AT THE AGE OF 12, THE FATHER TAKE MITYA AND OLDER BROTHER N Nikolaj V E KATERINBURG AND SENT THEM TO STUDY IN THE THEORY SCHOOL - BURSA. WITH TERRIBLE MORALS REIGNED HERE, TEACHERS OFFENDED THE CHILDREN, THE OLDER MOSED THE JUNIORS. MITYA WAS SERIOUSLY ILL AND FATHER TAKE HIM BACK HOME. FOR TWO YEARS HE LIVED AT HOME. THESE WAS THE HAPPiest DAYS OF HIS LIFE. OH HAD TRAVELED MUCH IN HIS NATIVE LAND, MET WITH SIMPLE PEOPLE WHO BECAME THE HEROES OF HIS FUTURE BOOKS.

IN 1866 THE KATERINBURG THEORY SCHOOL WAS DETERMINED IN E. THEN FOR 4 YEARS I STUDYED AT THE PERMSKY SPIRITUAL SEMINARY. THEN THE FUTURE WRITER STUDYED TO BE A VETERINARY AT PETERSBURG MEDICAL AND SURGICAL ACADEMY, THEN AT THE FACULTY OF LAW OF PETERSBURG UNIVERSITY. BUT, HAVING STUDY FOR A YEAR, I HAVE TO BE LEAVE BECAUSE OF MATERIAL DIFFICULTIES AND A SHARP DESTRUCTION OF HEALTH (TUBERCULOSIS BEGINS). Perm Theological Seminary

URAL AGAIN! In 1876 Dmitry Mamin returned to his native land. He traveled again in the Urals. Dmitry met with the heroes of his future works. A year later, his father died, he had to feed his family, Mamin went to Yekaterinburg to look for work. He became a tutor. In his free time he continued to write.

Mamin-Sibiryak took children's literature very seriously. He called the children's book "a living thread" that takes the child out of the nursery and connects with the wide world of life.

A bunny was born in the forest and was afraid of everything. A twig will crack somewhere, a bird will flutter, a lump of snow will fall from a tree, - a bunny has a soul in its heels. The bunny was afraid of the day. I was afraid for a week, I was afraid for a year; and then he grew big and suddenly got tired of being afraid "... "The Tale of the Brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail"

The bouncer hare jumped up like a ball, and with fear fell right on the wolf’s wide forehead, rolled head over heels on the wolf’s back, rolled over again in the air and then asked such a rattle that, it seems, was ready to jump out of his own skin. "The Tale of the Brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail"

How long, how short Misha fought with mosquitoes, but there was a lot of noise. A bear's roar could be heard in the distance. And how many trees he tore out, how many stones he turned out! .. He all wanted to hook the first Komar Komarovich, - after all, here, right above the ear, it curls, and the bear grabs with its paw, and again nothing, only scratched his whole face in the blood. "A fairy tale about Komar Komarovich - a long nose and about shaggy Misha - a short tail"

The porridge was covered with a clay lid on top, and she grumbled in her pan like an old woman. And when she started to get angry, a bubble would float upstairs, burst and say: - But I'm still an oatmeal porridge ... pum! This boasting seemed terribly insulting to Milky. The milk began to get excited, rose foam and tried to get out of its pot. "The parable of Milk, oatmeal and gray cat Murka

"Alyonushka's Tales" by D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak

It is dark outside. Snowing. He pushed up the window panes. Alyonushka, curled up in a ball, lies in bed. She never wants to sleep until her dad tells the story.

Alyonushka's father, Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak, is a writer. He sits at the table, leaning over the manuscript of his forthcoming book. So he gets up, comes closer to Alyonushka's bed, sits down in an easy chair, begins to talk ... The girl listens carefully about the stupid turkey who imagined that he was smarter than everyone else, about how the toys gathered for the name day and what came of it. The stories are wonderful, one more interesting than the other. But Alyonushka's one eye is already sleeping... Sleep, Alyonushka, sleep, beauty.

Alyonushka falls asleep, putting her hand under her head. And it's snowing outside...

So they spent the long winter evenings together - father and daughter. Alyonushka grew up without a mother, her mother died long ago. The father loved the girl with all his heart and did everything to make her live well.

He looked at the sleeping daughter, and he remembered his own childhood. They took place in a small factory village in the Urals. At that time, serf workers were still working at the factory. They worked from early morning until late at night, but lived in poverty. But their masters and masters lived in luxury. Early in the morning, when the workers were going to the factory, troikas flew past them. It was after the ball, which lasted all night, that the rich went home.

Dmitry Narkisovich grew up in a poor family. Every penny counted in the house. But his parents were kind, sympathetic, and people were drawn to them. The boy loved it when factory artisans came to visit. They knew so many fairy tales and fascinating stories! Mamin-Sibiryak especially remembered the legend of the daring robber Marzak, who in ancient times was hiding in the Ural forest. Marzak attacked the rich, took away their property and distributed it to the poor. And the tsarist police never managed to catch him. The boy listened to every word, he wanted to become as brave and fair as Marzak was.

The dense forest, where, according to legend, Marzak once hid, began a few minutes walk from the house. Squirrels were jumping in the branches of trees, a hare was sitting on the edge, and in the thicket one could meet the bear himself. The future writer has studied all the paths. He wandered along the banks of the Chusovaya River, admiring the chain of mountains covered with spruce and birch forests. There was no end to these mountains, therefore, with nature, he forever associated "the idea of ​​\u200b\u200bwill, wild expanse."

Parents taught the boy to love the book. He was read by Pushkin and Gogol, Turgenev and Nekrasov. He had an early passion for literature. At the age of sixteen, he already kept a diary.

Years have passed. Mamin-Sibiryak became the first writer who painted pictures of the life of the Urals. He created dozens of novels and short stories, hundreds of short stories. With love, he portrayed in them the common people, their struggle against injustice and oppression.

Dmitry Narkisovich has many stories for children as well. He wanted to teach the children to see and understand the beauty of nature, the wealth of the earth, to love and respect the working person. “It is happiness to write for children,” he said.

Mamin-Sibiryak wrote down those fairy tales that he once told his daughter. He published them as a separate book and called it Alyonushka's Tales.

In these fairy tales, the bright colors of a sunny day, the beauty of the generous Russian nature. Together with Alyonushka you will see forests, mountains, seas, deserts.

The heroes of Mamin-Sibiryak are the same as the heroes of many folk tales: a shaggy clumsy bear, a hungry wolf, a cowardly hare, a cunning sparrow. They think and talk to each other like people. But at the same time, they are real animals. The bear is depicted as clumsy and stupid, the wolf is evil, the sparrow is mischievous, agile bully.

Names and nicknames help to present them better.

Here Komarishko - a long nose - is a big, old mosquito, but Komarishko - a long nose - is a small, still inexperienced mosquito.

Objects come to life in his fairy tales. Toys celebrate the holiday and even start a fight. Plants are talking. In the fairy tale "Time to sleep" spoiled garden flowers are proud of their beauty. They look like rich people in expensive dresses. But modest wildflowers are dearer to the writer.

Mamin-Sibiryak sympathizes with some of his heroes, laughs at others. He respectfully writes about the working person, condemns the loafer and lazy person.

The writer did not tolerate those who are arrogant, who think that everything was created only for them. The fairy tale “About how the last Fly lived” tells about a stupid fly who is convinced that the windows in houses are made so that she can fly into and out of rooms, that they set the table and take jam from the closet only in order to treat her, that the sun shines for her alone. Of course, only a stupid, funny fly can think like that!

What do fish and birds have in common? And the writer answers this question with a fairy tale "About Sparrow Vorobeich, Ruff Ershovich and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha." Although Ruff lives in the water, and Sparrow flies through the air, fish and birds equally need food, chase after a tasty morsel, suffer from cold in winter, and in summer they have a lot of trouble ...

Great power to act together, together. How powerful the bear is, but mosquitoes, if they unite, can defeat the bear (“The tale about Komar Komarovich has a long nose and about shaggy Misha has a short tail”).

Of all his books, Mamin-Sibiryak especially valued Alyonushka's Tales. He said: "This is my favorite book - it was written by love itself, and therefore it will survive everything else."

Andrey Chernyshev

Alyonushka's fairy tales

Saying

Bye-bye-bye…

Sleep, Alyonushka, sleep, beauty, and dad will tell fairy tales. It seems that everything is here: the Siberian cat Vaska, and the shaggy village dog Postoiko, and the gray Mouse-louse, and the Cricket behind the stove, and the motley Starling in a cage, and the bully Rooster.

Sleep, Alyonushka, now the fairy tale begins. The tall moon is already looking out the window; there a slanting hare hobbled on his felt boots; the wolf's eyes lit up with yellow lights; bear Mishka sucks his paw. The old Sparrow flew up to the very window, knocks his nose on the glass and asks: soon? Everyone is here, everyone is assembled, and everyone is waiting for Alyonushka's fairy tale.

One eye at Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is looking; one ear of Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is listening.

Bye-bye-bye…

Tale of the brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail

A bunny was born in the forest and was afraid of everything. A twig cracks somewhere, a bird flutters, a lump of snow falls from a tree - the bunny has a soul in his heels.

The bunny was afraid for a day, afraid for two, afraid for a week, afraid for a year; and then he grew big, and suddenly he got tired of being afraid.

- I'm not afraid of anyone! he shouted to the whole forest. - I'm not afraid at all, and that's it!

The old hares gathered, the little hares ran, the old hares dragged in - everyone listens to the Hare boasting - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail - they listen and do not believe their own ears. It was not yet that the hare was not afraid of anyone.

“Hey you, slanting eye, aren’t you afraid of the wolf too?”

- And I'm not afraid of the wolf, and the fox, and the bear - I'm not afraid of anyone!

It turned out to be quite funny. The young hares giggled, covering their muzzles with their front paws, the good old hares laughed, even the old hares, who had been in the paws of a fox and tasted wolf teeth, smiled. A very funny hare! .. Oh, how funny! And all of a sudden it became fun. They began to tumble, jump, jump, overtake each other, as if everyone had gone crazy.

— Yes, what is there to say! shouted the Hare, finally emboldened. - If I come across a wolf, I will eat it myself ...

- Oh, what a funny Hare! Oh, how stupid he is!

Everyone sees that he is both funny and stupid, and everyone laughs.

Hares scream about the wolf, and the wolf is right there.

He walked, walked in the forest on his wolf business, got hungry and only thought: “It would be nice to have a bite of a bunny!” - as he hears that somewhere very close the hares are screaming and he, the gray Wolf, is commemorated.

Now he stopped, sniffed the air and began to creep up.

The wolf came very close to the hares playing out, hears how they laugh at him, and most of all - the bouncer Hare - slanting eyes, long ears, short tail.

“Hey, brother, wait, I’ll eat you!” - thought the Gray Wolf and began to look out, which hare boasts of his courage. And the hares see nothing and have more fun than before. It ended with the bouncer Hare climbing onto a stump, sitting on his hind legs and talking:

“Listen, you cowards! Listen and look at me! Now I'll show you one thing. I... I... I...

Here the tongue of the bouncer is definitely frozen.

The Hare saw the Wolf looking at him. Others did not see, but he saw and did not dare to die.

The bouncer hare jumped up like a ball, and with fear fell right on the wolf’s wide forehead, rolled head over heels on the wolf’s back, rolled over again in the air and then asked such a rattle that, it seems, was ready to jump out of his own skin.

The unfortunate Bunny ran for a long time, ran until he was completely exhausted.

It seemed to him that the Wolf was chasing him and was about to grab him with his teeth.

Finally, the poor fellow was completely exhausted, closed his eyes and fell dead under a bush.

And the Wolf at this time ran in the other direction. When the Hare fell on him, it seemed to him that someone had shot at him.

And the wolf ran away. You never know other hares can be found in the forest, but this one was kind of mad ...

For a long time the rest of the hares could not come to their senses. Who fled into the bushes, who hid behind a stump, who fell into a hole.

Finally everyone got tired of hiding, and little by little they began to look out who was braver.

- And our Hare cleverly scared the Wolf! - decided everything. - If not for him, we would not have left alive ... But where is he, our fearless Hare? ..

We started looking.

They walked and walked, there is no brave Hare anywhere. Has another wolf eaten him? Finally, they found it: it lies in a hole under a bush and is barely alive from fear.

- Well done, oblique! - shouted all the hares in one voice. - Oh yes oblique! .. You deftly scared the old Wolf. Thank you brother! And we thought you were bragging.

The brave Hare immediately cheered up. He got out of his hole, shook himself, screwed up his eyes and said:

- And what would you think! Oh you cowards...

From that day on, the brave Hare began to believe himself that he was really not afraid of anyone.

Bye-bye-bye…

Tale of the goat

How Kozyavochka was born, no one saw.

It was a sunny spring day. The goat looked around and said:

- Fine!..

Kozyavochka straightened her wings, rubbed her thin legs one against the other, looked around again and said:

- How good! .. What a warm sun, what a blue sky, what green grass - good, good! .. And all mine! ..

The Kozyavochka also rubbed her legs and flew away. It flies, admires everything and rejoices. And below the grass is turning green, and a scarlet flower hid in the grass.

- Goat, come to me! cried the flower.

The little goat descended to the ground, climbed onto the flower and began to drink the sweet flower juice.

What a kind flower you are! says Kozyavochka, wiping her snout with her legs.

“Good, kind, but I don’t know how to walk,” the flower complained.

“And all the same, it’s good,” the Kozyavochka assured. And all mine...

Before she had time to finish, a hairy Bumblebee flew in with a buzz and straight to the flower:

- Lzhzh ... Who climbed into my flower? Lj... who drinks my sweet juice? Zhzh ... Oh, you wretched Kozyavka, get out! Zhzhzh... Get out before I sting you!

— Excuse me, what is this? squeaked the Kozyavochka. Everything, everything is mine...

— Zhzhzh... No, mine!

The goat barely flew away from the angry Bumblebee. She sat down on the grass, licked her feet, stained with flower juice, and got angry:

- What a rude this Bumblebee! .. Even surprising! .. I also wanted to sting ... After all, everything is mine - and the sun, and grass, and flowers.

- No, sorry - mine! - said the shaggy Worm, climbing a stalk of grass.

Kozyavochka realized that Little Worm could not fly, and spoke more boldly:

“Excuse me, Little Worm, you are mistaken ... I don’t interfere with your crawling, but don’t argue with me! ..

“Okay, okay… Just don’t touch my weed. I don’t like it, I must admit… You never know how many of you fly here… You are a frivolous people, and I’m a serious worm… Frankly speaking, everything belongs to me. Here I will crawl on the grass and eat it, I will crawl on any flower and also eat it. Goodbye!..

In a few hours Kozyavochka learned absolutely everything, namely: that, besides the sun, the blue sky, and green grass, there are also angry bumblebees, serious worms, and various thorns on flowers. In a word, it was a big disappointment. The goat was even offended. For mercy, she was sure that everything belongs to her and was created for her, but here others think the same. No, something is wrong... It can't be.

- It's mine! she squealed cheerfully. - My water ... Oh, how fun! .. There is grass and flowers.

And other goats are flying towards Kozyavochka.

— Hello, sister!

“Hello, darlings… Otherwise, I got bored of flying alone.” What are you doing here?

- And we are playing, sister ... Come to us. We have fun... You were born recently?

“Just today… I was almost stung by a Bumblebee, then I saw a Worm… I thought that everything was mine, but they say that everything is theirs.”

Other goats reassured the guest and invited them to play together. Above the water, the boogers played in a column: they circle, fly, squeak. Our Kozyavochka gasped with joy and soon completely forgot about the angry Bumblebee and the serious Worm.

- Oh, how good! she whispered in delight. - Everything is mine: the sun, and grass, and water. Why others are angry, I really do not understand. Everything is mine, and I don’t interfere with anyone’s life: fly, buzz, have fun. I let…

Kozyavochka played, had fun and sat down to rest on the swamp sedge. You really need to take a break! The little goat looks at how the other little goats are having fun; suddenly, out of nowhere, a sparrow - how it darts past, as if someone had thrown a stone.

— Oh, oh! - shouted the goats and rushed in all directions.

When the sparrow flew away, a dozen goats were missing.

- Oh, robber! the old goats scolded. - I ate a dozen.

It was worse than Bumblebee. The goat started to be afraid and hid with other young goats even further into the swamp grass.

But here is another problem: two goats were eaten by a fish, and two by a frog.

- What is it? - the goat was surprised. “It doesn’t look like anything at all ... You can’t live like that. Wow, how ugly!

It’s good that there were a lot of goats and no one noticed the loss. Moreover, new goats arrived, which were just born.

They flew and squeaked:

— All ours… All ours…

“No, not everything is ours,” our Kozyavochka shouted to them. - There are also angry bumblebees, serious worms, ugly sparrows, fish and frogs. Be careful sisters!

However, night fell, and all the goats hid in the reeds, where it was so warm. The stars poured out in the sky, the moon rose, and everything was reflected in the water.

Ah, how good it was!

“My moon, my stars,” thought our Kozyavochka, but she didn’t tell anyone this: they’ll just take that away too ...

So the Kozyavochka lived the whole summer.

She had a lot of fun, but there was also a lot of unpleasantness. Twice she was almost swallowed by an agile swift; then a frog imperceptibly crept up - you never know the goats have all sorts of enemies! There were some joys too. The little goat met another similar goat, with a shaggy mustache. And she says:

- How pretty you are, Kozyavochka ... We will live together.

And they healed together, they healed very well. All together: where one, there and another. And did not notice how the summer flew by. It began to rain, cold nights. Our Kozyavochka applied the eggs, hid them in the thick grass and said:

- Oh, how tired I am!

No one saw how Kozyavochka died.

Yes, she did not die, but only fell asleep for the winter, so that in the spring she would wake up again and live again.

