It smelled of melted wax, resin and greenery. (48) Always gloomy and thoughtful, the children screamed with joy, looking at the lights. (49) Their eyes brightened, their faces blushed. (50) Laughter, cries and talk revived for the first time this gloomy room, where from year to year only complaints and tears were heard. (51) Even Agrafena clasped her hands in surprise, and Mitrich, rejoicing from the bottom of her heart, clapped her hands. (52) Admiring the Christmas tree, the children having fun, he smiled. (53) And then he commanded:
- (54) The audience! (55)Come! (56) Taking a piece of bread and sausage from the Christmas tree, Mitrich dressed all the children, then took Agrafene for himself.
- (57) Look, the orphans are chewing! (58) Look, they're chewing! (59) Look! (60) Rejoice! he shouted. (61) And after that, Mitrich took the harmonica and, forgetting his old age, started dancing with the children. (62) The children jumped, squealed merrily and whirled, and Mitrich did not lag behind them. (63) His soul was filled with such joy that he did not remember if such a holiday had ever happened in his life.
- (64) The audience! he exclaimed at last. - (65) Candles burn out. (66) Take your own candy, and it's time to sleep!
(67) The children screamed with joy and rushed to the Christmas tree, and Mitrich, touched almost to tears, whispered to Agrafena:
- (68) Good! .. (69) You can directly say: right! .. (According to N.D. Teleshov *)
*Nikolai Dmitrievich Teleshov (1867-1957) - Russian Soviet writer, poet, organizer of the well-known circle of Moscow writers "Wednesday" (1899-1916). The story "Yolka Mitrich" (1897) is included in the cycle "Settlers", dedicated to a large migration beyond the Urals, to Siberia, where the peasants were given allotments of land.

Keep in mind! When you receive a text, try to identify
its style and genre: this will make it easier to understand the text and speed it up
interpretation.

II. Make a plan of essay-reasoning.
Source Code Work Plan Working Papers
Introduction
Problem
(question to be resolved)
A comment
(arguments, explanations) Position of the author
(this is the conclusion to which the author comes, arguing about a particular problem) My position
(built according to the scheme: thesis (position to be proved) - argumentation (provided evidence) - conclusion (general result) Argument No. 1
(literary)
(what piece of classical literature can be taken as proof of your innocence?)
or
Argument #1
(actual)
(what interesting facts of public life, history, politics, art, biographies of famous people can be used as evidence that you are right?) Argument No. 2 (literary) (what piece of classical literature can be taken as evidence of your rightness?) Conclusion (what conclusion can be drawn to make it fit this problem?)
III. State the problem of the text. If you do it right,
When formulating a problem, you can use the following
materials.
What problems do you see in the original text?
Formulation of the text problem in the form of a question.
What role does a holiday play in a person's life?
What is mercy? How does it manifest itself? Does a person's financial ability affect his ability to be merciful?
What is the role of a good deed in our life?
Formulation of the problem of the text using typical constructions of a non-interrogative nature, including the words "problem (of what?)", "question (about what?)".
The problem of the role of the holiday in human life.
Mercy problem.
The problem of a good deed, the role of an expensive deed in a person's life.
Keep in mind! Choose a problem for writing, taking into account the available arguments in your knowledge base? (Be sure to consider this condition!).
IV. Determine the position of the author on the problem you have chosen. The holiday is very important for people. And this applies to both children and adults. Children can sincerely rejoice, have fun, this helps them forget about all the hardships and feel happy. And adults, thanks to the holiday, forget about age, about problems, plunge into childhood, happy and carefree.
Mercy is the ability to care for others. Organizing a holiday is also an act of mercy, as it is an attempt to give children a piece of happiness. A person, even alone, can do a truly good deed, show mercy, because this feeling comes from within, it does not require large financial costs, a person is driven only by the desire to help, please, make happy.
When a person does good, brings happiness to others, this also makes him happy.
You can use the figures below to introduce a thesis that formulates the main idea:
The author expresses the idea that ....
The author's point of view is as follows: ....
The position of N.D. Teleshov is to affirm the idea that ...

V. Think about whether the problem posed by N.D. Teleshov can be considered relevant? What is its relevance? Write about the relevance of the problem posed by the author in one or two sentences. This thesis can be considered transitional to the commentary part - K2 - of your essay.
If necessary, use the following speech clichés that introduce this thesis into the essay:
The relevance of the problem raised by the author lies in the fact that ...
Of course, this problem is relevant, because ...
The problem raised by N.D. Teleshov is extremely topical, because it is connected ...
VI. Make a comment on the formulated problem of the text.
Questions for compiling a textual commentary.
1. How does the author reveal this problem? On what material (example)?
On the example of a small episode from your life?
On the example of an episode from the life of your literary heroes?
On the example of the dialogue between the characters?
2. What is the essence of this problem? What aspects of the problem are discussed in the text?
What (what facts, details ...) does the author pay attention to first of all, revealing this problem? What is the focus of his attention (external events, the internal state of his characters...)?
Does the text indicate the time and place of action? Is it by chance?
What does the author do at the beginning of the text? What does he do next? What does the author draw the reader's attention to at the end of the text?
Questions for compiling a conceptual commentary.
Is this problem relevant?
Is this a new problem or one of the eternal ones? If you can, please explain why?
What can you personally say about this problem without relying on the source text?
What is the main focus of the author?
What aspect of this problem is at the center of his attention?
On what material does he reveal this problem?
ATTENTION! The comment is the third part of your work, and in the essay you place it after the formulated problem. If you cope with the task, you will satisfy the K2 criterion for evaluating the essay.

