Somerset Maugham a friend need. A friend in need is a friend indeed

For thirty years now I have been studying my fellow-men. I don't know very much about them. I suppose it is on, the face that for the most part we judge the persons we meet. We draw our conclusions from the shape of the jaw, the look in the eyes, the shape of the mouth. I shrug my shoulders when people tell me that their first impressions of a person are always right. For my own part I find that the longer I know people the more they puzzle me: my oldest friends are just those of whom I can say that I don"t know anything about them.

These thoughts have occurred to me because I read in this morning"s paper that Edward Hyde Burton had died at Kobe. He was a merchant and he had been in Japan for many years. I knew him very little, but he interested me because once he gave me a great surprise. If I had not heard the story from his own lips I should never have believed that he was capable of such an action. It was the more startling because both his appearance and his manner gave the impression of a very different man. He was a tiny little fellow, very slender, with white hair, a red face much wrinkled, and blue eyes. I suppose he was about sixty when I knew him. and station.

Though his offices were in Kobe Burton often came down to Yokohama. I happened on one occasion to be spending a few days there, waiting for a ship, and I was introduced to him at the British Club. We played bridge together. He played a good game and a generous one. He did not talk very much, either then or later when we were having drinks, but what he said was sensible. He had a quiet, dry humour. He seemed to be popular at the club and afterwards, when he had gone, they described him as one of the best. It happened that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel and next day he asked me to dine with him. I met his wife, fat, elderly and smiling, and his two daughters. It was evidently a united and loving family. I think the chief thing that struck me about Burton was his kindliness. There was something very pleasing in his mild blue eyes. His voice was gentle; you could not imagine that he could raise it in anger; his smile was kind. Here was a man who attracted you because you felt in him a real love for his fellows. He had charm. But there was nothing sentimental about him: he liked his game of cards and his cocktail, he could tell a good and spicy story, and in his youth he had been something of an athlete. He was a rich man and he had made every penny himself. I suppose one thing that made you like him was that he was so small and frail; he aroused your instincts of protection. You felt that he would not hurt a fly.

One afternoon I was sitting in the lounge of the Grand Hotel. From the windows you had an excellent view of the harbor with its crowded traffic. There were great liners; merchant ships of all nations, junks and boats sailing in and out. It was a busy scene and yet, I do not know why, restful to the spirit.

Burton came into the lounge presently and caught sight of me. He seated himself in the chair next to mine.

"What do you say to a little drink?"

He clapped his hands for a boy and ordered two drinks. As the boy brought them a man passed along the street outside and seeing me waved his hand.

"Do you know Turner?" said Burton as I nodded a greeting.

"I"ve met him at the club. I"m told he"s a remittance man."

"Yes, I believe he is. We have a good many here."

"He plays bridge well."

"They generally do. There was a fellow here last year, a namesake of mine, who was the best bridge player I ever met. I suppose you never came across him in London. Lenny Burton he called himself."

"No. I don"t believe I remember the name."

"He was quite a remarkable player. He seemed to have an instinct about the cards. It was uncanny. I used to play with him a lot. He was in Kobe for some time."

Burton sipped his gin.

"It"s rather a funny story," he said. "He wasn"t a bad chap. I liked him. He was always well-dressed and he was handsome in a way, with curly hair and pink-and-white cheeks . Women thought a lot of him. There was no harm in him, you know, he was only wild. Of course he drank too much. A bit of money used to come in for him once a quarter and he made a bit more by card-playing. He won a good deal of mine, I know that."

Burton gave a kindly little chuckle.

"I suppose that is why he came to me when he went broke, that and the fact that he was a namesake of mine. He came to see me in my office one day and asked me for a job. I was rather surprised. He told me that there was no more money coming from home and he wanted to work. I asked him how old he was.

"Thirty five," he said.

""And what have you been doing before?" I asked him.

""Well, nothing very much," he said.

"I couldn't help laughing."

""I"m afraid I can"t do anything for you just now," I said. "Come back and see me in another thirty-five years, and I"ll see what I can do."

"He didn't move." He went rather pale. He hesitated for a moment and then he told me that he had had bad luck at cards for some time. He hadn't a penny. He'd pawned everything he had. He couldn't pay his hotel bill and they wouldn't give him any more credit. He was down and out. If he couldn't get a job he'd have to commit suicide.

"I looked at him for a bit. I could see now that he was all to pieces. He"d been drinking more than usual and he looked fifty.

""Well, isn't there anything you can do except play cards?" I asked him.

""I can swim," he said.

"I could hardly believe my ears; it seemed such a silly answer.

""I swam for my university."

""I was a pretty good swimmer myself when I was a young man," I said.

"Suddenly I had an idea.

Pausing in his story, Burton turned to me.

"Do you know Kobe?" he asked.

"No," I said, "I passed through it once, but I only spent a night there."

"Then you don't know the Shioya Club." When I was a young man I swam from there round the beacon and landed at the creek of Tarumi. It"s over three miles and it"s rather difficult on account of the currents round the beacon. Well, I told my young namesake about it and I said to him that if he"d do it I"d give him a job.

"I could see he was rather taken back.

""You say you"re a swimmer," I said.

""I"m not in very good condition," he answered.

"I didn't say anything." I shrugged my shoulders. He looked at me for a moment and then he nodded.

""All right," he said. "When do you want me to do it?"

"I looked at my watch. It was just after ten.

"The swim shouldn't take you much over an hour and a quarter." I"ll drive round to the creek at half-past twelve and meet you. I"ll take you back to the club to dress and then we"ll have lunch together."

""Done," he said.

"We shook hands. I wished him good luck and he left me. I had a lot of work to do that morning and I only just managed to get to the creek at half past twelve. I waited for him there, but in vain. "

"Did he get frightened at the last moment?" I asked.