The Tale of Komar Komarovich with a long nose and furry Misha with a short tail

It happened at noon, when all the mosquitoes hid from the heat in the swamp. Komar Komarovich - long nose tucked under a wide sheet and fell asleep. Sleeps and hears a desperate cry:

- Oh, fathers! .. oh, carraul! ..

Komar Komarovich jumped out from under the sheet and also shouted:

- What happened? .. What are you yelling at?

And mosquitoes fly, buzz, squeak - you can’t make out anything.

- Oh, fathers! .. A bear came to our swamp and fell asleep. As he lay down in the grass, he immediately crushed five hundred mosquitoes; as he breathed, he swallowed a whole hundred. Oh, trouble, brothers! We barely got away from him, otherwise he would have crushed everyone ...

Komar Komarovich - the long nose immediately became angry; he got angry both at the bear and at the stupid mosquitoes, which squeaked to no avail.

- Hey you, stop squeaking! he shouted. “Now I’ll go and drive the bear away ... It’s very simple!” And you yell only in vain ...

Komar Komarovich became even more angry and flew off. Indeed, there was a bear in the swamp. He climbed into the thickest grass, where mosquitoes lived from time immemorial, fell apart and sniffs with his nose, only the whistle goes, just like someone is playing the trumpet. Here's a shameless creature! .. Climbed into a strange place, ruined so many mosquito souls in vain, and even sleeps so sweetly!

“Hey, uncle, where are you going?” shouted Komar Komarovich to the whole forest, so loudly that even he himself became frightened.

Shaggy Misha opened one eye - no one was visible, opened the other eye, barely saw that a mosquito was flying over his very nose.

What do you need, buddy? Misha grumbled and also began to get angry.

How, just settled down to rest, and then some villain squeaks.

- Hey, go away in a good way, uncle! ..

Misha opened both eyes, looked at the impudent fellow, blew his nose, and finally got angry.

"What do you want, you wretched creature?" he growled.

“Get out of our place, otherwise I don’t like joking ... I’ll eat you with a fur coat.”

The bear was funny. He rolled over onto the other side, covered his muzzle with his paw, and immediately began to snore.

Komar Komarovich flew back to his mosquitoes and trumpeted the whole swamp:

- Deftly, I scared the shaggy Mishka! .. Next time he won’t come.

Mosquitoes marveled and ask:

“Well, where is the bear now?”

“But I don’t know, brothers ... He was very scared when I told him that I would eat if he didn’t leave.” After all, I don’t like joking, but I said directly: I’ll eat it. I'm afraid that he might die with fear while I'm flying to you ... Well, it's my own fault!

All the mosquitoes squealed, buzzed and argued for a long time how to deal with the ignorant bear. Never before had there been such a terrible noise in the swamp.

They squeaked and squeaked and decided to drive the bear out of the swamp.

- Let him go to his home, into the forest, and sleep there. And our swamp... Even our fathers and grandfathers lived in this very swamp.

One prudent old woman Komarikha advised to leave the bear alone: ​​let him lie down, and when he gets enough sleep, he will leave, but everyone attacked her so much that the poor woman barely had time to hide.

- Let's go, brothers! shouted Komar Komarovich most of all. "We'll show him... yes!"

Mosquitoes flew after Komar Komarovich. They fly and squeak, even they themselves are scared. They flew in, look, but the bear lies and does not move.

- Well, I said so: the poor fellow died of fear! boasted Komar Komarovich. - Even a little sorry, howling what a healthy bear ...

“Yes, he’s sleeping, brothers,” squeaked a little mosquito, flying up to the very bear’s nose and almost drawn in there, as if through a window.

- Oh, shameless! Ah, shameless! squealed all the mosquitoes at once and raised a terrible uproar. - Five hundred mosquitoes crushed, a hundred mosquitoes swallowed and he sleeps as if nothing had happened ...

And shaggy Misha sleeps to himself and whistles with his nose.

He's pretending to be asleep! shouted Komar Komarovich and flew at the bear. “Here, I’ll show him now ... Hey, uncle, he will pretend!”

As soon as Komar Komarovich swoops in, as he digs his long nose right into the black bear nose, Misha jumped up just like that - grab his nose with his paw, and Komar Komarovich was gone.

- What, uncle, did not like? squeaks Komar Komarovich. - Leave, otherwise it will be worse ... Now I’m not the only Komar Komarovich - a long nose, but my grandfather flew in with me, Komarishche - a long nose, and my younger brother, Komarishko a long nose! Go away uncle...

- I'm not leaving! shouted the bear, sitting on its hind legs. "I'll take you all...

- Oh, uncle, you're boasting in vain ...

Again flew Komar Komarovich and dug into the bear right in the eye. The bear roared in pain, hit itself in the muzzle with its paw, and again there was nothing in the paw, only it nearly ripped out its eye with its claw. And Komar Komarovich hovered over the very bear's ear and squeaked:

- I'll eat you, uncle ...

Misha was completely angry. He uprooted a whole birch along with the root and began to beat mosquitoes with it.

It hurts from the whole shoulder ... He beat, beat, even got tired, but not a single mosquito was killed - everyone hovered over him and squeaked. Then Misha grabbed a heavy stone and threw it at the mosquitoes - again there was no sense.

- What did you take, uncle? squeaked Komar Komarovich. “But I will still eat you…”

How long, how short Misha fought with mosquitoes, but there was a lot of noise. A bear's roar could be heard in the distance. And how many trees he uprooted, how many stones he uprooted! .. All he wanted was to catch the first Komar Komarovich, - after all, here, just above the ear, it curls, and the bear grabs with its paw, and again nothing, only scratched his whole face in the blood.

Exhausted at last Misha. He sat down on his hind legs, snorted and came up with a new thing - let's roll on the grass to pass the entire mosquito kingdom. Misha rode, rode, but nothing came of it, but he was only even more tired. Then the bear hid its muzzle in the moss. Worse, the mosquitoes clung to the bear's tail. The bear finally got angry.

“Wait a minute, I’ll ask you something!” he roared so that it could be heard from five miles away. - I'll show you a thing ... I ... I ... I ...

The mosquitoes have receded and are waiting for what will happen. And Misha climbed a tree like an acrobat, sat down on the thickest bough and roared:

- Come on, come up to me now ... I'll break everyone's noses! ..

The mosquitoes laughed in thin voices and rushed at the bear with the whole army. They squeak, spin, climb ... Misha fought back, fought back, accidentally swallowed a hundred mosquito troops, coughed and how it fell off the bough, like a sack ... However, he got up, scratched his bruised side and said:

- Well, did you take it? Have you seen how deftly I jump from a tree? ..

The mosquitoes laughed even thinner, and Komar Komarovich trumpeted:

- I'll eat you ... I'll eat you ... I'll eat ... I'll eat you! ..

The bear was completely exhausted, exhausted, and it is a shame to leave the swamp. He sits on his hind legs and only blinks his eyes.

A frog rescued him from trouble. She jumped out from under the bump, sat down on her hind legs and said:

“You don’t want to bother yourself, Mikhailo Ivanovich!... Don’t pay attention to these wretched mosquitoes. Not worth it.

- And that's not worth it, - the bear was delighted. - I'm like that ... Let them come to my lair, but I ... I ...

How Misha turns, how he runs out of the swamp, and Komar Komarovich - his long nose flies after him, flies and shouts:

- Oh, brothers, hold on! The bear will run away... Hold on!..

All the mosquitoes gathered, consulted and decided: “It’s not worth it! Let him go - after all, the swamp is left behind us!

Vanka name day

Beat, drum, ta-ta! tra-ta-ta! Play, trumpets: tru-tu! tu-ru-ru! .. Let's all the music here - today is Vanka's birthday! .. Dear guests, you are welcome ... Hey, everyone gather here! Tra-ta-ta! Tru-ru-ru!

Vanka walks around in a red shirt and says:

- Brothers, you are welcome ... Treats - as much as you like. Soup from the freshest chips; cutlets from the best, purest sand; pies from multi-colored pieces of paper; what a tea! From the best boiled water. You are welcome ... Music, play! ..

Ta-ta! Tra-ta-ta! Tru-tu! Tu-ru-ru!

There was a full room of guests. The first to arrive was a pot-bellied wooden Top.

- Lzhzh ... lzhzh ... where is the birthday boy? LJ… LJ… I love to have fun in good company…

There are two dolls. One - with blue eyes, Anya, her nose was a little damaged; the other with black eyes, Katya, she was missing one arm. They came decorously and took their place on the toy sofa.

"Let's see what kind of treat Vanka has," Anya remarked. “Something very much to brag about. The music is not bad, and I doubt very much about the refreshments.

“You, Anya, are always dissatisfied with something,” Katya reproached her.

"And you're always ready to argue."

The dolls argued a little and were even ready to quarrel, but at that moment a strongly supported Clown hobbled on one leg and immediately reconciled them.

“Everything will be fine, lady!” Let's have great fun. Of course, I'm missing one leg, but Volchok is spinning on one leg. Hello Wolf...

— Zhzh... Hello! Why is it that one of your eyes looks like it's been hit?

- Nothing ... It was me who fell off the sofa. It could be worse.

- Oh, how bad it can be ... Sometimes I hit the wall like that from all the running start, right on my head! ..

It's good that your head is empty...

- It still hurts ... zhzh ... Try it yourself, you'll find out.

The clown just clicked his brass cymbals. He was generally a frivolous man.

Petrushka came and brought with him a whole bunch of guests: his own wife, Matryona Ivanovna, the German doctor Karl Ivanovich and the big-nosed Gypsy; and the Gypsy brought a three-legged horse with him.

- Well, Vanka, receive guests! Petrushka spoke cheerfully, tapping his nose. - One is better than the other. My only Matryona Ivanovna is worth something… She likes to drink tea with me very much, like a duck.

"We'll find some tea too, Pyotr Ivanovich," replied Vanka. - And we are always glad to welcome good guests ... Sit down, Matryona Ivanovna! Karl Ivanovich, you are welcome...

The Bear and the Hare also came, the greyish grandmother's Goat with the Corydalis Duck, the Cockerel with the Wolf - Vanka found a place for everyone.

Alyonushkin's Slipper and Alyonushkin's Metelochka came last. They looked - all the places are occupied, and Metelochka said:

- Nothing, I'll stand in the corner ...

But Slipper said nothing and silently crawled under the sofa. It was a very venerable Slipper, though worn. He was a little embarrassed only by the hole that was on the nose itself. Well, nothing, no one will notice under the sofa.

- Hey music! Vanka commanded.

Beat the drum: tra-ta! ta-ta! The trumpets began to play: tru-tu! And all the guests suddenly became so merry, so merry...

The holiday started off great. The drum beat by itself, the trumpets themselves played, the Top buzzed, the Clown rang his cymbals, and Petrushka squealed furiously. Ah, how fun it was!

- Brothers, play! shouted Vanka, smoothing his flaxen curls.

- Matryona Ivanovna, does your stomach hurt?

- What are you, Karl Ivanovich? Matryona Ivanovna was offended. - Why do you think so?..

- Come on, stick your tongue out.

- Stay away, please...

Until now, she had been lying quietly on the table, and when the doctor spoke about language, she could not resist and jumped off. After all, the doctor always examines Alyonushka's tongue with her help ...

“Oh, no… no need! squeaked Matryona Ivanovna, waving her arms so ridiculously like a windmill.

“Well, I don’t impose my services,” Spoon was offended.

She even wanted to get angry, but at that time Volchok flew up to her, and they began to dance. The spinning top buzzed, the spoon rang... Even Alyonushkin's Slipper could not resist, crawled out from under the sofa and whispered to Metelochka:

- I love you very much, Metelochka ...

Panicle closed her eyes sweetly and just sighed. She loved to be loved.

After all, she was always such a modest Panicle and never put on airs, as it sometimes happened with others. For example, Matryona Ivanovna or Anya and Katya - these cute dolls loved to laugh at other people's shortcomings: the Clown was missing one leg, Petrushka had a long nose, Karl Ivanovich had a bald head, the Gypsy looked like a firebrand, and the birthday boy Vanka got the most.

"He's a little manly," said Katya.

“And besides, a braggart,” Anya added.

Having fun, everyone sat down at the table, and a real feast began. Dinner passed like a real name day, although the matter was not without small misunderstandings. The bear almost ate Bunny instead of a cutlet by mistake; The top almost got into a fight with the Gypsy because of the Spoon - the latter wanted to steal it and already hid it in his pocket. Pyotr Ivanovich, a well-known bully, managed to quarrel with his wife and quarreled over trifles.

“Matryona Ivanovna, calm down,” Karl Ivanovich persuaded her. - After all, Pyotr Ivanovich is kind ... Maybe your head hurts? I have excellent powders with me...

“Leave her alone, doctor,” said Petrushka. - This is such an impossible woman ... But by the way, I love her very much. Matryona Ivanovna, let's kiss...

- Hooray! shouted Vanka. “It's much better than arguing. I can't stand it when people fight. Wow look...

But then something completely unexpected happened and so terrible that it’s even scary to say.

Beat the drum: tra-ta! ta-ta-ta! The trumpets were playing: ru-ru! ru-ru-ru! The Clown's cymbals rang, the Spoon laughed in a silver voice, the Top buzzed, and the merry Bunny shouted: bo-bo-bo! .. The Porcelain Dog barked loudly, the rubber Kitty meowed affectionately, and the Bear stamped his foot so that the floor trembled. The greyest grandmother's goat turned out to be the most cheerful of all. First of all, he danced better than anyone, and then he shook his beard so funny and roared in a raspy voice: me-ke-ke! ..

Wait, how did all this happen? It is very difficult to tell everything in order, because of the participants in the incident, only Alyonushkin Bashmachok remembered the whole thing. He was prudent and managed to hide under the sofa in time.

Yes, so that's how it was. First, wooden cubes came to congratulate Vanka... No, not like that again. It didn't start at all. The cubes really came, but the black-eyed Katya was to blame. She, she, right! .. This pretty cheat whispered to Anya at the end of dinner:

- And what do you think, Anya, who is the most beautiful here.

It seems that the question is the simplest, but meanwhile Matryona Ivanovna was terribly offended and told Katya bluntly:

- Why do you think that my Pyotr Ivanovich is a freak?

“No one thinks that, Matryona Ivanovna,” Katya tried to justify herself, but it was already too late.

"Of course, his nose is a little big," continued Matryona Ivanovna. But this is noticeable if you only look at Pyotr Ivanovich from the side ... Then, he has a bad habit of terribly squeaking and fighting with everyone, but he is still a kind person. As for the mind...

The dolls argued with such passion that they attracted everyone's attention. First of all, of course, Petrushka intervened and squeaked:

- That's right, Matryona Ivanovna ... The most beautiful person here, of course, is me!

Here all the men are offended. Pardon me, such self-praise this Petrushka! It's disgusting to even listen to! The clown was not a master of speech and was offended in silence, but Dr. Karl Ivanovich said very loudly:

"So we're all freaks?" Congratulations gentlemen...

An uproar arose at once. The Gypsy shouted something in his own way, the Bear growled, the Wolf howled, the gray Goat shouted, the Top buzzed - in a word, everyone was completely offended.

- Gentlemen, stop! - Vanka persuaded everyone. - Do not pay attention to Pyotr Ivanovich ... He was just joking.

But it was all in vain. It was Karl Ivanitch who was chiefly agitated. He even banged his fist on the table and shouted:

“Gentlemen, a good treat, there’s nothing to say! .. We were invited to visit only in order to be called freaks ...

Gracious sovereigns and gracious sovereigns! Vanka tried to outshout everyone. - If it comes to that, gentlemen, there is only one freak here - it's me ... Are you satisfied now?

Then… Excuse me, how did this happen? Yes, yes, that's how it was. Karl Ivanovich got completely excited and began to approach Pyotr Ivanovich. He shook his finger at him and repeated:

“If I weren’t an educated person and if I didn’t know how to behave decently in decent society, I would tell you, Pyotr Ivanovich, that you are even quite a fool ...

Knowing the pugnacious nature of Petrushka, Vanka wanted to stand between him and the doctor, but on the way he hit Petrushka's long nose with his fist. It seemed to Petrushka that it was not Vanka who hit him, but the doctor ... What began here! .. Petrushka clung to the doctor; the Gypsy, who was sitting aside, for no reason at all began to beat the Clown, the Bear rushed at the Wolf with a growl, the Volchok beat the Goat with his empty head - in a word, a real scandal broke out. The puppets squealed in thin voices, and all three fainted with fear.

"Ah, I feel bad! .. " Matryona Ivanovna shouted, falling off the sofa.

"Gentlemen, what is this?" yelled Vanka. “Gentlemen, I’m a birthday boy… Gentlemen, this is finally impolite!..”

There was a real scuffle, so it was already difficult to make out who was beating whom. Vanka tried in vain to separate those who were fighting, and ended up by himself beginning to beat up everyone who turned under his arm, and since he was stronger than everyone else, the guests had a bad time.

- Carraul!! Fathers ... oh, carraul! Petrushka yelled the loudest, trying to hit the doctor harder... - They killed Petrushka to death... Carraul!..

Only Slipper left the landfill, having managed to hide under the sofa in time. He even closed his eyes with fear, and at that time the Bunny hid behind him, also seeking salvation in flight.

— Where are you going? snarled the Slipper.

“Be quiet, otherwise they will hear, and both will get it,” Zaichik persuaded, looking out of the hole in the sock with a slanting eye. - Oh, what a robber this Petrushka is! .. He beats everyone and himself yells with a good obscenity. Good guest, nothing to say ... And I barely escaped from the Wolf, ah! It’s scary even to remember ... And there the Duck lies upside down with its legs. Killed poor...

- Oh, how stupid you are, Bunny: all the dolls are lying in a swoon, well, the Duck, along with the others.

