For nearly thirty years now I have been studying my fellowmen. I don't know very much about them. I guess we judge the people we meet primarily by their faces. We draw conclusions based on the shape of the jaw, the expression of the eyes, the shape of the mouth. When people tell me that their first impressions of a person are always right, I just shrug. From my own experience, I was convinced that the longer you know a person, the more mysterious he is: about my oldest friends, I can only say that I know nothing about them.
These thoughts came to me after I read in the morning paper about the death of Edward Hyde Burton in Kobe. He was a merchant and lived in Japan for many years. We hardly knew each other, but I remember him because he once surprised me very much. If I had not heard this story from his own lips, I would never have believed that he was capable of such a thing. This was all the more striking because both his appearance and manner gave the impression of a completely different person. He was a short old man, very slim, with gray hair, a red, wrinkled face and blue eyes. I think he was about sixty at the time. He always dressed neatly and modestly, in accordance with his age and position.
Although his office was in Kobe, Burton often visited Yokohama. It so happened that one day I stayed a few days in this city, waiting for a ship, and I was introduced to Burton at the British Club. We played bridge. He played well and did not skimp. He didn't talk much, only occasionally dropping a line when we were distracted by a drink, but everything he said was reasonable. He had a dry and reserved sense of humor. Apparently, he was well known in the club, and when he left, they spoke very well of him. It turned out that we were both staying at the Grand Hotel, and the next day he invited me to dine with him. I met his wife, plump, elderly and smiling, and his two daughters. It was a friendly family where everyone loved each other. I think what struck me most about Burton was his kindness. There was something benevolent in his soft blue eyes. He had a pleasant voice; it is impossible to imagine that he could be angry; a kind smile lit up his face. He attracted you because he felt genuine love for his neighbor. A special charm emanated from him. But there was nothing sentimental about him: he liked to drink and play cards, he could tell a juicy story, and in his youth he led a sports lifestyle. He was a rich man and earned every penny himself. I think he endeared others to him because of his diminutiveness and fragility; he wanted to be protected. It felt like he wouldn't hurt a fly.
One afternoon I was sitting in the drawing room of the Grand Hotel. From the windows there was an excellent view of the harbor with its busy traffic. There were huge liners; merchant ships of all countries; boats and boats scurrying to and fro. The picture of this activity, I don't know why, brought peace to my soul.
At the same time, Burton came into the living room and noticed me. He sat down on the chair next to me.
- Would you like a drink?
He called the waiter over and ordered a drink for two. When the waiter brought it in, a man walking down the street outside the window saw me and waved to me.
- Do you know Turner? Burton asked as I nodded in greeting.
- Yes, they say he lives on money transfers.
- I willingly believe it. There are many.
- He plays bridge well.
- They all usually play well. A guy came here last year, my namesake, the best bridge player I've ever met. I assume you didn't run into him in London. He called himself Lenny Burton.
No, I don't think I remember that name.
“He was an absolutely wonderful player. He had a special flair for cards. It was amazing. We played with him a lot. He lived in Kobe for a while.
Burton sipped his gin.
"That's a pretty funny story," he said. - He wasn't a bad guy. I loved him. He always dressed well, was handsome in his own way, with curly hair and rosy cheeks. He liked women. There was nothing wrong with him, but, you know, he was a bit wild. Of course he drank too much. People like him always drink. He was sent a little money every quarter, and he earned a little more by playing cards. I'm sure he won most of it from me.
Burton chuckled genially.
- I believe that when he lost, he turned to me precisely because he was my namesake. One day he came to my office and asked me to get him a job. I was quite surprised. He said that no more money was sent to him from home, and that he wanted to work. I asked how old he was. "Thirty-five," he replied. "And what did you do before?" I asked him. "Yeah, nothing special, really," he said. I could hardly contain my laughter. "I'm afraid I can do nothing for you," I said, "come back in another thirty-five years, then we'll see how I can help."
He didn't move. His face paled visibly. He hesitated for a minute, and then told me that he had been unlucky at cards lately. He didn't have a penny. He pawned everything he had. He couldn't pay hotel bills and was no longer given credit. He was in despair. If he fails to find a job, he will have to commit suicide. I looked at him. Now I saw that he was out of his mind. He had been drinking more than usual lately and looked to be in his fifties. "Well, do you know anything other than how to play cards?" I asked. "I can swim," he said. - "To swim!" - "I spoke for my university." “When I was young, I was also a good swimmer,” I replied. Suddenly an idea came to me.
Interrupting his story, Burton turned to me.
- Do you know Kobe well? - he asked.
- No, I was there once passing through, but stayed only for the night.
