For two days it blew warm. How should I write correctly: during the day or during the day? Exercises to consolidate the material

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Final control dictations Grade 9

10.02.2015 109788 960 Zhumabekova Ainagul Mukhambetovna

Final control dictations for grade 9

I
The warm windless day faded away. Only far on the horizon, in the place where the sun had set, the sky was still reddened with crimson stripes, as if it had been smeared with wide strokes of a huge brush dipped in blood. Against this strange and formidable background, the jagged wall of the coniferous forest was clearly drawn in a rough, dark silhouette, and in some places the transparent round tops of bare birches sticking out above it seemed to have been drawn in the sky with light strokes of delicate greenish ink. A little higher, the pink glow of the fading sunset, imperceptibly to the eyes, turned into a faint shade of faded turquoise... evenings. It was sometimes heard how an invisible beetle was buzzing in a thick bass, flying somewhere very close, and how it, dryly slapping on some kind of obstacle, immediately fell silent. Here and there, silver threads of forest streams and swamps flickered through the thicket of trees. The frogs burst into them with their hasty, deafening cry; the toads echoed them with a rarer, melodic hoot. Sometimes a duck flew overhead with a timid quack, and one could hear how, with a loud and short bleating, a snipe-ram flies from place to place. (177 words)
(A. Kuprin)

II
A person impoverishes his spiritual life if he arrogantly looks down on everything living and inanimate that is not endowed with his human mind. After all, the life of people, no matter how complex it may be, no matter how far our power over the surrounding world extends, is just a particle of the life of nature. After all, what we know about her today is so small compared to the mysterious, amazing and beautiful that we still have to learn about her. Perhaps, to find out today, when it is important for a person to connect in his mind the latest data on elementary particles, on the "white dwarfs" and "black holes" of the Universe with the snow-whiteness of daisies in forest glades, with luxurious, pulsating constellations above his head, somewhere in the middle endless steppe.4
We are still interested in the habits of animals and birds - outlandish overseas and ours, familiar from childhood. We are interested in many things: why such a dense beast as a bear is easy to train; does not threaten gray wolf entry into the Red Book (where scientists enter animals that are threatened with extinction from the face of the planet); how fast rock crystals grow and why the common plantain leaf is considered healing. (169 words)
(According to I. Akimushkin)

III
The professor lived in a room where they dominated and quarreled like two opposite principles, books and pictures.
The books managed to take over the entire space of the room: giant bookcases rose up the walls like book fortresses; the table wedged between the walls was full of books; they seized armchairs and a small chess table, where they lay in neatly tied piles. They also owned the air of the room, filling it with a special smell of paper and old bindings; books saturated the air, making it dusty and stuffy.
The paintings seemed to want to push the room apart and dissolve the wall on which they hung into quiet, calm landscapes. They filled the space with the fresh air of the groves and the soft sunlight sifted through the cloudy haze. And if the rustling of leaves and the whisper of herbs did not penetrate the room, it was only because silence reigned in all the pictures. Only her and the dreamy thoughtfulness of nature were depicted on his canvases by the artist.
In the evenings, the light of lanterns penetrated the room from the street, and it seemed to be filled with loose gray matter. Where there were bookcases, the substance thickened to a completely black color. (158 words)
(According to A. Kazantsev)

IV
At night, the fog thickened so that nothing could be seen ten paces away, as if everything had been drowned in milk. The ship stopped at a large ice field, and everyone, except for the watchmen, slept peacefully.
In the morning, the fog started to clear slightly. It gradually disappeared, being carried away to the south, and the ice fields rustled and also began to move. A free passage opened up ahead, and the ship sailed to the northeast, but slowly so as not to collide with ice floes and in time to stop or turn to the side. The sun, which had been shining since noon, albeit intermittently, disappeared in the evening in a shroud of fog that had moved over the ship.
This night was less calm than the previous one: a light wind blew, the ice fields moved, pushing against each other, cracking and breaking. The swirling fog made it impossible to distinguish the path, and one had to be on the alert so as not to be squeezed by the ice floes.
The day also passed in great tension: in the morning the wind increased and the fog dispersed, but the ice began to move. Fortunately, the edges of the ice fields were badly broken, there were no icebergs, and only sometimes ridges of small ice, piled up in places on the fields, represented serious danger. (167 words)
(According to V. Obruchev)

V
Historicisms - words and phrases that denoted objects and phenomena that once existed real life. For example: serf, smerd, junker and others. Gone are the objects - the words have gone out of use.
Changes in public life taken out of active vocabulary many words, but they are immediately remembered as soon as we look into the past. Therefore, one cannot do without historicisms in works on history: far from everything in the past can be called today's words. So, the boyars as an estate have gone down in history, and in this very history they can only be called by this word.
Historicisms are recalled, of course, and in fiction when she turns to history. Replacing them with modern words is simply illiterate. So, today we will not call an archer a soldier, a quitrent - a tax, a quarter - a district police officer.
Historicisms, unlike archaisms, do not have synonyms. Archaisms always have quite modern-sounding synonyms: sail - sail, cheeks - cheeks. Archaisms, being synonyms of commonly used words, express, as is typical for synonyms, a variety of additional shades. They serve to create the color of the era, to characterize the character, they are used as a stylistic tool in journalism. (165 words)
(According to P. Klubkov)

VI
They gave me a groundhog, fat, clumsy. In his homeland, in the steppes, he is called a bobak, as he has an amazing ability to sleep for a long time.
It sleeps throughout the winter, but when the grass turns green in the spring, it emerges from its burrow and intensively feeds on young vegetation. The heat comes, the grasses dry up - the bobak climbs into the hole again and sleeps until autumn. When the rains pass and the grass turns green, he wakes up a second time and stays awake until winter.
Our bobak was tame: he allowed himself to be picked up, allowed to stroke him and feed him delicious things: carrots, dried fruits, milk. One day my wife brought him food, but she couldn't wake him up. She went to the lair that we made for him in the hay shed, and began to pat the bobak on the skin, persuading him to wake up. Terribly angry, he jumped out of the lair and, standing on his hind legs, gnashed his teeth ferociously. He was, apparently, terribly indignant, since he could not forgive the insult to her until the end of his life. Although his wife cajoled him in every possible way, gave him his favorite dishes, every time he rushed at her, trying to grab her hand. (166 words)
(According to A. Komarov)

VII
Our rook lived in freedom, walking around near the dacha. There was no end to his antics. From the house he dragged everything he could carry: thimbles, scissors, small tools, although he knew very well that it was impossible to steal.
He played pranks when no one saw him, and always, with an annoyed croak, hurriedly flew away if he was caught at the scene of a crime. Flying off to safe distance, he watched from a distance what impression his mischief made.
Grach especially closely followed the work of the artist's wife, who was fond of gardening and worked a lot in the garden. If plants were grafted and the place of grafting was wrapped with insulating tape, he unwound it and, satisfied, hurriedly left.
But, in spite of everything, it was impossible not to love him: he accompanied, flying from branch to branch, the owners, if they went for walks, flew over the boat if they rode along the river. He never missed dinner time, patiently waiting for something tasty to be given to him, and if he was full, he hid the tidbits in reserve: he put them in his shoes, under the wardrobe or in other secluded places. Having eaten, the rook sat on someone's shoulder or head, while trying to carefully wipe its beak on the hair. (176 words)
(According to A. Komarov)