They fought, fought, fought for a long time, until Vanka kicked out all the guests, except for the dolls. Matryona Ivanovna had long been tired of lying in a swoon, she opened one eye and asked:

"Gentlemen, where am I?" Doctor, look, am I alive?

Nobody answered her, and Matryona Ivanovna opened her other eye. The room was empty, and Vanka stood in the middle and looked around in surprise. Anya and Katya woke up and were also surprised.

“There was something terrible here,” Katya said. - Good birthday boy, nothing to say!

The dolls at once pounced on Vanka, who decidedly did not know what to answer him. And someone beat him, and he beat someone, but for what, about what - is unknown.

“I really don’t know how it all happened,” he said, spreading his arms. “The main thing is that it’s a shame: after all, I love them all ... absolutely all of them.

“But we know how,” Shoe and Bunny answered from under the sofa. We have seen everything!

- Yes, it's your fault! Matryona Ivanovna pounced on them. - Of course, you ... You made porridge, but you yourself hid.

“Yeah, that’s what’s up!” Vanka was delighted. “Get out, robbers… You only visit guests to quarrel good people.

Slipper and Bunny barely had time to jump out the window.

“Here I am…” Matryona Ivanovna threatened them with her fist. “Oh, what wretched people there are in the world! So the Duck will say the same thing.

“Yes, yes…” Duck confirmed. “I saw with my own eyes how they hid under the sofa.

The duck always agreed with everyone.

“We need to bring the guests back…” Katya continued. We'll have more fun...

The guests returned willingly. Who had a black eye, who limped; Petrushka's long nose suffered the most.

- Oh, robbers! they all repeated with one voice, scolding Bunny and Slipper. - Who would have thought?..

- Oh, how tired I am! He beat off all his hands," Vanka complained. - Well, why remember the old ... I'm not vindictive. Hey music!

The drum beat again: tra-ta! ta-ta-ta! The trumpets began to play: tru-tu! ru-ru-ru!.. And Petrushka furiously shouted:

- Hurrah, Vanka! ..

The Tale of Sparrow Vorobeich, Ruff Ershovich and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha

Vorobey Vorobeich and Ersh Ershovich lived in great friendship. Every day in the summer Vorobey Vorobeich flew to the river and shouted:

— Hey, brother, hello!.. How are you?

“Nothing, we live little by little,” answered Ersh Ershovich. - Come visit me. I, brother, feel good in deep places ... The water is quiet, any water weed as you want. I will treat you to frog caviar, worms, water boogers ...

- Thank you brother! With pleasure I would go to visit you, but I'm afraid of water. You’d better fly to visit me on the roof ... I’ll treat you, brother, with berries - I have a whole garden, and then we’ll get a crust of bread, and oats, and sugar, and a live mosquito. Do you like sugar?

— What is he?

- White is...

How are the pebbles in the river?

- Here you go. And you take it in your mouth - it's sweet. Don't eat your pebbles. Shall we fly to the roof now?

— No, I can't fly, and I suffocate in the air. Let's swim in the water together. I'll show you everything...

Sparrow Vorobeich tried to go into the water, - he will go up to his knees, and then it becomes terribly. So you can drown! Sparrow Vorobeich will get drunk on bright river water, and on hot days he buys it somewhere in a shallow place, cleans his feathers - and again to his roof. In general, they lived together and liked to talk about different matters.

- How do you not get tired of sitting in the water? Vorobey Vorobeich was often surprised. - It's wet in the water - you'll still catch a cold ...

Ersh Ershovich was surprised in his turn:

- How do you, brother, not get tired of flying? Look how hot it is in the sun: just suffocate. And I'm always cold. Swim as much as you want. Don’t be afraid in the summer everyone climbs into my water to swim ... And who will go to your roof?

- And how they walk, brother! .. I have a great friend - a chimney sweep Yasha. He constantly comes to visit me ... And such a cheerful chimney sweep, he sings all the songs. He cleans the pipes, and he sings. Moreover, he will sit down on the very skate to rest, get some bread and have a snack, and I pick up the crumbs. We live soul to soul. I also like to have fun.

Friends and troubles were almost the same. For example, winter: poor Sparrow Vorobeich is cold! Wow, what cold days there were! It seems that the whole soul is ready to freeze. Vorobey Vorobeich is fluffed up, tucks his legs under him and sits. The only salvation is to climb somewhere in the pipe and warm up a little. But here is the trouble.

Since Vorobey Vorobeich almost died thanks to his best friend, the chimney sweep. The chimney sweep came and, as soon as he lowered his cast-iron weight with a broom into the chimney, he almost broke Voroby Vorobeich's head. He jumped out of the chimney covered in soot, worse than a chimney sweep, and now scolding:

What are you doing, Yasha? After all, that way you can kill to death ...

- And how did I know that you were sitting in a pipe?

“But be more careful forward ... If I hit you on the head with a cast-iron weight, is that good?”

Ersh Ershovich also had a hard time in winter. He climbed somewhere deeper into the pool and dozed there for whole days. It's dark and cold and you don't want to move. Occasionally he swam up to the hole when he called Vorobey Vorobeich. He will fly up to the hole in the water to get drunk and shout:

— Hey, Ersh Ershovich, are you alive?

"And we're no better either, brother!" What to do, you have to endure ... Wow, what an evil wind can be! .. Here, brother, you won’t fall asleep ... I keep jumping on one leg to keep warm. And people look and say: “Look, what a cheerful little sparrow!” Oh, if only to wait for the warmth... Are you sleeping again, brother?

And in the summer again their troubles. Once a hawk chased Vorobeich for two versts, and he barely managed to hide in the river sedge.

- Oh, he barely left alive! he complained to Ersh Ershovich, barely taking a breath. Here is a robber! .. I almost grabbed it, but there you should remember your name.

“It’s like our pike,” Ersh Ershovich consoled. - I also recently almost fell into her mouth. How it will rush after me, like lightning. And I swam out with other fish and thought that there was a log in the water, but how would this log rush after me ... Why are these pikes only found? I'm surprised and can't figure it out...

“Me too… You know, it seems to me that a hawk was once a pike, and a pike was a hawk.” In a word, robbers...

Yes, Vorobey Vorobeyich and Yersh Yershovich lived and lived like that, chilling in the winters, rejoicing in the summer; and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha cleaned his pipes and sang songs. Everyone has their own business, their joys and their sorrows.

One summer the chimney sweep finished his work and went to the river to wash off the soot. He goes and whistles, and then he hears a terrible noise. What happened? And over the river the birds hover like that: ducks, and geese, and swallows, and snipe, and crows, and doves. Everyone is making noise, yelling, laughing - you can’t make out anything.

- Hey you, what happened? shouted the chimney sweep.

“And so it happened ...” the lively tit chirped. - So funny, so funny! .. Look what our Sparrow Vorobeich is doing ... He was completely furious.

When the chimney sweep approached the river, Vorobey Vorobeich ran into him. And he himself is so terrible: the beak is open, the eyes are burning, all the feathers stand on end.

- Hey, Vorobey Vorobeich, what are you, brother, making noise here? asked the chimney sweep.

- No, I'll show him! .. - Vorobey Vorobeich shouted, choking with rage. He still doesn't know what I'm like... I'll show him, damned Ersh Ershovich! He will remember me, robber...

- Do not listen to him! Yersh Yershovich shouted to the chimney sweep from the water. - He's lying anyway...

- I'm lying? yelled Sparrow Vorobeich. Who found the worm? I'm lying!.. Such a fat worm! I dug it up on the shore... How much I worked... Well, I grabbed it and dragged it home to my nest. I have a family - I have to carry food ... Only fluttered with a worm over the river, and the damned Ersh Ershovich, so that the pike swallowed him! - how to shout: "Hawk!" I shouted out of fear, the worm fell into the water, and Ersh Ershovich swallowed it ... Is this called lying?! And there was no hawk...

“Well, I was joking,” Ersh Ershovich justified himself. - And the worm was really tasty ...

All sorts of fish gathered around Ersh Ershovich: roach, crucian carp, perch, little ones - they listen and laugh. Yes, Ersh Ershovich cleverly joked on an old friend! And it's even funnier how Vorobey Vorobeich got into a fight with him. So it flies, and it flies, but it cannot take anything.

- Choke on my worm! scolded Vorobey Vorobeich. - I'll dig another one for myself ... But it's a shame that Ersh Ershovich deceived me and is still laughing at me. And I called him to my roof ... Good friend, nothing to say! So the chimney sweep Yasha will say the same thing ... We also live together and even have a snack together sometimes: he eats - I pick up the crumbs.

“Wait, brothers, this very matter must be judged,” declared the chimney sweep. “Just let me wash up first… I’ll deal with your case honestly.” And you, Vorobey Vorobeich, calm down a little for now ...

- My cause is just, - why should I worry! yelled Sparrow Vorobeich. - And as soon as I show Ersh Yershovich how to joke with me ...

The chimney sweep sat down on the bank, placed a bundle with his lunch on a pebble nearby, washed his hands and face, and said:

- Well, brothers, now we will judge the court ... You, Ersh Ershovich, are a fish, and you, Sparrow Vorobeich, are a bird. Is that what I say?

- So! So! .. - everyone shouted, both birds and fish.

The chimney sweep unrolled his bundle, laid a piece of rye bread on the stone, from which his entire dinner consisted, and said:

“Look, what is this? This is bread. I have earned it and I will eat it; eat and drink water. So? So, I'll have lunch and I won't offend anyone. Fish and birds also want to dine ... You, then, have your own food! Why quarrel? Sparrow Vorobeich dug up a worm, which means he earned it, and, therefore, the worm is his ...

“Excuse me, uncle ...” a thin voice was heard in the crowd of birds.

The birds parted and let the sandpiper go forward, who approached the chimney sweep on his thin legs.

- Uncle, that's not true.

— What is not true?

- Yes, I found a worm ... Ask the ducks - they saw it. I found it, and Sparrow swooped in and stole it.

The chimney sweep was confused. It didn't come out at all.

“How is that…?” he muttered, collecting his thoughts. “Hey, Vorobey Vorobeich, what are you really deceiving?

- It's not I'm lying, but Bekas is lying. He conspired with the ducks...

“Something’s not right, brother… um… Yes!” Of course, a worm is nothing; but it's not good to steal. And whoever stole must lie ... So I say? Yes…

- Right! That's right! .. - everyone shouted again in unison. - And you still judge Yersh Yershovich with Sparrow Vorobeich! Who is right with them? .. Both made noise, both fought and raised everyone to their feet.

- Who is right? Oh, you mischievous ones, Ersh Ershovich and Sparrow Vorobeyich!.. Really, mischievous ones. I will punish both of you as an example ... Well, lively put up, now!

- Right! they all shouted in unison. - Let them reconcile ...

- And I will feed the sandpiper, who worked, getting a worm, with crumbs, - the chimney sweep decided. Everyone will be happy...

- Great! everyone shouted again.

The chimney sweep has already stretched out his hand for bread, but he is not there.

While the chimney sweep was talking, Vorobey Vorobeich managed to pull him off.

- Oh, robber! Ah, rascal! - all the fish and all the birds were indignant.

And everyone rushed in pursuit of the thief. The edge was heavy, and Vorobey Vorobeich could not fly far with it. They caught up with him just over the river. Large and small birds rushed at the thief.

There was a real mess. Everyone vomits like that, only the crumbs fly into the river; and then the piece of bread also flew into the river. Just then, the fish grabbed onto it. A real fight began between fish and birds. They tore the whole crust into crumbs and ate all the crumbs. As there is nothing left of the crumble. When the loaf was eaten, everyone came to their senses and everyone felt ashamed. They chased after the thief Sparrow and along the way they ate a piece of stolen bread.

And the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha sits on the bank, looks and laughs. It all turned out very funny ... Everyone ran away from him, only Bekasik the sandman remained.

- Why don't you follow everyone? the chimney sweep asks.

- And I would fly, but I'm small in stature, uncle. As soon as the big birds peck ...

“Well, it will be better this way, Bekasik. Both of us were left without lunch. It looks like a little more work has been done...

Alyonushka came to the bank, began to ask the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha what happened, and also laughed.

- Oh, how stupid they are, and the fish and the birds! And I would share everything - both the worm and the crumb, and no one would quarrel. Recently I divided four apples ... Dad brings four apples and says: "Divide in half - me and Lisa." I divided it into three parts: I gave one apple to dad, the other to Lisa, and I took two for myself.

The Tale of How the Last Fly Lived

How fun it was in the summer!.. Oh, how fun! It's hard to even tell everything in order... There were thousands of flies. They fly, buzz, have fun ... When little Mushka was born, she spread her wings, she also had fun. So much fun, so much fun you can't tell. The most interesting thing was that in the morning they opened all the windows and doors to the terrace - in whichever way you want, fly through that window.

“What a kind creature a man is,” little Mushka was surprised, flying from window to window. “Windows were made for us, and they open them for us too. Very good, and most importantly - fun ...

She flew out into the garden a thousand times, sat on the green grass, admired the blooming lilacs, the tender leaves of the blossoming linden and the flowers in the flower beds. The gardener, unknown to her until now, had already managed to take care of everything in advance. Oh, how kind he is, this gardener! .. Mushka has not yet been born, but he has already managed to prepare everything, absolutely everything that little Mushka needs. This was all the more surprising because he himself did not know how to fly and sometimes even walked with great difficulty - he was swaying, and the gardener was muttering something completely incomprehensible.

“Where do these damned flies come from?” grumbled the good gardener.

Probably, the poor fellow said this simply out of envy, because he himself could only dig ridges, plant flowers and water them, but he could not fly. Young Mushka deliberately hovered over the gardener's red nose and bored him terribly.

Then, people in general are so kind that everywhere they gave different pleasures to flies. For example, Alyonushka drank milk in the morning, ate a bun, and then begged Aunt Olya for sugar - she did all this only in order to leave a few drops of spilled milk for the flies, and most importantly, crumbs of buns and sugar. Well, tell me, please, what could be tastier than such crumbs, especially when you fly all morning and get hungry? .. Then, the cook Pasha was even kinder than Alyonushka. Every morning she went to the market on purpose for the flies and brought amazingly tasty things: beef, sometimes fish, cream, butter, in general, the kindest woman in the whole house. She knew perfectly well what the flies needed, although she also did not know how to fly, like the gardener. A very good woman in general!

And Aunt Olya? Oh, this wonderful woman, it seems, specially lived only for flies ... She opened all the windows with her own hands every morning so that it would be more convenient for the flies to fly, and when it rained or it was cold, she closed them so that the flies would not wet their wings and would not catch a cold. Then Aunt Olya noticed that the flies were very fond of sugar and berries, so she began to boil the berries in sugar every day. The flies now, of course, guessed why it was all being done, and out of gratitude they climbed right into the bowl of jam. Alyonushka was very fond of jam, but Aunt Olya gave her only one or two spoons, not wanting to offend the flies.

Since the flies could not eat everything at once, Aunt Olya put some of the jam in glass jars (so that they would not be eaten by mice, which are not supposed to have jam at all) and then served it to the flies every day when she drank tea.

- Oh, how kind and good everyone is! - admired the young Mushka, flying from window to window. “Maybe it’s even a good thing that people can’t fly. Then they would have turned into flies, big and gluttonous flies, and probably would have eaten everything themselves ... Oh, how good it is to live in the world!

“Well, people are not quite as kind as you think,” remarked the old Fly, who liked to grumble. “It just seems that way… Have you noticed the person everyone calls ‘dad’?”

“Oh yes… This is a very strange gentleman. You are quite right, good, kind old Fly ... Why does he smoke his pipe when he knows very well that I can not stand tobacco smoke at all? It seems to me that he does this just to spite me ... Then, he absolutely does not want to do anything for the flies. I once tried the ink with which he always writes something like that, and almost died ... This is finally outrageous! I saw with my own eyes how two such pretty, but completely inexperienced flies were drowning in his inkwell. It was a terrible picture when he pulled out one of them with a pen and planted a magnificent inkblot on paper ... Imagine, he did not blame himself for this, but us! Where's the justice?..

- I think that this dad is completely devoid of justice, although he has one merit ... - answered the old, experienced Fly. He drinks beer after dinner. It's not a bad habit! I confess, I also do not mind drinking beer, although my head is spinning from it ... What to do, a bad habit!

“And I also like beer,” the young Mushka admitted and even blushed a little. “It makes me so merry, so merry, although the next day my head hurts a little. But papa, perhaps, does not do anything for the flies because he does not eat jam himself, and puts sugar only in a glass of tea. In my opinion, nothing good can be expected from a person who does not eat jam ... He can only smoke his pipe.

The flies generally knew all people very well, although they valued them in their own way.

The summer was hot, and every day there were more and more flies. They fell into the milk, climbed into the soup, into the inkwell, buzzed, spun and pestered everyone. But our little Mushka managed to become a real big fly and almost died several times. The first time she got stuck with her feet in the jam, so that she barely crawled out; another time, waking up, she ran into a lighted lamp and almost burned her wings; for the third time, she almost fell between the window sashes - in general, there were enough adventures.

- What is it: life from these flies is gone! .. - the cook complained. Like crazy, they climb everywhere ... You need to harass them.

Even our Fly began to find that there were too many flies, especially in the kitchen. In the evenings, the ceiling was covered with a living, moving grid. And when provisions were brought, the flies rushed at her in a live heap, pushed each other and quarreled terribly. Only the most lively and strong got the best pieces, and the rest got leftovers. Pasha was right.

But then something terrible happened. One morning, Pasha, along with provisions, brought a pack of very tasty pieces of paper - that is, they became tasty when they were laid out on plates, sprinkled with fine sugar and doused with warm water.

“Here’s a great treat for flies!” the cook Pasha said, placing the plates in the most prominent places.