""No, he didn"t. He started swimming. But of course he"d ruined his health by drink. The currents round the beacon were more than he could manage." We didn"t get the body for about three days."

I didn't say anything for a moment or two. I was a little shocked. Then I asked Burton a question.

"When you offered him the job, did you know that he"d be drowned?"

He gave a little mild chuckle and he looked at me with those kind blue eyes of his. He rubbed his chin with his hand.

"Well, I hadn't got a vacancy in my office at the moment."

For thirty years now I have been studying my fellow-men. I don't know very much about them. I suppose it is on the face that for the most part we judge the persons we meet. We draw our conclusions from the shape of the jaw, the look in the eyes, the shape of the mouth. I shrug my shoulders when people tell me that their first impressions of a person are always right . For my own part I find that the longer I know people the more they puzzle me: my oldest friends are just those of whom I can say that I don"t know anything about them.
These thoughts have occurred to me because I read in this morning"s paper that Edward Hyde Burton had died at Kobe. He was a merchant and he had been in Japan for many years. I knew him very little, but he interested me because once he gave me a great surprise. If I had not heard the story from his own lips I should never have believed that he was capable of such an action. It was the more startling because both his appearance and his manner gave the impression of a very different man. He was a tiny little fellow, very slender, with white hair, a red face much wrinkled, and blue eyes. I suppose he was about sixty when I knew him. and station.
Though his offices were in Kobe Burton often came down to Yokohama. I happened on one occasion to be spending a few days there, waiting for a ship, and I was introduced to him at the British Club. We played bridge together. He played a good game and a generous one. He did not talk very much, either then or later when we were having drinks, but what he said was sensible. He had a quiet, dry humour. He seemed to be popular at the club and afterwards, when he had gone, they described him as one of the best. It happened that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel and next day he asked me to dine with him. I met his wife, fat, elderly and smiling, and his two daughters. It was evidently a united and loving family. I think the chief thing that struck me about Burton was his kindliness. There was something very pleasing in his mild blue eyes. His voice was gentle; you could not imagine that he could raise it in anger; his smile was kind. Here was a man who attracted you because you felt in him a real love for his fellows. He had charm. But there was nothing sentimental about him: he liked his game of cards and his cocktail, he could tell a good and spicy story, and in his youth he had been something of an athlete. He was a rich man and he had made every penny himself. I suppose one thing that made you like him was that he was so small and frail; he aroused your instincts of protection. You felt that he would not hurt a fly.
One afternoon I was sitting in the lounge of the Grand Hotel. From the windows you had an excellent view of the harbor with its crowded traffic. There were great liners; merchant ships of all nations, junks and boats sailing in and out. It was a busy scene and yet, I do not know why, restful to the spirit.
Burton came into the lounge presently and caught sight of me. He seated himself in the chair next to mine.
"What do you say to a little drink?"
He clapped his hands for a boy and ordered two drinks. As the boy brought them a man passed along the street outside and seeing me waved his hand.
"Do you know Turner?" said Burton as I nodded a greeting.
"I"ve met him at the club. I"m told he"s a remittance man."
"Yes, I believe he is. We have a good many here."
"He plays bridge well."
"They generally do. There was a fellow here last year, a namesake of mine, who was the best bridge player I ever met. I suppose you never came across him in London. Lenny Burton he called himself."
"No. I don"t believe I remember the name."
"He was quite a remarkable player. He seemed to have an instinct about the cards. It was uncanny. I used to play with him a lot. He was in Kobe for some time."
Burton sipped his gin.
"It"s rather a funny story," he said. "He wasn"t a bad chap. I liked him. He was always well-dressed and he was handsome in a way, with curly hair and pink-and-white cheeks . Women thought a lot of him. There was no harm in him, you know, he was only wild. Of course he drank too much. A bit of money used to come in for him once a quarter and he made a bit more by card-playing. He won a good deal of mine, I know that."
Burton gave a kindly little chuckle.
"I suppose that is why he came to me when he went broke, that and the fact that he was a namesake of mine. He came to see me in my office one day and asked me for a job. I was rather surprised. He told me that there was no more money coming from home and he wanted to work. I asked him how old he was.
"Thirty five," he said.
""And what have you been doing before?" I asked him.
""Well, nothing very much," he said.
"I couldn't help laughing."
""I"m afraid I can"t do anything for you just now," I said. "Come back and see me in another thirty-five years, and I"ll see what I can do."
"He didn't move." He went rather pale. He hesitated for a moment and then he told me that he had had bad luck at cards for some time. He hadn't a penny. He'd pawned everything he had. He couldn't pay his hotel bill and they wouldn't give him any more credit. He was down and out. If he couldn't get a job he'd have to commit suicide.
"I looked at him for a bit. I could see now that he was all to pieces. He"d been drinking more than usual and he looked fifty.
""Well, isn't there anything you can do except play cards?" I asked him.
""I can swim," he said.
"Swim!"
"I could hardly believe my ears; it seemed such a silly answer.
""I swam for my university."
""I was a pretty good swimmer myself when I was a young man," I said.
"Suddenly I had an idea.
Pausing in his story, Burton turned to me.
"Do you know Kobe?" he asked.
"No," I said, "I passed through it once, but I only spent a night there."
"Then you don't know the Shioya Club." When I was a young man I swam from there round the beacon and landed at the creek of Tarumi. It"s over three miles and it"s rather difficult on account of the currents round the beacon. Well, I told my young namesake about it and I said to him that if he"d do it I"d give him a job.
"I could see he was rather taken back.
"You say you"re a swimmer," I said.
""I"m not in very good condition," he answered.
"I didn't say anything." I shrugged my shoulders. He looked at me for a moment and then he nodded.
"All right," he said. "When do you want me to do it?"
"I looked at my watch. It was just after ten.
"The swim shouldn't take you much over an hour and a quarter." I"ll drive round to the creek at half-past twelve and meet you. I"ll take you back to the club to dress and then we"ll have lunch together."
"Done," he said.
"We shook hands. I wished him good luck and he left me. I had a lot of work to do that morning and I only just managed to get to the creek at half past twelve. I waited for him there, but in vain. "
"Did he get frightened at the last moment?" I asked.
"No, he didn't." He started swimming. But of course he "d ruined his health by drink. The currents round the beacon were more than he could manage." We didn't get the body for about three days."
I didn't say anything for a moment or two. I was a little shocked. Then I asked Burton a question.
"When you offered him the job, did you know that he"d be drowned?"
He gave a little mild chuckle and he looked at me with those kind blue eyes of his. He rubbed his chin with his hand.
"Well, I hadn't got a vacancy in my office at the moment."