VII. We express our opinion on the formulated problem. Be sure to write down your thesis. We make a “transition” from the first part of the essay - commenting - to the second - argumentative.
You can use the following "transition" constructions:
I completely agree (agree) with the position of the author, because ... The point of view of the author, who claims that ...
I think that the writer is right in assuming that .. Reflecting on the position of the author, I would like to object: if, ... then ...
ATTENTION! In the "transition" thesis, you should not simply agree or disagree with the author. You should once again confirm the point of view that you are going to argue. Therefore, it is very difficult to do without tautologies here; repetitions in this case are inevitable. To avoid unwanted repetitions, contradictions, tautologies, the necessary synonymous replacements should be made. If you agree with the author, then it is necessary to express his position again in a new way. If you want to object to the author, you must tactfully affirm your position, separating it from the author's position, and substantiate this position with all subsequent text.
VIII. Select the arguments, try to coherently and logically embed them in the text of the essay (that is, we argue our own opinion on the problem of the source text).
1. Think about what interesting facts of public life, history, politics, art, biographies of famous people can be used as proof of your innocence?
Making the second step of the "transition" - the transition to your own argumentation, you can do this with the help of the following sentences - clichés:
There are a number of arguments that could be made...
Let's look at some examples...
There are many examples to prove...
I would like to turn to ... to prove ... -
What arguments can be given to support this thesis?
Submissions to the actual argument.
1. "Christmas story" - or "Christmas" - was written for Christmas time, the period from Christmas to Epiphany, which also included the New Year. During these 12 days, it was customary to gather in the evenings and entertain each other with stories, as TV does today.
An obligatory attribute was the other world. Good and evil forces helped the hero to see the light of truth, or fooled him.
2. The work entitled "Christmas Stories" first appeared in the Russian press in December 1826 in the Moscow Telegraph magazine. It was written by the magazine's publisher Nikolai Polevoy. The Holy Stories of Field Pole reproduced the Russian tradition, which has already begun to be forgotten in cities when the old people told the Hyperlink in the evening (Hyperlink "https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%91%D1%D0%BB%D0%D1%87%D0%BA%DPAP%B8" \ o "Magic ones" bypasses and exposure), one way or another associated with this holiday. The periodical press, in particular literary magazines, by their nature associated with the calendar, partially assumed the role played by oral calendar literature in Russian folklore.
A place for calendar literature was found on the pages of far from all magazines. Magazines, whose ideology gravitated towards a linear rather than cyclical perception of time, aimed at future changes rather than preserving tradition, paid much more attention to news and novelties. At the same time, the watershed here does not in any way turn out to be connected with the Westernizing or Slavophil orientation of the publication. The calendar cycle, as a rule, is ignored by the “thick magazines” published by both of them (although calendar literature is a little closer for the Slavophiles), while mass magazines “for the people” turn to it, which, in particular, was Polevoy's Moscow Telegraph. The heyday of the Christmas story genre in Russia at the turn of the 19th-20th centuries is associated with an increase in the level of literacy and the number of such publications.
3. The founder of the genre of the Christmas story is considered to be Charles Dickens, who in the 1840s. set the basic postulates of "Christmas philosophy": the value of the human soul, the theme of memory and oblivion, love for "a man in sin", childhood ("A Christmas Carol in Prose" (1843).
The tradition of Charles Dickens was accepted by both European and Russian literature and was further developed. A striking example of the genre in European literature is also considered to be “The Little Match Girl” by G. H. Andersen.
The tradition of Dickens in Russia was quickly adopted and partly rethought, since the ground had already been prepared by such Gogol's works as The Night Before Christmas. If the English writer's indispensable finale was the victory of light over darkness, good over evil, the moral rebirth of heroes, then in Russian literature tragic events are not uncommon.
finals. The specifics of the Dickensian tradition demanded a happy, even if not logical and implausible, ending, affirming the triumph of goodness and justice, reminiscent of the gospel miracle and creating a wonderful Christmas atmosphere. In contrast, more realistic works were often created that combined gospel motifs and the main genre specifics of the Christmas story with an enhanced social component. Among the most significant works of Russian writers written in the genre of a Christmas story are F. M. Dostoevsky’s “The Boy at Christ on the Christmas Tree”, a cycle of Leskov’s Christmas stories, Christmas stories by A. P. Chekhov (as, for example, "Boys").
The successor of the traditions of the Christmas story in modern Russian literature is D. E. Galkovsky, who wrote a series of Christmas stories.
4. The tradition of the oral calendar story was reproduced by N.V. Gogol in many of "Evenings on a Farm near Dikanka. Christmas time is dedicated to "The Night Before Christmas". This story is filled with many reliable, colorfully described ethnographic details of the national holiday. The intervention of evil spirits here begins with the abduction of the stars and the month by the devil: a blizzard is added to the darkness that has come in the world, aggravating chaos. Starting from this moment, fantastic events begin to occur in the story. However, if in oral bylichki the intervention of infernal forces often ends badly for the hero (at best, he gets off with a fright), here the blacksmith (that is, the bearer of the “mystical” profession) and the artist Vakula wins over the devil. During the 19th century, this story by N.V. Gogol gained a reputation in Russia as a classic, exemplary Christmas story.
5. A special group of Christmas stories in pre-revolutionary literature were "terrible" or "Epiphany stories", representing a variety of gothic horror literature. The origins of this type of story lie in Christmas beliefs associated with evil spirits and reflecting them HYPERLINK "https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%91%D1%8B%D0%BB%D0%B8%D1%87%D0%BA%D0%B8" \o "Bylichki" bylichki. An early example of this kind of literature is V. A. Zhukovsky’s ballad Svetlana, Tatyana’s dream in Pushkin’s novel Eugene Onegin. In his early stories, Chekhov humorously played with the conventions of this genre ("A Terrible Night", "A Night at the Cemetery"). More serious examples of the genre include "Devil" and "Victim" by A. M. Remizova.
6. One of the most famous stories by Lyudmila Petrushevskaya "The Black Coat", in which the heroine, abandoned by her fiancé and deciding to commit suicide, falls into a strange HYPERLINK Purgatory" between the worlds, where he gets the last chance to change his fateful decision. Although the story allows for a different reading: in a range of genres from a ballad to a children's horror story, it has quite a noticeable echo with Andersen's "The Little Match Girl", starting with the fact that both there and there the heroine's name remains unnamed, and ending with a box with several matches, a key detail for the plot, symbolizing salvation. The absence of an explicit chronological reference to Christmas (or, in a modernized version, the New Year) in The Black Coat (here it simply refers to winter) is quite characteristic of modern Christmas prose, which often avoids such concretization. At the same time, Petrushevskaya has all the other characteristic features of the genre: a miracle, a moral lesson, a happy ending and a moral rebirth of the heroine, as well as a narrator as an independent instance.
In the story "New Year's Boy", which has the subtitle "the current fairy tale", Lyudmila Petrushevskaya explicitly turned to the genre of the Christmas story. Here her heroes, “little people”, by their indifference, themselves perform a small miracle, preventing trouble from happening.
7. In Soviet literature, the Christmas story loses its connection with Christmas time and Christmas that have become "religious prejudices" and turns into a New Year's story. One of the first Soviet New Year's texts was "Yolka in Sokolniki" - an excerpt from Bonch-Bruevich's essay "Three attempts on the life of V. I. Lenin" in 1930, which gained fame as an independent story for children. Here Lenin, who arrived in 1919 for a children's Christmas tree, plays the role of a traditional Santa Claus. The traditional themes of the Christmas story, such as happiness, childhood and the value of the family, are raised by Gaidar's story "Chuk and Gek", written in the tragic years of repression for the country. Although it does not contain an obvious fantastic element, it is distinguished by a special, fairy-tale atmosphere that brings it closer to traditional Christmas stories.
2. Think about what examples from the works of classical literature can be taken as proof of your innocence?
The validity of the above is confirmed by the experience of Russian classical literature.
My agreement with the author's position can be substantiated by another argument from Russian classical literature.
We will try to prove this by referring to examples from fiction. Let’s remember, for example…..
The validity of this thesis (this statement, the above, the above ...) is confirmed by Russian classical literature. Recall, for example, .. The validity of the author's position is confirmed by the experience of Russian classical literature. Let's remember, for example, ...
You can give the following examples from literary works, in which ... I will give examples from fiction, confirming ...
Here are some examples that show that...
Materials for literary argument.
1. Let's turn to the gospel legend. In the center of the event is the birth of a child. In everyday life, the main characters of such an event (birth) would be parents or people around. But after all, not an ordinary baby was born, but a God-man, so he becomes the main figure. The baby illuminates the cave (nativity scene) in which he was born, and this is the forerunner of that light with which the adult Christ will illuminate the whole world.
In the context of the Christmas story, this is manifested in the fact that the image of the hero-child is correlated with the image of the divine baby. In most works, the plot is constructed in such a way that events are refracted through the prism of children's perception - an artistic device that greatly enhances the depth of the “adult” meaning. It is so gratifying sometimes to become children again at least for a while! And this is especially good at Christmas time, when we celebrate the birth of the Divine baby. (Dickens) The "Children's" theme (childish immediacy of the perception of the holiday, children's faith in a miracle) is combined with a family theme, which is again connected with the Gospel - the theme of the Holy Family. Joseph, a bearded carpenter, squeezed, like a swarthy vise, his palms, which once knew the flesh of an unplaned board. bluish robes. And He, a light-eyed baby in a crown of golden arrows, not seeing the Mother, was already looking into the streams of His heavens. (Nabokov. In the cave) 2. A. Kuprin's story "The Wonderful Doctor" describes the real event of Christmas night - a chance meeting of a desperate man on the verge of suicide with the great doctor Pirogov, who, by his active intervention in the life of a family he does not know, performs a real miracle. The family gets back on its feet, its life changes in the most amazing way.
3. There are many wonderful "Christmas" stories - jokes in which there is no edification, but there is something more - good good humor, a feeling of fullness and joy of life. They glorify simple, open and sincere relationships between people, and the events described are consecrated by the Christmas holiday. Such stories teach us to see the smallest events of our daily life in a new way, teach us to find a reason to be happy. Agree, this is so lacking today for the Russian people. Open A. Chekhov's story "Boys" and feed on these sensations:
“After tea, everyone went to the nursery. The father and the girls sat down at the table and began to work, which was interrupted by the arrival of the boys. They made flowers and fringes for the Christmas tree out of multi-colored paper. It was exciting and noisy work. Each newly made flower was greeted by girls with enthusiastic cries, even cries of horror, as if this flower had fallen from the sky; papa also admired and occasionally threw the scissors on the floor, angry with them for being stupid. Mother ran in with a worried face and asked: “Who took my scissors? Again, Ivan Nikolaevich, did you take my scissors?” “Lord, my God, they don’t even give you scissors!” Ivan Nikolaevich answered in a weeping voice and, leaning back in his chair, assumed the pose of an offended person, but after a minute he again admired. Released in 1879, “Christmas Evenings” by G.P. Danilevsky already contain significant signs of an ironic attitude to the genre. In many cases, there is a reasonable explanation for the “mysterious”: for example, the killer of the priest turns out to be not a ghoul at all, as the whole village thinks, but a deacon who “sets up” the deceased lying in the church, smearing his mouth with blood (“Dead Killer”), etc. Standing apart in the cycle is the story "Life in a Hundred Years" - one of the first and brightest examples of futuristic fiction in Russia. The main character, a young man Poroshin, having swallowed a magic pill, is transferred from Paris in 1868 to Paris in 1968. And he discovers that France is now ruled by the Chinese and the Rothschilds, Europe pays a huge tax to the powerful conquering China, men wear dressing gowns, and women wear only jewelry - and nothing more. People listen to opera and other performances on the phone while sitting in restaurants. The only thing that the dreamer Danilevsky guessed quite accurately was that the cities have central heating, lighting and running water.