The flies, even without Pasha, guessed that this was done for them, and in a cheerful crowd they pounced on the new dish. Our Fly also rushed to one plate, but she was pushed away rather rudely.

- What are you pushing, gentlemen? she was offended. “Besides, I’m not so greedy as to take anything from others. Finally, this is disrespectful...

Then something impossible happened. The most greedy flies paid the first ... They first wandered around like drunks, and then completely fell down. The next morning, Pasha swept a whole large plate of dead flies. Only the most prudent remained alive, including our Fly.

We don't want papers! they all squeaked. - We do not want…

But the next day the same thing happened. Of the prudent flies, only the most prudent flies remained intact. But Pasha found that there were too many of these, the most prudent ones.

“There is no life from them…” she complained.

Then the gentleman, who was called papa, brought three very beautiful glass caps, poured beer into them and put them on plates ... Then the most prudent flies were caught. It turned out that these caps are just flycatchers. Flies flew to the smell of beer, fell into the cap and died there, because they did not know how to find a way out.

“Now that’s great!” Pasha approved; she turned out to be a completely heartless woman and rejoiced at someone else's misfortune.

What's so great about it, judge for yourself. If people had the same wings as flies, and if they put up flycatchers the size of a house, then they would come across in the same way ... Our Fly, taught by the bitter experience of even the most prudent flies, has completely ceased to believe people. They only seem to be kind, these people, but in essence they do nothing but deceive the gullible poor flies all their lives. Oh, this is the most cunning and evil animal, to tell the truth! ..

The flies have greatly diminished from all these troubles, and here is a new trouble. It turned out that the summer had passed, the rains began, a cold wind blew, and generally unpleasant weather set in.

Has summer passed? the surviving flies wondered. Excuse me, when did it have time to pass? This is finally unfair ... We didn’t have time to look back, and here is autumn.

It was worse than poisoned papers and glass flycatchers. From the coming bad weather, one could seek protection only from one's worst enemy, that is, the lord of man. Alas! Now the windows did not open for whole days, but only occasionally - vents. Even the sun itself shone for sure only to deceive the gullible house flies. How would you like, for example, such a picture? Morning. The sun peeps so merrily through all the windows, as if inviting all the flies into the garden. You might think that summer is returning again ... And well - gullible flies fly out the window, but the sun only shines, not warms. They fly back - the window is closed. Many flies died in this way on cold autumn nights only because of their gullibility.

“No, I don’t believe it,” our Fly said. “I don’t believe in anything… If the sun is deceiving, then who and what can you trust?”

It is clear that with the onset of autumn, all the flies experienced the worst mood of the spirit. The character immediately deteriorated in almost everyone. There was no mention of the former joys. Everyone became so gloomy, lethargic and dissatisfied. Some got to the point where they even started biting, which was not the case before.

Our Mukha's character had deteriorated to such an extent that she did not recognize herself at all. Previously, for example, she felt sorry for other flies when they died, but now she thought only of herself. She was even ashamed to say aloud what she thought:

"Well, let them die - I'll get more."

Firstly, there are not so many real warm corners in which a real, decent fly can live in the winter, and secondly, they just got tired of other flies that climbed everywhere, snatched the best pieces from under their noses and generally behaved quite unceremoniously. It's time to rest.

These other flies accurately understood these evil thoughts and died by the hundreds. They didn't even die, but fell asleep for sure. Every day they were made less and less, so that there was absolutely no need for poisoned papers or glass flytraps. But this was not enough for our Fly: she wanted to be completely alone. Think how lovely it is - five rooms, and only one fly! ..

Such a happy day has come. Early in the morning our Fly woke up rather late. She had long been experiencing some kind of incomprehensible fatigue and preferred to sit motionless in her corner, under the stove. And then she felt that something extraordinary had happened. It was worth flying up to the window, as everything was explained at once. The first snow fell... The earth was covered with a bright white veil.

“Ah, so that’s what winter is like!” she thought at once. - She is completely white, like a piece of good sugar ...

Then the Fly noticed that all the other flies had completely disappeared. The poor things could not stand the first cold and fell asleep wherever it happened. The fly would have taken pity on them at another time, but now it thought:

"That's great ... Now I'm all alone! .. Nobody will eat my jam, my sugar, my crumbs ... Oh, how good! .. "

She flew around all the rooms and once again made sure that she was completely alone. Now you could do whatever you wanted. And how good it is that the rooms are so warm! Winter is there, on the street, and the rooms are warm and cozy, especially when lamps and candles are lit in the evening. With the first lamp, however, there was a little trouble - the Fly ran into the fire again and almost burned out.

“This is probably a winter fly trap,” she realized, rubbing her burned paws. - No, you won’t fool me ... Oh, I understand everything perfectly! .. Do you want to burn the last fly? But I don’t want this at all ... Here is the stove in the kitchen too - don’t I understand that this is also a trap for flies! ..

The last Fly was only happy for a few days, and then suddenly she became bored, so bored, so bored that it seemed impossible to tell. Of course, she was warm, she was full, and then, then she began to get bored. She flies, she flies, she rests, she eats, she flies again - and again she becomes more bored than before.

- Oh, how bored I am! she squeaked in the most mournful thin voice, flying from room to room. - If only there was one more fly, the worst, but still a fly ...

No matter how the last Fly complained about her loneliness, no one wanted to understand her. Of course, this angered her even more, and she molested people like crazy. To whom it sits on the nose, to whom in the ear, otherwise it will begin to fly back and forth before your eyes. In a word, a real crazy.

“Lord, why don’t you want to understand that I am completely alone and that I am very bored? she squealed to everyone. “You don’t even know how to fly, and therefore you don’t know what boredom is. If only someone would play with me ... No, where are you going? What could be more clumsy and clumsy than a person? The ugliest creature I've ever met...

The last Fly is tired of both the dog and the cat - absolutely everyone. Most of all, she was upset when Aunt Olya said:

“Ah, the last fly… Please don’t touch it.” Let it live all winter.

What is it? This is a direct insult. It seems that they stopped counting her as a fly. “Let him live,” tell me what a favor you did! What if I'm bored? What if I don't want to live at all? I don't want to and that's it."

The last Fly was so angry with everyone that even she herself became frightened. It flies, buzzes, squeaks ... The Spider, who was sitting in the corner, finally took pity on her and said:

- Dear Fly, come to me ... What a beautiful web I have!

- I humbly thank you ... Here's another friend! I know what your beautiful web is. Perhaps you were once a man, and now you only pretend to be a spider.

As you know, I wish you well.

- Oh, how disgusting! This is called wishing well: to eat the last fly!..

They quarreled a lot, and yet it was boring, so boring, so boring that you can’t tell. The fly was resolutely angry at everyone, tired and loudly declared:

“If so, if you don’t want to understand how bored I am, then I’ll sit in a corner all winter! .. Here you go! .. Yes, I’ll sit and not go out for anything ...

She even wept with grief, recalling the past summer fun. How many funny flies there were; And she still wanted to be completely alone. It was a fatal mistake...

Winter dragged on without end, and the last Fly began to think that there would be no more summer at all. She wanted to die, and she cried quietly. It is probably people who came up with winter, because they come up with absolutely everything that is harmful to flies. Or maybe it was Aunt Olya who hid the summer somewhere, the way she hides sugar and jam? ..

The last Fly was about to die of despair, when something quite special happened. She, as usual, was sitting in her corner and getting angry, when she suddenly heard: w-w-l! .. At first she did not believe her own ears, but thought that someone was deceiving her. And then… God, what was it!.. A real live fly, still very young, flew past her. She just had time to be born and rejoiced.

- Spring is starting! .. spring! she buzzed.

How happy they were for each other! They hugged, kissed and even licked each other with their proboscises. Old Fly told for several days how badly she had spent the whole winter and how bored she was alone. The young Mushka only laughed in a thin voice and could not understand how boring it was.

- Spring! spring! .. - she repeated.

When Aunt Olya ordered to set up all the winter frames and Alyonushka looked out the first open window, the last Fly immediately understood everything.

“Now I know everything,” she buzzed, flying out the window, “we make the summer, flies ...

A fairy tale about Voronushka - a black little head and a yellow bird Canary

The Crow sits on a birch and claps its nose on a branch: clap-clap. She cleaned her nose, looked around and croaked:

“Carr…carr!”

The cat Vaska, dozing on the fence, nearly collapsed with fear and began to grumble:

- Ek you took, black head ... God grant such a neck! .. What did you rejoice at?

“Leave me alone… I don’t have time, can’t you see? Oh, how once ... Carr-carr-carr! .. And everything is business and business.

"I'm tired, poor thing," Vaska laughed.

“Shut up, couch potato ... You’ve been lying all over your sides, all you know is that you can bask in the sun, but I don’t know peace since morning: I sat on ten roofs, flew around half the city, examined all the nooks and crannies. And I also need to fly to the bell tower, visit the market, dig in the garden ... Why am I wasting time with you - I have no time. Oh, how once!

Crow slapped the knot for the last time with her nose, started up and just wanted to fly up when she heard a terrible scream. A flock of sparrows was rushing along, and some small yellow bird was flying ahead.

- Brothers, hold her ... oh, hold her! the sparrows squeaked.

- What's happened? Where? - shouted the Crow, rushing after the sparrows.

The Crow waved its wings a dozen times and caught up with the flock of sparrows. The little yellow bird got out of her last strength and rushed into a small garden where bushes of lilac, currant and bird cherry grew. She wanted to hide from the sparrows chasing her. A yellow bird hid under a bush, and Crow was right there.

- Who will you be? she croaked.

The sparrows sprinkled the bush as if someone had thrown a handful of peas.

They got angry at the yellow bird and wanted to peck at it.

Why do you hate her? asked the Crow.

“But why is it yellow?” all the sparrows squeaked at once.

The crow looked at the yellow bird: indeed, all yellow, shook her head and said:

“Oh, you mischievous people… It’s not a bird at all!.. Do such birds exist? She's just pretending to be a bird...

The sparrows squealed, crackled, got even angrier, and there was nothing to do but get out.

Conversations with the Crow are short: enough with the wearer that the spirit is out.

Having dispersed the sparrows, the Crow began to probe the little yellow bird, which was breathing heavily and looking so plaintively with its black eyes.

- Who will you be? asked the Crow.

I am Canary...

“Look, do not deceive, otherwise it will be bad.” If it wasn't for me, the sparrows would have pecked at you...

- Right, I'm a Canary ...

— Where did you come from?

- And I lived in a cage ... in a cage and was born, and grew up, and lived. I kept wanting to fly like other birds. The cage stood on the window, and I kept looking at the other birds ... They had so much fun, but it was so crowded in the cage. Well, the girl Alyonushka brought a cup of water, opened the door, and I escaped. She flew, flew around the room, and then flew out the window.

What were you doing in the cage?

- I sing well ...

- Come on, sleep.

The canary is asleep. The crow cocked its head to one side and wondered.

- You call that singing? Ha ha ... Your masters were stupid if they fed you for such singing. If I had to feed someone, then a real bird, like, for example, me ... This morning she croaked, - so the rogue Vaska almost fell off the fence. Here is the singing!

- I know Vaska ... The most terrible beast. How many times did he get close to our cage. The eyes are green, they burn, they will release their claws ...

- Well, who is afraid, and who is not ... He is a big rogue, that's true, but there is nothing terrible. Well, yes, we'll talk about this later ... But I still can't believe that you are a real bird ...

“Really, aunty, I’m a bird, quite a bird. All canaries are birds...

- Okay, okay, we'll see ... But how will you live?

- I need a little: a few grains, a piece of sugar, a cracker - that's full.

“Look, what a lady! .. Well, you can still manage without sugar, but somehow you will get grains. Actually, I like you. Do you want to live together? I have a great nest on my birch...

- Thank you. Just the sparrows...

- You will live with me, so no one will dare to touch a finger. Not like sparrows, but the rogue Vaska knows my character. I don't like to joke...

The canary immediately cheered up and flew along with the Crow. Well, the nest is excellent, if only a cracker and a piece of sugar ...

The Crow and the Canary began to live and live in the same nest. Although the crow sometimes liked to grumble, it was not an evil bird. The main flaw in her character was that she envied everyone, and considered herself offended.

“Well, how are stupid chickens better than me?” And they are fed, they are looked after, they are protected, - she complained to the Canary. - Also here to take pigeons ... What good are they, but no, no, and they will throw them a handful of oats. Also a stupid bird ... And as soon as I fly up - now everyone starts to drive me in three necks. Is it fair? Moreover, they scold after: “Oh, you crow!” Have you noticed that I will be better than others and even prettier? .. Suppose you don’t have to say this about yourself, but you force yourself. Is not it?

Canary agreed with everything:

Yes, you are a big bird...

— That's what it is. They keep parrots in cages, take care of them, but why is a parrot better than me? .. So, the most stupid bird. He only knows what to yell and mutter, but no one can understand what he is mumbling about. Is not it?

- Yes, we also had a parrot and terribly bothered everyone.

- But you never know other such birds will be typed, which live for no one knows why! .. Starlings, for example, will fly like crazy out of nowhere, live through the summer and fly away again. Swallows, too, tits, nightingales - you never know such rubbish will be typed. Not a single serious, real bird at all ... It smells a little cold, that's it, and let's run away wherever your eyes look.

In essence, the Crow and the Canary did not understand each other. The Canary did not understand this life in the wild, and the Crow did not understand in captivity.

- Really, aunty, no one has ever thrown a grain to you? Canary wondered. - Well, one grain?

- What a stupid you are ... What kind of grains are there? Just look, no matter how someone kills with a stick or a stone. People are very mean...

The Canary could not agree with the last, because people fed her. Maybe this is how it seems to the Crow ... However, the Canary soon had to convince herself of human anger. Once she was sitting on the fence, when suddenly a heavy stone whistled over her head. Schoolchildren were walking down the street, they saw a Crow on the fence - why not throw a stone at her?

“Well, have you seen it now?” asked the Crow, climbing onto the roof. That's all they are, that is, people.

“Perhaps you have annoyed them with something, auntie?”

- Absolutely nothing ... They just get angry like that. They all hate me...

The Canary felt sorry for the poor Crow, whom no one, no one loved. Because you can't live like this...

Enemies in general were enough. For example, the cat Vaska... With what oily eyes he looked at all the birds, pretended to be asleep, and the Canary saw with her own eyes how he grabbed a small, inexperienced sparrow, only the bones crunched and feathers flew... Wow, scary! Then the hawks are also good: they float in the air, and then like a stone and fall on some careless bird. The canary also saw the hawk dragging the chicken. However, Crow was not afraid of either cats or hawks, and even herself was not averse to feasting on a small bird. At first Canary didn't believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Once she saw how a whole flock of sparrows were chasing the Crow. They fly, squeak, crackle ... The canary was terribly frightened and hid in the nest.

- Give it back, give it back! the sparrows squealed furiously as they flew over the crow's nest. - What is it? This is robbery!

The crow darted into its nest, and the Canary saw with horror that she had brought in her claws a dead, bloodied sparrow.

"Aunty, what are you doing?"

“Shut up…” Crow hissed.

Her eyes were terrible - they glow ... The Canary closed her eyes in fear so as not to see how the Crow would tear the unfortunate little sparrow.

“After all, she will eat me one day,” thought the Canary.

But Crow, having eaten, became kinder each time. He cleans his nose, sits comfortably somewhere on the bough and takes a sweet nap. In general, as the Canary noticed, the aunt was terribly voracious and did not disdain anything. Now she drags a crust of bread, then a piece of rotten meat, then some scraps that she was looking for in the garbage pits. The latter was the Crow's favorite pastime, and the Canary could not understand what pleasure it was to dig in the garbage pit. However, it was difficult to blame Crow: she ate every day as much as twenty canaries would not have eaten. And all the care of the Crow was only about food ... He would sit down somewhere on the roof and look out.

When the Crow was too lazy to look for food herself, she indulged in tricks. He will see that the sparrows are pulling something, and now he will rush. As if she is flying by, and she is yelling at the top of her lungs:

“Ah, I have no time ... absolutely no time! ..

It will fly up, grab the prey and was like that.

“It’s not good, auntie, to take from others,” the indignant Canary once remarked.

- Not good? What if I want to eat all the time?

And others also want...

Well, others will take care of themselves. It's you, sissies, they feed everyone in cages, and we ourselves must finish everything ourselves. And so, how much do you or a sparrow need? .. She pecked at the grains and is full for the whole day.

Summer flew by unnoticed. The sun has definitely become colder, and the days are shorter. It began to rain, a cold wind blew. The canary felt like the most miserable bird, especially when it was raining. And Crow doesn't seem to notice.

“So what if it’s raining?” she wondered. - Goes, goes and stops.

“But it’s cold, auntie!” Ah, how cold!

It was especially bad at night. Wet Canary was trembling all over. And the Crow is still angry:

- Here is a sissy! .. Whether it will still be when the cold strikes and it snows.

The crow was even offended. What kind of bird is this if it is afraid of rain, wind, and cold? After all, you can’t live in this world like that. She again began to doubt that this Canary was a bird. Probably just pretending to be a bird...

- Really, I'm a real bird, auntie! said the Canary with tears in her eyes. - I just get cold...

- That's it, look! And it seems to me that you are only pretending to be a bird ...

— No, really, I'm not pretending.

Sometimes the Canary thought hard about her fate. Perhaps it would be better to stay in a cage ... It is warm and satisfying there. She even flew several times to the window where her native cage stood. Two new canaries were already sitting there and envied her.

“Oh, how cold…” the chilled Canary squealed plaintively. - Let me go home.

One morning, when the Canary looked out of the crow's nest, she was struck by a sad picture: the ground was covered with the first snow during the night, like a shroud. Everything was white all around ... And most importantly - the snow covered all those grains that the Canary ate. The mountain ash remained, but she could not eat this sour berry. The crow - she sits, pecks at the mountain ash and praises:

- Oh, a good berry! ..