Exercises

1. The title of the story is the beginning of the proverb ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed’. Why do you think the author doesn`t give the ending of the proverb?

2. Find in the story the English for:

To judge a person, to draw a conclusion, to puzzle (to baffle), to come to mind, to be capable of something, wrinkled, to raise one's voice and not to offend a fly, to wave one's hand, namesake, to sip gin, to have a high opinion of someone , chuckle, in a state of despair, commit suicide, exhausted, flow, stunned, wish good luck, in vain (in vain), undermine health, drown.

3. Fill the gaps with these words or word combinations in an appropriate form:

• To draw conclusions
• In vain
• To wave one's hand
• To sip
• A current
• To shrug one's shoulders
• To be capable of
• Wrinkled
• To commit suicide
• To be drowned

1. We _____________ from the shape of the jaw, the look in the eye, the shape of the mouth.
2. I should never have believed that he __________ such an action.
3. He was a tiny, little fellow, very slender, with white hair, a red face much ______________ and blue eyes.
4. A man passed along the street outside and seeing me _____________.
5. Burton _________ his gin.
6. If he couldn`t get a job he`d have to _____________.
7. The __________ round the beacon were more than he could manage.
8. I ____________ when people tell me that their impressions of a person are always right.
9. I waited for him there but _________.
10. When you offered him a job did you know that he __________?

4. Replace the italicized words/ word combinations with a synonym:

• To judge
• A namesake of
• To raise one's voice
• Puzzled
• To think a lot of
• To ruin one's health
• To occur
• Down and out

1. We often form an opinion about a person by his looks.
2. These thoughts came to my mind because I read in this morning`s newspaper about Edward Burton`s death.
3. You couldn't imagine that he could speak in a higher tone in anger.
4. There was a fellow there last year whose name was also Edward.
5. Women thought highly of him.
6. He was unemployed and without money.
7. I could see him was rather taken back.
8. But of course he undermined his health by drink.

Discussion points

Answer the following questions:

1) What thoughts occurred to the author when he read in a newspaper about Mr. Burton's death?
2) Why did Mr. Burton interest the author?
3) Where did the author make Mr. Burton's acquaintance?
4) What did the author know about Mr. Burton?
5) What attracted the author in Mr. Burton?
6) When and where did he tell the author the story of his namesake?
7) What kind of man was young Burton?
8) Why did he once come to Mr. Burton?
9) What was the situation he found himself in?
10) What idea did suddenly Mr. Burton have when his namesake said he had swum for the university?
11) Why was young Burton taken back?
12) Why was young Burton drowned?
13) What was the author`s reaction to the story?
14) Why did Mr. Burton say he offered his namesake a job?

Discuss the following:

1. Why would the author never have believed that Mr. Burton was capable of such an actionif he had not heard the story from his own lips? Do you think that the first impressions of a person are always right?

Comment on the following proverb (with reference to the story):

Appearances are deceitful.

2. Make guesses about young Burton`s 35 years of life. Why had he never done anything in his life?

3. Is there any evidence in the story that Mr. Burton was not that kind and gentle? Why did he promise his namesake a job if the latter swam round the beacon? Did he know he would be drowned? Why did he come to the creek?

4. Why did Mr.Burton tell the author the story? Why did he say it was rather a funny story? Why did he give a little mild chuckle when the author asked him if he had known that the guy would be drowned?

5.What is the story about beneath the surface of the narrative? Explain the title of the story. What could have naturally expected of ‘a friend in need’ in that situation? What would you have told Mr.Burton if you had been his listener?

6. What is your main impression of the story?

Another short story to practice English, for the pre-intermediate level. Written by Somerset Maugham, he was a prominent English writer, and is well known for his short stories. Maugham described people and places based on his experience, so the story “A Friend in Need” is based on his personal experience. Translation and tasks are attached.