5. Charles Dickens. "Christmas Stories".
The writer, who in his childhood knew need and injustice, especially acutely felt the contrast between poverty and wealth, baseness and nobility, callousness and mercy. This property of talent made Dickens an unsurpassed coryphaeus of the New Year's story (and of all English literature, if anyone suddenly does not know). Christmas Tales grew out of an intention to write a pamphlet "To the English People, in Defense of the Poor Child" (against the exploitation of children in factories). The pamphlet did not work out, but from 1843 to 1848 the author wrote five stories: “A Christmas Carol in Prose: A Christmas Story with Ghosts”, “The Bells: A Story about the Spirits of the Church Clock”, “A Cricket Behind the Hearth: A Tale of Family Happiness”, “The Battle of Life: A Tale of Love”, “Obsessed, or a Deal with a Ghost”. As the names suggest, Christmas stuff is all right here: ghosts, spirits, and ghosts rattling chains. The author uses this magical toolkit to remind us of an important thing: a person is fundamentally good, even in the most callous heart a ray of mercy shines. In 2012, on the occasion of the writer's bicentennial, a survey was conducted in the UK and found out that his most popular character was Ebenezer Scrooge from A Christmas Carol in Prose. The repentant sinner turned out to be closer to the reader than all the Dickensian righteous.
6. Let's remember "A Christmas Tale" by Paulo Coelho. It is about three cedars that have spent whole centuries meditating about life and death, about nature and humanity. Each cedar had its own cherished desire, but reality never asks what we dream about. The first cedar became a barn, the second tree was made into a rough village table, and the third complained especially bitterly, as it was sawn into boards and left in a warehouse. And at Christmas, dreams come true. The first cedar served as a support for the greatest King of the Earth, the second cedar realized that it served as a support not only for a cup of wine and a dish of bread, but also for the union between Man and the Divine. But when a cross was knocked together from the boards of the third tree and a wounded man was nailed to it, the cedar was horrified by its fate and began to curse its cruel fate. Only after some time did he realize that a miracle had happened: from an instrument of torture, he turned into a symbol of triumph. The dream came true, but in a completely different way than he imagined. The final phrase of the "Tale" directly expresses the moral: "Thus the fate of the three Lebanese cedars was fulfilled: as always happens with dreams that come true at Christmas."
7. In O. Henry, one of the best literary sprinters and brilliant heirs of the Dickensian tradition, in fact, all the stories are “Christmas”. But the author transfers the traditional conflict of good and evil - from the text - into the reader's imagination. In the finale, the heroes of O. Henry are always not what we thought about them at the beginning. A swindler is generous, a dork is a subtle nature, a tramp saves a rich family from robbery (although logically, he should hate the rich), etc. The amazing ability to move us does not fail the writer, even when he ridicules something, for example, the “calendar” charity on Thanksgiving Day: the starving old gentleman treats a tramp who had previously been fed to satiety by others for the last dollar (story “In the name of tradition”). Oh, how we feel sorry for that old gentleman! As if he were our own grandfather, although he lived more than a hundred years ago in the head of Mr. William Sidney Porter (real name O. Henry).
8. The hero of Agatha Christie's story "The Christmas of Hercule Poirot" Simeon Lee, a mischievous old man and a millionaire, for the first time in 20 years, gathers his family at the Gorston Hall family estate, supposedly for Christmas, but in fact - to quarrel with everyone. He likes to torment his descendants, who, of course, are waiting - they will not wait for the inheritance. However, soon the old man is found brutally murdered - with his throat cut. Hercule Poirot and Inspector Sugden find out that every member of the family and even the servants had the motive and the opportunity to brutally kill the grandfather ... The author brilliantly confirms her title of queen of the detective story: thick intrigue, furnished with picturesque skeletons in the closet - the best atmospheric reading on the holiday week.
9. A short work by I.A. Ilyin's "Christmas Letter" is composed of two holiday letters from mother and son and is a real hymn of love. “Christmas Letter” cannot even be called a story in the strict sense, it has no plot, but there is a depth of feeling of the holiday as a day of love. It is she, unconditional love, that runs like a red thread through the whole work and is its main theme. Love opposes loneliness and conquers it: “Whoever loves, his heart blooms and smells sweet; and he gives his love just like a flower gives its scent. But then he is not alone, because his heart is with the one he loves: he thinks about him, takes care of him, rejoices in his joy and suffers in his sufferings. He doesn't even have time to feel lonely or think about whether he is lonely or not. In love man forgets himself; he lives with others, he lives in others. And that is happiness."
10. The heroine of P. Zasodimsky's story "Into a snowstorm and a blizzard" Masha, a poor girl and an orphan, was sent by the hostess to the shop for candles, despite the terrible weather. The author emphasizes the poverty of the girl: “She was small, thin, poorly dressed. She was wearing a gray coat with narrow, short sleeves, and on her head was a scarf, some kind of rag, like a dirty rag. The handkerchief covered her forehead, cheeks, and chin; from under the handkerchief, only dark eyes shone and the tip of the nose, reddened from the cold, was visible. On her feet were large black felt boots, and they, apparently, did not fit her leg. Masha loses a coin due to bad weather and is afraid to return back, as the hostess will beat her. She understands that it is useless, but continues to search. The girl was almost covered with snow, and now, when death is already close, an unfamiliar passerby comes to her aid. And he does not just give her a coin, but takes it to his home, carefully listens to the story and offers to stay with him. Masha sees a Christmas tree, colorful toys and candles. The story draws a parallel with the Gospel. Masha asks to tell the story of the birth of Christ. “The owner took from the shelf a book of Sacred History -“ New Testament ”, with pictures and, showing Masha the pictures, began his story, as usual, with the appearance of the Magi. The girl listened attentively to him; the simple story of a simple man obviously made a strong impression on her. At the end of the story, Masha again reviewed all the pictures related to the Nativity of Christ, asked Ivan a few more questions and then fell silent ... "Masha has a dream about how King Herod orders the babies to be killed in Bethlehem, but Ivan the giant comes and saves Jesus from the formidable king. So reality is intertwined with the gospel story. And this is a miracle.
11. Read the student's essay and think about how you can use the thoughts contained in it for your essay.
Miraculous Nativity of Christ… Miraculous - has many meanings - beautiful, long-awaited, breathtaking, and miraculous - a miracle. Indeed, this is a miracle holiday, because the Baby appeared to the world - the Savior for the atonement of human sins.
It happened two thousand years ago. In the small town of Bethlehem, on the night of January 6-7, a Divine Infant was born into the world. Many prophets had been waiting for his appearance for a long time and knew that he would be from the lineage of King David. It was ordained by God, because God is all-inclusive love. He loves everyone without exception: good and evil, rich and poor. And for people to live in peace and harmony - God sent his only begotten Son to earth. And how wisely it was planned to come into the world as a Human from birth.
He was born in a cave, on the way to the city of Bethlehem, where his mother - the Blessed Virgin Mary and her husband Joseph went to the census announced by the Roman Emperor Augustus. He did not even have a cradle, swaddled, he was laid on straw in a manger, where shepherds put food for animals. And all this is not accidental. By this, the Lord shows us what meekness and meekness were in these holy people - the Virgin Mary, Joseph, the Savior himself. And the first guests of the Divine Infant were not kings and nobles, but simple shepherds, to whom the Angel announced the Nativity of Christ. Here is how it is written in the “Law of God”: “I proclaim to you great joy that will be for all people: for today a Savior, who is Christ the Lord, has been born to you in the city of David! And here is a sign for you: you will find the Baby in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. At this time, the wise men from the east also came with gifts to the King of the World. The star showed them the way, and having brought them to the cave, it stopped. The Magi brought gifts to the Child: gold, myrrh and fragrant incense: “And they laid down their valuable gift before the baby, descending to the valley, And departed to their country with humble longing, according to God’s word.” This is how it is described in F. Glinka's poem "The Adoration of the Magi". These gifts also have a deep meaning: gold was presented as a King, frankincense - as God, myrrh - as a person who also faces trials. The name of the Infant was called Jesus, which means the help of God, or the Anointed One, since he was from the family of King David. This name is a short symbol of the Christian faith. These events show us that illiterate shepherds and educated scientists are all magicians for Christ, all are equal and desirable. And isn't it a miracle that Jesus Christ walked his way on earth, starting with the Baby in swaddling clothes, thus showing how close he is to us. He also fed on his mother's milk, and he also cut teeth. His mother also sang lullabies for him, she also worried about him when he was somewhere far away. From the Bible for children, I remember such an incident when, at the age of twelve, Jesus was lost, returning home from a holiday. The Virgin Mary and Joseph were very worried when they did not find him nearby. Returning back for him, they found him conversing with the wise priests. He taught them with parables, and all, crowding together, attentively listened to him. Ordinary people then did not even suspect that before them was the God-man. They only marveled at his intelligence and simplicity of communication. By this, the Lord God showed all people what they should be, how worthily they should carry through life the image of God, the image of Jesus Christ.
It can be repeated many times that the feast of the Nativity of Christ is a miracle of miracles. It brings such mystery, silence and light. There is such a very good belief that on Christmas night angels descend to earth. But no one notices them, because everyone is in a hurry about their business. And at night, when everyone is sleeping, little winged angels fly into the houses. Nothing stands in the way of them - neither closed windows, nor walls, nor a roof, because they are also God's. And in every house they leave gifts, or simply scatter them like silver dust around the apartment. And these are not simple gifts, they cannot be seen, but they can be felt. Someone lacks health, someone has luck, joy, and if a person sincerely desires this with a good heart, the Angels will definitely give it to him. You just need to believe, because it was not without reason that Christ, the Savior of the world, was born. This is the salvation of man, if the soul always rejoices and love reigns in it.
And I always feel the mystery of the holiday, being on Christmas night at the festive service in the temple. Candles are burning, it smells of fragrant incense, the choir sings, and it seems to me that these are Angels, as small as the born Christ in the cave, with luminous halos lighting fires. The priest in a beautiful white robe, symbolizing the purity of the Infant, evenly swings the censer and a lot of people with calm, joyful faces - they all came, like magicians, to bow to the born Infant. And after the service, you go out into the street, and in the night sky, thousands of stars are scattered across the sky, and in each star there is a wish that we all made. Everyone congratulates each other on the holiday, someone jokes, someone sings, children laugh fervently. It seems that the whole living world, all nature glorifies the birth of Christ. And we all want to be kinder, live according to the Commandments of God, learn to love and never offend anyone. And whisper to little Jesus: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHRIST!”
Keep in mind! There should be two arguments, arrange them in ascending order (actual literary). One proof can be taken from works of fiction. As another argument, it is desirable to use the facts of public life, history, politics, art, biographies of famous people. If examples do not come to mind, refer to your life experience.
If you cope with the task, you will satisfy the KZ criterion for evaluating the essay.

IX. Make a conclusion (write a conclusion to the essay). The conclusion to the arguments you have given often becomes in your work and your conclusion to the essay. Just be sure to highlight your judgments in a separate paragraph!
Use the following constructs:
In other words,…
In conclusion, I would like to note that…
Summarizing what has been said, I would like to emphasize that ..Thus, ..
In conclusion, I would like to note (emphasize, say) that ...
So,…
X. Edit the draft.XI.Rewrite the text of the essay cleanly.XII.Reread the text of the essay again and carefully make the last edits.Keep in mind! It is very important to allocate time correctly so that you have time to edit and check the essay.

In the text of N.D. Teleshov, an important problem of manifestation of generosity and good nature is raised.

How are these qualities reflected in human actions and why is it important to show them in relation to others? These and many other questions are asked by the author.

To attract the attention of readers, the writer tells us about the good deed of Semyon Dmitrievich, the caretaker of the resettlement barracks. He arranged a holiday for the orphans, bought them sweets, cut down a Christmas tree, begged for the stubs of church candles, did everything to please the poor children. But the author focuses her attention on the fact that Mitrich, who has already done so much for the children, does not stop and hangs sausage on the Christmas tree, which she loves so much and eats only on holidays. These actions indicate how wide the soul of this person. At the end of the text there is a description of the holiday itself, which reflects all the happiness of the children from such a wonderful evening.

This atmosphere is transmitted to Semyon Dmitrievich and even to Agrafena, who was at first indifferent. So the author shows that giving joy to others, you yourself become infected with this feeling and make yourself and others a little happier.

The author of the text does not directly express his point of view regarding the problem raised, but gradually leads the readers to the fact that a person must take care not only of himself, but also of others, therefore, such qualities as good nature and generosity must be present in everyone.

Let us recall the story of A.I. Kuprin “The Wonderful Doctor”. In this work we see a very noble and generous act of the doctor. He meets a poor family who lives in the basement, without food or medicine, while it is winter outside. The doctor treats children, gives them money for food, saves them from starvation and cold death. This example shows us how important such actions are and how the doctor did the right thing, helping the family and not demanding anything in return.

In the work of O. Henry "Gifts of the Magi", as well as in the above texts, the problem of kind and sincerely generous deeds is raised. On Christmas Eve, a married couple, Jim and Delly, think about what to give each other. They live in poverty and their only treasures are her hair and his gold watch. They wanted to please each other so much that they sacrificed their most intimate things. This is the real example of selfless concern for others.

Thus, we are convinced that such qualities of character as generosity and good nature are necessary. And in order to manifest them, great wealth is not always needed, the main thing is the desire to help, please, make happy.

From the cycle "Settlers".

It was Christmas Eve...

Here are those and well! You listen.

But Mitrich did not stop.

Here, woman, what is the intention, huh?

What am I?

No, what, woman, is the intent, huh?

Apparently, there is nothing for you to do.

Whose are you?

What is your name? - Fomka.

The child did not know.

Well, what's your father's name?

What is his name?

Did she die too?

What's happened?

What do you need cinders for?

What is the sin here?

