"artificial" dictations for different spellings. The wonderful world of Russian language and literature with Olga Danilova: Interesting complex dictations A prim devil in black silk clothes

DICTION TEXTS

1. Spelling roots with alternating vowels

A burning tear glistened lonely at the very tip of Count Rostislav Zaryansky’s nose. Lightning flashes of distant lightning shone in the windows, the shadow of a burnt candle grew on the wall every minute, and the count still sat, resting his bowed head with his hand, without touching the food, without raising his eyes, without lighting the lamp. Clouds covered the sky, and through the half-closed canopy of the bed one could see outside the window a sad cow, soaked to the skin, indifferently dipping her tail into a roadside ditch.

The count’s soul was also slushy. The reason for his bad mood was the unexpectedly increased interest rates in the office of an inflexible moneylender, demanding immediate satisfaction of the claim against the count. There was no way out. The count clearly understood that even if he mortgaged his estate, he would not be able to escape the debt trap, and therefore melancholy squeezed his heart with ever-increasing force.

And suddenly a wild thought flashed in the count’s eyes, his cheeks lit up with a bright blush. Just a few seconds ago he had not even imagined that in his position he could still count on anything, but now the plan for liberation was completely formed in his head. Rubbing his hands with pleasure, he jumped to the table, grabbed a pen and, dipping it into the inkwell, bent over a sheet of paper.

2. SpellingO-E after the hissing andC

A prim devil in black silk clothes sat on a hard sofa and drank cheap acorn coffee, occasionally clinking glasses with his reflection in a heavy, glossy samovar standing on a chocolate-colored brocade tablecloth. The devil was a big glutton and, despite heartburn and a diseased liver, he ate gooseberries and condensed milk. After eating and threatening his reflection with his finger, the devil, smartly shaking his bangs, began to tap dance. The clatter of his hooves was so loud that those on the ground floor thought there was a horse prancing upstairs. However, the devil was not a very skilled dancer and, after making one not entirely successful leap, he crashed into a samovar and burned his snout, covered with soft fur. The burn was very severe. The distressed devil rushed like a sheep to the barrel of soaked apples and stuck the burnt snout into it. “It’s true what they say: God doesn’t protect those who are not taken care of,” the devil cursed with a devilish proverb.

3. Spellingb after the hissing ones

It was well after midnight. There was pre-dawn silence all around, only the coastal reeds rustled quietly and somewhere an owl screamed. At this hour, the guard of the government dachas, Lukich, was not averse to lying down to rest. “Otherwise you won’t be cheerful and fresh and won’t be able to protect the owner’s property from hordes of thieves,” he convinced himself, taking the heavy double-barreled shotgun from his shoulders and wrapping himself in an insulated raincoat. And so, when it became impossible to keep my eyes open, the watchman’s attention was attracted by a quiet cry coming from somewhere. Lukich went to the gate, turning the key in the rusty lock, threw it wide open and walked out onto the deserted river beach. Peering into the night, he saw that among the heaps of garbage and rain puddles, a man was lying on the sand, with a brick under his head. “Look! Homeless!” Lukich said to himself and shouted menacingly: “Hey, you old brat! Why are you lying around here? Go away! Shoo off!” The man slowly stood up and turned to the guard. Lukich did not fall backward in horror only because the fence supported him from behind. The homeless man was none other than the all-powerful husband of the dacha commandant, Boris Mikhailovich Davidovich. What brought him to this wilderness at such a time, Lukich could not comprehend. “Do you have a knife? - Davidovich suddenly howled in a wild voice. - Cut off my beard! Comfort me! Although Lukich was tall and powerful for his eighty years, and the commandant’s husband was frail and narrow-shouldered, a shiver ran through the watchman’s body. “Are you delusional, Lukich?” - he asked himself and pinched his nose, but it didn’t help. "Why don't you want to help me?" - Davidovich howled ominously and slowly moved towards Lukich. "Finish!" - Lukich thought and closed his eyes. But at that second the first ray of the sun broke through the veil, and the mirage disappeared.

4. Spelling of prefixespre- and pre-

Overcoming the already familiar feeling of fear, Mr. Pristavkin approached the last obstacle on his way - the doors, faithfully guarded by an elderly gatekeeper. Having given the gatekeeper a friendly slap on the forearm, Pristavkin was about to enter the president’s reception room, but then the fuse for a grenade treacherously stuck out of his pocket. The gatekeeper opened his left eye and, with a vague grunt, blocked the criminal's path.

Near the squirrel dryer I put a dozen and a half selected butter. This is a gift from me to the squirrel.

28

A prim devil in black silk clothes sat on a hard sofa and drank cheap acorn coffee, occasionally clinking glasses with his reflection in a heavy, glossy samovar standing on a chocolate-colored brocade tablecloth. The devil was a big glutton and, despite heartburn and a diseased liver, he ate gooseberries and condensed milk. After eating and threatening his reflection with his finger, the devil, smartly shaking his bangs, began to tap dance. The clatter of his hooves was so loud that those on the ground floor thought there was a horse prancing upstairs. However, the devil was not a very skilled dancer and, after making one not entirely successful leap, he crashed into a samovar and burned his snout, covered with soft fur. The burn was very severe. The distressed devil rushed like a sheep to the barrel of soaked apples and stuck the burnt snout into it. “It’s true what they say: God doesn’t protect the unprotected,” the devil cursed with the devil’s proverb.