A Friend In Need by S. Maugham

The english gentlemanFor thirty years now I have been studying my fellow-men. I don't know very much about them. I suppose it is on the face that for the most part we judge the persons we meet. We draw our conclusions from the shape of the jaw, the look in the eyes, the shape of the mouth. I shrug my shoulders when people tell me that their first impressions of a person are always right. For my own part I find that the longer I know people the more they puzzle me: my oldest friends are just those of whom I can say that I don’t know anything about them.
These thoughts have occurred to me because I read in this morning’s paper that Edward Hyde Burton had died at Kobe. He was a merchant and he had been in Japan for many years. I knew him very little, but he interested me because once he gave me a great surprise. If I had not heard the story from his own lips I should never have believed that he was capable of such an action. It was the more startling because both his appearance and his manner gave the impression of a very different man. He was a tiny little fellow, very slender, with white hair, a red face much wrinkled, and blue eyes. I suppose he was about sixty when I knew him. He was always neatly and quietly dressed in accordance with his age and station.
Though his offices were in Kobe Burton often came down to Yokohama. I happened on one occasion to be spending a few days there, waiting for a ship, and I was introduced to him at the British Club. We played bridge together. He played a good game and a generous one. He did not talk very much, either then or later when we were having drinks, but what he said was sensible. He had a quiet, dry humour. He seemed to be popular at the club and afterwards, when he had gone, they described him as one of the best. It happened that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel and next day he asked me to dine with him. I met his wife, fat, elderly and smiling, and his two daughters. It was evidently a united and loving family. I think the chief thing that struck me about Burton was his kindliness. There was something very pleasing in his mild blue eyes. His voice was gentle; you could not imagine that he could raise it in anger; his smile was kind. Here was a man who attracted you because you felt in him a real love for his fellows. He had charm. But there was nothing sentimental about him: he liked his game of cards and his cocktail, he could tell a good and spicy story, and in his youth he had been something of an athlete. He was a rich man and he had made every penny himself. I suppose one thing that made you like him was that he was so small and frail; he aroused your instincts of protection. You felt that he would not hurt a fly.
One afternoon I was sitting in the lounge of the Grand Hotel. From the windows you had an excellent view of the harbor with its crowded traffic. There were great liners; merchant ships of all nations, junks and boats sailing in and out. It was a busy scene and yet, I do not know why, restful to the spirit.
Burton came into the lounge presently and caught sight of me. He seated himself in the chair next to mine.
“What do you say to a little drink?”
He clapped his hands for a boy and ordered two drinks. As the boy brought them a man passed along the street outside and seeing me waved his hand.
“Do you know Turner?” said Burton as I nodded a greeting.
“I've met him at the club. I’m told he’s a remittance man.”
“Yes, I believe he is. We have a good many here.”
“He plays bridge well.”
“They generally do. There was a fellow here last year, a namesake of mine, who was the best bridge player I ever met. I suppose you never came across him in London. Lenny Burton he called himself.”
“No. I don’t believe I remember the name.”
“He was quite a remarkable player. He seemed to have an instinct about the cards. It was uncanny. I used to play with him a lot. He was in Kobe for some time.”
Burton sipped his gin.
“It’s rather a funny story,” he said. “He wasn’t a bad chap. I liked him. He was always well-dressed and he was handsome in a way, with curly hair and pink-and-white cheeks. Women thought a lot of him. There was no harm in him, you know, he was only wild. Of course he drank too much. Fellows like him always do. A bit of money used to come in for him once a quarter and he made a bit more by card-playing. He won’t have a good deal of mine, I know that.”
Burton gave a kindly little chuckle.
“I suppose that is why he came to me when he went broke, that and the fact that he was a namesake of mine. He came to see me in my office one day and asked me for a job. I was rather surprised. He told me that there was no more money coming from home and he wanted to work. I asked him how old he was.
“Thirty five,” he said.
‘”And what have you been doing before?” I asked him.
‘Well, nothing very much,’ he said.
“I couldn't help laughing.
“‘I’m afraid I can’t do anything for you just now,’ I said. ‘Come back and see me in another thirty-five years, and I’ll see what I can do.’
“He didn't move. He went rather pale. He hesitated for a moment and then he told me that he had had bad luck at cards for some time. It hadn't been a penny. He'd pawned everything he had. He couldn’t pay his hotel bill and they wouldn’t give him any more credit. He was down and out. If he couldn’t get a job he’d have to commit suicide.
“I looked at him for a bit. I could see now that he was all to pieces. He’d been drinking more than usual and he looked fifty.
‘”Well, isn’t there anything you can do except play cards?’ I asked him.
“‘I can swim,’ he said.
“'Swim!'
“I could hardly believe my ears; it seemed such a silly answer.
“‘I swam for my university.’
“‘I was a pretty good swimmer myself when I was a young man,’ I said.
“Suddenly I had an idea.
Pausing in his story, Burton turned to me.
“Do you know Kobe?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “I passed through it once, but I only spent a night there.”
“Then you don’t know the Shioya Club. When I was a young man I swam from there round the beacon and landed at the creek of Tarumi. It’s over three miles and it’s rather difficult on account of the currents round the beacon. Well, I told my young namesake about it and I said to him that if he’d do it I’d give him a job.
“I could see he was rather taken back.
“You say you’re a swimmer,” I said.
‘”I’m not in very good condition,” he answered.
“I didn't say anything. I shrugged my shoulders. He looked at me for a moment and then he nodded.
“All right,” he said. ‘When do you want me to do it?’
“I looked at my watch. It was just after ten.
“The swim shouldn’t take you much over an hour and a quarter. I’ll drive round to the creek at half-past twelve and meet you. I’ll take you back to the club to dress and then we’ll have lunch together.’
“Done,” he said.
“We shook hands. I wished him good luck and he left me. I had a lot of work to do that morning and I only just managed to get to the creek at half past twelve. I waited for him there, but in vain.”
“Did he get frightened at the last moment?” I asked.
“No, he didn’t. He started swimming. But of course he’d ruined his health by drink. The currents round the beacon were more than he could manage.’ We didn’t get the body for about three days.”
I didn't say anything for a moment or two. I was a little shocked. Then I asked Burton a question.
“When you offered him the job, did you know that he’d be drowned?”
He gave a little mild chuckle and he looked at me with those kind blue eyes of his. He rubbed his chin with his hand.
“Well, I hadn’t got a vacancy in my office at the moment.”

Translation

For thirty years now I have been studying my neighbors. I didn't know much about them. I probably would not have decided to hire a servant, trusting only in his appearance, and yet, it seems to me that in most cases we judge people by their appearance. We look at the shape of a person’s chin, what kind of look he has, how his mouth is outlined, and draw conclusions. I'm not sure that we are right more often than we are wrong. Novels and plays are often false and lifeless because their authors endow the heroes with integral, consistent characters, although, perhaps, they cannot do otherwise, because if the character is made contradictory, it will become incomprehensible. Meanwhile, almost all of us are full of contradictions. Each of us is just a random jumble of incompatible qualities. A textbook of logic will tell you that it is absurd to say that the color yellow is cylindrical and gratitude is heavier than air; but in the mixture of absurdities that makes up the human self, the color yellow may well be a horse and cart, and gratitude the middle of next week. When people assure me that a person's first impression never deceives them, I just shrug my shoulders. In my opinion, such people are either not very insightful or too arrogant. As for me, the longer I know a person, the more mysterious he seems to me; and just about my oldest friends I can say that I know absolutely nothing about them.