“Then you don’t know about the Shioya Club. In my youth, I swam from there around the lighthouse to the mouth of the Tarumi River. It is over three miles and quite difficult to swim due to the currents around the lighthouse. So, I told my namesake about this and declared that if he sailed, then I would get him a job. I saw that he was puzzled. "You said you could swim," I said. "I'm not in very good shape," he replied. I shrugged silently. He looked at me and then nodded. "Okay," he said, "when do you want me to do this?" I looked at the clock. It was early eleven. "The swim won't take you more than an hour and a quarter. I'll come to the mouth at half past one and meet you. I'll take you to the club so you can get dressed, and then we'll have lunch together." "Agreed," he said. We shook hands. I wished him luck and he left. I had a lot of work to do that morning, and I barely had time to get to the mouth at half past one. I waited for him, but in vain.
Did he get scared at the last moment? I asked.
- Not. He began to swim. But his health, of course, was undermined by drunkenness. The currents around the lighthouse were too strong for him to overcome. We searched for the body for about three days.
For a while I didn't say anything. I experienced a shock. Then I asked Burton:
- Were you sure that he would drown when they offered him a job?
He let out a light laugh and looked at me with his kind blue eyes. He rubbed his chin with his hand.
- Well, I had no vacancies in the office at that moment.
A FRIEND WILL BE KNOWN...
Somerset Maugham
(translated by V. Raikin)
For thirty years I have been studying people, but I still know very little about them. I will not dare to hire a servant only on the basis of the form and expression of his face; however, that is how we judge strangers. We draw conclusions based on the size of the jaw, the expression of the eyes, the bend of the lips. It would be interesting to check how often we are right. The reason why life in novels and plays is simplified is that their authors - probably out of necessity - make their characters too solid, avoid internal contradictions so as not to confuse the reader. However, for the most part, we are internally inconsistent and are a patchwork 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" might be a horse-drawn wagon, and "thank you" the 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 conceited people can believe in this. About myself I can say 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 my mind when I read in the morning paper that Edward Hyde Burton had died in Kobe. 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 surprised me greatly. If I had not heard this story from him, I would never have believed that he was capable of such a thing. His act was all the more shocking because Burton's mannerisms were in perfect harmony with his appearance - it was wholeness itself, if there is such a thing. And he was small, a little over sixty meters, slender, white-headed, with a wrinkled red face and blue eyes. When we met, I think he was about sixty. He always dressed neatly and discreetly, according to 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 steamboat. We were introduced to each other over a game of bridge at the British Club. He played well and did not skimp. He was laconic - both during the game and after, over cocktails - but if he spoke, then on business. Joked aptly, without raising his voice. At the club, Burton was very famous and then, 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 dinner the next day. I met his wife - an elderly, plump and smiling woman - and their two daughters. Everything was clear that this is a friendly, loving family. I think what first attracted me was Burton's benevolence. The blueness of his eyes was soothing and his voice soft, it was hard to imagine him rising in anger; smile - meek. Burton radiated affection for his neighbor, but there was no cloying sentimentality in him. He was charming, loved cards and light drinks, could tell a salty anecdote; and in his youth he was an athlete. Yes, Burton was rich, but all his fortune, to the last penny, earned himself. I also think that many people liked his small stature and fragility - they wanted to take such a thing under protection, it seemed that he would not hurt a fly.
One afternoon I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel bar - back then, even before the big earthquake, there were leather chairs. From the window a panorama of the harbor was opened, full of various ships and crafts. There rose majestic ocean liners heading to Vancouver, San Francisco, or Europe - via Shanghai, Hong Kong or Singapore; against their background, heavy cargo ships sailed under the flags of all countries of the world; storm-beaten junks with upturned bows and huge bright sails skillfully maneuvered; countless sampans darted about. Surprisingly, this picture of restless work and movement soothed. The romance of distant wanderings just hung in the air, it seemed that you could touch it.
Entering the hall, Burton immediately saw me, came up and sank into a nearby chair.
Why don't we have a glass?
He clapped his hand to a servant and ordered two gin and tonics. The moment the servant brought the drinks, a man walking down the street saw me through the window and waved his hand.
Do you know Turner? Burton asked as I nodded back.
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. There was one here last year, by the way, my namesake, the best bridge player I've ever known. You could meet him in London - Lenny Burton. He seems to have been in good clubs.
I don't remember.
Awesome player! He had a special card instinct, you can't learn that. I played with him many times. For a time he lived in Kobe.
Burton took a sip from his glass.
There is a strange story associated with him. He was a nice guy and I liked him. He dressed well and was not stupid. In addition, handsome - curly, rosy-cheeked, a favorite of women. And completely harmless, except perhaps a little ill-bred. Of course, he loved to drink, like all this brethren. Once a quarter, he received a small transfer in the mail, adding cards. I lost a lot to him myself.
Burton chuckled softly. I knew Burton was good at losing. He stroked his clean-shaven chin with his thin, almost translucent hand, veins showing 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 at my office and asked me to take him to work, which surprised me a lot. He explained that they stopped sending money from home, and he needed to earn money. I asked how old he was.
"Thirty five."
"And what is your profession?"
“Yes, in general, no.”
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 didn't move and turned white as chalk. After a minute's silence, he admitted that he had been unlucky lately. In addition to bridge, he took up poker and lost outright. He was left penniless, pawned everything he could, now there was nothing to pay off the hotel, and he no longer believed in a debt. The situation is hopeless, and if he does not find a job, only suicide will remain.
I looked at him and saw that he was at the edge. He drank more than usual and looked fifty. Even the girls, I think, turned their backs on him.
“Still, do you know anything besides playing cards?” - I asked.
“I can swim,” he says.
"To swim!" - I couldn't believe my ears.
"I swam for the university team."
I understood what he meant, but it did not impress me: too many of my acquaintances in their youth looked like bronze figurines.
I was an excellent swimmer myself when I was young,” I put in.
And then it dawned on me.
Burton paused and turned to me.
Do you know Kobe well?
No. Was there once passing through, just one evening.
Then you don't know the Shioya Club. In my youth, I sailed from it around the lighthouse to the mouth of the stream in Tarumi. It's over three miles and sailing is difficult because of the strong currents around the lighthouse. I told my namesake about this route and added that if he sailed it, I would take him to work. He got confused.
“But you yourself said that you are an excellent swimmer.”
"Yeah, but... now I'm not in the best shape."
I said nothing, just shrugged. He gave me just one look and immediately nodded.
"I agree. When should you swim?
I looked at the clock - it had just passed ten.
"The swim won't take you more than an hour and a quarter, I'll drive up to the stream at half past twelve, take you back to the club, where you can change, and then we will have lunch together."
"Deal."
We shook hands, I wished him good luck and he left. There was a lot of work that morning, and I barely had time to arrive at half past one. But it was possible not to rush - he never appeared.
Cowardly at the last moment?
No, he was not afraid, he sailed away from the agreed place. But his health was undermined by drinking and a distracted 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 asked Burton:
Did you - when you proposed to him - did you know that he was going to drown?
Burton answered 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 the Chinese "sanban", literally - three boards whale. 舢舨 ) - the collective name for various types of plank flat-bottomed boats floating near 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 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 was interested in 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 humor. 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 a 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 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 the 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. 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 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 aback. ‘
“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 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.’
For thirty years now I have been studying my fellow men. I don't know very much about them. I guess 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. 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 humor. 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 a 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 of 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.
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 now that he was all to see 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 aback.
"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:
Judge a person, draw a conclusion, puzzle (confound), come to mind, be capable of something, wrinkled, raise your voice, and not offend a fly, wave your hand, namesake, sip gin, 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 wine
- 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 could not 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 action if 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 referrence to the story):
Appearences are decadent.
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 last 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?
Premium Essay
Submitted By twiddy
Words 338
Pages 2
The author of the text is Maugham William Somerset, an English writer. He is best known by his short stories. The text under analysis is titled "A Friend In Need"
The subject of the extract is drown from life and deals with problems true friendship. The story has a narrative presentation with elements of dialog.
There are no secondary characters. The main characters are 2 men.
This story is about one of them, the man who had had bad luck at cards. He was down and out and because of it he was drunk a lot. He came to his namesake and asked him for a job. But he can't do anything except swim. And Burton told him, if he swam round the beacon and landed at the creek of Tarumi he would give him a job. And despite of his bad condition after alcohol the hero agreed to do it. He was drowned, but Burton didn't express any regret about him. He only rubbed his chin and say that he hadn't got a vacancy in his office at that moment.
The text can be divided into 2 parts.
At the first part of the scene ordinary laid out at the Barton's office. And in the second part the author tells us of the death of the main character.
To support the emotional impact of the passage the author uses such colorful expression as (down and out, he was all to pieces, kindly little chuckle).
It was not difficult to read this story, because its language is very emotional and expressive and at the same time is rather simple. It doesn't contain any special terms or complex constructions. And all this makes the story interesting to read. The story is rather instructive. The writer draws our attention to be tolerant of each other, to help our friends in any way, because we also can be in some hard situation.
And if you like such kind of stories I advice you to read it and don’t make such mistakes in…...
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