After starving for two days, the Canary fell into despair. What will happen next? .. That way you can die of hunger ...

Canary sits and mourns. And then he sees that the same schoolchildren who threw a stone at Crow ran into the garden, spread a net on the ground, sprinkled delicious flaxseed and ran away.

“Yes, they are not evil at all, these boys,” the Canary was delighted, looking at the spread net. - Auntie, the boys brought me food!

- Good food, nothing to say! Crow growled. “Don’t even think about sticking your nose in there… Do you hear? As soon as you start pecking at the grains, you will fall into the net.

- And then what will happen?

- And then they will put you in a cage again ...

The Canary took thought: I want to eat, and I don’t want to be in a cage. Of course, it’s cold and hungry, but still it’s much better to live in the wild, especially when it’s not raining.

For several days the Canary was fastened, but hunger is not an aunt - she was tempted by the bait and fell into the net.

“Fathers, guards!” she squeaked plaintively. “I’ll never do it again… It’s better to starve to death than to end up in a cage again!”

It now seemed to the canary that there was nothing better in the world than a crow's nest. Well, yes, of course, it happened both cold and hungry, but still - full will. Wherever she wanted, she flew there ... She even began to cry. The boys will come and put her back in the cage. Fortunately for her, she flew past Raven and saw that things were bad.

“Oh, you stupid!” she grumbled. “I told you not to touch the bait.

“Auntie, I won’t…”

The crow arrived just in time. The boys were already running to capture the prey, but the Crow managed to break the thin net, and the Canary found herself free again. The boys chased the damned Crow for a long time, threw sticks and stones at her and scolded her.

- Oh, how good! - the Canary rejoiced, finding herself again in her nest.

- That's good. Look at me ... - grumbled the Crow.

The Canary lived again in the crow's nest and no longer complained of cold or hunger. Once the Crow flew off to prey, spent the night in the field, and returned home, the Canary lies in the nest with its legs up. Raven made her head on one side, looked and said:

- Well, I said that it's not a bird! ..

Smarter than everyone

Fairy tale

The turkey woke up, as usual, earlier than the others, when it was still dark, woke his wife and said:

“Am I smarter than everyone else?” Yes?

The turkey, awake, coughed for a long time and then answered:

“Ah, how clever… Cough-cough!.. Who doesn’t know this? Whoa…

- No, you speak directly: smarter than everyone? There are just enough smart birds, but the smartest of all is one, that's me.

“Smarter than everyone… kheh!” Smarter than everyone ... Cough-cough-cough! ..

The turkey even got a little angry and added in such a tone that other birds could hear:

“You know, I feel like I don’t get enough respect. Yes, very little.

- No, it seems so to you ... Cough! - the Turkey reassured him, starting to straighten the feathers that had strayed during the night. - Yes, it just seems ... Birds are smarter than you and you can’t come up with. Heh heh heh!

What about Gusak? Oh, I understand everything ... Suppose he doesn’t say anything directly, but more and more is silent. But I feel that he silently does not respect me ...

- Don't pay any attention to him. It's not worth it... heh! Have you noticed that Gusak is stupid?

Who doesn't see this? It's written on his face: stupid gander, and nothing more. Yes ... But Gusak is still nothing - how can you be angry with a stupid bird? And here is the Rooster, the simplest rooster ... What did he shout about me on the third day? And how he shouted - all the neighbors heard. He seems to have called me even very stupid ... Something like that in general.

- Oh, how strange you are! - the Indian was surprised. "Don't you know why he screams at all?"

- Well, why?

“Khe-khe-khe… It’s very simple, and everyone knows it. You are a rooster, and he is a rooster, only he is a very, very simple rooster, the most ordinary rooster, and you are a real Indian, overseas rooster - so he screams with envy. Every bird wants to be an Indian rooster ... Cough-cough-cough! ..

- Well, it's hard, mother ... Ha-ha! See what you want! Some simple cockerel - and suddenly wants to become an Indian - no, brother, you're being naughty! .. He will never be an Indian.

The turkey was such a modest and kind bird and was constantly upset that the turkey was always quarreling with someone. And today, too, he didn’t have time to wake up, and he already thinks out with whom to start a quarrel or even a fight. In general, the most restless bird, although not evil. The turkey became a little offended when other birds began to make fun of the turkey and called him a talker, idler and wimp. Suppose they were partly right, but find a bird without flaws? That's what it is! There are no such birds, and it is even somehow more pleasant when you find even the smallest flaw in another bird.

The awakened birds poured out of the chicken coop into the yard, and a desperate hubbub immediately arose. The chickens were especially noisy. They ran around the yard, climbed to the kitchen window and shouted furiously:

- Oh, where! Ah-where-where-where... We want to eat! The cook Matryona must have died and wants to starve us to death...

“Gentlemen, have patience,” remarked Gusak, standing on one leg. Look at me: I also want to eat, and I don’t scream like you. If I yelled at the top of my lungs ... like this ... Ho-ho! .. Or like this: ho-ho-ho !!.

The goose cackled so desperately that the cook Matryona immediately woke up.

“It’s good for him to talk about patience,” grumbled one Duck, “what a throat, like a pipe.” And then, if I had such a long neck and such a strong beak, then I would also preach patience. I myself would eat more than anyone else, but I would advise others to endure ... We know this goose patience ...

The Rooster supported the duck and shouted:

- Yes, it’s good for Gusak to talk about patience ... And who pulled my two best feathers out of my tail yesterday? It's even ignoble to grab right by the tail. Suppose we quarreled a little, and I wanted to peck Gusak's head - I don't deny it, there was such an intention - but it's my fault, not my tail. Is that what I say gentlemen?

Hungry birds, like hungry people, became unjust precisely because they were hungry.

Out of pride, the turkey never rushed to feed with others, but patiently waited for Matryona to drive away another greedy bird and call him. So it was now. The turkey was walking aside, near the fence, and pretended to be looking for something among various rubbish.

“Khe-khe… oh, how I want to eat!” complained the Turkey, pacing after her husband. “Well, Matryona has thrown the oats… yes… and, it seems, the remnants of yesterday’s porridge… khe-khe!” Oh, how I love porridge! .. It seems that I would always eat one porridge, my whole life. I even sometimes see her at night in a dream ...

The turkey loved to complain when she was hungry, and demanded that the turkey be sure to feel sorry for her. Among other birds, she looked like an old woman: she was always hunched over, coughing, walking with some kind of broken gait, as if her legs had been attached to her only yesterday.

“Yes, it’s good to eat porridge,” Turkey agreed with her. “But a smart bird never rushes to food. Is that what I say? If the owner does not feed me, I will die of hunger ... right? And where will he find another such turkey?

“There is no other place like it…

- That's it ... But porridge, in essence, is nothing. Yes ... It's not about porridge, but about Matryona. Is that what I say? There would be Matryona, but there will be porridge. Everything in the world depends on one Matryona - and oats, and porridge, and cereals, and crusts of bread.

Despite all this reasoning, the Turkey began to experience the pangs of hunger. Then he became completely sad when all the other birds had eaten, and Matryona did not come out to call him. What if she forgot about him? After all, this is a very bad thing ...

But then something happened that made Turkey forget even about his own hunger. It began with the fact that one young hen, walking near the barn, suddenly shouted:

- Oh, where! ..

All the other hens immediately picked up and yelled with a good obscenity: “Oh, where! where to where ... ”And of course, the Rooster roared the loudest of all:

- Carraul! .. Who is there?

The birds that came running to the cry saw a very unusual thing. Right next to the barn, in a hole, lay something gray, round, covered entirely with sharp needles.

“Yes, it’s a simple stone,” someone remarked.

"He moved," the Hen explained. - I also thought that the stone came up, and how it moves ... Really! It seemed to me that he had eyes, but stones do not have eyes.

“You never know what a foolish chicken might think with fear,” remarked the Turkey-cock. "Maybe it's... it's..."

Yes, it's a mushroom! Husak shouted. “I saw exactly the same mushrooms, only without the needles.

Everyone laughed out loud at Gusak.

“It looks more like a hat,” someone tried to guess and was also ridiculed.

“Does a cap have eyes, gentlemen?”

“There is nothing to talk about in vain, but you need to act,” the Rooster decided for everyone. - Hey you, thing in needles, tell me, what kind of animal? I don't like to joke... do you hear?

Since there was no answer, the Rooster considered himself insulted and rushed at the unknown offender. He tried to peck twice and stepped aside in embarrassment.

"It's... it's a huge burdock and nothing else," he explained. - There is nothing tasty ... Would anyone like to try?

Everyone chatted whatever came to mind. There was no end to conjecture and speculation. Silent one Turkey. Well, let others talk, and he will listen to other people's nonsense. The birds chirped for a long time, shouting and arguing, until someone shouted:

- Gentlemen, why are we scratching our heads in vain when we have Turkey? He knows everything...

“Of course I know,” said Turkey, spreading his tail and puffing out his red gut on his nose.

“And if you know, then tell us.

- What if I don't want to? Yeah, I just don't want to.

Everyone began to beg Turkey.

“After all, you are our smartest bird, Turkey!” Well, tell me, my dear ... What should you say?

The turkey broke down for a long time and finally said:

“Very well, I’ll probably tell you… yes, I’ll tell you.” But first you tell me who do you think I am?

“Who doesn’t know that you are the smartest bird!” they all answered in unison. That's what they say: smart as a turkey.

So you respect me?

- We respect! We all respect!

The turkey broke down a little more, then he fluffed up all over, puffed out his intestines, walked around the tricky beast three times and said:

“It’s… yes… Do you want to know what it is?”

- We want! .. Please, do not languish, but tell me quickly.

- This is someone crawling somewhere ...

Everyone just wanted to laugh, when a giggle was heard, and a thin voice said:

- That's the smartest bird! .. hee-hee ...

A black muzzle with two black eyes appeared from under the needles, sniffed the air and said:

“Hello, gentlemen ... But how did you not recognize this Hedgehog, a gray-haired hedgehog? .. Oh, what a funny Turkey you have, excuse me, what is he ... How is it more polite to say? .. Well, stupid Turkey ...

Everyone became even scared after such an insult that the Hedgehog inflicted on the Turkey. Of course, Turkey said nonsense, that's true, but it does not follow from this that the Hedgehog has the right to insult him. Finally, it's just impolite to come into someone else's house and insult the owner. As you wish, but the Turkey is still an important, imposing bird and no match for some unfortunate Hedgehog.

All at once went over to Turkey's side, and a terrible uproar arose.

- Probably, the Hedgehog considers us all stupid too! - Rooster shouted, flapping his wings

“He insulted us all!”

“If anyone is stupid, it’s him, that is, the Hedgehog,” Gusak declared, craning his neck. - I noticed it right away ... yes! ..

- Can mushrooms be stupid? Yezh answered.

“Gentlemen, we are talking to him in vain! Rooster shouted. “Anyway, he won’t understand anything ... It seems to me that we are just wasting time. Yes ... If, for example, you, Gusak, grab his bristles with your strong beak on one side, and Turkey and I cling to his bristles on the other, it will now be clear who is smarter. After all, you can’t hide your mind under stupid bristles ...

“Well, I agree…” said Husak. - It will be even better if I grab onto his bristles from behind, and you, Rooster, peck right at his face ... So, gentlemen? Who is smarter, now it will be seen.

The turkey was silent all the time. At first, he was stunned by the impudence of the Hedgehog, and he could not find what to answer him. Then Turkey got angry, so angry that even he himself became a little scared. He wanted to rush at the rude man and tear him into small pieces, so that everyone could see this and once again be convinced of what a serious and strict bird the Turkey is. He even took a few steps towards the Hedgehog, pouted terribly and just wanted to rush, as everyone began to shout and scold the Hedgehog. The turkey stopped and patiently began to wait for how everything would end.

When the Rooster offered to drag the Hedgehog by the bristles in different directions, the Turkey stopped his zeal:

— Excuse me, gentlemen... Maybe we can arrange the whole thing peacefully... Yes. I think there is a little misunderstanding here. Grant, gentlemen, it's all up to me...

“Okay, we’ll wait,” the Rooster reluctantly agreed, wanting to fight the Hedgehog as soon as possible. “But nothing will come of it anyway…”

"And that's my business," Turkey replied calmly. “Yes, listen as I talk…

Everyone crowded around the Hedgehog and began to wait. The turkey walked around him, cleared his throat and said:

“Listen, Mr. Hedgehog… Explain yourself seriously. I don't like domestic troubles at all.

“God, how smart he is, how smart! ..” thought Turkey, listening to her husband in mute delight.

“Pay attention first of all to the fact that you are in a decent and well-mannered society,” continued Turkey. “It means something… yes… Many consider it an honor to come to our yard, but alas! - it rarely succeeds.

“But this is so, between us, and the main thing is not in this ...

The turkey stopped, paused for the sake of importance, and then continued:

“Yes, that’s the main thing… Did you really think that we had no idea about hedgehogs?” I have no doubt that Gusak, who mistook you for a mushroom, was joking, and Rooster too, and others ... Isn't that right, gentlemen?

"Quite right, Turkey!" - they all shouted at once so loudly that the Hedgehog hid his black muzzle.

"Oh, how smart he is!" thought the Turkey, beginning to guess what was the matter.

“As you can see, Mr. Hedgehog, we all like to joke,” continued Turkey. I'm not talking about myself... yes. Why not joke? And, it seems to me, you, Mr. Ezh, also have a cheerful character ...

“Oh, you guessed it,” admitted the Hedgehog, exposing his muzzle again. - I have such a cheerful character that I can’t even sleep at night ... Many people can’t stand it, but I’m bored to sleep.

- Well, you see ... You will probably get along in character with our Rooster, who bawls like crazy at night.

All of a sudden it became fun, as if everyone lacked the Hedgehog for the fullness of life. The turkey was triumphant that he had so deftly extricated himself from an awkward situation when the Hedgehog called him stupid and laughed right in his face.

“By the way, Mr. Hedgehog, admit it,” said the Turkey-cock, winking, because you, of course, were joking when you called me just now ... yes ... well, a stupid bird?

- Of course, he was joking! Yezh assured. - I have such a cheerful character! ..

Yes, yes, I was sure of it. Have you heard gentlemen? the Turkey asked everyone.

- Heard ... Who could doubt it!

The turkey leaned over to the very ear of the Hedgehog and whispered to him in secret:

- So be it, I will tell you a terrible secret ... yes ... Only the condition: do not tell anyone. True, I am a little ashamed to talk about myself, but what can you do if I am the smartest bird! It sometimes even embarrasses me a little, but you can’t hide an awl in a bag ... Please, just not a word about this to anyone! ..

Parable about Milk, oatmeal and gray cat Murka

As you wish, and it was amazing! And the most amazing thing was that it was repeated every day. Yes, as soon as they put a pot of milk and an earthenware saucepan with oatmeal on the stove in the kitchen, it will begin. At first they stand as if nothing, and then the conversation begins:

- I'm Milky...

- And I'm an oatmeal!

At first, the conversation goes quietly, in a whisper, and then Kashka and Molochko begin to gradually get excited.

- I'm Milky!

- And I'm an oatmeal!

The porridge was covered with a clay lid on top, and she grumbled in her pan like an old woman. And when she began to get angry, a bubble would float up at the top, burst and say:

- But I'm still oatmeal ... pum!

This boasting seemed terribly insulting to Milky. Tell me, please, what an unseen thing - some kind of oatmeal! The milk began to get excited, rose foam and tried to get out of its pot. A little the cook overlooks, looks - Milk and poured onto the hot stove.

“Ah, this is Milk for me!” the cook complained every time. “If you overlook it a little, it will run away.”

“What am I to do if I have such a temper! Molochko justified. “I am not happy when I am angry. And then Kashka constantly boasts: “I am Kashka, I am Kashka, I am Kashka ...” He sits in his saucepan and grumbles; well, I'm angry.

Things sometimes came to the point that even Kashka would run away from the saucepan, despite her lid - she would crawl onto the stove, and she would repeat everything herself:

- And I'm Kashka! Kashka! Porridge ... shhh!

It is true that this did not happen often, but it did happen, and the cook repeated over and over again in despair:

- This is Kashka for me! .. And that she can’t sit in a saucepan is simply amazing!

The cook was generally quite agitated. Yes, and there were enough different reasons for such excitement ... For example, what was one cat Murka worth! Note that it was a very beautiful cat and the cook loved him very much. Every morning began with Murka tagging along behind the cook and meowing in such a plaintive voice that, it seems, a stone heart could not stand it.

- That's an insatiable womb! the cook wondered, driving the cat away. How many cookies did you eat yesterday?

“Well, that was yesterday!” Murka was surprised in his turn. - And today I want to eat again ... Meow! ..

“Catch mice and eat, you lazybones.

“Yes, it’s good to say that, but I would try to catch at least one mouse myself,” Murka justified himself. - However, it seems that I'm trying hard enough ... For example, last week, who caught the mouse? And from whom I have a scratch all over my nose? That's what a rat was caught, and she grabbed my nose herself ... After all, it's only easy to say: catch mice!

Having eaten the liver, Murka sat down somewhere by the stove, where it was warmer, closed his eyes and dozed sweetly.

"See what you've been up to!" the cook wondered. - And he closed his eyes, couch potato ... And keep giving him meat!

“After all, I’m not a monk, so as not to eat meat,” Murka justified himself, opening only one eye. - Then, I like to eat fish too ... It's even very pleasant to eat a fish. I still can't say which is better: liver or fish. Out of courtesy, I eat both ... If I were a man, I would certainly be a fisherman or a peddler who brings us liver. I would feed all the cats in the world to the full, and I myself would always be full ...