These thoughts were prompted by a note that I read in the morning newspaper today: Edward Hyde Barton died in Kobe. He was a businessman and did business in Japan for many years. I knew him little, but he occupied my thoughts because one day he surprised me very much. If I had not heard this story from him himself, I would never have believed that he was capable of such an act. This is all the more striking because in appearance and manners he was a man of a very specific type. This is truly a complete personality. Small, no more than five feet four inches tall, frail, gray hair, red face all wrinkled and blue eyes. At the time when we met, he was about sixty years old. He always dressed very carefully, but not at all flashily, as befitted his age and position.

Although his office was in Kobe, Barton often traveled to Yokohama. I once had to spend several days there waiting for a ship, and we were introduced at the British Club. We turned out to be partners in bridge. He was a good player and not petty. He spoke little - both during the game and afterwards over wine - but everything he said sounded quite reasonable. He was not without a sense of humor - he joked rather dryly, restrainedly, without a smile. He apparently was his own man at the club, and after his departure everyone spoke highly of him. It turned out that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel, and the next day he invited me to dinner. I met his wife - a plump, middle-aged woman with a generous smile - and two daughters. The family, apparently, was friendly and loving. What I found most remarkable about Barton was his kindness. The meek gaze of his blue eyes was amazingly attractive. The voice sounded soft, it was impossible to imagine that it could rise to an angry cry; the smile is the most benevolent. You were attracted to this person because he showed genuine love for his fellow man. He had charm. But there was no sweetness at all: he played cards and drank cocktails with taste, knew how to tell a piquant joke, and in his youth was even a good athlete. A wealthy man, he owed all his wealth only to himself. It seems to me that this fragility and small stature also attracted him: there was an unconscious desire to protect him and protect him. It was felt that this man wouldn’t hurt a fly.

One day I was sitting in the drawing room of the Grand Hotel. This was before the earthquake, and there were leather chairs there. The windows overlooked a spacious, busy harbour. There were huge passenger ships heading to Vancouver and San Francisco, or through Shanghai, Hong Kong and Singapore to Europe; cargo ships flying the flags of all countries, battered by storms and bad weather; junks with high sterns and large multi-colored sails and countless sampans. Life was in full swing, and yet God knows why this sight calmed the soul. There was romance here: it seemed as if you could stretch out your hand and touch it.

Soon Barton appeared in the living room. Noticing me, he came over and sat down next to me.

— Should we have a glass?

He clapped his hands for a servant and asked for two cocktails. When the servant returned with the tray, an acquaintance of mine walked down the street and, seeing me through the window, waved his hand. I nodded to him.

— Do you know Turner? asked Barton.

— We met at the club. I was told that he was forced to leave England and lives on money sent to him from home.

- Yes, it seems like that. There are a lot of them here.

— He plays bridge quite well.

- Like all of them. There was one here last year, oddly enough, my namesake - I’ve never met a better player in my life. You are unlikely to encounter him in London. He called himself Lenny Barton. He was probably formerly a member of some aristocratic club.

- I don’t remember that name.

— He was a wonderful player. Some special flair for cards. It's even scary. I often played with him. He lived for some time in Kobe.

Barton took a sip of wine.

“Funny story,” he said. - This namesake of mine was a good guy. I liked him. Always well dressed, a real dandy. Even handsome in his own way - so white-faced, ruddy, with curly hair. Women looked at him. He was harmless, you know, just a rake. Of course, I drank more than necessary. They always drink heavily. Once every three months he received some money and won something at cards. At least he won a lot from me.

Barton grinned good-naturedly. I knew from experience that he knew how to lose without flinching. He stroked his clean-shaven chin with a thin, almost transparent hand with bulging veins.

“That’s probably why he came to me when he was left penniless, and maybe because we were namesakes.” One fine day he comes to my office and asks me to take him into the service. I was surprised. He explained that he no longer received money from home and needed a job. I asked how old he was.

- Thirty five.

— What have you been doing so far?

- Nothing, really. I couldn't help but laugh.

“I’m afraid,” I say, “that for now I can’t help you.” Come back in another thirty-five years, then we'll see.

He didn't move. He turned pale. He stood there indecisively and finally explained that he had been very unlucky at cards lately. He didn’t want to play bridge alone forever, so he switched to poker and lost to smithereens. He didn't have a penny left. He pawned everything he had. There is no money to pay the hotel bill, and they no longer believe in debt. He is a beggar. If he doesn't find some work, his only option is to commit suicide.

I looked at him for a minute or two. And I realized that the little one was finished. Apparently, he had been drinking more than usual lately, and now he could have been given the full fifty. Women would no longer admire him if they saw him at that moment.

“But still,” I asked, “can you do anything else besides play cards?”

- I can swim.

I could hardly believe my ears: what nonsense!

— At university I was a swimming champion.

Then I began to understand where he was going with this. But I met too many people who, during their student years, were the idols of their classmates, and this did not inspire me with much respect.

“I was a pretty good swimmer myself when I was young,” I said.

And suddenly it dawned on me.

Interrupting his story, Barton suddenly asked:

— Do you know Kobe well?

“No,” I said, “I stopped there once while passing through, but only for one night.”

“Then you don’t know the Shioya Club.” In my youth I swam from there around the lighthouse to the mouth of the Ta-rumi stream. It is over three miles, and not an easy task, because I was rounding the lighthouse, and there is a very strong current there. Well, I told my namesake about this and promised that if he sailed there, I would take him into service.

I see he is confused.

“You said that you are a good swimmer,” I say.

“But I’m a little out of shape right now.”

I didn't say anything, just shrugged. He looked at me and nodded.

“I agree,” he says. - When should I sail?

I looked at my watch. It was just after eleven.

- It will take you about an hour and a quarter, maybe a little more. I'll drive up to the stream at half past twelve and meet you. Then I’ll take you back to the club, you’ll change clothes, and we’ll have breakfast together.

- OK.

We shook hands, I wished him success, and he left. I had a lot of work to do that morning and I

I barely made it to the mouth of the Tarumi by half past twelve. But I rushed in vain: my namesake never showed up.

— Got cold feet at the last minute? - I asked.

- No, I didn’t chicken out. He swam to swim. But through drunkenness and dissipation he ruined his health. He couldn't cope with the current at the lighthouse. The body was found only on the third day.

I was silent for several minutes. I was somewhat taken aback. Then he asked Barton one question:

- Tell me, when you suggested that he swim, did you know that he would drown?

Barton chuckled softly, looked me straight in the eyes with gentle, naive blue eyes, and rubbed his chin with his hand.

“You see,” he said, “I still didn’t have any free space in my office.”

Tasks
1. Replace the highlighted words with these synonyms

To judge
A namesake of
To raise one's voice
Puzzled
To think a lot of
To ruin one's health
To occur
Down and out

1. We often form an opinion about a person by his looks.
2. These thoughts came to my mindbecause I read in this morning`s newspaper about Edward Burton`s death.
3. You couldn't imagine that he couldspeak in a higher tone in anger.
4. There was a fellow there last yearwhose name was also Edward.
5. Women thought highly of him.
6. He was unemployed and without money.
7. I could see him was rather taken back.
8. But of course he undermined his health by drink.

2. Distribute words correctly

GET TO KNOW A FRIEND...
Somerset Maugham
(translation by V. Raikin)

I have been studying people for thirty years, but I still know very little about them. I hesitate to hire a servant merely on the basis of the form and expression of his face; however, this is how we judge strangers. We draw conclusions based on the size of the jaw, the expression of the eyes, and the curve of the lips. It would be interesting to see how often we are right. The reason why life in novels and plays appears simplified is that their authors - perhaps out of necessity - make their characters too integral, avoiding internal contradictions, so as not to confuse the reader. However, for the most part, we are internally contradictory and are a confusion of random and often incompatible qualities. Logic textbooks say that statements like “yellow is hollow” or “gratitude is heavier than air” are absurd. But in the kaleidoscope of elements that make up someone's personality, "yellow" may appear as a horse-drawn wagon, and "gratitude" as next Wednesday morning. When I hear that the first impression of a person is the most correct, I just shrug my shoulders; In my opinion, only very narrow-minded or very vain people can believe in this. I can say about myself that the longer I know a person, the less I know him, and worst of all I know my oldest friends.

Such thoughts came to me when I read in the morning newspaper that Edward Hyde Burton had died in Cobh. He was a merchant who had been doing business in Japan for many years. My acquaintance with him was short-lived, but memorable, because one day he greatly surprised me. If I had not heard this story from him himself, I would never have believed that he was capable of such a thing. His action was all the more shocking because Burton's manners were in exact harmony with his appearance - it was integrity itself if there was such a thing. And he was small, a little over sixty meters, slender, white-haired, with a wrinkled red face and blue eyes. When we met, I think he was about sixty. He always dressed neatly and discreetly, in keeping with his age and position.

Although his office was in Kobe, Burton often came to Yokohama, where I once had to wait several days for a ship. We were introduced to each other over a game of bridge at the British Club. He played well and did not skimp. He was a man of few words - both during the game and after, over cocktails - but when he did speak, it was to the point. He joked accurately, without raising his voice. Burton was very famous at the club and later, when he stopped going there, he was remembered as one of the best. When it turned out that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel, he invited me to have dinner together the next day. I met his wife - an elderly, plump and smiling woman - and their two daughters. It was clear from everything that this was a friendly, loving family. I think it was Burton's friendliness that attracted me in the first place. The blue of his eyes was soothing and his voice was soft, it was difficult to imagine him raising his voice in anger; the smile is meek. Burton exuded affection for his fellow man, but there was no cloying sentimentality about him. He was charming, loved cards and light drinks, and could tell a salty joke; and in his youth he was an athlete. Yes, Burton was rich, but he earned his entire fortune, down to the last penny, himself. I also think that many people liked his small stature and fragility - they wanted to take him under protection, it seemed that he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

One afternoon I was sitting in the lobby of a hotel bar - then, even before the big earthquake, there were leather chairs there. From the window there was a panoramic view of the harbor, full of various ships and boats. There were majestic ocean liners there, bound for Vancouver, San Francisco, or Europe - via Shanghai, Hong Kong or Singapore; against their background sailed heavy cargo ships flying the flags of all countries of the world; storm-battered junks with raised bows and huge bright sails skillfully maneuvered; Countless sampans* were snooping around. Surprisingly, this picture of restless work and movement was calming. The romance of distant travels simply hung in the air, it seemed that you could touch it.

Entering the hall, Burton immediately saw me, walked over and sat down in the next chair.

Shouldn't we have a glass?

With a clap he called the servant over and ordered two gin and tonics. Just as the servant brought the drinks, a man walking down the street saw me through the window and waved.

Do you know Turner? - Burton asked as I nodded in response.

We met at the club. They say he lives on transfers from home.

Yes, most likely there are a dime a dozen of them here.

- ... and a good bridge player.

Like most of them. Last year there was one here, by the way, my namesake, the best bridge player I ever knew. You might have met him in London - Lenny Burton. He seemed to be in some good clubs.

I don't remember.

Amazing player! He had a special card instinct, you can't teach it. I played with him many times. He lived for some time in Kobe.
Burton took a sip from his glass.

There is a strange story connected with him. He was a nice guy and I liked him. He dressed well and was not stupid. In addition, he is a handsome man - curly, rosy-cheeked, and a favorite of women. And completely harmless, if a little ill-mannered. Of course, he loved to drink, like all these brethren. Once a quarter he received a small transfer by mail, adding in cards. I spent a lot on him myself.

Burton chuckled good-naturedly. I knew Burton knew how to lose gracefully. He stroked his smoothly shaved chin with his thin, almost transparent hand, on which the veins were visible through the skin.

I think that’s why, having run aground, he turned to me for help. And also because we were namesakes. One day he showed up in my office and asked me to hire him, which surprised me greatly. He explained that they had stopped sending money from home and he needed income. I asked how old he was.

"Thirty five."

“And what is your profession?”

“Yes, in general, none.”

I suppressed a laugh.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” I say. “Come back in another thirty-five years, then we’ll talk.”

He did not move from his place and turned pale as chalk. After being silent for a minute, he admitted that he had been unlucky lately. In addition to bridge, he took up poker and lost outright. He was left penniless, mortgaged everything he could, now there was nothing to pay off the hotel, and they stopped believing in his debt. The situation is hopeless, and if he does not find work, the only option left is suicide.

I peered at him and saw that he was at the edge. He drank more than usual and looked fifty. Even the girls, I think, turned away from him.

“And yet, do you know anything other than playing cards?” - I asked.

“I can swim,” he says.

"Swim!" - I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I swam for the university team.”

I understood what he meant, but it didn’t impress me: too many of my acquaintances in their youth looked like bronze figurines.

“I was an excellent swimmer myself in my youth,” I interjected.

And then it dawned on me.

Burton paused and turned to me.

Do you know Kobe well?

No. I was there once while passing through, just one evening.

Then you don't know the Shioya club. In my youth I swam from there around the lighthouse to the mouth of the stream at Tarumi. It is more than three miles and is difficult to navigate due to the strong currents around the lighthouse. I told my namesake about this route and added that if he sailed along it, I would take him to work. He was confused.

“But you yourself said that you are an excellent swimmer.”

“Yeah, but... I'm not in the best shape now.”

I said nothing, just shrugged. He took one look at me and immediately nodded.

"I agree. When should you swim?

I looked at my watch - it had just passed ten.

“The swim won’t take you more than an hour and a quarter, I’ll arrive at the stream at half past twelve, take you back to the club, where you can change, and then we’ll have lunch together.”

"Agreed."

We shook hands, I wished him luck, and he left. There was a lot of work that morning, and I barely managed to arrive at half past twelve. But there was no need to rush - he never appeared.

Got cold feet at the last moment?

No, he didn’t chicken out, he sailed away from the appointed place. But his health was undermined by drinking and an absent-minded lifestyle - and he could not cope with the currents. Three days later we managed to find the body.

Struck by the story, I could not utter a word, and only after a couple of minutes I asked Burton:

Did you know - when you proposed to him - did you know that he would drown?

Burton responded with a soft cough and looked at me with his kind and honest blue eyes. Stroking his chin, he said:

At that moment I had no vacancies.

* Sampan (from Chinese "sanban", literally - three boards, whale. 舢舨 ) - a collective name for various types of flat-bottomed planks boats floating nearby shores and by rivers East and Southeast Asia.

A Friend In Need
By Somerset Maugham

♦
For thirty years now I have been studying my fellow-men. I don't know very much about them. I should certainly hesitate to engage a servant on his face, and yet I suppose it is on the face that for the most part we judge the persons we meet. We draw our conclusions from the shape of the jaw, the look in the eyes, the contour of the mouth. I wonder if we are more often right than wrong. Why novels and plays are so often untrue to life is because their authors, perhaps of necessity, make their characters all of a piece. They cannot afford to make them self-contradictory, for then they become incomprehensible, and yet self-contradictory is what most of us are. We are a haphazard bundle of inconsistent qualities. In books on logic they will tell you that it is absurd to say that yellow is tubular or gratitude is heavier than air; but in that mixture of incongruities that makes up the self yellow may very well be a horse and cart and gratitude the middle of next week. I shrug my shoulders when people tell me that their first impressions of a person are always right. I think they must have small insight or great vanity. For my own part I find that the longer I know people the more they puzzle me: my oldest friends are just those of whom I can say that I don’t know the first thing about them.

These reflections have occurred to me because I read in this morning’s paper that Edward Hyde Burton had died at Kobe. He was a merchant and he had been in business in Japan for many years. I knew him very little, but he interested me because once he gave me a great surprise. Unless I had heard the story from his own lips I should never have believed that he was capable of such an action. It was more startling because both in appearance and manner he suggested a very definite type. Here if ever was a man all of a piece. He was a tiny little fellow, not much more than five feet four in height, and very slender, with white hair, a red face much wrinkled, and blue eyes. I suppose he was about sixty when I knew him. He was always neatly and quietly dressed in accordance with his age and station.

Though his offices were in Kobe, Burton often came down to Yokohama. I happened on one occasion to be spending a few days there, waiting for a ship, and I was introduced to him at the British Club. We played bridge together. He played a good game and a generous one. He did not talk very much, either then or later when we were having drinks, but what he said was sensible. He had a quiet, dry humour. He seemed to be popular at the club and afterwards, when he had gone, they described him as one of the best. It happened that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel and next day he asked me to dine with him. I met his wife, fat, elderly, and smiling, and his two daughters. It was evidently a united and affectionate family. I think the chief thing that struck me about Burton was his kindliness. There was something very pleasing in his mild blue eyes. His voice was gentle; you could not imagine that he could possibly raise it in anger; his smile was benign. Here was a man who attracted you because you felt in him a real love for his fellows. He had charm. But there was nothing mawkish in him: he liked his game of cards and his cocktail, he could tell with point a good and spicy story, and in his youth he had been something of an athlete. He was a rich man and he had made every penny himself. I suppose one thing that made you like him was that he was so small and frail; he aroused your instincts of protection. You felt that he could not bear to hurt a fly.

One afternoon I was sitting in the lounge of the Grand Hotel. This was before the earthquake and they had leather arm-chairs there. From the windows you had a spacious view of the harbor with its crowded traffic. There were great liners on their way to Vancouver and San Francisco or to Europe by way of Shanghai, Hong-Kong, and Singapore; there were tramps of all nations, battered and sea-worn, junks with their high sterns and great colored sails, and innumerable sampans. It was a busy, exhilarating scene, and yet, I know not why, restful to the spirit. Here was romance and it seemed that you had but to stretch out your hand to touch it.

Burton came into the lounge presently and caught sight of me. He seated himself in the chair next to mine.

‘What do you say to a little drink?’

He clapped his hands for a boy and ordered two gin fizzes. As the boy brought them a man passed along the street outside and seeing me waved his hand.

‘Do you know Turner?’ said Burton as I nodded a greeting.

‘I’ve met him at the club. I’m told he’s a remittance man.’

‘Yes, I believe he is. We have a good many here.’

‘He plays bridge well.’

‘They generally do. There was a fellow here last year, oddly enough a namesake of mine, who was the best bridge player I ever met. I suppose you never came across him in London. Lenny Burton he called himself. I believe he’d belonged to some very good clubs.’

‘No, I don’t believe I remember the name.’

‘He was quite a remarkable player. He seemed to have an instinct about the cards. It was uncanny. I used to play with him a lot. He was in Kobe for some time.’

Burton sipped his gin fizz.

‘It’s rather a funny story,’ he said. ‘He wasn’t a bad chap. I liked him. He was always well-dressed and smart-looking. He was handsome in a way with curly hair and pink-and-white cheeks. Women thought a lot of him. There was no harm in him, you know, he was only wild. Of course he drank too much. Those sort of fellows always do. A bit of money used to come in for him once a quarter and he made a bit more by card-playing. He won’t have a good deal of mine, I know that.’

Burton gave a kindly chuckle. I knew from my own experience that he could lose money at bridge with a good grace. He stroked his shaven chin with his thin hand; the veins stood out on it and it was almost transparent.

‘I suppose that is why he came to me when he went broke, that and the fact that he was a namesake of mine. He came to see me in my office one day and asked me for a job. I was rather surprised. He told me that there was no more money coming from home and he wanted to work. I asked him how old he was.

‘“Thirty-five,” he said. ‘

“And what have you been doing hitherto?” I asked him.

‘“Well, nothing very much,” he said.

‘I couldn’t help laughing.

‘“I’m afraid I can’t do anything for you just yet,” I said. “Come back and see me in another thirty-five years, and I’ll see what I can do.’
“He didn't move. He went rather pale. He hesitated for a moment and then he told me that he had had bad luck at cards for some time. He hadn’t been willing to stick to bridge, he’d been playing poker, and he’d got trimmed. It hadn't been a penny. He'd pawned everything he had. He couldn’t pay his hotel bill and they wouldn’t give him any more credit. He was down and out. If he couldn’t get something to do he’d have to commit suicide.

‘I looked at him for a bit. I could see now that he was all to pieces. He’d been drinking more than usual and he looked fifty. The girls wouldn’t have thought so much of him if they’d seen him then. ‘
“Well, isn’t there anything you can do except play cards?” I asked him. ‘

“I can swim,” he said.

‘“Swim!” ‘I could hardly believe my ears; it seemed such an insane answer to give. ‘

“I swam for my university.”

‘I got some glimmering of what he was driving at, I’ve known too many men who were little tin gods at their university to be impressed by it. ‘

“I was a pretty good swimmer myself when I was a young man,” I said.

‘Suddenly I had an idea.’

Pausing in his story, Burton turned to me.

‘Do you know Kobe?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said, ‘I passed through it once, but I only spent a night there.’

‘Then you don’t know the Shioya Club. When I was a young man I swam from there round the beacon and landed at the creek of Tarumi. It’s over three miles and it’s rather difficult on account of the currents round the beacon. Well, I told my young namesake about it and I said to him that if he’d do it I’d give him a job.

‘I could see he was rather taken back. ‘

“You say you’re a swimmer,” I said. ‘

“I’m not in very good condition,” he answered.

‘I didn’t say anything. I shrugged my shoulders. He looked at me for a moment and then he nodded. ‘

“All right,” he said. “When do you want me to do it?”

‘I looked at my watch. It was just after ten.

‘“The swim shouldn’t take you much over an hour and a quarter. I’ll drive round to the creek at half past twelve and meet you. I’ll take you back to the club to dress and then we’ll have lunch together.”

‘“Done,” he said.

‘We shook hands. I wished him good luck and he left me. I had a lot of work to do that morning and I only just managed to get to the creek at Tarumi at half past twelve. But I needn’t have hurried; he never turned up.’

‘Did he funk it at the last moment?’ I asked.

‘No, he didn’t funk it. He started all right. But of course he’d ruined his constitution by drink and dissipation. The currents round the beacon were more than he could manage. We didn’t get the body for about three days.’

I didn't say anything for a moment or two. I was a trifle shocked. Then I asked Burton a question.

‘When you made him that offer of a job, did you know he’d be drowned?’

He gave a little mild chuckle and he looked at me with those kind and candid blue eyes of his. He rubbed his chin with his hand.

‘Well, I hadn’t got a vacancy in my office at the moment.’