N. D. Teleshov

Yo Lka Mitrich

Text source: N. Teleshov. Writer's Notes. Stories. Moscow. Publishing house "Pravda". 1987 OCR and proofreading Yu.N.Sh. . October 2005 B It's Christmas Eve... The caretaker of the resettlement barracks, a retired soldier with a beard gray as mouse hair, named Semyon Dmitrievich, or simply Mitrich, went up to his wife and cheerfully pronounce O reel, puffing on his pipe: - Well, woman, what a thing I thought up! Agrafena had no time; with her sleeves rolled up and her collar open, she clap O tala in the kitchen, preparing for the holiday. "Listen, woman," Mitrich repeated. - Rather than inventing things, I would take a whisk and take off the cobwebs! - answered the wife, pointing to the corners. - Look, the spiders were bred. Would go and dare! Mitrich, not ceasing to smile, looked at the ceiling, where Agrafena was pointing, and said cheerfully: - The web will not go away; estimate ... And you, listen, woman, what have I thought of something!-- Well? - There you go! You listen. Mitrich blew a puff of smoke from his pipe and, stroking his beard, sat down on a bench. “I’m saying, baba, that’s what,” he began briskly, but immediately faltered.-- Well? - Well, I say: everyone, they say, rejoice, everyone has his own: someone has a new thing for the holiday, someonefeasts will go ... You, for example, will have a clean room, I will also have my own pleasure T vie: I’ll buy myself some wine and sausages!.. Everyone will have his own pleasure, right? “So what?” said the old woman indifferently. “And then,” Mitrich sighed again, “that everyone will have a holiday as a holiday, but here, Mr. O I’m lying, it’s the kids, it turns out, and there’s no real holiday ... Do you understand? .. It’s a holiday, but there’s no pleasure ... I look at them, and I think; oh, I think it’s wrong! .. It’s known, orphans ... no mother, no father, no relatives ... I think to myself, a woman: awkward! .. Why is this - all I to whom a man is joy, but to an orphan - nothing! “You can’t seem to overhear you,” Agrafena waved her hand and began to wash the and make-up. But Mitrich did not stop. “I thought, woman, that’s what,” he said, smiling, “it’s necessary, woman, children sweat e to sew! .. Therefore, I saw a lot of people, and I saw ours and all kinds of people ... And I saw how they were for the holiday e they are amusing. They’ll bring this, a Christmas tree, take it away with candles and gifts, and their children just even jump for joy! .. I think to myself, a woman: the forest is close to us ... I’ll cut down my Christmas tree and arrange such fun for the children that they will remember Mitrich all the century! Here, baba, what intent, right? Mitrich winked merrily and smacked his lips.- What am I? Agrafena was silent. She wanted to quickly tidy up and clean the room. She is a rush And she was talking, and Mitrich only hindered her with his conversation. - No, what, woman, intent, huh? - Well, those with your intent! she shouted at her husband. Let go, there is no time to tell fairy tales with you! Mitrich got up because Agrafena, having dipped a washcloth into a bucket, carried it to the bench right next to where her husband was sitting, and began to rub it. Jets of dirty water poured onto the floor, and Mitrich realized that he had come at the wrong time. - All right, grandma! he said enigmatically. The whole century will be remembered by Mitrich guys sh ki!.. “Obviously, there’s nothing for you to do. - No, grandma! There is something to do: but it is said, I will arrange it - and I will arrange it! No wonder they are orphans, but Mitrich will not be forgotten all his life! And, thrusting the extinguished pipe into his pocket, Mitrich went out into the yard. In the yard, here and there, wooden houses were scattered, covered with snow, clogged with boards; Behind the houses there was a wide snowy field, and further on one could see the tops of the city outpost... From early spring until late autumn, settlers passed through the city. There were so many of them, and they were so poor, that kind people built these houses for them, O rye was guarded by Mitrich. The houses were all overcrowded, and meanwhile the settlers were all coming. O dili and came. They had nowhere to go, and so they scattered huts in the field, where they hid with their families and children in cold and bad weather. Some lived here for a week, two, and others for more than a month, waiting in line on the ship. In the middle of the summer, such a lot of people were recruited here. O a gesture that the whole field was covered with huts. But by autumn the field was little by little empty, the houses were vacated and also empty, and by winter there was no one left except Mitrich and Agrafena, and a few other children, who was unknown. "That's a mess, that's a mess!" - Mitrich reasoned, shrugging his shoulders. - Where to go with these people now? What are they? Where did they come from? Sighing, he approached the child who stood alone at the gate.- Whose are you? The child, thin and pale, looked at him with timid eyes and was silent. -- What is your name?- Fomka. -- Where? What is the name of your village? The child did not know "Well, what's your father's name?"- Tyatka. - I know that the father ... But does he have a name? Well,for example, Petrov or Sidorov, or, there, Golubev, Kasatkin? What is his name?- Tyatka. Accustomed to such answers, Mitrich sighed and, waving his hand, asked no more questions. you fell. - Parents, you know, lost, fool? - he said, stroking the child on the head. - And who are you? he said to another child. “Where is your father?”-- Died. - Died? Well, eternal memory to him! Where did mother go?- Died. - Did she die too? Mitrich shrugged and, gathering such orphans, took them to the resettlement camp. And newcomer. He also interrogated and also shrugged his shoulders. Some of the parents died, others went somewhere, and Mitrich had eight such children for this winter, one less than the other. Where to put them? Who are they? ABOUT T where did they come? Nobody knew this. "God's children!" Mitrich called them. They were given one of the houses, the smallest one. There they lived, and there Mitrich started T to dig for them, for the sake of the holiday, a Christmas tree, such as he saw among rich people. "It's been said, I'll do it - and I'll do it!" he thought, walking around the yard. at yutsya! I will compose such amusement that Mitrich will not be forgotten for the rest of his life!" First of all, he went to the church elder. - So and so, Nikita Nazaritch, I am asking you with the most zealous request. Don't give up on a good deed.-- What's happened? "Order me to give out a handful of stumps... the tiniest... Because the orphans... neither father nor mother... I, therefore, am a resettlement watchman... Eight orphans are left... So, Nikita Nazaritch, lend me a handful." - What do you need cinders for? - I want to make a pleasure ... Light a Christmas tree, sort of like good people. The elder looked at Mitrich and shook his head reproachfully. “Are you out of your mind, old man, or something?” - he said, continuing to shake the goal O howl.-- Ah, old man,old man! Candles, I suppose, were burning in front of the icons, but would you give them out of stupidity? “After all, cigarette butts, Nikita Nazaritch ... - Get on, get on!the headman waved his hand. and went, I'm surprised! Mitrich approached with a smile, and walked away with a smile, but only he was very offended. It was also embarrassing in front of the church watchman, a witness to the failure, an old soldier like him, who now looked at him with a grin and seemed to think: “What? A poked, old bastard!.." Wanting to prove that he did not ask for "tea" and did not bother for himself, Mitrich went up to the old man and said: - What is the sin here, if I take the cinder? I ask the orphans, not myself ... Let it be but they did ... not father, therefore, no mother ... To put it bluntly: God's children! In short words, Mitrich explained to the old man why he needed the cinders, and again asked about forces: - What is the sin? "Did you hear Nikita Nazaritch?" asked in hisline of soldiers and winked merrily. "That's the point!" Mitrich bowed his head and thought. But dothere was nothing. He raised his cap and, nodding to the soldier, said touchily: - Well, then, be healthy. Goodbye! - And what kind of cinders do you want? - Yes, all the same ... you like the tiniest ones. Would lend a handful. good deed done e those. No father, no mother ... Just - no one's children! Ten minutes later Mitrich was walking through the city with a pocket full of butts, smiling merrily and triumphant. He also had to go to Pavel Sergeevich, a resettlement officer V niku, congratulate him on the holiday, where he expected to rest, and if they treat him, then drink st A tip of vodka. But the official was busy; without seeing Mitrich, he ordered me to say "thank you" to him and sent a fifty kopeck piece. "Well, now it's all right!" Mitrich thought merrily. Returning home, he did not say a word to his wife, but only laughed silently and came u washed when and how to arrange everything. "Eight children," Mitrich reasoned, curling his clumsy fingers in his hands, "so eight candies..." Taking out the received coin, Mitrich looked ather and figured something out. - All right, grandma! he thought aloud. - and, laughing, went to visit the children. Entering the barracks, Mitrich looked around and said cheerfully: - Well, public, hello. Happy holiday! In response, friendly children's voices rang out, and Mitrich, not knowing why he was rejoicing, touched. “Ah, you public-public!” he whispered, wiping his eyes and smiling. “Oh, you, such a public! His heart was both sad and happy. And the children looked at him, too, not with pleasure. O stu, not with sadness. It was a clear frosty afternoon. Mi T rich from the forest, carrying a Christmas tree on his shoulder. And the Christmas tree, and the mittens, and the felt boots were fluffy with snow, and Mitrich's beard was frosted over, and his mustache was frozen, but he himself walked even, soldier T with a skim step, waving like a soldier with his free hand. He was having fun, even though he was tired. In the morning he went to the city to buy sweets for the children, and for himself - vodka and sausages, which he was a passionate hunter, but he rarely bought it and ate only on holidays. and kam. Without telling his wife, Mitrich brought the tree straight into the barn and sharpened the end with an axe; P O Tom adjusted her to stand, and when everything was ready, dragged her to the children. - Well, the audience, now quietly! he said, setting up the Christmas tree. A oh, then help! The children looked and did not understand what Mitrich was doing, but he adjusted everything and applied it. about brewed: -- What? Has it become crowded?.. I suppose you think, the audience, that Mitrich has gone mad, huh? Why, they say, makes it crowded? .. Well, well, the public, do not be angry! It won't be tight! When the tree warmed up, the room smelled of freshness and resin. The children's faces, sad and thoughtful, suddenly cheered up... No one yet understood what the old man was doing, but everyone already anticipated pleasure, and Mitrich looked cheerfully at the eyes fixed on him from all sides. Then he brought the stub ends and began to tie them with thread. - Well, you, gentleman!- he turned to the boy, standing on a stool. - Give me a candle here ... Like that! You give me, and I'll tie. -- And I! And I! voices were heard. - Well, you too, - agreed Mitrich. - One hold the candles, the other the threads, the third give one, the fourth another ... And you, Marfusha, look at us, and you all look ... Here we are, that means we will all be in business. Right? In addition to candles, eight sweets were hung on the Christmas tree, hooked on the lower knots. However, p O Looking at them, Mitrich shook his head and thought aloud: - But ... liquid, the audience? He stood silently in front of the tree, sighed, and said again:- Liquid, brothers! But, no matter how fascinated Mitrich was with his idea, he could not hang anything on the Christmas tree, except for eight sweets. -- Hm! - he reasoned, wandering around the yard. - What would you come up with? .. -- And what? - he said to himself. - Will it be right or not? .. Lighting his pipe, Mitrich again asked himself the question: is it right or not?.. It seemed to come out "right"... "They're little kids... they don't understand anything," the old man reasoned. I suppose we ourselves want to have some fun? .. Yes, and the woman needs to oh regale! And without hesitation Mitrich decided. Although he was very fond of sausage and valued every piece, but the desire to treat him to glory overpowered all his considerations. - Okay! .. I’ll cut off a circle for everyone and hang it on a thread. And I’ll cut off a slice of bread, and also on a Christmas tree. And I’ll hang up a bottle for myself! T kam will be a treat! Hey Mitrich! exclaimed the old man cheerfully, slapping himself with both hands. A mi on the hips.-- Ah yes, the entertainer! As soon as it got dark, the Christmas tree was lit. It smelled of melted wax, resin and greenery. Sun e where gloomy and thoughtful, the children shouted joyfully, looking at the lights. Their eyes perked up, their faces blushed, and when Mitrich ordered them to dance around the Christmas tree, they, clutching at the river at ki, jumped and made a noise. For the first time, laughter, cries and talk revived this gloomy room, where from year to year only complaints and tears were heard. Even Agrafena clasped her hands in surprise, while Mitrich, rejoicing from the bottom of her heart, O he clapped his hands and shouted: - That's right, the audience! .. That's right! The men were alive, Mushrooms grew, - Good, good, Good, a hundred, good! - Well, baba, now let's have a bite! said Mitrich, putting down the harmonica. r but!.. Admiring the tree, he smiled and, propping his sides with his hands, looked at the pieces of bread, in And stranded on threads, then on children, then on mugs of sausage, and, finally, commanded: -- Public! Get in line! Taking a piece of bread and sausage from the Christmas tree, Mitrich dressed all the children, then took off the bottles l ku and together with Agrafena drank a glass. - What, woman, am I? he asked, pointing to the children. And mouths! Chewing! Look, grandma! Rejoice! Then he again took the harmonica and, forgetting his old age, set off with the children I sat, playing and singing along: Good, good, good-hundred, good! The children jumped, squealed merrily and whirled, and Mitrich did not lag behind them. His soul was filled with such joy that he did not remember if there had ever been such a holiday in his life.-- Public! he exclaimed at last. n fetka, and it's time to sleep! The children screamed with joy and rushed to the Christmas tree, and Mitrich, touched almost to tears, whispered to Agrafena: “Good, baba!.. You can directly say: right!.. It was the only bright holiday in the life of the resettlement "God's children". None of them will forget Mitrich's Christmas tree! 1897