VIII
If you constantly work at your desk in the office, you create your own order, which you get used to. You know where and what book is on your table and where the pen and pencil are. Reach out your hand and take what you need. This is your order and cannot be changed.
This is where the magpie comes in. Whoever had a chance to keep a tame magpie in his house knows what it is ...
The white-sided magpie is a very beautiful bird: its tail casts with a reddish and greenish metallic sheen, its head is coal-black, and there are white spots on its sides. She has a cheerful personality, but she has two remarkable features: she is curious and she has an irresistible passion for accumulating wealth.
Every thing, especially shiny, attracts her attention, and she tends to hide it somewhere far away. Everything: a teaspoon, a silver ring, a button - she instantly grabs and, despite screams, flies away, diligently hiding the stolen somewhere.
Our magpie liked to hide things so that they would not catch the eye. She apparently believed that a well-hidden thing would live longer, and therefore something in the house was lost from time to time. (168 words)
(According to A. Komarov)

IX
Alenka put her clothes at the birch and entered the water, feeling the sandy bottom with her feet. When the water reached her waist, she sat down and, splashing her feet, swam to the opposite shore; in the middle, a weak current was felt, and Alenka, turning over on her back, lay for a long time, looking at the boundless sky, already filled with the sun.
Alyonka swam for a long time, plunging her face into the water and looking at the bottom and the fish scurrying through the algae. There was a world under water. In the middle of the river, where there was already a thick strip of sun and it was light under the water, a quiet current was noticed by the barely moving tops of the water grasses, and when it approached the shaded shore, the light changed under the water, and there seemed to be deep gaps filled with darkness. and secrets. The shadow from Alenka's body touched the dark crab, moving his mustache, and he immediately disappeared somewhere.
Having waited for the water to calm down, she again looked closely and saw: among the scattered bush of algae, small fish scurried about, unexpectedly rushing in all directions, but not leaving, however, the limits of the spacious bush. Trying not to move, she followed the rhythmic dance of the fish, who did not want to move away from their bush. (166 words)
(According to P. Proskurin)

X
Whoever has not been to the Ussuri taiga cannot imagine what a thicket it is. More than once it happened to raise an animal from its bed, and only the crackling of branches indicated in which direction it was leaving. We have been walking through this taiga for two days already.
The weather was not favorable to us: it was drizzling, and there were puddles on the paths, large rare drops fell from the trees.
The pack convoy should have overtaken us long ago, but meanwhile behind us, in the taiga, nothing could be heard. Worried about this, Dersu [the guide] and I went back. Suddenly stopping in mid-sentence, he stepped back and, bending down, began to examine something on the ground. I went up to him and was stunned: fresh prints of a large cat's paw stood out clearly on the path. However, there were no traces when we walked here. I remember this, and Dersu could not have passed them by. Now, when we returned to meet the detachment, they appeared and headed in our direction. Obviously, the beast was on its heels: despite the puddles, the water had not yet had time to fill the tracks pressed by the paw of the tiger. The predator, undoubtedly, had just been standing here and, when he heard our steps, hid somewhere in the windbreak. (175 words)
(According to V. Arseniev)

XI
When rivers and lakes are covered with an ice shell, the last flocks of birds fly away.
Autumn flights are slow. It seems that the birds are in no hurry to leave their native places, lingering for a long time where there is a lot of food. In the spring, they fly non-stop, as if afraid of being late for the beginning of summer.
Flights of birds caused surprise even among the ancient peoples. They did not know where and why the birds undertake such risky journeys. Much in bird flights is still not clear enough to scientists.
Autumn migration seems justified: with the onset of winter, birds cannot get food from under the snow. In winter, the north is hungry: insects hid, supplies wild berries are not limitless. True, many birds live here without flying anywhere, and even in severe frosts they do not look unhappy. Apparently, some birds could adapt to our conditions.
It is believed that the homeland of our migratory birds is the north. It's hard to say what attracts them here. Perhaps the abundance of seasonal food, which allows you to feed the chicks throughout the long daylight hours. It is likely that birds during the breeding season need a calm environment, and the small population of our northern tundra, forests, where there is no such turmoil as in Africa, creates these conditions for them. (176 words)
(From the magazine "Young naturalist")

XII
Among the many wild herbs that exist in nature, we remember nettle for life from the very first touch to its leaves, which burn the skin. We consider it a weed whose lush thickets have to be exterminated every year. Meanwhile, this plant has long served man: paper was once produced from its long bast fibers, ropes and fishing tackle were woven.
Nettle is a valuable medicine. In folk medicine, an infusion made from it is used, which improves the composition of the blood; a decoction of the roots is rinsed in the mouth to strengthen the gums, it is rubbed into the head from hair loss.
It is recommended to collect nettle for medicinal purposes during its flowering: during this period, the plant accumulates the largest number biologically active substances. In the spring, when the reserves of vitamins in the body run out, salads from the tender tops of nettles are useful. They are pre-washed under running hot water, then rubbed with fingers to get rid of burning needles.
Nettles can be harvested for the winter, for which it is dried in the shade and ground into powder, which is then added to food. Another useful advice: if you want to keep meat or fish longer on a hot summer day, wrap them tightly with nettle leaves. (172 words)
(According to the magazine)

XIII
Evening dusk flooded the taiga, and only in the east from the trees was a bluish-hazy glow. The deep silence, broken by the splashes of fish and the cries of some still awake bird, fussing nearby, seemed only to emphasize the irresistible onset of the night's calm. Almost the entire channel was covered with a thick layer of fog that had come from nowhere, which swirled in the coastal bushes. Ilyusha cautiously stepped into it and immediately drowned in it almost to the armpits. Looking back, he saw: the fire on the high bank trembled like a changeable golden bush, the trunks of cedars in its light shimmered with reddish-dark gold. For the first time, the aching excitement from the mysterious beauty of the night entered the soul of the young man, and he wanted to do something extraordinary: run, jump from a height, fly. Suddenly it seemed to him that he heard a quiet, insinuating rustle of fog rubbing at his feet and someone's voice. His heart began to beat faster, and he suddenly wanted to be near the fire as soon as possible. Diving into the fog, he felt its wet coolness on his face, and, having reached the water and washed the kettle, Ilyusha returned to the fire. (156 words)
(According to P. Proskurin)

XIV
Winter, advancing from the north, captured new spaces; everything: roads and villages, forests and steppes - were covered with deep snow.
On blizzard nights, when even forest giants groan, crackle and groan, when the sky merges with the earth and underground bells thump furiously, all living things try to hide in the calm: in houses where the fire in the stove flutters merrily, in burrows and inhabited nests, and even just under a spreading spruce, between its lower paws and the earth, which still smells of leaves brought here in autumn. The snow covers the spruce paws in a thick layer, but between them and the ground there is a free space where it is light on a sunny day. A ray of the sun will flash - a berry of a bone on a high stalk that accidentally appeared there will flare up red.
Such a shelter is reliable from any bad weather. A hare, or a black grouse, or a cunning fox, or other living creatures will hide here and freeze, hide, then doze off under the howl of a snowstorm. At such a time, unknown forces begin to roam and live in a person, bizarre ghostly dreams bloom. And it is impossible to figure out where in them the understandable ends and that which has no explanation begins and what comes in the rustles and light of the stars. (167 words)
(According to P. Proskurin)