29
About culture

What is a culture that can be opposed to an aggressive “mass” semi-culture? There are concepts that are difficult to define. Moreover, such a phenomenon as culture is ambiguous. Culture of work, behavior, culture of a nation, people, culture of a person, humanity. There are so many different shades of understanding of culture in all these phrases!
Let’s take only one phrase that we need in the future - “classical culture” or even simpler: “classics” - and focus on classical works. Classic works are those that have stood the test of time, those that remain contemporary for us.
Classics are something that remains constant in the world cultural tradition and continues to participate in the life of culture. And most importantly, it educates, makes purer, more meaningful every person who joins it, takes communion with it. In what sense is it “more meaningful”? More meaningful cultural experience. Classic works of literature allow you to live more than one life. Classical poetry enriches a person with its lyrical experience and has healing properties.
A cultured person is not one who has read a lot of classical works, listened a lot to classical music, etc., but one who has been enriched by all this, to whom the depth of thought of past centuries, the spiritual life of others has been revealed, who has understood a lot and, therefore, has become I became more tolerant of other people’s things, I began to understand these other people’s things. From here I gained respect for other peoples, their culture and beliefs.
So, people who have become more tolerant of strangers on the basis of immortal knowledge in art and philosophy, who are able to discover new values ​​in the past and present on the basis of their knowledge and cultural experience - these are people of culture, intellectuals. Intellectuals are not just people engaged in mental work, having knowledge or even just higher education, but brought up on the basis of their knowledge of classical culture, filled with the spirit of tolerance for other people's values, respect for others. These people are gentle and responsible for their actions, which is sometimes mistaken for indecisiveness. An intellectual can be recognized by his lack of aggressiveness, suspicion, inferiority complex, and gentleness of behavior. Only a semi-intellectual who loses himself in the shamanism of “mass culture” is aggressive.
(According to D. Likhachev)

30

The birthday boy screamed furiously, frantically waving a torn shoe over his head, which had been pulled in a hurry from the foot of his frightened neighbor. The amazed guests and relatives froze in shock at first, but then, under a hail of butter dumplings thrown in their direction by the enraged birthday boy, they were forced to retreat to the open doors. “Traitors! Slip me a dowry for which no one gave a penny!” - he squealed desperately, indignantly jumping on a forged chest covered with torn oilcloth. “She is ill-mannered and uneducated, incredibly stupid and incredibly ugly, and without a dowry at all,” he shouted, throwing a tattered shoe at a recently purchased lemon-colored straw lampshade. A stick of smoked sausage thrown after him landed in a glass vase filled with distilled water, and along with it fell on the short-cropped, chestnut-dyed head of a dowry accused of all sins, who was huddling at the door with a wounded look. She, wounded in the head by a sausage, picturesquely waved her bare arms up to the elbows and made a strangled squeak, fell into the kneading bowl, dragging with her a Christmas tree hung with mica toys, silver-plated icicles and with a gilded star at the very top. Delighted by the effect produced, the birthday boy danced rapturously on an oil-painted chest of drawers inlaid with embossed leather, where he had moved from the chest immediately after the lady's fall for a better view of the commotion caused by his exalted act.

31
Baikal

We, who live near Baikal, cannot boast that we know it well, because it is impossible to know and understand it completely - that’s why it is Baikal. It is constantly different and never repeats itself; every moment it changes in colors and shades, in weather, movements and spirit. Oh, the spirit of Baikal is something special, existing, making you believe in old legends and think with mystical apprehension how free a person is in other places to do whatever he pleases.
Baikal, it would seem, should suppress a person with its grandeur and size - everything in it is large, everything is wide, free and mysterious - but, on the contrary, it elevates him. You experience a rare feeling of elation and spirituality on Baikal - as if, in view of eternity and perfection, you were touched by the secret seal of these magical concepts, and you were doused with the close breath of an omnipotent presence, and a share of the magical secret of all things entered into you. You are already, it seems, marked and highlighted by the fact that you stand on this shore, breathe this air and drink this water. Nowhere else will you have such a complete and so desired feeling of unity with nature and penetration into it: you will be intoxicated by this air, whirled and carried away over this water so quickly that you will not have time to come to your senses; you will visit protected areas that we never dreamed of; and you will return with tenfold hope: there, ahead, is the promised life...
And the cleansing, inspiring, and invigorating effect of Lake Baikal!.. It can neither be taken into account nor noted; again, it can only be felt within ourselves, but it is enough for us that it exists.
Returning one day from a walk, L.N. Tolstoy wrote: “Is it really possible that, amid this charming nature, a feeling of malice, revenge or the passion of exterminating one’s own kind can be retained in a person? Everything unkind in a person’s heart should, it seems, disappear in contact with nature - this direct expression of beauty and goodness.”
Our old, eternal discrepancy with the land on which we live and its goodness is our old misfortune.
(According to V. Rasputin)

32
Before exams

Spring exams are approaching, and my brother Sasha and I are intensively preparing to pass them. Sasha is studying at the university, and I am still far from getting my matriculation certificate: this year I may be able to get a certificate of completion of the eighth grade.
Due to illness, I was not at school for two months and as a result I fell very behind. At any cost, I need to repeat the entire program completed over the course of the year. I've calculated how many pages I need to read per day, but I can't seem to make the calculations. As soon as you sit down to read a textbook, thoughts about the stadium come to mind. It would be nice to play volleyball or practice running - last year I was the school champion in short-distance competitions.
It’s not a bad idea to run with a group of peers to the banks of the Volga, to the river station, or climb into the front garden and read something about ships, caravans, and extraordinary adventures.
Sasha is completely absorbed in his studies: he underlines something in brochures with a pencil, writes out quotes from the works of classics, sometimes reads in a low voice about aggressions, capitulations, congresses and something else completely incomprehensible.
I sit down at the table and also read about meridians and parallels, about crystals and elements.
But the broadcast of the match from the Dynamo stadium begins, and I freeze over the unread paragraph. Sasha immediately turns off the radio.
I diligently solve equations with two unknowns, but I still hear the noise of trams and the screams of girls jumping on the sidewalk. In despair, I go to the kitchen, but here my dog ​​Druzhok, sitting in a kennel under the window, prevents me from concentrating.

33

Leaning on the piano, the protodeacon in a necklace and peignoir trimmed with squirrel fur, sang in a low contralto an aria from the opera “The Manchurian Monkey,” looking languidly at the aide-de-camp sitting in the dress circle, casually chewing a monpensier. Although a decisive explanation had not yet taken place between them, it was clear from everything that it was not far off: during the last cotillion, this man looked too familiarly at the poor protodeacon, according to the postwoman playing solitaire with a face ulcerated by smallpox. However, the singer herself was crazy about this “glorious caballero from Seville,” as she called him, ever since that blizzard evening when, with the look of a notorious villain, he rode along the embankment on an unbroken horse named Little Devil, and she walked peacefully, holding the hand of a clerk, shrank from the cold, who was seriously explaining to her the meaning of a medieval bas-relief depicting a Spanish dona in the arms of a certain lord. With some inexplicable bliss, the protodeacon's wife since then remembered this moment of first love and every time she went to bed, she would place a medallion with a portrait of the aide-de-camp at the head of her bed and, hiding her spear-shaped nose in the rabbit collar of her peignoir, would indulge in sweet dreams.

34
Bicycle today and tomorrow

The global bicycle boom, which has covered almost all developed and developing countries, fully confirms the assumption that the coming century will be the century of the bicycle. According to the forecast of American experts, already in the first quarter of the 21st century, two-wheeled pedal cars will begin to displace cars and will gradually become the main means of transportation. The validity of such a forecast is confirmed by the overall picture of what is happening. In the USA and Germany - the undisputed world leaders in the number of passenger cars per inhabitant - more bicycles are sold annually than cars. An endless line of cyclists can be seen on the roads of Denmark, Holland, Sweden and other European countries. In Japan, almost every second resident regularly rides a bicycle, and Tokyo is literally packed with cyclists during rush hours. Every day, 500 million people cycle to work in China. Many European cities are banning cars in city centers and opening free bike rental points.
The unprecedented popularity of the bicycle is not accidental; it is largely due to the negative consequences of motorization. The fact is that the car, having conquered almost the entire planet, has become the main consumer of irreplaceable natural resources (oil), a polluter of land, water and air, and a “producer” of noise. More people die each year in car accidents than in other bloody wars. The main danger of a car, according to doctors, is that it has taught us not to move independently. People are beginning to understand this and, to combat physical inactivity, are switching to cycling.
About a hundred years ago, at the same time as electric vehicles, the first electric bicycles were designed. But very soon both of them, unable to withstand the competition, gave way to cars, and were forgotten for a long time.
The rebirth of the electric bicycle happened literally before our eyes. In 1994, the Japanese company Yamaha began producing a new bicycle with an additional electric drive, and now the company's designers are developing models of electric bicycles of the third generation.
Experts predict that in a year or two more than a million Japanese will ride electric bicycles.
Today, electric bicycles are produced by all major bicycle companies in Asia, America and Europe.
(According to L. Popov)

35
The childhood of Antoshi Chekhonte

Antosha, a student at the Taganrog gymnasium, set about preparing Latin lessons for the next day. But as soon as he dipped his pen, his father came in: he had to go and sit in the shop. Antosha puts on an old coat and torn leather galoshes and follows his father. The shop, where you have to learn and fail to learn your lessons, is not a cheerful place, and most importantly, it is cold in it, so that the faces of the restless boys-clerks, who are stooped and shivering from the January frost, have turned gray-blue. The lattice window was cold, and the double door was also covered with frost.
Antosha, still crying, climbs onto a heavy box of Kazan soap and leans against a pile of sacks of granular flour. Tomorrow - one, and then a strict scolding from my father, who explains everything only by laziness and absent-mindedness. Antosha, who sat behind the counter as if chained, only saw from afar the tempting life of his peers living like human beings.
And the hot-tempered father had no idea how happy his children would be, freed from sitting in the shop, from all the fear of being flogged, from contemplating the slaps on the back of the head, and not the trivial ones, which the unhappy boys received on purpose in the presence of the public. But Antosha could not see how a cab driver’s horse was beaten without tears!
The boring sitting in the shop continued in the summer, when spicy smells attracted clouds of annoying flies into the shop and they completely covered both the plank walls and the vaulted ceiling.
But by nature the father was not at all an evil person, rather, on the contrary, a kind one, and later, when he lived with his son - already a famous writer - and in his presence they remembered the rods, he answered guiltily: “You never know what happened in those days.”

36

Among the ruins of ancient Chersonese, a bell hangs over the sea, mounted on low but strong pillars impregnated with resin. No matter how thick the chilly autumn fogs may be, sailors will find their way along the measured, not at all hasty, strokes of the bell. Once upon a time, this bell, on which authentic Greek writing is carved, was captured by foreigners and spent almost a hundred years in a foreign land until it finally returned to its homeland.
When the weather was calm, the caretaker, slowly, rolled up a cigarette from finely chopped tobacco, put on a uniform cap and an almost unworn pea coat and walked to the sea. Then the old man returned home, and the incomparable smell of the sea was replaced by the smell of fresh ash and potatoes baked in the heat.
In the spring there were also storms, but the wind then blew not cold, but warm and gentle. Sailors not engaged in service came to the bell, listened to its incessant hum, and slowly thought about something of their own. Heavy, almost motionless from the blows, it hummed resentfully and muffled, rocked by the wave. And when the sea did not reach it, it rang cheerfully and cheerfully.
And lizards lived in the ruins. With feigned indifference, basking in the rays of the midday sun, they sensitively protected the eerie silence of the dead city, no longer needed by anyone. The sea then was almost motionless and smooth, like a bluish burnished dish. And the white petals of blossoming plums and cherries then showered the ruins.

37
Traces

Beautiful winter forest. It is good for its healthy clean air. But I’m also attracted to it because I like to unravel the traces of its inhabitants. Snow has the wonderful property of recording everything that happens in the forest. Of course, for this you need to know what kind of animal or bird is being painted in the snow.
What is this? Deep, large footprints spark the imagination. Maybe the bear got out of the den at the wrong time? Or did a mysterious person pass here? Let's not rush to conclusions, but let's look at the young birch trees along the tracks. That’s right: their branches are cut as if with a knife. Why, it was the elk that was feeding here!
From the spruce forest I find myself back in the birch forest. And again new, unusual traces. I immediately remember an incident that happened a long time ago. Once, on one of my first hunts, I discovered a hole in the snow. I knew from books that upland game spends most of its time in the snow in winter. I came closer, but the bird did not fly out. I already had doubts and stuck the tip of the ski into the hole and almost sat down from surprise: the ski threw up a blue-black braid.
Partridge tracks stretch from bush to bush, like chains. Puffy paws leave fuzzy crosses in the snow. Here are the holes, where the partridges spent the night. But for some reason they took off too quickly. Yes, it was the red-haired cheat who wanted to feast on the white chicken. As I see, the fox was left with nothing.
Skis carry me further.
A dark hole with a five-kopeck coin on clean virgin soil. From here the vole's tracks ran across the clearing and broke off... Where did the mouse go? She didn't fly away, did she? I carefully study the tattered trail and notice faint imprints of large wings. Everything is clear: the poor mouse was carried away by a silent owl.

38

The whole next day passed in tense anticipation of the north-east. Since dawn, a storm signal had been hanging on the signal mast - a black cone and a black square.
Everyone waited for the storm in their own way. The fishermen were in a hurry to anchor the tarred canoes. Carriers stole boats into quiet backwaters. The blue-gray warships moored tighter to the bright red floating barrels. Silver seaplanes hid in hangars, like bees crawling into a hive. The lighthouse keepers were wiping the glass lenses of the lanterns with cloth rags. Only the wipers did nothing: they expected the wind to sweep away and blow through Sevastopol.
Tired of waiting fruitlessly for the storm, I went to the North Side. In the sandy coastal caves, carved out of the yellow dry cliffs, lived fishermen - tanned ragamuffins with their wives and half-naked children. Dirty gray nets and torn robe hanging on strings completed the landscape.
In the distance, in the background, behind a forest of masts and furled sails that looked like linen banana leaves, behind a tangle of Turkish balconies and broken tiled roofs, the steppe was yellow, overgrown with dusty grass. Dogs roamed along it - old-timers and owners of these fishing and fortress shores.
The courtyards resembled decoration warehouses. Linen hung on the stone railings like tattered theatrical costumes. The children were shooting hoops. This game is typical for all latitudes of the globe. The remains of props lay in the vacant lots: broken clay jugs, tin cans, what looked like dried bouquets and broken oars. Seagulls sat on cast iron balls - empty mines, corroded by rust. The walls of the ancient round forts were cut diagonally by shadow and sun. Signal masts were installed on the roofs of the forts. Flags fluttered on them.
I was sure that the flags smelled like washed laundry. No wonder they were constantly blown by the salty wind.
In the evening, green lanterns lit up on the masts, and it seemed that the forts, like monitors, carrying signal lights, walked heavily into the night towards the invisible enemy squadrons.
These long-disarmed abandoned forts remained on the North Side from the time of the Sevastopol defense. They gave the entire landscape the appearance of an ancient fortified area, covered with cannonballs embedded in the ground.
(According to K. Paustovsky)

39
Coat of the Earth

Clouds above the ground are the Earth's fur coat. When the earth is covered with continuous clouds, do not expect much frost either day or night.
But then the clouds floated away and exposed the earth. By evening the frost was already in control. A clear and chilly night arrived. On such a moonless frosty night, the stars burn brighter, they seem to be denser and larger than usual. The stars twinkle cheerfully, but it seems to us that they are cold and shivering.
The trees crackle in the chilly air, all living things hide, and only hares trample the snow in the gardens, gnawing the bark from the trees.
Finally, the morning comes silently. The sun wakes up on the cloudless horizon, and its huge orange ball creeps into the sky. On both sides of the sun, columns of air are burning. Sometimes there is only one pillar of fire, and it stands like a tall red hat on the top of the sun. People say: “The sun has risen in fiery swords - there will be great frost.”
But if clouds arrive and envelop the earth like a fur coat, becoming a barrier between the infinity of cold space and the earth, the frost reduces its intensity.

40

We chose a small plain, warmed by the sun that was not hot at that time. If you look to the right, at the leafy slope of the mountain, then among the copper-red foliage you will see the golden crowns of trees glowing here and there among the houses. Below, the grass is still green, as if young, and between the bluish stones, the water glistens like polished water. In the glassy blue of a quiet pool, the water takes on a dark color, slowly swirls the fallen leaves and then rushes them further along the rocky bed.
Grapes eaten with bread, especially under a warm sky, seem incredibly tasty. And right there you can drink a handful of autumn water, as cold as precious wine. Next to us are still undisassembled fishing rods and a half-liter jar of caviar.
In one place the water seethes in huge clouds, almost like fountains, trying to spread out, but, constrained by the stone banks, it rushes forward, in fact, flies, splashing the coastal stones. As soon as I lowered the fishing rod into the most desperate gurgle, I felt myself being pulled down.
And out of the stream, wriggling on the hook, a silver fish jumped out with relief. Especially exciting, truly beautiful was the combination of a flying wave and a tense fishing line, when you hear the angry jerk of a caught trout.
Sincerely delighted by the unexpectedly rich catch, we immediately set off. After such fishing, you involuntarily notice each creek, usually marked with a denser color.
(According to V. Soloukhin)

41
Friendly family

The frosty day was ending. The red sun first disappeared into the haze on the horizon, then flashed the fiery edge of a disk between the hills and disappeared. All I had to do was walk along the steep bank of the river and jump out onto a well-groomed ski track almost next to the winter hut.
Grass and rhizomes of trees growing on it hung from the cliff. An unfreezing stream flowed here, and the evaporation from it thickly covered the edge of the cliff with frost. It seemed to me that something squeaked under the canopy of the cliff. I leaned over to look. Two or three small birds flew almost into my face.
Immediately I notice a fluffy lump the size of a hat. It seems to be hanging in a tangle of roots under a cliff. I instantly realize that these are titmice huddled together - it’s warmer on a frosty January night. The tails stick out in all directions of the ball: the tits sit tightly, one to one, on the roots.
Smoothly, without sudden movements, I moved away from the cliff. Those that flew out squeaked several times, spun around and also disappeared under the cliff. Such a friendly bird family doesn’t care about harsh winter.

42

Lightning flashed and a cannonade of thunder rumbled. The furious drummer, the rain, first paused and then completely stopped his chatter. The elements no longer argue or fight. The storm passed, the attacks of the winds rushing from all sides were repelled by the trees. Their tops no longer move from side to side. They appear sharply against the clearing sky, swaying slightly. When you breathe, you will not inhale wonderful freshness.
Frustrated, defeated hordes of clouds are carried away from the battlefield. Now the sun should appear from behind the cloud. It's already showing its top edge. The refreshed rye straightens, the glossy tree foliage trembles gratefully. All living things are again fussing and rushing about. The grasshopper chirps with new excitement, and bees busily fuss around in the honey cups of flowers. A bug walks along the straws, as if on a ladder, and importantly spreads its miniature wings. Dark blue and turquoise dragonflies circle above the reeds of the stream. The bumblebee begins to buzz and tediously preach something to the insects who are not listening to him.
From nearby groves, from arable lands and pastures, joyful birdsong can be heard everywhere. Nature couldn't be happier: it was a wonderful rain, warm and fruitful. Mushrooms will appear soon. Mushroom fans, get ready for a mushroom campaign! Make it a rule these days not to spare any time or effort. Please note that the early mushroom likes to grow and fill with juice at the edge of the forest, and not in the depths of the forest thicket.
Get up at dawn and head into the woods. None of you will regret the large basket size. In the morning the next day after a mushroom hike, it will seem to you that your legs are stiff, your back is ossified, that all the forest plants are pricking and all the insects are stinging, but after 15–18 minutes you will perk up, and everything will be the same as yesterday. Save energy in the morning!

“Prigid devil” - this phrase alone will certainly make hundreds of schoolchildren and former schoolchildren shudder, especially those whose Russian language was taught by the unforgettable Elena Vasilievna. The first sentence of this dictation is forever stuck in my memory, and probably not only in mine.

A prim devil in black silk clothes sat on a hard sofa and drank cheap acorn coffee, occasionally clinking glasses with his reflection in a heavy samovar standing on a chocolate-colored brocade tablecloth.

I remember very well the first time we were given this advanced dictation. What deathly silence there was in the class and what a groan was heard in the class after this first sentence. And the simply indescribable expression of Elena Vasilievna’s voice and face at the end of the reading. I remember my double surprise when the results were announced to us: almost the entire class proudly had a D, a couple of people got a C, and I was the only one who got a B. This, of course, warmed my soul very much, but I was surprised not only by such small successes of my class, but also by the fact that I made surprisingly few mistakes. It seems that I accidentally made a mistake in some word and messed up with punctuation marks.

Then there were dozens of rewrites of this dictation. And there was another one, there was something about the birthday boy, and it was in -n-, -nn-, but it was not very sonorous and was poorly remembered, and we rarely wrote it. And there was a third dictation, about an elderly representative, at the pre- and pre-, which I wrote just like that, out of nothing to do and an excess of inspiration :) Of course, it could be called a dictation with a very big stretch, just a set of words with prefixes, collected into a rather crazy story, and I understood this from the very beginning. But it’s worth remembering how, swearing at me for being too amateurish, my classmates frantically rewrote this “dictation” in order to have a cheat sheet in case they really decided to give it to us... Oh, it was absolutely wonderful to watch))) Probably , it still benefited them in the long run, since mechanical memory is one of the strongest. I hope so :)

And, by the way, I found that same text about the devil. Nostalgia!

Enjoy ;)

A prim devil in black silk clothes sat on a hard sofa and drank cheap acorn coffee, occasionally clinking glasses with his reflection in a heavy, glossy samovar standing on a chocolate-colored brocade tablecloth. The devil was a big glutton and, despite heartburn and a diseased liver, he ate gooseberries and condensed milk. After eating and threatening his reflection with his finger, the devil, smartly shaking his bangs, began to tap dance. The clatter of his hooves was so loud that those on the ground floor thought there was a horse prancing upstairs. However, the devil was not a very skillful dancer and, having made one not entirely successful leap, crashed into a samovar and burned his snout, covered with soft fur. The distressed devil rushed like a scanty sheep to the barrel of soaked apples and stuck the burnt snout into it. “It’s true what they say: God doesn’t protect the careless,” the devil cursed with a damn proverb.

When you were very little, you were probably told a fairy tale about Thumbelina, about the Ugly Duckling, about the adventures of the steadfast tin soldier. You got older and read with enthusiasm about the story of the shepherdess and the chimney sweep, about the swineherd, about the darning needle. And you have not only read the fairy tale “The Snow Queen” several times, but also seen it in the cinema or in the theater. Adults don't forget Andersen either. There is something for them to think about, laugh and be sad in the fairy tales “The Shadow”, “The Old Street Lamp”, “The Nightingale”, “The King’s New Clothes”. How much invention and knowledge of life they contain, love for people and witty satire, poetry and depth!
But in fact, the storyteller’s life was not easy, full of anxiety, need, and deprivation. He was the son of a poor man, but he was proud of his origins, his closeness to the people. No wonder Andersen said: “There are no fairy tales better than those created by life itself.” (E.P. Brandis.) (148 words)

Dictation 2 - PINE

You will find the beauty pine with a reddish trunk and dark green needles everywhere: in the forest, on the sand, on rocks, and above ravines. Pine grows everywhere, in a variety of soils. Pine is a forest pioneer, a conqueror of new lands.
Young pines grow quickly, increasing by 30-50 centimeters per year. Pine trees are not afraid of frost, moisture, drought - nothing. Pine has strong roots, a stable trunk, and is undemanding to living conditions. Pine usually lives up to 350 years, reaching a height of 35 meters.
People use pine in a variety of ways. Along railroads, pine trees hold back snow; on the banks of reservoirs and in deserts, moving sands. Pines are guardians of water: under their canopy, rivers do not dry out or become shallow. Tall, smooth, thin trunks of pine trees for many centuries moved countless ships and supported sails filled with wind. (According to N. Verzilin.) (125 words)

Dictation 3 - GOLDFISH

“The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish” is a favorite fairy tale for many: both children and adults. Does the goldfish really exist or is it a figment of Pushkin’s imagination and fantasy?
Goldfish are Chinese crucian carp and are found wild in the countries of Southeast Asia: Korea, China and Japan. The mention of the goldfish in Chinese literature dates back to the 7th century, and it was also preserved in monuments of Chinese art: in paintings, porcelain vases, and in carved trinkets. It even found its way into the coat of arms of China.
Today, the goldfish is a resident of our aquariums, and its current varieties: fantail, veiltail, stargazer, telescope and others - no longer resemble their ancestor and testify to the unlimited possibility of human influence on nature. (111 words)

Dictation 4 - SEA SOUL

In the dusty Odessa trenches, in the tall pine forest near Leningrad, in the snow on the outskirts of Moscow, in the tangled thickets of the Sevastopol mountain oak forest - everywhere I saw through the open collar of a protective overcoat, padded jacket, sheepskin coat, or tunic, as if by accident, my dear blue and white stripes " sea ​​soul." It has become an unwritten law and tradition to wear it under any uniform that a sailor will wear during war. And, like any tradition born in battles, the “sea soul” - a striped vest - means a lot.
They are recognized at the front by these blue and white stripes covering their broad chest, where the soul of a sailor proud of the fleet burns with anger and hatred - a cheerful and brave Red Navy soul, ready for a desperate act, unfamiliar with panic and despondency, an honest and faithful soul of a Bolshevik, Komsomol member , a devoted son of the Motherland.
The sea soul is determined, resourceful, stubborn courage and unwavering perseverance. This is cheerful daring, contempt for death, old sailor rage, fierce hatred of the enemy. The sea soul is an unfeigned military friendship, a readiness to support a comrade in battle, to save a wounded man, to protect the commander and commissar with his chest. (L. Sobolev.) (156 words)

Dictation 5 - MORNING IN TAIGA

The crimson outline of the sun emerged from behind the mountainous edge. It brightened, threw off the veil of fog and became white-hot. Generous streams of heat and light poured into the dormant taiga. Threads of sunlight pierced the thin needles of the larches and became entangled in the long needles of the dwarf tree. They greedily drank the abundant dew from the fluffy moss carpet. The fog wavered and melted. Like a photograph in a developer, the sun-drenched forest became clearer.
As soon as morning dawned, a restless redstart woke up. It fluttered upward and burst into a long trill. The singed wings and tail glowed in the reddish light of the sunrise. Her song woke up the nutcracker. The playful blackbird mimicked one, then the other, flew into the thicket, and from there its sonorous song flowed, resounding the awakening forest.
A sable glided through the bushes like a silent shadow. He listened, stretched out his fluffy tail, and raised his flat snake head. He climbed a tall spruce, glancing sideways at the neighboring larch, and sniffed the gray beards of the hanging hanging tree. Curving its long body, the sable flew to the larch. He ran up the trunk, poked his head into the nearest hole and woke up a big angry owl. A sharp cry, the flapping of wings - the frightened animal instantly disappeared among the branches. He didn't think for long. He returned - the wild cries of an owl announced the feast of the forest robber. (T. Dremova) (167 words)

Dictation 6 - MONUMENT TO PUSHKIN

In Moscow, on a wide square, a wonderful bronze figure stands at full height on a high pedestal. Ask any Muscovite, and he will unmistakably answer you that this is a monument to Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin.
The monument was created by sculptor A.M. Opekushin in 1880. All Russian newspapers of that time reported that the monument was being built with money raised by the people. Muscovites decided to erect a monument in the city center on the boulevard. After all, the poet was born in Moscow, and a third of his short life passed here.
The opening of the monument to Pushkin turned into great celebrations. This celebration was attended by I.S. Turgenev, A.I. Ostrovsky, F.M. Dostoevsky and other Russian writers, fellow writers. They gave speeches dedicating their kindest words to their beloved poet. The outstanding role of Pushkin in the creation of the Russian literary language was especially noted. Participants in the celebration recognized the poet as the founder of progressive Russian literature of the 19th century.
Muscovites still love to visit the park on Pushkin Square, where this wonderful monument stands. The words are carved on the granite of its pedestal: “Rumor about me will spread throughout Great Rus'.”
These words of the poet came true: his work is known to every Russian person. Pushkin's poems are studied at school, his words are repeated in difficult and happy hours of life. For example, the following Pushkin winged words are widely known: “All ages are submissive to love”; “The less we love a woman, the easier it is for her to like us”, “Dreams, dreams, where is your sweetness?”, “I remember a wonderful moment”, “The genius of pure beauty”; “One more last legend, and my chronicle is finished”...
The monument to Pushkin, created by Opekushin, is one of the best in the capital. There are always fresh flowers at the foot of the monument: Muscovites honor their beloved poet.

Dictation 7 - GROW A GARDEN

Our region was once famous for its beautiful fruit trees. But in recent years, the pear and cherry harvests have become increasingly worse. The garden no longer produces a good harvest. And so the new owners of the land decided to grow young fruit trees and plant a new garden.
On an early spring morning, when the sun was no longer hot and the air was fresh, the guys, led by an intern, fought the leaf beetle on pear and cherry plum trees in the old garden. Now the guys are rushing to the hut to see the watchman Kuzmich. They run along the shady alley, not paying attention to the rustling and whispering of leaves in the treetops.
An old man comes out to meet the youth. The grandfather’s appearance is unusual: a cap covers his head, the collar of a canvas shirt peeks out from under his cloak, and his throat is tied with a red scarf. But the old man is holding up bravely.
The reed hut cannot accommodate everyone, but Kuzmich wants to show the guys the brushes and forged ratchets that he makes himself and sells on the cheap. Then the grandfather tells how he caught a bear cub in the thicket and taught him to dance. The old man's story is funny: imitating the bear cub, he acts either as a conductor-musician or as a dancer.
The cheerful mood is interrupted by Kirill, who instructs the first team to demarcate the area for gooseberries, and gives the second team the task of helping to brick the greenhouse. They finish work by lunchtime.
Old-timers treat their assistants to stewed meat, smoked meats, vinaigrette, and gherkins. And the guys offer the hostess the chocolates they brought with them. Saying goodbye, grandfather Kuzmich invites his assistants to come more often. (217 words)

Dictation 8 - LEISURE AT CAMP

The dawn was flaring up. The sun's rays touched the treetops, gilded the shiny surface of the lake and penetrated into the children's bedroom. High above the house a flag flutters and burns with a bright flame. We'll get up soon.
At the sound of the bugle, young athletes quickly get up and, having neatly made their beds, run out to exercise. Young children remain in the room. They do not yet know how to make their own beds and do this under the supervision of counselor Lucy.
On the sports ground, having lined up in height and equalized, the guys freeze at the command “Attention!” A minute later, tanned hands flash in the air, and the children with shorn heads bend down, touching the ground with their fingertips. After charging, they run in all directions to the lake, ringing its shores with ringing laughter.
Children who cannot swim splash around the shore. Several guys, led by Yura, a famous swimmer, headed towards the floating bridge, but when they heard Lucy’s angry voice, they hurried back.
After bathing, rub yourself well with a shaggy towel. Daily exercises and rubbing with cold water strengthen and strengthen your health. And what an appetite develops after swimming! Everything seems incredibly tasty. The kids happily gobble up the pancakes, dipping them in sour cream.
There is a beautiful flower garden in front of the dining room. The paths are leveled and sprinkled with sand; the large flower bed features an artful combination of flowers. Behind the flower garden there was an experimental plot where the young people grew hitherto unknown breeds of vegetables. Gardener Anisim Romanovich enjoys great authority among children and has his admirers among them. The guys admire his art and are going to devote themselves to gardening.
Children spend their leisure time in the camp interestingly and meaningfully. Sports competitions, hiking trips, and amateur clubs take place at a high level. (239 words)

Dictation 9

A prim devil in black silk clothes sat on a hard sofa and drank cheap acorn coffee, occasionally clinking glasses with his reflection in a heavy, glossy samovar standing on a chocolate-colored brocade tablecloth. The devil was a big glutton and, despite heartburn and a diseased liver, he ate gooseberries and condensed milk.
After eating and threatening his reflection with his finger, the devil, smartly shaking his bangs, began to tap dance. The clatter of his hooves was so loud that those on the ground floor thought there was a horse prancing upstairs. However, the devil was not a very skilled dancer and, after making one not entirely successful leap, he crashed into a samovar and burned his snout, covered with soft fur.
The burn was very severe. The distressed devil rushed like a sheep to the barrel of soaked apples and stuck the burnt snout into it. “It’s true what they say: God doesn’t protect the unprotected,” the devil cursed with the devil’s proverb. (S. Volkov.) (129 words)

Dictation 10

Leaning on the piano, the protodeacon in a necklace and peignoir trimmed with squirrel fur, sang in a low contralto an aria from the opera “The Manchurian Monkey,” looking languidly at the aide-de-camp sitting on the dress circle, casually chewing a monpensier. Although a decisive explanation had not yet taken place between them, it was clear from everything that it was not far off: in the opinion of the postwoman with a face ulcerated by smallpox who was playing solitaire, this fellow looked too familiarly at the poor protodeacon during the last cotillion. However, the singer herself was crazy about this “glorious caballero from Seville,” as she called him, ever since that blizzard evening when, with the look of a notorious villain, he rode along the embankment on an unbroken horse named Little Devil, and she walked peacefully, holding the hand of a clerk, shrank from the cold, who was seriously explaining to her the meaning of a medieval bas-relief depicting a Spanish dona in the arms of a certain lord.
With some inexplicable bliss, the protodeaconce remembered from then on this moment of first love and every time she went to bed, she put a medallion with a portrait of the aide-de-camp at the head of her bed, and, hiding her spear-shaped nose in the rabbit collar of her peignoir, indulged in sweet dreams. (166 words)

Dictation 11

The birthday boy screamed furiously, frantically waving a torn shoe over his head, which had been pulled in a hurry from the foot of his frightened neighbor. The amazed guests and relatives froze in shock at first, but then, under a hail of butter dumplings thrown in their direction by the enraged birthday boy, they were forced to retreat to the open doors.
“Traitors! Slip me a dowry for which no one gave a penny!” - he squealed desperately, indignantly jumping on a forged chest covered with torn oilcloth. She is ill-mannered and uneducated, incredibly stupid and incredibly ugly, and without a dowry at all!” - he shouted, throwing a tattered shoe at the recently purchased lemon-colored lampshade. A stick of smoked sausage thrown after him landed in a glass vase filled with distilled water, and along with it fell on the short-cropped, chestnut-dyed head of a dowry accused of all sins, who was huddling at the door with a wounded look. Wounded in the head by a sausage, picturesquely waving her bare arms up to the elbows and making a strangled squeak, she fell into the kneading bowl, dragging with her a Christmas tree hung with mica toys, silver-plated icicles and with a gilded star at the very top. Delighted by the effect produced, the birthday boy danced rapturously on an oil-painted chest of drawers inlaid with embossed leather, where he had moved from the chest immediately after the lady's fall for a better view of the commotion caused by his exalted act.

Dictation 12

Below, near the ash-gray stones randomly piled up in countless numbers, the tidal waves, aligned as if on a ruler, are splashing, splashing, and breathing bitter-salty, intoxicatingly fragrant air. The face is slightly cooled by the “sailor” air coming from Turkey. Military warehouses stretch along the coast in a broken line. The internal roadstead is protected from December and January storms by a reinforced concrete pier. The yellow-red ridge seems to drop straight into the sea. Clefts in the rocks, invisible and inaccessible to humans, are a refuge for birds. Miniature clay houses whitened with quicklime climbed far up. In the distance, in the southwest, one can see white-gray mountain ranges with silver peaks melting into the air, disappearing into nothingness.
The country park is quiet and deserted. Wooden gazebos that have not been painted for a long time are covered with ivy and attract coolness. The bandstand with a poorly laid floor is boarded up to the top with plywood. Now it is nothing more than a warehouse of scenery unnecessary for the theater. The gallery located close to the stage could now be nothing more than a warehouse.
Countless golden yellow autumn leaves fall silently. The park stretches two to three kilometers in width. It is far from safe to walk along the paths, as in some places the grass is infested with small copperhead snakes. The lower platform is almost entirely strewn with shiny stones polished by the sea; Among them, the don’t-touch-me plant makes its way. Entering the depths of the park, you will see an extremely beautiful two-story pavilion with twisted columns and elaborate carvings. From behind the greenery of broad-leaved trees, stone-cut statues peek out, apparently dating back to the park’s prehistory. The flower beds are full of fiery red cannas, gladioli, and various subtropical flowers. What color combinations have I not seen here! No matter who you ask, they all say that they don’t want to leave the park. Due to the workload, it is unlikely that I will be able to come here again in the coming years. (256 words)

Dictation 13

On the plank terrace near the hemp plant, to the sounds of a cello, freckled Agrippina Savvichna treated the collegiate assessor Apollo Kirillovich with vinaigrette and other dishes.
On a colossal plank terrace near a juniper tree, the wife of a well-known local clerk, freckled Agrafena Savvichna, secretly treated the collegiate assessor Apollo Filippovich with shellfish and vinaigrette to the accompaniment of an accordion and cello.
On the sunny plank terrace near the hemp plant, freckled Agrippina Savvichna treated the collegiate assessor Apollo Sigismundovich with vinaigrette and other dishes.
On a plank terrace near an asymmetrical hemp bush, the notorious widow of a clerk, Agrippina Savvichna, secretly treated the collegiate assessor Apollo Filippovich with a vinaigrette with shellfish and various other dishes to the accompaniment of an accordion and cello.
A sparrow fluttered from pebble to pebble, and on the terrace, artfully draped with tapestries depicting the defensive battalion of the Kronstadt infantry battalion, under an artificial lampshade camouflaged as a Moroccan minaret, the freckled sister-in-law of the dowager archpriest Agrippina Savvichna treated the collegiate assessor, the local police officer and the indifferent lo Velas Thaddeus Apollinaryevich vinaigrette with smelt.
On the plank veranda near the hemp plant, to the accompaniment of a cello, freckled Agrippina Savvichna secretly treated collegiate assessor Apollon Faddeich with vinaigrette and dumplings.
On a colossal plank terrace near a hemp tree with honeysuckle, to the skillful cacophonous accompaniment of a cello and the causeless cry of a wolverine, the notorious widow of the clerk, freckled Agrippina Savvichna Filippova, secretly treated him to juniper jam, Californian vinaigrette with shellfish and other delicacies of the tongueless collegiate assessor Thaddeus Apollonovich, sitting on the veranda, unbuttoning his blue-black frock coat, with the fingers of his left hand spread out and his ring finger tucked into his right armpit.
On the colossal plank terrace, sitting on an ottoman, the freckled Agrippina Savvichna secretly treated collegiate assessor Philip Apollinarievich with vinaigrette, dumplings and other delicacies.
On the plank terrace near the hemp plant, the indifferent, freckled stepdaughter Agrippina Savvichna secretly treated her to a vinaigrette with ham, shellfish and other dishes to the accompaniment of the cello of the collegiate assessor Apollon Ippolitovich.
A frivolous little sparrow fluttered from pebble to pebble, and on the diligently plastered terrace, skillfully draped with tapestries depicting the defensive Kronstadt infantry battalion, which once panicked the Bolivian unmanned cavalry, under an artificial antique lampshade camouflaged as an eccentric Moroccan minaret, the freckled sister-in-law of widowhood Archpriest Agrippina Savvichna, absentmindedly listening to the tirades of the not at all surprised provincial propagandist, she suddenly treated the collegiate assessor, the local police officer and the indifferent womanizer Thaddei Apollinaryevich Parashutov with a vinaigrette with smelt and chocolate-covered blancmange stuffed with anchovies.
The freckled, flighty Vanechka, an amateur driver by profession, a lover of dancing and having fun, fearing appendicitis and catarrh, decided to become a vegetarian. One day, putting on his Kolomyanka suit and skillfully combing a tuft of hair on the crown of his head, he went to visit his sister-in-law Apollinaria Nikitichna. Having passed the terrace with a balustrade, all filled with clay and aluminum pots, he, as a privileged guest, went straight to the kitchenette. The hostess, seeing that it was none other than her friend, applauded so much that she dropped the burner of the samovar, and then began to treat him with a vinaigrette with smoked meats, and served him for dessert

Dictation 14

One fine day, an unattractive gray-haired gatekeeper, while on vacation, was reminiscing.
Getting off the commuter train and walking along the seaside boulevard, he arrived at his place of work. Being in the dark, he walked into the building, sat down at his desk and, with effort, began to turn his ambitious dreams into reality, moving closer to his cherished goal - to become the president of the company. And soon, sitting on the presidium and applying for promotion, he was in anxiety. Without calling him an excellent businessman, the management nevertheless issued an order appointing our hero to the coveted post. After a short time, he came into contact with a terrible official secret and found out how his predecessor lost.
When the penetration into the secret became obvious, the presidium accused the president of neglecting affairs, deprived him of privileges, ridiculed him and turned him into a laughing stock. All his dreams crumbled to smithereens, and he was forced to look for another job.
The old gatekeeper finished reminiscing and began to carry out his daily duties.

Dictation 15

The legend says: a ghost that has taken root in the annex of the ancient castle will be seen by everyone who sits on the granite steps...
One day a visiting court gentleman was in nature. Having covered approximately half of the intended path, he stopped for a rest. A beautiful view appeared before him: the sea surf washed the bizarrely shaped shore.
Having overcome a small hillock, it was possible to get close to the pier. The gentleman sat down on the coastal sand, had a snack, sipped some wine, tidied himself up, combed his hair and, looking at himself with a meticulous gaze, was satisfied. The reason that forced the elderly man to find himself in such a pleasant place was simple: he received an invitation from his friend to visit an ancient castle inhabited by a mysterious spirit. Being educated, although he disdained all sorts of quirks of his friend, he found no reason not to accept the invitation.
And for several days now the gentleman had been in a state of excitement, wandering around the surroundings of the beautiful castle. A strange feeling haunted him, something attracted him and promised adventure...

Dictation 16 - Circus miracle

There were many attractions in the circus show. All the birds: starlings, titmice, and even clumsy hens - were well done and incredibly smart. They stood on tiptoe, cheerfully pecked cucumbers and flew from knitting needle to knitting needle. The largest chicken sat on the shell of a huge turtle. Then she started pecking at citrus fruits.
The starlings, these tireless fighters, pushed each other as if a real revolution was taking place in the circus arena.
Suddenly, completely unexpectedly, an amazingly handsome gypsy in a top hat appeared with a chicken in his hands. Following the gypsy on tiptoe was his charming assistant. The little yellow chicken received thunderous applause from the audience when he correctly squeaked into the microphone as many times as the numbers shown to him indicated.
At the end of the performance, the gypsy, to everyone's amazement, took flowers from a small cylinder: daffodils, nasturtiums - and presented them to the audience to stormy applause.