(From the cycle "Settlers")

It was Christmas Eve...

The caretaker of the resettlement barracks, a retired soldier with a beard gray as mouse hair, named Semyon Dmitrievich, or simply Mitrich, went up to his wife and said cheerfully, puffing on his pipe:

Well, woman, what a thing I thought up!

Agrafena had no time; with her sleeves rolled up and her collar unbuttoned, she busied herself in the kitchen preparing for the feast.

Listen, woman, - repeated Mitrich. - I'm telling you what I thought!

Than to invent things, I would take a whisk and take off the cobwebs! answered the wife, pointing to the corners. - Look, the spiders were bred. Would go and dare!

Mitrich, not ceasing to smile, looked at the ceiling, where Agrafena was pointing, and said cheerfully:

The web won't go away; estimate ... And you, listen, woman, what have I thought of something!

Here are those and well! You listen.

Mitrkch blew a puff of smoke from his pipe and, stroking his beard, sat down on a bench.

I say, woman, that's what, - he began briskly, but immediately faltered. - I say, the holiday is coming ...

And for everyone it is a holiday, everyone rejoices in it ... Right, woman?

Well, I say: everyone, they say, rejoices, everyone has his own: who has a new thing for the holiday, who will have feasts ... You, for example, will have a clean room, I also have my own pleasure: I will buy myself wine and sausages! ..

Everyone will have their own pleasure, right?

So what? the old woman said indifferently.

And then, - Mitrich sighed again, - that everyone will have a holiday as a holiday, but, I say, for the children, it turns out that there is no real holiday ... Do you understand? .. It is a holiday, but no pleasure ... I look at them, and I think; eh, I think it's wrong! .. It is known, orphans ... no mother, no father, no relatives ... I think to myself, a woman:

clumsy! .. Why is this - a joy to every person, but nothing to an orphan!

You, apparently, can not be overheard, - Agrafena waved her hand and began to wash the benches.

But Mitrich did not stop.

I thought, woman, this is what, - he said, smiling, - it is necessary, woman, to amuse the children! They’ll bring this, a Christmas tree, take it away with candles and gifts, and their children just even jump for joy! .. I think to myself, a woman: the forest is close to us ... I’ll cut down my Christmas tree and arrange such fun for the children that they will remember Mitrich all the century!

Here, woman, what is the intention, huh?

Mitrich winked merrily and smacked his lips.

What am I?

Agrafena was silent. She wanted to quickly tidy up and clean the room. She was in a hurry, and Mitrich only hindered her with his conversation.

No, what, woman, is the intent, huh?

Well, those with your intent! she shouted at her husband. - Let something that sat down from the bench! Let go, there is no time to tell fairy tales with you!

Mitrich got up because Agrafena, having dipped a washcloth into a bucket, carried it to the bench right next to where her husband was sitting, and began to rub it. Jets of dirty water poured onto the floor, and Mitrich realized that he had come at the wrong time.

Okay, grandma! he said enigmatically. - I'll arrange some fun, so I suppose you yourself will say thank you! .. I say, I'll do it - and I'll do it! Children will remember Mitrich all the century! ..

Apparently, there is nothing for you to do.

No, grandma! There is something to do: but it is said, I will arrange it - and I will arrange it! No wonder they are orphans, but Mitrich will not be forgotten all his life!

And, thrusting the extinguished pipe into his pocket, Mitrich went out into the yard.

In the yard, here and there, wooden houses were scattered, covered with snow, clogged with boards; Behind the houses there was a wide snowy field, and further on one could see the tops of the city outpost... From early spring until late autumn, settlers passed through the city. There were so many of them, and they were so poor, that kind people built these houses for them, which were guarded by Mitrich.

The houses were all overcrowded, and meanwhile the settlers kept coming and coming. They had nowhere to go, and so they scattered huts in the field, where they hid with their families and children in cold and bad weather. Some lived here for a week, two, and others for more than a month, waiting in line on the ship. In the middle of summer, such a multitude of people gathered here that the whole field was covered with huts. But by autumn the field was little by little empty, the houses were vacated and also empty, and by winter there was no one left except Mitrich and Agrafena, and a few other children, who was unknown.

That's a mess, that's a mess! Mitrich reasoned, shrugging his shoulders. - Where to go now with these people? What are they? Where did they come from?

Sighing, he approached the child who stood alone at the gate.

Whose are you?

The child, thin and pale, looked at him with timid eyes and was silent.

What is your name? - Fomka.

Where? What is the name of your village?

The child did not know.

Well, what's your father's name?

I know that tyatka... Does he have a name? Well, for example, Petrov or Sidorov, or, there, Golubev, Kasatkin?

What is his name?

Accustomed to such answers, Mitrich sighed and, waving his hand, did not inquire any more.

Parents something to know, lost, fool? he said, stroking the child's head. - And who are you? he said to another child. - Where is your father?

Died? Well, eternal memory to him! Where did mother go?

Did she die too?

Mitrich shrugged and, gathering such orphans, took them to the resettlement official. He also interrogated and also shrugged his shoulders.

Some of the parents died, others went somewhere, and Mitrich had eight such children for this winter, one less than the other. Where to put them?

Who are they? Where did they come from? Nobody knew this.

"God's children!" - Mitrich called them.

They were given one of the houses, the smallest one. There they lived, and there Mitrich decided to arrange a Christmas tree for them for the sake of the holiday, such as he saw among rich people.

"It's been said, I'll do it - and I'll do it!" he thought, walking around the yard.

First of all, he went to the church elder.

So and so, Nikita Nazaritch, I make a most zealous request to you. Don't give up on a good deed.

What's happened?

Order to give out a handful of cinders ... the most ma

little ones... Because orphans... no father, no mother... I, therefore, am a resettlement watchman... There are eight orphans left... So, Nikita Nazaritch, lend me a handful.

What do you need cinders for?

I want to make a pleasure ... Light a Christmas tree, sort of like good people.

The elder looked at Mitrich and shook his head reproachfully.

Are you out of your mind, old man, or something? he said, continuing to shake his head. - Oh, old man, old man! Candles, I suppose, were burning in front of the icons, but would you give them out of stupidity?

After all, cigarette butts, Nikita Nazaritch ...

Get up, get up! The elder waved his hand. - And how such nonsense came to your head, I wonder!

Mitrich approached with a smile, and walked away with a smile, but only he was very offended. It was also embarrassing in front of the church watchman, a witness to the failure, an old soldier like him, who now looked at him with a grin and seemed to think: “What?

I stumbled, you old bastard!.." Wanting to prove that he was not asking for "tea" and was not bothering for himself, Mitrich went up to the old man and said:

What is the sin here, if I take the cinder? I ask orphans, not myself... Let them rejoice... neither father, therefore, nor mother... To put it bluntly: God's children!

In short words, Mitrich explained to the old man why he needed the cinders, and again asked:

What is the sin here?

Have you heard Nikita Nazaritch? the soldier asked in his turn and winked merrily. - That's just the point!

Mitrich bowed his head and thought. But there was nothing to be done. He raised his cap and, nodding to the soldier, said touchily:

Well, then be healthy. Goodbye!

And what kind of cinders are you?

Yes, all the same ... he likes the tiniest ones. Would lend a handful. You will do a good deed. No father, no mother ... Just - no one's kids!

Ten minutes later Mitrich was walking through the city with a pocket full of butts, smiling merrily and triumphant.

He also had to go to Pavel Sergeevich, the resettlement official, to congratulate him on the holiday, where he expected to rest, and if he was treated, then drink a glass of vodka. But the official was busy; without seeing Mitrich, he ordered me to say "thank you" to him and sent a fifty kopeck piece.

"Well, now it's all right!" Mitrich thought cheerfully.

Returning home, he did not say a word to his wife, but only laughed silently and thought out when and how to arrange everything.

"Eight children," Mitrich reasoned, bending his clumsy fingers on his hands, so eight sweets ..."

Taking out the received coin, Mitrich looked at it and realized something.

Okay, grandma! he thought aloud. - You look at me! - and, laughing, went to visit the children.

Entering the barracks, Mitrich looked around and said cheerfully:

Well hello people. Happy holiday!

Oh, you public, public! .. - he whispered, wiping his eyes and smiling. - Oh, you, such an audience!

His heart was both sad and happy. And the children also looked at him, either with joy or with sadness.

It was a clear frosty afternoon.

With an ax in his belt, in a sheepskin coat and a hat pulled down to the very eyebrows, Mitrich was returning from the forest, carrying a Christmas tree on his shoulder. And the Christmas tree, and the mittens, and the felt boots were fluffy with snow, and Mitrich's beard was frosted over, and his mustache was frozen, but he himself walked with an even, soldier's step, waving his free hand like a soldier. He was having fun, even though he was tired.

In the morning he went to the city to buy sweets for the children, and for himself vodka and sausages, which he was a passionate hunter for, but he rarely bought it and ate it only on holidays.

Without telling his wife, Mitrich brought the tree straight into the barn and sharpened the end with an axe; then he adjusted it so that it stood up, and when everything was ready, dragged it to the children.

Well, audience, now quietly! - he said, setting up the Christmas tree. - That's a little thawed, then help!

The children looked and did not understand what Mitrich was doing, but he adjusted everything and kept saying:

What? Has it become crowded?.. I suppose you think, the audience, that Mitrich has gone mad, huh? Why, they say, makes it crowded? .. Well, well, the public, do not be angry! It won't be tight!

When the tree warmed up, the room smelled of freshness and resin. The children's faces, sad and thoughtful, suddenly cheered up... No one yet understood what the old man was doing, but everyone already anticipated pleasure, and Mitrich looked cheerfully at the eyes fixed on him from all sides.

Then he brought the stub ends and began to tie them with thread.

Come on, you cavalier! - he turned to the boy, standing on a stool. Let's have a candle here ... Like this! You give me, and I'll tie.

Well, and you, - Mitrich agreed. - One hold the candles, the other the threads, the third let's do one thing, the fourth another ...

And you, Marfusha, look at us, and you are all looking ... Here we are, which means that we will all be in business. Right?

In addition to candles, eight sweets were hung on the Christmas tree, hooked on the lower knots. However, looking at them, Mitrich shook his head and thought aloud:

But ... liquid, the audience?

He stood silently in front of the tree, sighed, and said again:

Liquid, brothers!

But, no matter how fascinated Mitrich was with his idea, he could not hang anything on the Christmas tree, except for eight sweets.

Hm! - he reasoned, wandering around the yard. - What would you come up with?

Suddenly a thought came to him that he even stopped.

And what? he said to himself. -Will it be right or not?

Lighting his pipe, Mitrich asked himself again:

correct or not?.. It seemed to be "correct"...

They are small kids ... they don’t understand anything, the old man reasoned. - Well, then, we will amuse them ...

What about yourself? I suppose we ourselves want to have some fun? .. Yes, and a woman needs to be regaled!

And without hesitation Mitrich decided. Although he was very fond of sausage and valued every piece, but the desire to treat him to glory overpowered all his considerations.

Okay! .. I’ll cut off a circle for everyone and hang it on a thread. And I’ll cut off a slice of bread, and also on a Christmas tree.

And I’ll hang a bottle for myself!.. And I’ll pour myself a drink, and I’ll treat the woman, and the orphans will have a delicacy! Hey Mitrich! exclaimed the old man cheerfully, slapping his thighs with both hands. - Oh yes, entertainer!

As soon as it got dark, the Christmas tree was lit. It smelled of melted wax, resin and greenery. Always gloomy and thoughtful, the children shouted with joy, looking at the lights. Their eyes brightened, their faces flushed, and when Mitrich ordered them to dance around the Christmas tree, they, clutching their hands, jumped up and made a noise. For the first time, laughter, cries and talk revived this gloomy room, where from year to year only complaints and tears were heard. Even Agrafena clasped her hands in surprise, while Mitrich, rejoicing from the bottom of his heart, clapped his hands and shouted:

That's right, the audience!.. That's right!

Then he took the harmonica and, playing in every way, sang along:

The men were alive

Mushrooms grew,

Good good,

Good-hundred, good!

Well, baba, now let's have a bite! - said Mitrich, putting down the harmonica. Audience, take it easy!

Admiring the Christmas tree, he smiled and, propping his sides with his hands, looked first at the pieces of bread hanging on threads, then at the children, then at the mugs of sausage, and finally commanded:

Public! Get in line!

Taking a piece of bread and sausage from the Christmas tree, Mitrich dressed all the children, then took off the bottle and drank a glass with Agrafena.

What, woman, am I? he asked, pointing to the children. - Look, after all, orphans are chewing! Chewing! Look, grandma! Rejoice!

Then he again took the harmonica and, forgetting his old age, began to dance with the children, playing and singing along:

Good good,

Good-hundred, good!

The children jumped, squealed merrily and whirled, and Mitrich did not lag behind them. His soul was filled with such joy that he did not remember if there had ever been such a holiday in his life.

Public! he exclaimed at last. - The candles are burning down ... Take yourself a piece of candy, and it's time to sleep!

The children screamed with joy and rushed to the Christmas tree, and Mitrich, touched almost to tears, whispered to Agrafena:

Well, baba!.. You can directly say it right!..

It was the only bright holiday in the life of the resettlement "God's children".

None of them will forget Mitrich's Christmas tree!

Nikolai Dmitrievich TeleshovFIR-TREE MITRICH

It was Christmas Eve. The caretaker of the resettlement barracks, a retired soldier with a beard as gray as mouse hair, named Semyon Dmitrievich, or simply Mitrich, went up to his wife and said cheerfully, puffing on his pipe:

- I thought, woman, that's what, you need to amuse the children, woman! They will bring, this, a Christmas tree, they will remove it with candles and gifts, and the children will they just jump for joy!.. I think to myself, woman, the forest is close to us... I’ll cut down my Christmas tree and arrange such fun for the children that Mitrich will be commemorated all the time! Here, woman, what is the intention, huh?

In the yard here and there were scattered wooden houses, covered with snow, clogged with boards; Behind the houses there was a wide snowy field, and further on one could see the tops of the city outpost... From early spring until late autumn, settlers passed through the city. There were so many of them and they were so poor that kind people built these houses for them, which were guarded by Mitrich.. In the middle of summer, such a multitude of people gathered here that the whole field was covered with huts. But by autumn the field was little by little empty, the houses were vacated and also empty, and by winter there was no one left except Mitrich and Agrafena, and a few other children, who was unknown. Some of the parents died, others went somewhere, and Mitrich had eight such children for this winter, one less than the other. Where to put them? Who are they? Where did they come from? Nobody knew this. "God's children" Mitrich called them. They were given one of the houses, the smallest one. There they lived, and there Mitrichu undertook to build them a Christmas tree for the sake of the holiday, such as he had seen among rich people. “It is said, I will do it - and I will do it! he thought as he walked across the yard. - Let the orphans rejoice! I’ll compose such fun that they won’t forget Mitrich for the rest of his life!”

First of all, he went to the church warden.

- So and so, Nikita Nazaritch, I to you with the zealous request. Don't give up on a good deed.

- What's happened?

- Order to give out a handful of butts ... the tiniest ... Because orphans ... neither father nor mother ... I therefore, the migrant watchman... Eight orphans are left... So, Nikita Nazaritch, lend me a handful.

Ten minutes later Mitrich he was already walking through the city with a pocket full of butts, smiling cheerfully and triumphantly. He also had to go to Pavel Sergeevich, the resettlement official, to congratulate him on the holiday, where he expected to rest, and if he was treated, then drink a glass of vodka. But the official was busy; without seeing Mitrich, he ordered me to say "thank you" to him and sent a fifty kopeck piece.

“Well, okay now! - Mitrich thought cheerfully.. - Now let the woman say what she wants. And I'll make fun for the kids! Now, woman, coven! Returning home, he did not say a word to his wife, but only chuckled, silently, and figured out when and how to arrange everything.

... It was a clear frosty afternoon. With an ax in his belt, in a sheepskin coat and a hat pulled down to the very eyebrows, Mitrich returned. from the forest, carrying a Christmas tree on his shoulder. And the Christmas tree, and the mittens, and the felt boots were fluffy with snow, and Mitrich's beard was frosty, and his mustache was frozen, but he himself walked with an even, soldier's step, waving his free hand like a soldier. He was having fun, even though he was tired. In the morning he went to the city to buy sweets for the children, and for himself - vodka and sausages, which he was a passionate hunter, but he rarely bought it and ate only on holidays.

Without telling his wife, Mitrich brought the tree straight into the barn and sharpened the end with an axe; then he adjusted it so that it stood up and dragged it towards the children.

When the tree warmed up, the room smelled of freshness and resin. The children's faces, sad and thoughtful, suddenly cheered up... No one yet understood what the old man was doing, but everyone already anticipated the pleasure, and Mitrich looked merrily at the eyes fixed on him from all sides. Then he brought the stub ends and began to tie them with thread.

- Well, you, gentleman! -

he turned to the boy, standing on a stool. - Let's have a candle here ... Like this! You give me, and I'll tie.

- Well, you, - agreed Mitrich.. - One hold the candles, the other the threads, the third give one thing, the fourth another ... And you, Marfusha, look at us, and you all look ... Here we are, that means we will all be in business. Right?

In addition to candles, eight sweets were hung on the Christmas tree, hooked on the lower knots. However, looking at them, Mitrich shook his head and thought aloud:

- But ... liquid, the audience?

He stood silently in front of the Christmas tree, sighed and said again:

- Liquid, brothers!

But, no matter how fond of Mitrich his idea, however, to hang on the Christmas tree, except for eight sweets, he could not do anything.

- Hm! - he reasoned, wandering around the yard. - To come up with this?

Suddenly a thought came to him that he even stopped.

- And what? he said to himself. -Will it be right or not?

Lighting a pipe, Mitrich again asked the question: right or wrong? It seemed to be "correct"...

“They are little kids… they don’t understand anything,” the old man reasoned. - Well, then, we will amuse them ... And yourself, then? I suppose and want to have some fun? Yes, and the woman needs to be treated!

And without hesitation Mitrich made up his mind. Although he was very fond of sausage and cherished every bite, but the desire to treat the orphans to glory overpowered all his considerations.

- Okay! .. I’ll cut off a circle for everyone and hang it on a thread. And I’ll cut off a slice of bread, and also on a Christmas tree. And I'll hang a bottle for myself! And I’ll pour myself, and I’ll treat the woman, and the orphans will have a treat!

- Oh yes Mitrich! exclaimed the old man cheerfully, slapping his thighs with both hands. - Oh yes, entertainer!

As soon as it got dark, the Christmas tree was lit. It smelled of melted wax, resin and greenery. Always gloomy and thoughtful, the children shouted with joy, looking at the lights. Their eyes brightened, their faces flushed, and when Mitrich ordered them to dance around the Christmas tree, they, holding hands, jumped up and made a noise. For the first time, laughter, cries and talk revived this gloomy room, where from year to year only complaints and tears were heard. Even Agrafena threw up her hands in surprise, and Mitrich, rejoicing from the bottom of his heart, clapped his hands and shouted:

- That's right, audience!.. That's right!

Then he took the harmonica and, playing in every way, sang along:

The men were alive

Mushroom mushrooms grew, -

Good good,

Good - a hundred, good!

- Well, baba, now let's have a bite! Mitric said. putting down the harmonica. - Audience, be quiet!

Admiring the Christmas tree, he smiled, propping his sides with his hands, and, looking first at the pieces of bread hanging on threads, then at the children, then at the mugs of sausage, finally commanded:

- Public! Get in line!

Taking a piece of bread and sausage from the Christmas tree, Mitrich dressed all the children, then took off the bottle and drank a glass with Agrafena.

- What, woman, am I? he asked, pointing to the children. - Look, after all, orphans are chewing! Chewing! Look, grandma! Rejoice!

Then he again took the harmonica and, forgetting his old age, began to dance with the children, playing and singing along:

Good good,

Good-hundred, Fine!

The children were jumping, squealing and spinning merrily, and Mitrich did not lag behind them. His soul was filled with such joy that he did not remember if there had ever been such a holiday in his life.

- Public! he exclaimed finally. - The candles are burning down ... Take yourself a piece of candy, and it's time to sleep!

The children screamed with joy and rushed to the Christmas tree, and Mitrich, touched almost to tears, whispered to Agrafena:

- Well, baba! .. You can directly say it right! ..

It was the only bright holiday in the life of the resettlement "God's children". Yelka Mitrich none of them will forget!