XV
To the right of the path stretched a hummocky plain, dark green from constant dampness, and at its edge gray little houses that looked like toys were thrown; on a high green mountain, at the bottom of which a silver strip shone, stood a church, white, also like a toy. When the train, with a sonorous metallic screech that suddenly intensified, flew furiously onto the bridge and seemed to be hanging in the air above the mirror-like surface of the river, Petka even shuddered in fright and unexpectedly staggered away from the window, but immediately returned to him: he was afraid to lose even the slightest detail of the journey. Petkina's eyes had long ceased to look sleepy, and the wrinkles disappeared, as if someone had run a hot iron over that face, smoothing them out, and made the face shiny and white.
During the first two days of Petka's stay at the dacha, the wealth and strength of new impressions pouring on him from above and below crushed his small and timid little soul. He often returned to his mother, clung to her, and when the master asked him if he felt good at the dacha, smiling, he answered: “Good!” And then he again went to the forest and the quiet river and seemed to extort something from them. (169 words)
(According to L. Andreev)

XVI
Kusaka rushed about in the footsteps of the people who had left for a long time, ran to the station and - wet, dirty - returned back. claws. The rooms were empty, and no one answered Kusaka.
It began to rain frequently, and the darkness of the autumn night began to approach from everywhere. Quickly and dully he filled the empty dacha; noiselessly it crawled out of the bushes and, together with the rain, poured from the inhospitable sky. On the terrace, from which the canvas was removed, which made it seem strangely empty, for a long time the light sadly illuminated the traces of dirty feet, but he soon retreated too.
And when there was no longer any doubt that night had come, the dog howled plaintively. A ringing note, sharp as despair, burst into the monotonous sound of rain, cutting through the darkness, and, dying, rushed over the bare fields.
And to those who heard it, it seemed that the hopeless dark night itself was groaning and rushing towards the light, and longing for warmth, for a bright fire, for a loving heart. (159 words)
(According to L. Andreev)

Pass
Contrary to my companion's prediction, the weather cleared up and promised us a quiet morning; dances of stars intertwined in wonderful patterns in the distant sky and faded one after another as the pale reflection of the east spread over the dark purple vault, illuminating the steep echoes of the mountains covered with virgin forests.
Dark, mysterious abysses loomed right and left, and the mists, swirling and wriggling like snakes, slithered down there along the wrinkles of neighboring rocks, as if sensing and frightened of the approach of day. It was quiet in heaven and on earth, only occasionally a cool wind came up from the east, lifting the horses' manes covered with hoarfrost.
We set off; with difficulty, five thin nags dragged our wagons along the winding road to Good Mountain; we walked behind, placing stones under the wheels when the horses were exhausted; it seemed as if the road led to heaven, because as far as eyes could see, it kept rising and finally disappeared in a cloud that had been resting on the top of the Gud Mountain since evening, like a kite waiting for prey. The snow crunched underfoot; the air became so thin that it hurt to breathe; blood constantly rushed to the head. (176 words)
(According to M. Lermontov)

XVIII
In the morning I, having slept, full of fresh strength, went to the watch. How good it is when the smell of iodine spreads in the air and the ocean spreads around like green silk.
There was, however, an admixture of some strange smell in the fresh air, and I could not understand what it smelled like. Looking around the horizon, I noticed a dark stripe in the distance, sort of like from a cloud that had come up. The sky was still shining blue, and yet there, on the brilliant surface of the sea, something darkened. Are we approaching another depth, or is a storm approaching? Lost in conjectures, I suddenly see: dolphins are rushing towards us. In a clear formation, now emerging, now disappearing, they flashed along the port side, and it seemed to me that they were running, as if fleeing from something.
The navigator, who had been looking through binoculars for a long time, finally guessed: oil! It is clear what smell was mixed with the freshness of the ocean. We encountered oil streaks more than once while sailing, but this was the first time I saw this: there was a continuous oil field ahead. First, rainbow stains appeared - orange, blue-violet, then some kind of silvery spots, which became more and more. Soon we saw: it was a dead fish swimming upside down. (167 words)
(According to A. Sobolev)

XIX
Strong wind rustled in the tops of the islands, and along with the noise of the trees came the restless quacking of chilled ducks. Already for two hours the raft had been carried along the rapids, and neither the coast nor the sky could be seen. Turning up the collar of her leather jacket, Anya sat on the boxes and, shrinking from the cold, looked into the darkness, where the lights of the city had long disappeared.
Only the day before yesterday, after transferring from a train to an internal plane, she arrived in this Siberian town, an old, merchant town, with modern loudspeakers on the streets strewn with yellowed needles, and, having received an appointment one day, without finding the courage to ask about a new place , was now swimming in a geological party with complete strangers. She was restless, as she had been during the one and a half hour flight on the shaking plane, and the feeling of a strange dream that was about to break off did not go away. However, everything was real: the yellow sparks of lanterns melted in the impenetrable darkness, she sat on the boxes, and from the gusts of wind at the end of the raft the light of someone's pipe flared up; the oar creaked evenly; a black spot showed a human figure. (160 words)
(According to Yu. Bondarev)

XX
When they arrived at the place where it was necessary to fight, Lermontov, taking a pistol in his hand, solemnly repeated to Martynov that it had never occurred to him to offend him, even upset him, that it was all just a joke and that if Martynov was offended by this, he was ready ask his forgiveness... wherever he wants! "Shoot! Shoot!" - was the answer of the frantic Martynov.
Lermontov should have started, he fired into the air, wanting to end this stupid quarrel amicably. Martynov thought not so magnanimously. He was quite inhuman and vicious enough to go up to his very opponent and shoot him right in the heart. The blow was so strong and sure that death was as sudden as a shot. The unfortunate Lermontov expired. It is surprising that the seconds allowed Martynov to commit this brutal act. He acted against all the rules of honor, nobility and justice. If he wanted the duel to take place, he should have said to Lermontov: “If you please, load your pistol again. I advise you to aim well at me, for I will try to kill you.” That's what a noble, brave officer would have done. Martynov acted like a murderer. (166 words)
(A. Bulgakov, contemporary of Lermontov)

RUSSIAN LANGUAGE (examples of dictations)
Grade 9

main square

The task is difficult - to say about it for the thousandth time. The area is known to everyone
man before he opens the primer. And if life passes even in
deaf and the man has never left home, anyway he knows this paved
stone piece of land. Knowing the earth own experience, here we are reaching in
first of all, although this area seems to be already known to the smallest detail.
The first time I remember, I touched the wall with my palm. Same brick as
of our houses near Voronezh, ordinary hewn stone underfoot, clouds over
area is the same as ours. And yet, in everything, there lived a force that made
heart beating like normal...
A piece of land is quite small - five hundred steps ... I have passed here many times,
occupied with conversation or vain thoughts - the square was by itself, I
yourself. And here again, as for the first time, I’m walking against the wall ....
Everything remains the same. Over the years and because you often see these stars and
stones, the attitude towards them does not change. And if it changes, then the same as to the mother: than
more years behind her back, the more expensive her gray hair.
I have seen many squares on earth. Red Square in Moscow has
unique beauty, rigor, originality. ***
The sun is still warm in summer, but the grass has already turned a little yellow. In the dark
light yellow strands can be seen here and there on the green braids of birches.
Above us is a pale blue sky, on the left is a forest, and on the right is not yet sloping
oat field, behind it in the distance - a small river. We cross the line and turn
left towards the forest.
The forest is still good. Willy-nilly, we, spellbound by him
beauty, we stop, and then we walk straight into the thicket.
The broad branches of mighty trees are tightly intertwined in the sky,
the forest is dark and cool.
Slowly we move forward and suddenly we find ourselves in a clearing,
blown through by a light breeze.
There must be lingonberries here, and by all means it must be found.
In my opinion, we must go further into the depths of the forest, but my girlfriends scattered
they scatter across the clearing and are already pouring blood-red berries into baskets.
Finally, I also notice berries under the shiny, as if leathery leaves
cranberries. Yes, they are visible here! The meadow is completely covered with berries. We
dispersed one by one and only call to each other. little by little basket
filled to the brim, and we ourselves ate our fill.
However, lunch is still needed. Marusya spread on the grass folded in half
newspaper, put bread, salt and hard-boiled eggs on it. Don't treat anyone
account for. With appetite we ate everything and stretched out on the grass. FORESTS IN MESHER
The forests in Meshchera are deaf. There is no greater rest and enjoyment than walking all day
through these forests, along unfamiliar roads to some distant lake.
The path in the forests is kilometers of silence, calmness. This is a mushroom prel,
careful flitting of birds. These are sticky butternuts covered with pine needles,
tough grass, cold porcini mushrooms, wild strawberries, purple bluebells in the clearings,
trembling of aspen leaves, solemn light and, finally, forest twilight, when from
mosses are damp and fireflies are burning in the grass.
The sunset burns heavily on the crowns of the trees, gilding them with ancient gilding.
Below, at the foot of the pines, it is already dark and deaf. They fly silently and as if
look into the face the bats. Some incomprehensible ringing is heard in the forests -
the sound of the evening, the burnt-out day.
And in the evening, finally, the lake will shine like a black, obliquely set mirror. Night
already standing over him and looking into his dark water- night, full of stars. Still in the west
the dawn is smoldering, in the thickets of wolf berries the bittern is screaming, and on the mshars they are muttering and fiddling
cranes, disturbed by the smoke of a fire.
Throughout the night, the fire of the fire flares up, then goes out. The birch leaves are hanging
shuffling, the dew flows down the white trunks. And you can hear how somewhere very far away
an old rooster cries hoarsely in the forester's hut.
In an extraordinary, never-heard silence dawn dawns. Heaven on
green in the east. Venus lights up like blue crystal at dawn. ***
Levitan's paintings require a slow examination. They don't dazzle
eye. They are modest and precise, like Chekhov's stories, but the longer
peering into them, the sweeter the silence of provincial settlements becomes,
familiar rivers and country roads.
The painting "After the Rain" contains all the charm of rainy twilight in
Volga town. Puddles sparkle. The clouds go beyond the Volga like low smoke. Steam out
steamship pipes rests on the water. The barges near the shore were black with dampness.
In such summer twilights it is good to enter into dry passages, into low rooms with only
that the washed floors, where the lamps are already burning and beyond open windows makes noise from
falling drops and the abandoned garden smells wildly. The schoolgirl sits in a chair,
cross-legged, and reads Turgenev. An old cat roams the rooms, and his ear
shudders nervously as he listens for the clatter of knives in the kitchen.
The steamer goes down the river, catches up with a rain cloud that has closed
half the sky. The schoolgirl looks after the steamer, and her eyes become misty,
large.
And around the town, disheveled rye fields get wet day and night.
In the painting "Above Eternal Peace" the poetry of a rainy day is expressed with even greater
by force. The painting was painted on the shores of Lake Udomlya in the Tver province.
None of the artists before Levitan conveyed with such sad force
immeasurable gave Russian bad weather. It is so calm and solemn that one feels
like greatness.
***
Tikhonov stood in thought at the window, then cautiously went down and
went to the palace park.
I didn't want to sleep. It was impossible to read in the scattered splendor of the white night,
as it was impossible to turn on the light. The electric fire seemed noisy. He
as if stopping the slow flow of the night, destroying the secrets that have curled up,
like invisible furry beasts, in the corners of the room, did things unpleasantly
real than they really were.
A greenish half-light froze in the alleys. Gilded statues gleamed.
The fountains were silent at night, their quick rustle was not heard. Only fell
separate drops of water, and their splashing carried very far.
The stone stairs near the palace were illuminated by the dawn: a yellowish light
fell to the ground, reflected from the walls and windows.
The palace shone through the obscure darkness of the trees, like a lonely
the golden leaf glows in early autumn through the thick, still fresh and dark foliage.
Tikhonov went along the canal to the bay. In the channel between overgrown mud
small fish swam on the rocks.
The bay was clean and calm. Silence lay over him. The sea is not yet
woke up. Only the pink reflection of the water foreshadowed the approaching sunrise.
sun.
The ocean steamer was heading towards Leningrad. The dawn was already burning in his
portholes, and light smoke trailed astern.
The steamer trumpeted, welcoming the great northern city, the end of the difficult
sea route. Far away in Leningrad, where the spire was already glowing with pale gold
Admiralty, another steamer answered him with a long cry.
There were boats in the canal. The pre-dawn wind blew from the sea and
moved the leaves overhead. QUEEN OF SUMMER
An amazing aroma is poured through the streets of the city, along its boulevards.
The breeze will blow, the green crowns will sway a little - and the wave will hit harder
honey freshness. The fragrant time has come when the lindens are in blossom, pointing to
imperceptibly approaching the height of summer.
Linden is the oldest companion of the city. Entire cities have grown up
linden trees named after her - Lipetsk, Liepaja. Leipzig. BUT
how many Podlipok villages in Russia!
There are many legends, fairy tales and legends about this tree. Linden age,
indifferent to the passage of time, distrustful even of the coming of spring, the ancient
poetic image of the Slavs, a symbol of peace and tranquility.
Lipa is a whole forest pharmacy. Folk wisdom has been able to unravel
numerous medicinal secrets of this tree. For help to him
are treated for a variety of ailments: coughs, colds, sore throats, burns,
headaches, etc. And lime honey! It is a pantry of various vitamins,
a remedy for many diseases, but the main carrier of pharmacological
properties - lime leaf. However, it must be skillfully collected and dried,
otherwise you will damage the tree, and you will not receive the expected benefit for yourself.
Wood is for everyone. That's why it grows in a red place - under the window, at
houses along the street. And everywhere the linden is held in high esteem. In the city her slender trunks and
shady crowns adorn avenues and boulevards, squares and old parks.
Here, lindens are a tree of comfort, bringing beauty and health.
Linden is one of the true wonders of nature. SATURDAY
Cleaning the factory... Golden thought! And so the noisy fuss began in the workshops.
Hundreds of volunteers were stranded, scraped, cleaned. Soot escaped from the walls
soapy water streams. Glass creaked, washed with chalk. To the weaving hall
dragged light winches. With the help of them to the ceilings were raised
long cradles. Younger weavers. laughing, joking,
rubbed the humps of glass roofs with chalk, rubbed and rejoiced that
the half-sighted frames would surely see clearly, it would become lighter in the workshop.
How good you are, common, voluntary, disinterested work! How can you
you capture a person, make him feel like the owner of everything,
that surrounds him, the owner of his factory, his city, all his
boundless land! You awaken extraordinary powers, and all the best in a person
starts to grow and flourish. There were songs here and there. At first timid, barely
audible, they sound louder and wider, and now fervent choirs
workers, as if competing with each other, are gaining strength. no one
gotta hurry. The powerful, invigorating spirit of competition captured people. Even
the most lazy and negligent are shaken and carried by its mighty stream. Like this
everything reminds Anna of her youth, her subbotnik youthful years!
Touched, she looks around the front of the work and thinks: you see, as if your
clean the apartment for the holiday, my dears! ***
I love the road. Most of all, for the fact that she calls to see the flower
patterns of meadows and river valleys, snow-capped mountains and raging
waves of the sea. The road is a constant novelty of impressions. Road like life
it always leads to the future. It is joyful to feel that something is ahead of you
expects. “The most valuable quality in life is eternally young curiosity, not
weary with age and reborn every morning,” said Romain Rolland.
The contemplation of novelty is perhaps the most powerful and wonderful feeling,
inseparable from life.
Travelers are different. Some are attracted by the liveliest,
crowded places, others - reserved corners of nature. One is interested
to inspect ancient monuments and take pictures of sights,
others - to wander along the unknown paths of the immense native land.
The beauty of nature is a cure for mental trauma, for bodily
ailments and accumulated fatigue. In our age of high noise and
high-speed loads a person can really relax and restore
forces only visiting nature.
Traveling alone through native expanses is a good opportunity
take your time to reflect on your life. On the road, they easily and calmly run one after another.
another thought.
To go on a long journey means to test your
strength, endurance, resourcefulness. Real rest is not the same as
peace and idleness. Rest is a healthy and natural load, which
our organism is initially configured. ***
I settled on the banks of the Oka and gradually began to forget the city life.
civilization, noisy streets and highways. The poetry of nature fascinated me.
Fishermen love to meet the morning dawn and see off the evening sunset: in
during these hours the fish are especially hungry and gluttonous, they bite well. Waking up
a little light, I can barely make out the arrows on the dial of my wristwatch.
A veil of fog spreading over the Oka portends a clear morning. most
the river is not visible, it is only guessed in the fuzzy outlines of curly
thickets of coastal willows. In summer, the fish stay closer to the shore and
hears any noise. I quietly make my way through the coastal bushes. Sleeves
and the hood of the jacket get wet quickly. Trying to get comfortable
I lay out fishing utensils on the grass. Hard grass is crushed.
I scoop up water for live bait fish with a bucket, unhurriedly unwind the fishing line,
I put a worm on the hook and cast the bait. float smoothly
lays down on the water. Suddenly, the rod bends, the line is pulled by a string. I
pulled up - a striped perch jumped out of the water.
Morning begins. The East lights up. On the bright pink horizon
the edge of a hot, burning disk appears, and everything around for a short while
freezes. The prim water lilies smile sunbeams. Over the water
across the plain, chasing each other, dragonflies dive with a slight noise.
Every sound, rustle or whisper only enhances the silence of the morning. But here in
bushes leaning over the Oka, the morning concert of those who took refuge in
green pichug. Listening to the harmonious combination of their voices, I
looked at the river. ***
For many days I roamed the Urals. One autumn day I happened to spend the night at
familiar old man on Lake Urzhenskoye, located in the mountains.
The old man at the stove is busy with the samovar. Finally we sit down to drink tea. I
I ask the old man about the hare. Rybak likes to talk and willingly tells
me an interesting story.
This hare saved the old man's life during a forest fire. old fisherman
protects him now and never parted with him.
One day, it dawned a little, grandfather went hunting and climbed into the thick of
the woods. Suddenly he sees smoke, hears a crack. Grandfather realized that a forest fire was starting.
Gusts of wind drive the fire at high speed.
If you don't get out of the forest, you will die. We must try to escape. Old man
running, stumbling, breathing with difficulty. We have to hurry because the fire
grows. The branches of the trees are prickly, the branches on the ground are tearing boots, falling
trees. The old man loses his way, gets scared.
Suddenly take it and jump out from under the bush bunny and rush to run along
road. His paws are singed, he runs slowly. Grandpa tries to keep up
hare. He knows that the animals better than a man understand in the direction
the spread of fire and are usually saved. The old man was not mistaken: the hare brought him out
from fire. Having got out of the forest, both were barely breathing from fatigue.
The old man took the hare to him, cured him, and since then they have been living big.
friends. ***
Very few people understand the life of birds as well as
my uncle. This is probably why my most vivid childhood memories are connected with
birds.
Walking one day in the forest, my uncle and I found a chick that fell out of the nest.
There was a colony of thrushes all around. Despite the desperate cries of old birds, uncle
easily caught the chick and threw it into the air. Chick waved
wings, helplessly flew a little, poked into the ground and huddled under
bush of grass.
Uncle took me aside. For ten minutes we watched
chick from the bushes. But adult birds did not fly up to him. Chick
continued to sit on the ground and announced its existence with a faint squeak.
Then the uncle decided to take the chick home to nurse him. Very soon
the young thrush became completely tame, and he lost all fear of
people and always joyfully rushed to meet us.
My uncle was a perfect birder and often took me with
himself when he went to the forest in search of winged singers. During one of
such trips uncle went quite far ahead, and I slowly trudged behind,
because I was staring at everything that seemed interesting to me along the way.
Suddenly, a brown bird fluttered out from under a bush of bird cherry, on which I
I would not have paid attention if she had not suddenly started to sing.
DICTATION.
9 CLASS.
annual control dictation

Mikhailovsky park
I have traveled almost the whole country, I have seen many places that are amazing and heartbreaking, but none of them possessed such a sudden lyrical power as Mikhailovskoye. It was deserted and quiet there. There were clouds above. Below them, over the green hills, over the lakes, along the paths of a hundred-year-old park, shadows passed.
Mikhailovsky Park - a hermit's shelter. This is a park where it's hard to have fun. It is made for solitude and reflection. He is a little gloomy with his age-old fir trees, tall, silent and imperceptibly passes into the same majestic, like himself, century-old desert forests. Only on the outskirts of the park, through the twilight that is always present under the arches of old trees, will suddenly open a clearing overgrown with brilliant buttercups, and a pond with still water.
The main charm of Mikhailovsky Park is in the cliff above Sorotya and in the house of the nanny Arina Rodionovna ... The house is so small and touching that it’s even scary to climb its dilapidated porch.
And from the cliff above Sorotya you can see two blue lakes, a wooded hill and our eternal modest sky with clouds sleeping on it...

DICTATION.
9 CLASS.
control dictation for the second quarter
with a grammar task

The fate of man
War thunderstorms died down, and for more than ten years our people had been building a peaceful life, when M.A. Sholokhov again turned to military theme. Reading it short story titled "The Fate of a Man", and the heart shrinks from the unbridled narration, which is led by an experienced driver, a soldier who has passed the most terrible trials.
Two years in German death camps. Escape when there was no longer the strength to fight for life. But on native land Andrey Sokolov is waiting for new blows. He learns that his wife and daughters were killed during the bombing, and his son went to no one knows where. Shortly before the end of the war, Andrei finds his son in order to lose him on the last war day.
And now a middle-aged man who has lost everything that makes up the meaning of life meets a tiny defenseless creature. The one who endured so much of his own did not become hardened in soul, did not become indifferent to the grief of others. Vanyushka became everything for Andrey. And the old soldier lives for his new son, so that a six-year-old child will never again feel like an orphan.

grammar task:
In the second paragraph, find all NGNs, determine the type of subordinate clauses.

DICTATION.
9 CLASS.
control dictation for the first half of the year

Forest Lake
Behind the roadside bush rose mixed forest. On the left side, black water gleamed mysteriously. We were only waiting for the path to rush along it into the depths of the forest and find out what was there. And here is the path.
Before we had time to take two hundred steps along it, a boisterous, angry yelping of a little dog stopped us. Not far away stood the forester's hut.
The forester invited us into the house and wanted to make arrangements for the table. But we said that we did not need anything and that we turned off the main road solely to find out what kind of water glittered between the trees.
The water began about fifty paces from the threshold, but much lower than it, since the house stood on a hillock. The narrow boat on which we boarded was so light that, under the weight of four people, it sank to the very edges of the water. The lake of extraordinary beauty surrounded us. The dark green oaks and lindens that lined the lake shores were clearly reflected in the still water. Rare and clear, like stars, flowers of white lilies rested on the water. Each flower was set off so sharply by the blackness of the lake mirror that we usually noticed it two hundred, three hundred meters away.

(According to V. Soloukhin) 170 words

REPETITION
SYNTAX AND PUNCTUATION OF A SIMPLE SENTENCE

On the porch of my house, a strange red-haired huge cat was sleeping.
Exhausted by the sun, he leaned back against the door and sniffed. I coughed. The cat opened its eyes. And this, I will tell you, was a terrible eye, quite a gangster one. Emerald and azure burned in it.
Looking around me, dousing me with azure, dousing me with emerald, the peephole closed.
"Let me pass," I said.
The cat didn't move.
"You're wrong," I remarked as gently as possible. - Well, you see, this is my house, recently acquired on the occasion. Where do I get that kind of money, you ask? I worked, dear. Worked at night, over-ry-va-yas! Let me go to your property."
While I was carrying this rubbish, the cat opened both eyes, listening to me with interest. At the word "over-ry-wa-yas" he stood up, stretched and stepped aside, freeing the passage. I opened the door.
"Please," I said. "Please, come in."
Leaving me ahead, the cat came in next.
"Sit down," I suggested. "Here's the stove, here's the stool."
The guest looked at the stove and the stool, and, noticing a sunspot falling from the window on the floor, he lounged in it with pleasure.
I sat down at the table and got busy with some business, but it didn’t work out. The fire bandit on the floor distracted me. I took out a brush and watercolor and said: "One sketch ... raise your head." The cat opened its eyes and raised its head, and I began to draw it.
The sunspot moved across the floor, toward sunset.
The cat backed away, moving after the spot, and my drawing backed up behind him.
The solar movement did not interfere with me. The redhead kept his posture, did not lower his head. It seems that he understood that drawing cats is a responsible matter in our time, an important matter.
When a spot of sunshine climbed onto the wall, I finished my work and said: "That's enough for today."
The cat rose to its feet, stretched, stretched, briefly assessed the drawing, murmured something, like "not bad", and, without saying goodbye, went out.
(According to Yu. Koval)
(270 words)

Additional task:
Write out a proposal with an appeal and parse it by members.
Make up a sentence with direct speech.

RUSSIAN DICTION FOR GRADE 9
COMPOUND SENTENCE

CHRISTMAS EVE

The last day before Christmas has passed, and a clear winter night has come. The stars looked, and the moon rose majestically into the sky to shine kind people and to the whole world, so that everyone would have fun caroling and glorifying Christ. It was freezing colder than in the morning, but it was so quiet that the creak of frost under a boot could be heard half a verst away. Not a single crowd of lads has yet shown under the windows of the huts. The moon alone peeped furtively into them, as if urging the dressed-up girls to run out into the creaky snow as soon as possible. Then, through the chimney of one hut, smoke fell in clubs and went in a cloud across the sky. Along with the smoke rose a witch riding a broomstick.
Meanwhile, the witch rose so high that she flashed a single black speck at the top.
(According to N. Gogol)
(110 words)

Additional task:
Write out a complex sentence and draw up its scheme.
Circle the conjunctions that connect simple sentences as part of compound sentences.

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PART EIGHT I A warm wind blew from the south for two days. The last snow has fallen on the fields. Foamy spring streams died down, steppe logs and rivers played out. At the dawn of the third day, the wind died down, and thick fogs fell over the steppe, the bushes of last year's feather grass turned silver with moisture, mounds, gullies, villages, spiers of bell towers, the tops of pyramidal poplars soaring upwards drowned in an impenetrable whitish haze. A blue spring has risen over the wide Don steppe. On a foggy morning, Aksinya went out onto the porch for the first time since her recovery and stood for a long time, intoxicated by the sweet sweetness of the fresh spring air. Overcoming nausea and dizziness, she reached the well in the garden, put down the bucket, sat down on the well frame. Another, miraculously renewed and seductive, the world appeared before her. With sparkling eyes, she looked around excitedly, childishly fingering the folds of her dress. The distance shrouded in mist, the apple trees in the garden flooded with melt water, the wet fence and the road behind it with the last year's deeply washed ruts - everything seemed to her unprecedentedly beautiful, everything bloomed with thick and delicate colors, as if illuminated by the sun. A patch of clear sky peeping through the mist blinded her with a cold blue; the smell of rotten straw and thawed black soil was so familiar and pleasant that Aksinya sighed deeply and smiled with the corners of her lips; the uncomplicated song of a lark, coming from somewhere out of the foggy steppe, awakened an unconscious sadness in her. It was she - the song heard in a foreign land - that made Aksinya's heart beat faster and squeezed two mean tears out of her eyes ... Thoughtlessly enjoying the life that had returned to her, Aksinya felt a great desire to touch everything with her hands, to look around everything. She wanted to touch the currant bush blackened by dampness, to press her cheek against the branch of an apple tree covered with a bluish velvety bloom, she wanted to step over the ruined fence and go through the mud, without roads, to where, beyond the wide log, the winter field was fabulously green, merging with the foggy distance, the winter field .. Aksinya spent several days waiting for Grigory to appear, but then she learned from neighbors who came to the owner that the war was not over, that many Cossacks from Novorossiysk left by sea for the Crimea, and those who remained went to the Red Army and to the mines. By the end of the week, Aksinya was determined to go home, and then she soon found a companion. One evening, without knocking, a small, round-shouldered old man entered the hut. He bowed silently and began to unbutton his dirty, baggy English overcoat, which had been torn at the seams. - What is it, kind person, you didn’t say “hello”, but are you settling down for residence? - asked the owner, looking with amazement at the intruder. And he quickly took off his overcoat, shook it at the threshold, carefully hung it on a hook, and, stroking his short-cropped gray beard, smiling, said: ask to rest, otherwise they will not let you in. The people have become rude now, the guests are not happy ... - Where are we going to put you? You see, we live closely, - the owner said more peacefully. - I need a place with a gulkin nose. Here, at the threshold, I will curl up and fall asleep. - Who will you be, grandfather? Refugee? - inquired the hostess. - That's it, the refugee is. I ran, I ran, I ran to the sea, but now I’m slowly going from there, I got tired of running something ... - answered the talkative old man, squatting at the threshold. - And who is this? From where? - continued to ask the owner. The old man took out large tailor's scissors from his pocket, turned them over in his hands and, still with the same smile that never left his lips, said: - Here is a document according to my rank, I am sent with him from Novorossiysk itself, and I come from afar, because of the Veshenskaya village . I go there, drinking salt water in the sea. “And I’m from Veshenskaya, grandfather,” said Aksinya, flushing with joy. - Say mercy! exclaimed the old man. - That's where the village girl had a chance to meet! Although in modern times this is not outlandish: we are at once, like Jews, scattered over the face of the earth. In the Kuban, it's like this: throw a stick at a dog, and you'll hit a Don Cossack. Ponavtykano them everywhere - you won’t get it, but how many are buried in the ground - and even more. I've seen enough, dear people, all sorts of things for this retreat. What need the people are waving, and you can’t tell! The day before yesterday I was sitting at the station, next to me a noble woman in glasses was sitting, looking out for lice through her glasses. And they walk along it. And now she removes them with her fingers, and she herself frowns as if she had bitten through a forest apple. He starts to crush this poor louse - he frowns even more, he takes it all upside down, she is so disgusted! And the other hard rock kills a person and does not frown, does not squint. In my presence, one such fellow hacked to death three Kalmyks, and then wiped his saber on a horse's mane, took out a cigarette, lit a cigarette, drove up to me and asked: "What did you do, grandfather, hatched peepers? Do you want me to chop off your head?" - "What are you, I say, son, God bless you! Cut off my head, but then how am I going to chew bread?" He laughed and drove off. - It is easier to kill a person to another, which hand he broke in this case, than to crush a louse. A man has fallen in price for the revolution, - thoughtfully inserted the owner. - True word! - confirmed the guest. - Man - he is not a beast, he gets used to everything. So I ask this woman: "Who will you be? In appearance, you seem to be not simple." She looked at me, she washed her face with tears. "I am the wife of General Meyer Grechikhin." Here's to you, I think, general, here's your Mayer, and lice - like fleas on a mangy cat! And I say to her: "You, Your Excellency, if you, I'm sorry, will translate your insect bugs like that, then you will have enough work to cover. And you will break off your claws. Crush them all at once!" - "How so?" - asks. I advised her: "Take off, I say, clothes, spread them on a solid place, and a bottle of them." I looked: my general’s wife was raking and - behind the pump, I looked: she was rolling a bottle of green glass around her shirt, but it’s so cool, like, tell me, she rolled it all her life! I showed off at her and thought: God has a lot of everything, he sent boogers on noble people, let them, they say, they will suck their sweet blood, not all of them revel in labor blood ... God - he is not Mikishka! He knows his business. Sometimes he gets kinder to people and orders so correctly that you can’t imagine better ... Chatting incessantly and seeing that the owners listen to him with great attention, the tailor deftly hinted that he could tell a lot more entertaining, but he was so hungry, that put him to sleep. After supper, pulling himself up to sleep, he asked Aksinya: - And you, village girl, how long are you thinking of staying here? - I'm going home, grandpa. - Well, let's go with me together, everything will be more fun. Aksinya willingly agreed, and the next morning, saying goodbye to the owners, they left the village of Novo-Mikhailovsky, lost in the steppe. On the twelfth day at night they came to the village of Milyutinskaya. They begged to spend the night in a large, rich-looking house. In the morning, Aksin'in's companion decided to stay for a week in the village, to rest and heal his legs, pounded to the blood. He could not go further. Tailoring work was found for him in the house, and the old man, bored with business, quickly perched at the window, took out scissors and glasses tied with a string, and quickly began to rip open some rags. Saying goodbye to Aksinya, the old joker and merry fellow crossed her and unexpectedly shed tears, but immediately wiped away his tears, with his usual playfulness, said: yes, there’s nothing to do, go alone, daughter, your guide has gone limp on all legs at once, they must have fed him barley bread somewhere. .. And even then, we marched decently, for my seventy years old, even too much. There will be a chance - tell my old woman that her blue dove is alive and well, and they pounded him in a mortar, and crushed him in a pulper, and he is still alive, he sews trousers for good people on the go and that he can’t see it home ... So tell her : the old fool, they say, has finished retreating and is advancing back to the house, he doesn’t have tea when he gets to the stove ... Aksinya spent a few more days on the road. From Bokovskaya I drove to Tatarsky on a passing cart. Late in the evening she entered the wide-open gate of her yard, looked at the Melekhovsky hut and choked with sobs that suddenly came to her throat ... oven, sat down at the table, dropping her hands on her knees. Lost in thought, she did not hear the door creak, and woke up when Ilyinichna, entering, said quietly: - Well, hello, neighbor! For a long time you were lost in foreign lands... Aksinya looked at her in fright and stood up. Why are you staring at me and being silent? Did Al bring bad news? - Ilyinichna slowly approached the table, sat down on the edge of the bench, not taking her inquisitive gaze off Aksinya's face. "No, what news do I have... I didn't expect you, I was thinking about something and didn't hear you come in..." Aksinya said in confusion. - You have lost weight, in which the soul rests. - She was in typhoid ... - Grigory is ours ... How is he ... Where did you part with him? Is he alive? Aksinya spoke briefly. Ilyinichna listened to her, without uttering a word, in the end she asked: - When he left you, did he not go sick? No, he didn't get sick. "And you haven't heard anything more about him?" - Not. Ilyinichna sighed with relief: - Well, thank you for your kind words. And here on the farm they are telling lies about him... - What is it? Aksinya asked in a barely audible voice. - So, empty ... You can't hear everyone. Of the farmsteads, only Vanka Beskhlebnov returned. He saw Grisha sick in Katerinodar, but I do not believe others! - What do they say, grandmother? - We heard that some Cossack girl from the Singinsky farm said that the Reds killed Grisha in the Novorossiysk city. I went on foot to Singin - my mother's heart can't stand it - I found this Cossack girl. He renounced. And he did not see, he says, and did not hear. Isho rumor got around that he had been put in prison and there he died of typhus... Ilyinichna lowered her eyes and was silent for a long time, examining her knobby heavy hands. The flabby face of the old woman was calm, her lips were sternly pursed, but suddenly somehow a cherry blush appeared on her swarthy cheekbones, and her eyelids trembled slightly. She glanced at Aksinya with dry, wildly burning eyes, and said hoarsely: "But I don't believe it!" It can't be that I lost last son ! God has nothing to punish me for... I have only a little time left to live... I don't have much left to live, and the goryushka sipped too much without it!... Grisha is alive! My heart does not speak, which means that he is alive, my dear! Aksinya silently turned away. There was silence in the kitchen for a long time, then the wind flung open the door to the hallway, and it became audible how hollow water roared behind the Don in the poplars and the wild geese called to one another anxiously in the flood. Aksinya closed the door and leaned against the stove. "Don't worry about him, grandma," she said softly. - Can such sickness overcome? It is strong, like iron. These don't die. He rode all the way in the bitter cold without gloves ... - Did he remember the kids? Ilyinichna asked wearily. - And he remembered about you and the kids. Are they healthy? - Healthy, what can they do. And our Pantelei Prokofich died in the retreat. We were left alone... Aksinya silently crossed herself, marveling at the calmness with which the old woman announced her husband's death. Leaning on the table, Ilyinichna stood up heavily: - I stayed up at your place, and it's already night at the base. - Sit down, grandma. - Dunya is alone there, you have to go. - Adjusting the scarf on her head, she looked around the kitchen, winced: - The smoke from the stove is coming. It was necessary to let someone live when I left. Well, goodbye! - And, having already taken hold of the door bracket, without looking back, she said: - If you settle down, come to us, visit us. Maybe you will hear something about Gregory - say. From that day on, relations between the Melekhovs and Aksinya changed dramatically. Anxiety for the life of Gregory, as it were, brought them together and made them related. The next morning, Dunyashka, seeing Aksinya in the yard, called out to her, went up to the wattle fence and, embracing Aksinya's thin shoulders, smiled at her affectionately and simply: - Oh, you've lost weight, Ksyusha! Some mosolchiki remained. “You will lose weight from such a life,” Aksinya smiled in response, looking at the ruddy girl's face blooming with mature beauty, not without inner envy. - Did you have a mother yesterday? Dunyashka asked in a whisper for some reason. - Was. - I thought that she went to you. Did you ask about Grisha? - Yes. - Didn't she scream? - No, she's a tough old woman. Dunya, looking trustingly at Aksinya, said: “It would be better if she shouted, everything would be easier for her ... You know, Ksyusha, she has become somehow wonderful this winter, not the same as she used to be. When she heard about her father, I thought that her heart would go into a flurry, I was frightened terribly, but she did not even shed a tear. She only said: "The kingdom of heaven to him, he was exhausted, my dear ..." And until the evening she did not chat with anyone. I approached her this way and that, but she waves her hand away and is silent. That's the passion I got on that day! And in the evening I removed the cattle, came from the farmyard and asked her: "Mom, we will have a supper, why cook?" Her heart sank, she spoke... - Dunya sighed and, looking thoughtfully somewhere over Aksinya's shoulder, asked: - Is our Gregory dead? Are they talking right? - I don't know, honey. Dunyashka glanced searchingly at Aksinya from the side, and sighed even more deeply. - Mom for him, well, clean, yearned all! She does not call him otherwise: "my youngest." And he does not believe that he is not alive. And you know, Ksyusha, if she finds out that he really died, she herself will die of longing. Life has already departed from her, she has one clue - Grigory. She became somehow unwelcome to her grandchildren, and at work - everything falls out of her hands ... You think, in one year there are four of us in the family ... Moved by compassion, Aksinya reached over the wattle fence, hugged Dunyashka, kissed her tightly her on the cheek. - Keep your mother busy, my dear, don't let her grieve too much. - What are you going to do with her? - Dunyashka wiped her eyes with the tip of her handkerchief, asked: - Come to us, chat with her, everything will be easier for her. You have nothing to fear from us! - I'll go sometime, I'll definitely go! - I must go to the fields tomorrow. We huddled with Anikushka's woman, we want to sow at least two tithes of wheat. Don't you think to sow yourself? "What a sower I am," Aksinya smiled mirthlessly. - Not on anything, and not to anything. I don’t need enough alone, I’ll live like that. - What do you hear about your Stepan? - But nothing, - Aksinya answered indifferently and unexpectedly said to herself: - I'm not very dry on him. - Unintentionally broken confession embarrassed her, and she, covering her embarrassment, hastily said: - Well, goodbye, girl, I'll go clean up the kuren. Pretending as if she hadn't noticed Aksinya's confusion, Dunyashka looked to the side and said: The earth is drying up, I'm afraid we won't manage, but there are only two Cossacks left in the whole farm, and those are cripples. Aksinya willingly agreed, and a contented Dunyashka went to get ready. All day she was actively preparing for the departure: with the help of Anikushkina's widow, she sowed the grain, somehow corrected the harrows, lubricated the wheels of the arba, adjusted the seeder. And in the evening she scooped up peeled wheat into a scarf and took it to the cemetery, sprinkled the graves of Peter, Natalya and Daria, so that in the morning the birds would fly to their native graves. In her childish simplicity, she believed that the merry chirping of birds would be heard by the dead and make them happy. .. Only before dawn was silence established over Obdon. The water cooed dully in the flooded forest, washing over the pale green trunks of the poplars, swaying the sunken tops of the oak bushes and young aspen trees in a measured manner; the panicles of reeds tilted by the jet rustled in flooded lakes; on the flood, in the deaf pools, where the hollow water, reflecting the twilight light of the starry sky, stood motionless, as if spellbound, the geese called to one another, sleepily whistled teal drakes, and occasionally sounded the silver trumpet voices of migrating swans that had spent the night in the wild. Sometimes fish splashed in the darkness, fattening in the open; an unsteady wave rolled far over the water, dotted with golden reflections, and the warning cackle of a disturbed bird was heard. And again silence enveloped Obdonye. But with the dawn, when the chalky spurs of the mountains were only slightly pink, a low wind rose. Thick and powerful, it blew against the current. Fathom waves bulged along the Don, the water in the forest bubbled furiously, the trees groaned, swaying. The wind roared all day and died down in the dead of night. This weather continued for several days. A lilac haze hung over the steppe. The earth was drying up, the grasses stopped growing, and sastrugi began to fall through the chill. The soil was weathered every hour, and there were almost no people to be seen on the fields of the Tatarsky farm. A few ancient old men remained in the whole farm, the Cossacks, unable to work, frostbite and sick, returned from the retreat, only women and teenagers worked in the field. The wind whipped pollen across the depopulated farm, banged the shutters of the huts, stirred up the straw on the roofs of the sheds. “We’ll be without bread this year,” the old people said. “Only women in the fields, and even then they sow in three yards. bull pond. Near the dam, holding a saddled horse, stood a ten-year-old boy Obnizov. The horse chewed with its lips, drops fell from its gray velvety snores, and the dismounted rider amused himself: he threw lumps of dry clay into the water, watched the circles disperse in the water. - Where are you going, Vanyatka? Aksinya asked. - Harchi brought his mother. - Well, what is there in the farm? - Nothing. Grandfather Gerasim caught a healthy carp in the ventery this night. And Fyodor Melnikov came from the retreat. Rising up on tiptoe, the boy bridled the horse, took a strand of mane in his hands and jumped onto the saddle with devilish dexterity. From the pond he rode - like a sensible master - at a pace, but after a little glance back at Aksinya and galloped so that a faded blue shirt bulged on his back. While the bulls were drinking, Aksinya lay down on the dam and immediately decided to go to the farm. Melnikov was a serving Cossack, and he must have known something about Grigory's fate. Having driven the bulls to the camp, