Summery Текста напишите . Надо использовать клише. Те кто хочет просто срубить и хочет написать всякую фигню. Не пишите . Мне очень нужен нормальный ответ .Будьте людьми а! TEXT A. A VICTIM TO ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN FATAL MALADIES From "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome
I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment for some slight ailment. I got down the book and read all I came to read; and then, in an unthinking moment, I idly turned the leaves and began to study diseases, generally. I forgot which was the first, and before I had glanced half down the list of "premonitory symptoms", I was sure that I had got it.
I sat for a while frozen with horror; and then in despair Г again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever — read the symptoms — discovered that I had typhoid fever— began to get interested in my case, and so started alphabetically.
Cholera I had, with severe complications; and diphtheria I seemed to have been bom with. I looked through the twenty-six letters, and the only disease I had not got was housemaid's knee.
I sat and thought what an interesting case I must be from a medical point of view. Students would have no need to "walk the hospitals" if they had me. I was a hospital in myself. All they need do would be to walk round me, and, after that, take their diploma.
Then I wondered how long I had to live. I tried to examine myself. I felt my pulse. I could not at first feel any pulse at all. Then, all of a sudden, it seemed to start off. I pulled out my watch and timed it. I made it a hundred and forty-seven to the minute. I tried to feel my heart. I could not feel my heart. It had stopped beating. I patted myself all over my front, from what I call my waist up to my head but I could not feel or hear anything. I tried to look at my tongue. I stuck it out as.far as ever it would go, and I shut one eye and tried to examine it with the other. I could only see the tip, but I felt more certain than before that I had scarlet fever.
I had walked into the reading-room a happy, healthy man. I crawled out a miserable wreck.
I went to my medical man. He is an old chum of mine, and feels my pulse, and looks at my tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing, when I fancy I'm ill. So I went straight up and saw him, and he said:
"Well, what's the matter with you?"
I said:
"I will not take up your time, dear boy, with telling you what is the matter with me. Life is short and you might pass away before I had finished. But 1 will tell you what is not the matter with me. Everything else, however, I have got."
And I told him how I came to discover it all,
Then he opened me and looked down me, and took hold of my wrist, and then he hit me over the chest when I wasn't expecting it — a cowardly thing to do, I call it After that, he sat down and wrote out a prescription, and folded it up and gave it me, and I put it in my pocket and went out.
I did not open it, I took it to the nearest chemist's, and handed it in. The man read it, and then handed it back. He said he didn't keep it.
I said:
"You are a chemist?"
He said:
"1 am a chemist. If I was a co-operative stores and family hotel combined, 1 might be able to oblige you."
I read the prescription. It ran:
"1 lb. beefsteak, with
1 pt. bitter beer
every six hours.
1 ten-mile walk every morning.
1 bed at 11 sharp every night.
And don't stuff up your head with things you don't understand."
I followed the directions with the happy result that my life was preserved and is still going on.
Named in the XIX century together with Spasopeskovskaya square after the Church of the Transfiguration of the Saviour on the Sands, built around 1711 (depicted in the painting by V. D. Polenov "Moscow courtyard"). Sands — the name of the area based on the nature of the soil.
The name was derived from the Church of the Saviour on the Sands, which still exists today, built in 1706-1711[1] (the full name is the Church of the Transfiguration of the Lord, on the Sands, on the Arbat). The "Sands" in the name reflect the nature of the local soil. Under the Soviet regime, the Church premises were used for many years for the workshops of Soyuzmultfilm, thanks to which it was preserved — dolls for puppet cartoons were made there. It was there that Cheburashka, his faithful friend crocodile Gena and many other cartoon characters were "born", without which our culture is already unthinkable. In Moscow, there was also another Church of the Transfiguration of the Lord, on Peski (10A Bolshoy Karetny pereulok), built in 1657 and destroyed in the 1930s.
1.I have forgotten my own language and can speak nothing but yours. 2. We must go somewhere. We can't wander about forever. 3. But I think you must have told us this half an hour ago! 4. You can't see much of interest there. 5. I did not hear him return to the room. I must have been asleep. 6. You must have mistaken him, my dear. He cannot have intended to say that. 7. It seemed possible they might return. 8. It cannot have happened at Ainswick. 9. No good looking back; things happen as they may. 10. To be ashamed of his own father is perhaps the bitterest experience a young man may go through. 11. How could you let things slide like that, Dick?
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