Having eaten, Murka liked to engage in various foreign objects for his own entertainment. Why, for example, not sit for two hours at the window, where a cage with a starling hung? It is very nice to see how a stupid bird jumps.

“I know you, you old rascal!” shouts the Starling from above. "Don't look at me...

"What if I want to meet you?"

- I know how you get to know each other ... Who recently ate a real, live sparrow? Wow, disgusting!

- Not at all nasty, - and even vice versa. Everyone loves me... Come to me, I'll tell you a fairy tale.

“Ah, rogue… Nothing to say, good storyteller!” I saw you tell your tales to the fried chicken you stole from the kitchen. Good!

- As you know, I'm talking for your own pleasure. As for the fried chicken, I actually ate it; but he wasn't good enough anyway.

By the way, every morning Murka sat by the heated stove and patiently listened to Molochko and Kashka quarreling. He could not understand what was the matter, and only blinked.

- I am Milk.

- I'm Kashka! Kashka-Kashka-kashshshsh ...

— No, I don't understand! I don’t understand anything at all,” said Murka. What are they angry about? For example, if I repeat: I am a cat, I am a cat, a cat, a cat ... Will it hurt anyone? .. No, I don’t understand ... However, I must confess that I prefer milk, especially when it does not get angry.

Once Molochko and Kashka had a particularly heated quarrel; they quarreled to the point that they half poured onto the stove, and a terrible fumes rose up. The cook came running and only threw up her hands.

- Well, what am I going to do now? she complained, pushing Milk and Kashka off the stove. - Can't turn away...

Leaving Molochko and Kashka aside, the cook went to the market for provisions. Murka immediately took advantage of this. He sat down next to Molochka, blew on him and said:

“Please don’t be angry, Milky…

Milk noticeably began to calm down. Murka walked around him, blew once more, straightened his mustache and said quite affectionately:

- That's what, gentlemen ... Quarreling is generally not good. Yes. Choose me as a justice of the peace, and I will immediately examine your case ...

The black cockroach, sitting in the crack, even choked with laughter: “That's the magistrate ... Ha ha! Ah, the old rogue, what he will come up with! .. ”But Molochko and Kashka were glad that their quarrel would finally be sorted out. They themselves did not even know how to tell what was the matter and why they were arguing.

- All right, all right, I'll figure it out, - said the cat Murka. - I'm not going to lie... Well, let's start with Molochka.

He went around the pot of Milk several times, tried it with his paw, blew on Milk from above and began to lap.

- Fathers! .. Guard! shouted the Tarakan. “He laps up all the milk, and they will think of me!”

When the cook returned from the market and ran out of milk, the pot was empty. Murka the cat was sleeping sweetly by the stove as if nothing had happened.

- Oh, you wicked one! the cook scolded him, grabbing him by the ear. - Who drank milk, tell me?

No matter how painful it was, Murka pretended that he did not understand anything and could not speak. When they threw him out the door, he shook himself, licked his wrinkled fur, straightened his tail and said:

- If I were a cook, then all the cats from morning to night would only do what they drank milk. However, I am not angry with my cook, because she does not understand this ...

It's time to sleep

One eye falls asleep at Alyonushka, another ear falls asleep at Alyonushka ...

- Dad, are you here?

Here, baby...

“You know what, dad… I want to be queen…”

Alyonushka fell asleep and smiles in her sleep.

Ah, so many flowers! And they are all smiling too. They surrounded Alyonushka's bed, whispering and laughing in thin voices. Scarlet flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, blue, pink, red, white - as if a rainbow fell to the ground and scattered with live sparks, multi-colored lights and cheerful children's eyes.

- Alyonushka wants to be a queen! the field bells rang merrily, swaying on thin green legs.

Oh, how funny she is! whispered the modest forget-me-nots.

“Gentlemen, this matter needs to be seriously discussed,” the yellow Dandelion interjected fervently. At least I didn't expect that...

What does it mean to be a queen? asked the blue field Cornflower. I grew up in the field and do not understand your city orders.

“It’s very simple…” Pink Carnation intervened. It's so simple that it doesn't need to be explained. The queen is... is... You still don't understand anything? Oh, how strange you are ... A queen is when a flower is pink, like me. In other words: Alyonushka wants to be a carnation. Seems understandable?

Everyone laughed merrily. Only Roses were silent. They considered themselves offended. Who does not know that the queen of all flowers is one Rose, tender, fragrant, wonderful? And suddenly some Gvozdika calls herself a queen... It doesn't look like anything. Finally, Rose alone got angry, turned completely crimson, and said:

- No, sorry, Alyonushka wants to be a rose ... yes! Rose is a queen because everyone loves her.

- That's cute! Dandelion got angry. “Who, then, do you take me for?”

“Dandelion, don’t be angry, please,” the forest bells persuaded him. - It spoils the character and, moreover, ugly. Here we are - we are silent about the fact that Alyonushka wants to be a forest bell, because this is clear by itself.

There were many flowers, and they argued so funny. The wild flowers were so modest - like lilies of the valley, violets, forget-me-nots, bluebells, cornflowers, field carnations; and the flowers grown in greenhouses were a little pompous roses, tulips, lilies, daffodils, levkoy, like rich children dressed up in a festive way. Alyonushka loved modest field flowers more, from which she made bouquets and wove wreaths. How wonderful they are!

“Alyonushka loves us very much,” the Violets whispered. “After all, we are the first in the spring. As soon as the snow melts, we are here.

“So do we,” said the Lilies of the Valley. - We are also spring flowers ... We are unpretentious and grow right in the forest.

- And why are we to blame that it is cold for us to grow right in the field? the fragrant curly Levkoi and Hyacinths complained. “We are only guests here, and our homeland is far away, where it is so warm and there is no winter at all. Oh, how good it is there, and we are constantly yearning for our dear homeland ... It's so cold in your north. Alyonushka also loves us, and even very much ...

“And it’s good with us, too,” the wild flowers argued. — Of course, sometimes it's very cold, but it's great ... And then, the cold kills our worst enemies, like worms, midges and various insects. If it wasn't for the cold, we'd be in trouble.

“We also love the cold,” added the Roses.

Azalea and Camellia said the same. They all loved the cold when they picked up the color.

“Here’s what, gentlemen, let’s talk about our homeland,” suggested the white Narcissus. - This is very interesting ... Alyonushka will listen to us. She loves us too...

Everyone was talking at once. Roses with tears recalled the blessed valleys of Shiraz, Hyacinths - Palestine, Azaleas - America, Lilies - Egypt ... Flowers gathered here from all over the world, and everyone could tell so much. Most flowers came from the south, where there is so much sun and no winter. How good it is!.. Yes, eternal summer! What huge trees grow there, what wonderful birds, how many beautiful butterflies that look like flying flowers, and flowers that look like butterflies ...

“We are only guests in the north, we are cold,” whispered all these southern plants.

Native wildflowers even took pity on them. Indeed, one must have great patience when a cold north wind blows, cold rain pours and snow falls. Suppose the spring snow melts soon, but still snow.

“You have a huge shortcoming,” explained Vasilek, after listening to these stories. “I don’t argue, you are perhaps sometimes more beautiful than us, simple wildflowers, - I readily admit it ... yes ... In a word, you are our dear guests, and your main drawback is that you grow up only for rich people, and we growing for everyone. We are much kinder... Here I am, for example, you will see me in the hands of every village child. How much joy I bring to all the poor children! .. You don’t need to pay money for me, but it’s only worth going out into the field. I grow with wheat, rye, oats...

Alyonushka listened to everything the flowers told her about and was surprised. She really wanted to see everything herself, all those amazing countries that were just being talked about.

“If I were a swallow, I would immediately fly,” she said at last. Why don't I have wings? Oh, how good it is to be a bird!

Before she had finished speaking, a ladybug crawled up to her, a real ladybug, so red, with black spots, with a black head and such thin black antennae and thin black legs.

- Alyonushka, let's fly! whispered Ladybug, moving her antennae.

“But I don’t have wings, ladybug!”

- Sit on me...

How can I sit down when you are little?

- But look ...

Alyonushka began to look and was surprised more and more. Ladybug spread its upper rigid wings and doubled in size, then spread thin, like cobwebs, lower wings and became even larger. She grew up before Alyonushka's eyes, until she turned into a big, big one, so big that Alyonushka could freely sit on her back, between the red wings. It was very convenient.

Are you okay, Alyonushka? Ladybug asked.

Well, hold on tight now...

In the first moment when they flew, Alyonushka even closed her eyes from fear. It seemed to her that it was not she who was flying, but everything under her was flying - cities, forests, rivers, mountains. Then it began to seem to her that she had become so small, small, about the size of a pinhead, and, moreover, as light as a fluff from a dandelion. And the Ladybug flew quickly, quickly, so that only the air whistled between the wings.

“Look what’s down there…” Ladybug told her.

Alyonushka looked down and even clasped her little hands.

“Oh, how many roses… red, yellow, white, pink!”

The ground was exactly covered with a living carpet of roses.

“Let’s go down to the ground,” she asked Ladybug.

They went down, and Alyonushka became big again, as she was before, and Ladybug became small.

Alyonushka ran for a long time across the pink field and picked up a huge bouquet of flowers. How beautiful they are, these roses; and their scent makes you dizzy. If all this pink field were moved there, to the north, where roses are only dear guests! ..

She again became big-big, and Alyonushka - small-small.

They flew again.

How good it was all around! The sky was so blue, and the blue sea below. They flew over a steep and rocky shore.

Are we going to fly across the sea? Alyonushka asked.

“Yes… just sit still and hold on tight.”

At first, Alyonushka was even scared, but then nothing. There is nothing left but sky and water. And the ships rushed across the sea like big birds with white wings… Small ships looked like flies. Oh, how beautiful, how good!.. And ahead you can already see the seashore - low, yellow and sandy, the mouth of some huge river, some kind of completely white city, as if it was built of sugar. And then you could see the dead desert, where there were only pyramids. Ladybug landed on the bank of the river. Green papyri and lilies grew here, wonderful, tender lilies.

“How good it is here for you,” Alyonushka spoke to them. - You don't get winters?

— What is winter? Lily was surprised.

Winter is when it snows...

- What is snow?

The lilies even laughed. They thought the little northern girl was joking with them. It is true that every autumn huge flocks of birds flew here from the north and also talked about winter, but they themselves did not see it, but spoke from other people's words.

Alyonushka also did not believe that there was no winter. So, you don’t need a fur coat and felt boots?

“I’m hot…” she complained. “You know, ladybug, it’s not even good when it’s eternal summer.

- Who is used to it, Alyonushka.

They flew to high mountains, on the tops of which lay eternal snow. It wasn't that hot in here. Behind the mountains began impenetrable forests. It was dark under the canopy of trees, because the sunlight did not penetrate here through the dense tops of the trees. Monkeys jumped on the branches. And how many green, red, yellow, blue birds there were ... But the most amazing thing were the flowers that grew right on the tree trunks. There were flowers of a completely fiery color, they were motley; there were flowers that looked like small birds and big butterflies, the whole forest seemed to be burning with multi-colored live lights.

“Those are orchids,” Ladybug explained.

It was impossible to walk here - everything was so intertwined.

"It's a sacred flower," Ladybug explained. It's called the lotus...

Alyonushka saw so much that she finally got tired. She wanted to go home: after all, home is better.

“I love the snowball,” said Alyonushka. “Without winter, it’s not good ...

They flew off again, and the higher they climbed, the colder it got. Soon snow fields appeared below. Only one coniferous forest turned green. Alyonushka was terribly happy when she saw the first Christmas tree.

- Christmas tree, Christmas tree! she called.

- Hello, Alyonushka! the green Christmas tree called to her from below.

It was a real Christmas tree - Alyonushka immediately recognized her. Oh, what a sweet Christmas tree! .. Alyonushka leaned over to tell her how cute she was, and suddenly flew down. Wow, how scary! .. She rolled over several times in the air and fell right into the soft snow. With fear, Alyonushka closed her eyes and did not know whether she was alive or dead.

“How did you get here, baby?” someone asked her.

Alyonushka opened her eyes and saw a gray-haired, hunched-over old man. She recognized him immediately too. It was the same old man who brings Christmas trees, golden stars, boxes of bombs and the most amazing toys to smart children. Oh, he is so kind, this old man! He immediately took her in his arms, covered her with his fur coat and again asked:

How did you get here, little girl?

- I traveled on a ladybug ... Oh, how much I saw, grandfather! ..

- So-so…

- I know you, grandpa! You bring Christmas trees to the kids ...

- So, so ... And now I'm also arranging a Christmas tree.

He showed her a long pole that didn't look like a Christmas tree at all.

- What kind of Christmas tree is this, grandfather? It's just a big stick...

- But you'll see...

The old man carried Alyonushka to a small village, completely covered with snow. Only roofs and chimneys were exposed from under the snow. The village children were already waiting for the old man. They jumped and shouted:

- Christmas tree! Christmas tree!..

They came to the first hut. The old man took out an unthreshed sheaf of oats, tied it to the end of a pole, and raised the pole to the roof. Just then, small birds flew in from all sides, which do not fly away for the winter: sparrows, kuzki, oatmeal, - and began to peck at the grain.

- This is our tree! they shouted.

Alyonushka suddenly became very cheerful. For the first time she saw how they arrange a Christmas tree for birds in winter.

Oh, how fun!.. Oh, what a kind old man! One sparrow, who fussed the most, immediately recognized Alyonushka and shouted:

- Yes, it's Alyonushka! I know her very well ... She fed me crumbs more than once. Yes…

And the other sparrows also recognized her and squealed terribly with joy.

Another sparrow flew in, which turned out to be a terrible bully. He began to push everyone aside and snatch the best grains. It was the same sparrow that fought with the ruff.

Alyonushka recognized him.

- Hello, sparrows! ..

- Oh, is that you, Alyonushka? Hello!..

The bully sparrow jumped on one leg, winked slyly with one eye and said to the kind Christmas old man:

- But she, Alyonushka, wants to be a queen ... Yes, just now I heard myself how she said this.

“Do you want to be queen, baby?” the old man asked.

- I really want it, grandpa!

- Great. There is nothing simpler: every queen is a woman, and every woman is a queen... Now go home and tell that to all the other little girls.

Ladybug was glad to get out of here as soon as possible before some mischievous sparrow ate it. They flew home quickly, quickly ... And there all the flowers are waiting for Alyonushka. They argued all the time about what a queen is.

Bye-bye-bye…

One eye at Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is looking; one ear of Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is listening. Everyone has now gathered near Alyonushka's bed: the brave Hare, and Medvedko, and the bully Rooster, and Sparrow, and Voronushka - a black little head, and Ruff Ershovich, and little, little Kozyavochka. Everything is here, everything is at Alyonushka.

- Dad, I love everyone ... - Alyonushka whispers. - I love black cockroaches, dad, too ...

Another peephole closed, another ear fell asleep ... And near Alyonushka's bed, spring grass merrily turns green, flowers smile - many flowers: blue, pink, yellow, blue, red. A green birch leaned over the very bed and whispers something so affectionately, affectionately. And the sun is shining, and the sand is turning yellow, and the blue sea wave is calling to Alyonushka ...

Sleep, Alyonushka! Gain strength...

The study of stories and fairy tales by Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak was part of the compulsory school curriculum, and the portrait hung in every literature classroom along with other classics. The writer's works were read easily and with pleasure, as they were distinguished by colorful descriptions and realism, although Dmitry Narkisovich generously used folk tales and legends. Still, with whom the prose writer made acquaintance, spoke about a colleague:

“Mamin’s words are all real, but he himself speaks them and does not know others.”

Childhood and youth

Dmitry, born in November 1852, is the son of the priest Narkis Matveyevich Mamin and the daughter of the deacon Anna Semyonovna Stepanova. According to some reports, the younger sister Elizabeth, brothers Vladimir and Nikolai also grew up in the family. Some sources indicate that Nikolai was the eldest child, because he was born two years earlier.

The writer's father served in the St. Nicholas Church in the village of Visim, not far from modern Nizhny Tagil, and was a member of the Ural Society of Natural Science Lovers. Mother taught for free at the local parochial school. Dmitry had only positive memories of his childhood, which cannot be said about the mature years of his biography. He wrote that he could not remember a single sad moment, his parents never punished or reproached him for anything.

Dmitry went to school for the children of the workers of the Visimo-Shaitan ironworks, owned by Akinfiy Demidov, a representative of a well-known dynasty of industrialists. At the age of 12, at the insistence of Narkis, who wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, Dima entered a religious school in Yekaterinburg. However, the harsh morals of the educational institution so influenced the already weak boy that he fell ill. The father brought the heir home, and for two years Mamin-Sibiryak enjoyed home peace, reading books, and walks.

Then Dmitry was forced to return to the school, from there he moved to the Perm Theological Seminary. I had to live from hand to mouth. Church education, according to the memoirs of Mamin-Sibiryak, did not provide food for thought. The only plus is that there the future writer entered the circle of advanced seminarians who were fond of ideas, Alexander Herzen and Nikolai Dobrolyubov.

The young man rushed about in search of his own vocation. He left for St. Petersburg, entered the veterinary faculty of the Medical Academy, and later transferred to the general surgical faculty. The next stage of education was St. Petersburg University, Department of Natural Sciences, then - Faculty of Law.

At the same time, Dmitry worked as a tutor and managed to help his brother Vladimir with money when he studied at Moscow University and the Demidov Lyceum. Subsequently, the younger brother became a famous lawyer and politician. The prose writer himself did not graduate from any university.

Mamin-Sibiryak had to leave the university due to illness - the writer struggled with tuberculosis all his life. Dmitry returned to Nizhnyaya Salda to his parents. After the death of his father, which happened in 1878, the care of the maintenance of the family fell on his shoulders. The difficult financial situation forced the Mamins to move to Yekaterinburg, where the only breadwinner hoped to find work.

However, the expectations were not met. Dmitry wrote a lot, tried the genres of stories, short stories, essays. He bombarded publishing houses with his writings, but everywhere he met with indifference and refusal. Saving for the family was Dmitry's acquaintance with his first wife and the first publications - in 1881, the Moscow "Russian Vedomosti" published essays about the writer's homeland "From the Urals to Moscow", signed by D. Sibiryak. So the pseudonym joined the surname Mamin.

Literature

The first attempt at writing with Dmitry Narkisovich fell on the period of study at the seminary. The work of the writer, who sang of the beauty, history, people of the Urals, was not recognized in the capital circles for a long time. Mamin-Sibiryak was known as a talented provincial.

Only after the release of the novel "The Mountain Nest" about elemental forces that change the usual way of life, they started talking about the author, and Dmitry bought a house for his mother and sister in Yekaterinburg for a fee. The stories “In thin souls”, “Prospectors”, “In stones” added success.

The logical continuation was the novel "On the Street", in which the writer spoke about the development of capitalism, accompanied by the breaking of old ideals and the search for new ones among the St. Petersburg intelligentsia.

The works "The Gordeev Brothers" and "Bread" were published in St. Petersburg. The novel "Gold" described the flavor of Siberian nature, the life of prospectors, the peculiarities of human nature, which manifests itself in all its diversity under the influence of despicable metal. The fact that not everyone passes the test of wealth was told by the work “Wild Happiness”.

In 1896 Alyonushka's Tales, a symbol of optimism and faith in goodness, were published as a separate book. The writer said that if it were his will, he would compose only for children, since this is the highest happiness. The stories "Emelya the hunter" and "Zimovye on Studenaya" were awarded prizes. "The Tale of the Brave Hare" carries a moral: faith in one's own strength and the support of loved ones will help move mountains.

In addition to developing children's perception and broadening their horizons, the works of Mamin-Sibiryak pursued a moral goal, so that the reader would think about the fate of the heroes.

The novel "Privalovsky millions" is the pearl of Dmitry's creativity. Subsequent works, according to literary critics, did not come close to this book in terms of the depth and artistic power of the narrative. And the Russian revolutionaries appreciated the author's attempt to awaken the conscience of the rich and draw attention to the situation of ordinary working people.

Personal life

The writer met his first wife Maria Yakimovna Alekseeva in 1877 at a picnic. The woman was married and raised 3 children. Her father held a high position at the enterprises of the Demidovs. A year later, Maria left her husband and moved to Yekaterinburg.

The couple began to live in a civil marriage, and soon Dmitry moved his own family to the provincial city. In the person of Alekseeva, the man found not only personal happiness, but also a smart, reliable adviser in creative matters and an editor of works.

However, in 1890 the union broke up. Dmitry got along with the daughter of a local photographer, Maria Moritsevna Heinrich. And this beloved was also not free, but she did not live with her husband, the St. Petersburg actor Abramov. Finally, Mamin-Sibiryak dedicated the novel "Three Ends" to his first wife and left with Heinrich for St. Petersburg.

The girl, who, by the way, was almost 2 times younger than the writer, never got a divorce. Dmitry's happiness lasted a little over a year - in 1892 Abramova died, a day after the birth of their daughter. The baby was named Elena, and her father affectionately called her Alyonushka.

An interesting fact: Mary's younger sister, Elizabeth, is the second wife of the writer Alexander Kuprin. His first wife, Maria Karlovna, grew up in the family of the director of the St. Petersburg Conservatory, Karl Davydov. The musician's widow subsequently sheltered 10-year-old Lisa and Lena while the writer was dealing with adoption issues.

For a child, legally illegitimate, Dmitry had to "fight" in order to give him his last name. Only Minister of Justice Nikolay Muravyov gave the highest permission for that. In addition, the girl developed an ailment, popularly nicknamed "the dance of St. Vitus." And the death of his beloved knocked down the man, he fell into depression, began to drink, thoughts of suicide appeared.

It brought to life the realization that Lenochka needed to be put on her feet. Mamin-Sibiryak devoted the cycle “Alyonushka's Tales” to the daughter of Mamin-Sibiryak, imbued with an understanding of the child's character and, according to the writer, written with love itself. The famous "Grey Neck" is practically the personification of a little sick girl who has become the center of the universe for the author.

In 1900, the priest's son finally entered into a marriage in accordance with all laws, leading Elena's nanny, Olga Frantsevna Guvala, down the aisle. The governess took up the education of her adopted daughter. The girl drew well, played the piano, wrote poetry, studied foreign languages ​​and philosophy. At 22, Elena died of tuberculosis, having previously visited her father's homeland and made a will, according to which real estate was transferred to Yekaterinburg. In the house of the Mothers, the girl asked to create a museum.

Death

The last years of Mamin-Sibiryak's life were difficult. The writer, who, it seemed, only yesterday gained fame as an inimitable realist, vegetated in poverty. In 1911, Dmitry suffered a stroke, after which he was partially paralyzed. A year later, pleurisy reappeared. All this together caused the death of the singer of the Urals, as Mamin-Sibiryak was called by fellow countrymen, in November 1912.

Dmitry Narkisovich was buried at the Nikolsky cemetery in the Alexander Nevsky Lavra. In 1914, the grave of Elena Mamina appeared nearby. In 1956, the ashes of the writer, Maria Abramova and their daughter were reburied at the Volkovskoye cemetery, in the necropolis of cultural and scientific figures "Literary Bridges".

Bibliography

• "Secrets of the Green Forest"
• "Privalovsky millions"
• "On Sheehan"
• "Bashka"
• "Alyonushka's Tales"
• "Mountain Nest"
• "On the street"
• "Three ends"
• "Gold"
• "Translator at the mines"
• "Ural stories"
• "Baby Shadows"
• "Birthday boy"
• "Crimson Mountains"
• "On a new path"

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BIOGRAPHY of Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak Prepared by the primary school teacher GBOU secondary school No. 349 of the Krasnogvardeisky district of St. Petersburg Pechenkina Tamara Pavlovna

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Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak 10/25/1852 - 11/02/1912 Russian prose writer and playwright

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Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak (real name Mamin) was born in the factory village of Visimo-Shaitan, Perm province, into the family of a factory priest. Father really wanted Dmitry to follow in his footsteps and devote his life to serving God. Dmitry's family was very enlightened, so he received his first education at home. After that, the boy went to the Visim school for the children of workers. The desire of the parents to send the child along a spiritual path led Dmitry in 1866 to the Yekaterinburg Theological School. There he studied for two years, and then moved to the Perm Theological Seminary (until 1872, he did not complete the full course). Dmitry's extraordinary character can be traced already in these years: he becomes a member of the circle of advanced seminarians, studies the ideas of Dobrolyubov, Chernyshevsky, Herzen. While studying at the seminary, Dmitry writes his first stories - not too good yet, but already testifying to literary inclinations.

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In 1872, Dmitry entered the St. Petersburg Medical and Surgical Academy in the veterinary department. Since 1874, he wrote reports for newspapers on the meetings of scientific societies to earn money. In 1876, without graduating from the academy, he moved to the law faculty of St. Petersburg University. After studying for a year, he was forced to leave the university due to financial difficulties and a sharp deterioration in health. In the summer of 1877 he returned to the Urals to his parents. The following year, his father died, and the whole burden of caring for the family fell on Dmitry. In order to educate his brothers and sister and be able to earn money, he moved to the large cultural center of Yekaterinburg, where he married Maria Yakimovna Alekseeva, who became not only his wife and friend, but also an excellent literary adviser. During these years, the future writer made many trips around the Urals, studied literature on the history, economics, ethnography of the Urals, and got acquainted with folk life.

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Shortly thereafter, travel essays are published under the general title "From the Urals to Moscow." For the first time they are printed by the newspaper Russkiye Vedomosti. The success of Mamin-Sibiryak's prose draws the attention of the publications Delo, Ustoi, Russkaya Mysl, Vestnik Evropy, Otechestvennye Zapiski to it. Then Mamin becomes Mamin-Siberian. He often signed his works with the literary pseudonym D. Sibiryak, which Dmitry decided to add to his real name. After the publication of these works, the main motives of Mamin-Sibiryak's work become noticeable: a unique description of the nature of the Urals, its influence on human life. During this period, Mamin-Sibirian traveled a lot around the Urals, carefully studying the economy, history, and ethnography of the region. Communication with local residents, immersion in the original life of the common people provides a huge material for works.

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In 1883, the writer completed work on his first novel from factory life in the Urals, Privalov's Millions, which had been in the making for ten whole years. The novel first appeared in Delo magazine and received great acclaim. The following year, the novel Mountain Nest is published on the pages of the Otechestvennye Zapiski magazine. This work brought Mamin-Sibiryak fame as a talented realist writer. Scene from the play "Privalovsky millions"

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In 1890 he divorced his first wife, married an artist of the Yekaterinburg Drama Theater Maria Abramova and moved to St. Petersburg. A year later, Abramova died, leaving her sick daughter Alyonushka in the arms of her father, shaken by this death. This tragedy was a very big shock for the writer, with which he could not fully cope until his death. Deep depression was reflected in the letters that Mamin-Sibiryak sends to his relatives during this period.

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Nevertheless, the writer overcomes the shock of the loss and gives maximum attention to his daughter. Creativity at this time is very fruitful, many works for children appear. The cycle of fairy tales "Alyonushka's Tales", written by Mamin-Sibiryak for his daughter, has become one of the best examples of his work. Animals, birds, fish, insects, plants and toys live and talk merrily in them. For example: Komar Komarovich - a long nose, Shaggy Misha - a short tail, Brave Hare - long ears - slanting eyes - a short tail, Sparrow Vorobeich and Ruff Ershovich. Talking about the funny adventures of animals and toys, the author skillfully combines fascinating content with useful information, kids learn to observe life, they develop feelings of camaraderie and friendship, modesty and hard work.

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Mamin-Sibiryak took children's literature very seriously. He called the children's book "a living thread" that takes the child out of the nursery and connects with the wide world of life. Addressing writers, his contemporaries, Mamin-Sibiryak urged them to truthfully tell children about the life and work of the people. He often said that only an honest and sincere book is useful. The works of Mamin-Sibiryak for older children tell about the life and work of workers and peasants of the Urals and Siberia, about the fate of children working in factories, crafts and mines, about young travelers along the picturesque slopes of the Ural Mountains. A wide and varied world, the life of man and nature are revealed to young readers in these works. Readers highly appreciated the story of Mamin-Sibiryak "Emelya the hunter", marked in 1884 with an international prize.

He was like a piece of jasper
beautiful, patterned jasper,
brought far from native mountains.

S.Ya.Elpatievskiy

About Mamin-Sibiryak, especially after his death, they talked a lot and many. Some with admiration, some with obvious irritation, and some with mockery. This man gave rise to very diverse judgments.
Tall, broad-shouldered, open-faced and "wonderful, a little thoughtful eyes" He stood out in any crowd. And his "the laid-back grace of a young free-trained bear" only strengthened the general impression of some bewitching wild power. Mamin's character was to match the appearance. The same unbridled, quick-tempered. His harsh judgments, his full-bodied witticisms, his harsh assessments often offended people, giving rise to ill-wishers. But more often, Dmitry Narkisovich was forgiven for something that would not have been forgiven to someone else. So great was the charm of this big, strong, but somehow very unprotected and touching person.
His kindness and gentleness were not immediately revealed and not to everyone. Although even the pseudonym, firmly fused with the surname - "Mamin-Sibiryak" - sounded somehow warm, at home.
Strictly speaking, this pseudonym was not entirely accurate. The old wooden house of the factory priest, where the future writer was born, was located on the very border of Europe and Asia. "Watershed of the Ural Mountains" passed only 14 versts. There, in the Urals, Dmitry Narkisovich spent his childhood and youth. The best books have been written about the Urals, its extraordinary nature and people.
But what about Siberia? She was further east. And it was not the favorite theme of the writer and the main content of his works. In fairness, he should have chosen a different pseudonym. For example, Mamin-Uralsky or Mamin-Uralets. Yes, but the sound would not be the same.
Ural - the body is stone, the heart is fiery. He always stayed with Mom. Even when he moved to St. Petersburg and became a completely metropolitan resident, or went to rest with his daughter at some fashionable resort, none of the beauties and miracles there pleased him. Everything seemed dull, devoid of brightness and color.
Why, striving with all his heart to the Urals, he spent almost half of his life away from him. There was a reason. Sad reason. Daughter Alyonushka was born a weak, sickly girl. Even in infancy, she lost her mother. And all the care of her fell on the shoulders of her father. Mamin devoted the last years of his life entirely to his daughter. Doctors forbade Alyonushka to travel long distances, and Dmitry Narkisovich had to come to terms with this. But having taken the Urals from her father, Alyonushka gave him something else.
And not only to him. "Alyonushka's Tales" (1894-96) are touching, poetic, poignantly beautiful. They are written with such selfless love and tenderness that they still make young readers, the same age as little Alyonushka, laugh and cry. And Mamin-Sibiryak himself once admitted: “This is my favorite book, it was written by love itself, and therefore it will outlive everything else”.
By and large, that is what happened. More than a century has passed since the appearance of fairy tales. And although "adult" novels and stories by Mamin-Sibiryak are still being published, for most readers he remains precisely a children's writer, the creator of the marvelous "Alyonushka's Tales".

Irina Kazyulkina

WORKS OF D.N.MAMIN-SIBIRYAK

COMPLETE COLLECTED WORKS: in 20 volumes / D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak. - Yekaterinburg: Bank of Cultural Information, 2002-.
The publication is not finished.

COLLECTED WORKS: in 6 volumes / D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak. - Moscow: Fiction, 1980-1981.
At the beginning of the twentieth century, the famous publisher Marx published a collection of works by D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak, which included about 250 (!) Works. Moreover, it did not include stories and fairy tales for children (about 150 titles) and about a hundred works, "lost" in various periodicals or not yet published by that time (publicism, essays, newspaper reports, scientific articles).
This collection of works, although it does not claim to be exhaustive, presents the work of D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak quite versatile. It includes not only novels that brought the author fame as the most accurate everyday writer and ethnographer of the Urals, but also numerous stories, essays, articles and, of course, works for children.

SELECTED WORKS: in 2 volumes / D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak. - Moscow: Fiction, 1988.
Mamin-Sibiryak is a Uralian. He was both in life and in work. Any page of his Ural stories and essays retains the mysterious charm of this region, which is so unlike the others. At times, it seems that the resinous aroma of fir and spruce forests emanates from these pages, and the Chusovaya and Kama rivers roll out their heavy waves on them.

ALENUSHK'S TALES / D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak; artist S. Nabutovsky. - Moscow: Makhaon, 2011. - 125 p. : ill. - (For the smallest).
"Alyonushka's Tales" was first published in 1894-96 on the pages of "Children's Reading", one of the best magazines of that time. It was published by the famous Moscow teacher D.I. Tikhomirov. The fairy tales were published as a separate edition in 1897 and since then have been constantly reprinted in Russia.

MOUNTAIN NEST / D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak. - Moscow: Astrel: AST; Vladimir: VKT, 2011. - 416 p. : ill. - (Russian classics).
GOLD / Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak. - Moscow: AST: Astrel: Polygraphizdat, 2010. - 382 p. : ill. - (Russian classics).
PRIVALOV MILLIONS / D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak. - Moscow: Meshcheryakov Publishing House, 2007. - 480 p. : ill.
"Privalovsky Millions" (1883) and "Mountain Nest" (1984) are the most famous "adult" novels by Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak. They managed to step over a century, so that at the beginning of our century they again become amazingly and even frighteningly modern.

GRAY NECK / Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak; artist Ludmila Karpenko. - Moscow: TriMag, 2008. - 31 p. : ill.
GRAY NECK / D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak; [ill. V. Ermolaeva]. - Moscow: Meshcheryakov Publishing House, 2009. - 32 p. : ill.
There are books that seem to have always existed. This is one of them. Little ducks could cry over the story just as sincerely and selflessly in the distant past, as they will probably cry in the equally distant future. After all, in the soul of a person there will always be a place for pity and compassion.

FAIRY TALES. LEGENDS. STORIES / D. N. Mamin-Sibirk. - Moscow: New Key, 2003. - 368 p. : ill.
One person, recalling Mamin-Sibiryak, once said: “Children loved him and animals were not afraid”. This book includes stories and fairy tales of the writer, which he dedicated to both.

Irina Kazyulkina

LITERATURE ABOUT THE LIFE AND WORK OF D.N.MAMIN-SIBIRYAK

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. From the distant past: [memoirs] // Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Tales, stories, essays. - Moscow: Moscow worker, 1975. - S. 387-478.

Begak B. A. “After all, it is happiness to write for children” // Begak B. A. Classics in the country of childhood. - Moscow: Children's literature, 1983. - S. 89-98.

Dergachev I. D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak. Personality. Creativity / I. Dergachev. - Ed. 2nd. - Sverdlovsk: Middle Ural book publishing house, 1981. - 304 p. : ill.

Green mountains, motley people: in search of connecting threads: following the travels of D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak / [authors of essays A.P. Chernoskutov, Yu.V. Shinkarenko]. - Ekaterinburg: Socrates, 2008. - 480 p. : ill.

Kireev R. Happiness dreamed of a spring thunderstorm // Science and religion. - 2003. - No. 1. - S. 36-39.

Kitainik M. G. Father and daughter: essay in letters // Mamin-Sibiryak D. N. Green mountains. - Moscow: Young Guard, 1982. - S. 332-365.

Korf O. For children about writers: the end of the 19th - the beginning of the 20th century. - Moscow: Sagittarius, 2006.

Kuzin N. Suffer and rejoice in a thousand hearts // Our contemporary. - 2002. - No. 10. - S. 234-241.

D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak in the memoirs of contemporaries. - Sverdlovsk: Sverdlovsk book publishing house, 1962. - 361 p.

Pospelov G. N. Life and customs of the stone belt: “Privalovsky millions” by D. N. Mamin-Sibiryak / G. N. Pospelov // Peaks: a book about outstanding works of Russian literature. - Moscow: Children's literature, 1983. - S. 54-67.

Sergovantsev N. Mamin-Sibiryak / Nikolai Sergovantsev. - Moscow: Young Guard, 2005. - 337 p. : ill. - (Life of remarkable people).

Tubelskaya G. N. Children's writers of Russia: one hundred and thirty names: a bio-bibliographic reference book / G. N. Tubelskaya. - Moscow: Russian School Library Association, 2007 - 492 p. : ill.
Biographical sketch of D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak read on p. 201-203.

Chantsev A. V. Mamin-Sibiryak D. N. // Russian Writers. 1800-1917: a biographical dictionary. - Moscow: Great Russian Encyclopedia, 1994. - T. 3. - S. 497-502.

Encyclopedia of literary heroes: Russian literature of the second half of the 19th century. - Moscow: Olimp: AST, 1997. - 768 p. : ill.
Read about the heroes of the works of D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak (including the Gray Sheika) on p. 270-275.

I.K.

SCREENSING OF THE WORKS OF D.N.MAMIN-SIBIRYAK

- ART FILMS -

In the power of gold. Based on the play "The Gold Miners". Dir. I.Pravov. Comp. E.Rodygin. USSR, 1957. Cast: I. Pereverzev, I. Kmit, V. Chekmarev and others.

Gold. Dir. A. Marmontov. Russia, 2012. Cast: S. Bezrukov, M. Porechenkov, I. Skobtseva and others.

On a golden day. TV version of the performance of the Theater. E. Vakhtangov. Dir. M. Markova, A. Remezov. USSR, 1977. Cast: Yu. Borisova, N. Gritsenko, V. Shalevich and others.

Under the linden. TV movie. Dir. S. Remmeh. USSR, 1979. Cast: N. Danilova, A. Leskov, V. Panina, I. Gorbachev and others.

Privalovsky millions. Dir. Ya. Lapshin. Comp. Y. Levitin. USSR, 1972. Cast: L. Kulagin, V. Strzhelchik, L. Khityaeva, A. Fait, L. Chursina, L. Sokolova and others.

Privalovsky millions. TV series. Dir. D.Clante, N.Popov. Comp. S. Pironkov. Germany-Bulgaria, 1983. Cast: R. Chanev, G. Cherkelov, M. Dimitrova and others.

- CARTOONS -

Ruff and sparrow. Based on "The Tale of Sparrow Vorobeich, Ersh Ershovich and Yasha the Merry Chimney Sweep". Dir. V. Petkevich. Belarus, 2000.

Once upon a time there lived the last fly. Based on "The Tale of How the Last Fly Lived". Dir. V. Petkevich. Belarus, 2009.

Gray Neck. Dir. L.Amalrik, V.Polkovnikov. Comp. Yu.Nikolsky. USSR, 1948. Roles were voiced by: V. Ivanova, F. Kurikhin, V. Telegina and others.

Tale about Komar Komarovich. Dir. V. Fomin. Comp. V.Kazenin. USSR, 1980. Roles were voiced by: Z. Naryshkina, M. Vinogradova, Y. Volintsev, B. Runge.

Tale of a brave hare. Dir. N. Pavlovskaya. USSR, 1978.

A story about a goat. Dir. V. Petkevich. Art.-post. A. Petrov. USSR, 1985. Text read by G. Burkov.

Brave Bunny. Dir. I. Ivanov-Vano. Comp. Y. Levitin. USSR, 1955. Roles were voiced by: Vitya Koval, V. Popova, V. Volodin, G. Vitsin and others.

I.K.

“Boo-bye-bye…
One eye at Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is looking; one ear of Alyonushka is sleeping, the other is listening.
Sleep, Alyonushka, sleep, beauty, and dad will tell fairy tales ... "
How many of these stories? Roughly ten:
"The Tale of the Brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail",
"The Tale of the Kozyavochka"
“About Komar Komarovich - a long nose and about shaggy Misha - a short tail”,
"Vanka's name day",
"The Tale of Sparrow Vorobeich, Ruff Ershovich and the cheerful chimney sweep Yasha",
"The Tale of How the Last Fly Lived",
"The Tale of the Voronushka - a black little head and a yellow bird Canary",
"Smarter than everyone"
"The parable of Milk, oatmeal and gray cat Murka",
"It's time to sleep".
Since 1896, when Alyonushka's Tales were first published, Dmitry Narkisovich Mamin-Sibiryak began to consider them his best work, and himself as a children's writer. He chose the name for fairy tales not by chance - Alyonushka was the name of his daughter. Dmitry Narkisovich lovingly called her "father's daughter"- she lost her mother at birth and from the cradle was surrounded only by his care. The girl faced many trials. Almost immediately it became clear that Alyonushka was seriously and hopelessly ill. And only thanks to the great will and courage of her father, she eventually got used to it, adapted to life. And the disease, although not completely gone, receded.
Years will pass, and the grown-up Alyonushka, in turn, will take care of her paralyzed father. This closes the circle of love and self-sacrifice.
... The land has long since reposed both father and daughter. Gone with them all their sorrows and troubles. But love remained. Every page of "Alyonushka's Tales" and "The Gray Neck" breathes with it - works in which the writer managed to forever preserve the features of his dear Alyonushka.

Portrait of father and daughter

This is one of the many joint photographs of Dmitry Narkisovich and Alyonushka. In pre-revolutionary times, they appeared more than once on the pages of children's and youth magazines.

From the latest editions:

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Alyonushka's tales / With forty-five pics. artistic A.Afanasiev [and others]. - Reprint. ed. - M.: IEOPGKO, 2006. - 131 p.: ill. - (B-ka spiritual and moral culture).

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Gray neck / Fig. S. Yarovoy. - M.: Det. lit., 2006. - 16 p.: ill.

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Gray neck / Art. D. Belozertsev. - M.: Aquilegia-M, 2007. - 48 p.: ill. - (Classic).

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Gray neck / Art. L. Karpenko. - M.: TriMag, 2008. - 31 p.: ill.

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. "The Gray Neck" and other tales. - M.: ROSMEN-PRESS, 2009. - 80 p.: ill. - (The best storytellers of Russia).

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Tale of the brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail / Art. V. Dugin. - M.: Tsentrpoligraf, 2007. - p.: ill. - (Favorite book).

Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Tale of the brave Hare - long ears, slanting eyes, short tail / Art. S. Sachkov. - M.: AST: Astrel; Tula: Rodnichok, 2007. - 16 p.: ill.

Irina Kazyulkina

DMITRY NARKISOVICH MAMIN-SIBIRYAK

D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak

ABOUT THE BOOK

In the rosy perspective of childhood memories, not only people are alive, but also those inanimate objects that were somehow connected with the small life of a novice little person. And now I think about them as living beings, again experiencing the impressions and feelings of distant childhood.
In these mute participants in children's life, in the foreground, of course, is a children's picture book ... It was that living thread that led out of the children's room and connected it with the rest of the world. For me, every children's book is still something alive, because it awakens a child's soul, directs children's thoughts in a certain direction and makes a child's heart beat along with millions of other children's hearts. A children's book is a spring sunbeam that awakens the dormant forces of a child's soul and causes the growth of seeds thrown onto this grateful soil. Thanks to this particular book, children merge into one huge spiritual family that knows no ethnographic and geographical boundaries.
<…>
As I see it now, an old wooden house, looking at the square with five large windows. It was remarkable in that on one side the windows overlooked Europe, and on the other - to Asia. The watershed of the Ural Mountains was only fourteen miles away.
“Those mountains are already in Asia,” my father explained to me, pointing to the silhouettes of distant mountains piled up to the horizon. - We live on the very border ...
For me, this "border" contained something especially mysterious, separating two completely incommensurable worlds. In the east, the mountains were higher and more beautiful, but I liked the west more, which was quite prosaically obscured by the low hill of Kokurnikova. As a child, I loved to sit at the window for a long time and look at this mountain. It sometimes seemed to me that she seemed to be consciously obscuring all those miracles that seemed to the childish imagination in the mysterious, far west. After all, everything came from there, from the West, starting with the first children's picture book ... The East did not give anything, and in the child's soul a mysterious craving for the West woke up, grew and matured. By the way, our corner room, which was called the tea room, although they did not drink tea in it, overlooked the west and contained the cherished key to this west, and even now I think of it, as they think of a living person with whom dear ones are connected. memories.
The soul of this tearoom, so to speak, was the bookcase. In him, as in an electric battery, an inexhaustible, mysterious mighty force was concentrated, which caused the first fermentation of children's thoughts. And this closet seems to me also a living being.<…>
“These are our best friends,” my father liked to repeat, pointing to the books. - And what dear friends... You just need to think how much intelligence, talent and knowledge you need to write a book. Then it needs to be published, then it has to make a long, long journey until it gets to us in the Urals. Each book will pass through thousands of hands before it is placed on the shelf of our bookcase.<…>
Our library was made up of the classics, and in it - alas! - there was not a single children's book ... In my early childhood, I did not even see such a book. Books were obtained by a long way of writing out from the capitals or accidentally got through the mediation of the booksellers. I had to start reading straight from the classics like grandfather Krylov, Gogol, Pushkin, Goncharov, etc. I saw the first children's picture book only about ten years old, when a new factory manager from artillery officers, a very educated person, came to our factory. How now I remember this first children's book, the title of which I, unfortunately, forgot. But I clearly remember the drawings placed in it, especially the living bridge of monkeys and pictures of tropical nature. Better than this book, then, of course, I have not seen.
In our library, the first children's book was "Children's World" by Ushinsky. This book had to be ordered from St. Petersburg, and we waited for it every day for almost three months. Finally, she appeared and was, of course, eagerly read from blackboard to blackboard. This book started a new era. It was followed by the stories of Razin, Chistyakov and other children's books. Stories about the conquest of Kamchatka became my favorite book. I read it ten times and knew almost by heart. Simple illustrations were complemented by the imagination. Mentally, I did all the heroic deeds of the conquering Cossacks, swam in light Aleutian kayaks, ate rotten fish from the Chukchi, collected eiderdown on the rocks and died of hunger when the Aleuts, Chukchi and Kamchadals died. From this book, travel became my favorite reading, and my favorite classics were forgotten for a while. By this time, the reading of the "Pallas Frigate" by Goncharov belongs. I looked forward to the evening when my mother finished her day's work and sat down at the table with her treasured book. We were already traveling together, sharing equally the dangers and consequences of a trip around the world. Wherever we were, whatever we experienced, and sailed on and on, inspired by the thirst to see new countries, new people and forms of life unknown to us. Of course, there were many unknown places and incomprehensible words, but these pitfalls were managed with the help of a dictionary of foreign words and common interpretations.<…>
We are now too accustomed to the book to even approximately estimate the enormous power that it represents. More importantly, this power, in the form of a wandering book in an ofeni box, itself came to the reader at that distant time and, moreover, brought other books with it - books wander around the world in families, and their family connection is preserved between them. I would compare these wandering books to migratory birds that bring spiritual spring with them. You might think that some invisible hand of some invisible genius carried this book across the vast expanse of Rus', tirelessly sowing "reasonable, good, eternal." Yes, it is now easy to arrange a home library of the best authors, especially thanks to illustrated editions; but the book has already made its way into the darkest times, in the good old days of banknotes, tallow candles and any movement of the native "tug". Here it is impossible not to commemorate with a kind word the old bookseller, who, like water, penetrated into every well. For us children, his appearance in the house was a real holiday. He also supervised the selection of books and gave, in case of need, the necessary explanations.<…>
So ... we opened a whole warehouse of books, the container for which was a huge old chest of drawers with brass brackets. Kostya and I pounced on this treasure like mice on grits, and at the very first steps dug up Ammalat-Bek himself from the ashes of oblivion.
For several months we simply raved about this book and greeted each other with a mountain song:

<…>
"Writers" and "poeters" constituted an unsolvable riddle for us. Who are they, where do they live, how do they write their books? For some reason it seemed to me that this mysterious man who wrote books must certainly be angry and proud. This thought saddened me, and I began to feel hopelessly stupid.
“The generals write all the books,” Roman Rodionich assured. - There is no less than a general's rank, otherwise everyone will write!
To prove his words, he referred to the portraits of Karamzin and Krylov - both writers were in the stars.
Kostya and I nevertheless doubted the writing generalship and turned to Alexander Petrovich, who was supposed to know everything, to resolve the issue.
"There are also generals," he answered rather indifferently, straightening his little balls. Why shouldn't there be generals?
- All generals?
- Well, where can everyone be ... There are also very simple ones, like us.
- Simple at all, and compose?
- And they compose because they want to eat. You go into a bookstore in St. Petersburg, so your eyes will run wide. All the books are piled up to the ceiling, like we have firewood. If all the generals wrote, then there would be no aisle from them on the street. There are quite simple writers, and even often they are starving ...
The latter did not at all fit in with the idea of ​​the writer formed in our heads. It even seemed to be ashamed: we are reading his book, and the writer is starving somewhere in St. Petersburg. After all, he tries and composes for us - and we began to feel a little guilty.
“That can't be,” Kostya decided. - Probably, they also receive their salary ...
An even more insoluble question was where reality is in the book and where fiction is.<…>
In our pantry and in Alexander Petrovich's chest of drawers, we found, by the way, many books that are completely inaccessible to our children's understanding. They were all old books, printed on thick blue paper with mysterious watermarks and bound in leather. They exuded indestructible strength, like well-preserved old men. Since my childhood, I developed a love for such an old book, and my imagination drew a mysterious person who wrote a book a hundred or two hundred years ago for me to read it now.<…>
Among the mysterious old books were those whose very title was difficult to understand: The Key to the Mysteries of Science, The Theater of Judicial Science, The Brief and Easiest Way to Pray, the work of Madame Gion, The Triumphant Chameleon, or the Depiction of Anecdotes and Properties Count Mirabeau”, “Three Initial Human Properties, or Image of Cold, Hot and Warm”, “Moral Letters to Lida about the Love of Noble Souls”, “Irtysh Turning into Hippocrene” (scattered books of the first Siberian magazine), etc. We tried to read these tricky mysterious books and perished in the most shameful way on the first pages. This convinced us only that these old books are the most intelligent, because they can only be understood by educated people, like our factory manager.
<…>
The 1960s were marked even in the remotest province by an enormous influx of new, popular scientific books. It was a clear sign of the times.<…>
I was fifteen years old when I met with a new book. The famous platinum mines were about ten versts from our plant. The manager, or, in a factory way, trusted, was a former student of Kazan University Nikolai Fedorych. Kostya and I had already wandered through the neighboring mountains with guns, visited the mine, met new people and found here a new book, a microscope, and completely new conversations. Another former student, Alexander Alekseevich, also lived in the mining office, who, mainly, initiated us into the new faith. In the office on the shelf were books unknown to us even by name. There were botanical conversations by Schleiden, and Moleschot, and Vogt, and Lyayel, and many other famous European names. A completely new world was opening up before our eyes, immense and irresistibly beckoning to itself with the light of real knowledge and real science. We were simply stunned and did not know what to take on, and most importantly, how to take it “from the very beginning”, so that later mistakes would not come out and we would not have to return to the previous one.
It was a naive and happy faith in that science that was supposed to explain everything and teach everything, and the science itself consisted in those new books that stood on the shelf in the mine office.<…>
And now, when I accidentally come across some book published in the sixties somewhere at a second-hand book dealer, I have a joyful feeling, as if you will find a good old acquaintance.

NOTES

The essay "About the book" is given in abbreviated edition: Mamin-Sibiryak D.N. Collected works: in 8 volumes - M .: Goslitizdat, 1953-1955. - T. 8. - S. 553-570.

"Children's World" Ushinsky- "Native Word" and "Children's World" - the first Russian books for the primary education of children, published since the mid-1860s. huge circulations and therefore publicly available. They consisted of stories and fairy tales about nature and animals. The great Russian teacher, philosopher and writer Konstantin Dmitrievich Ushinsky wrote them abroad, having studied the schools of Switzerland, Germany, France, Italy and other countries and summarizing his teaching experience.

Ammalat Bek- the story of Alexander Alexandrovich Bestuzhev-Marlinsky (1797-1837). Decembrist writer, he was transferred from Siberian exile to the Caucasus, to the active army; As an ordinary soldier, he took part in battles with the highlanders and died in the same year as A.S. Pushkin. Marlinsky's romantic stories captivated readers in the late 1820s and 1830s, but later the unearthly passions and pompous language of his characters were perceived more as a parody of romanticism.

Kostya- the son of a factory employee, a childhood friend of D.N. Mamin-Sibiryak.

Stories by Razin, Chistyakov- in 1851-65. teacher and children's writer Mikhail Borisovich Chistyakov (1809-1885) published the "Magazine for Children", first together with Alexei Egorovich Razin (1823-1875), a journalist and popularizer, and then alone. The magazine published novels, stories and essays in which the author told children in a fascinating way about history, geography, literature, famous people of Russia and other countries.

Schleiden's botanical conversations- Matthias Jakob Schleiden (1804-1881), German biologist, botanist and social activist.

Moleshot - the works of the Dutch physiologist Jacob Moleschott (1822-1893) were well known in Russia in the second half of the 19th century.

Vogt - German naturalist, zoologist and paleontologist Karl Vogt (Vogt; 1817-1895).

Lyell - Charles Lyell (1797-1875), English geologist, founder of modern geology.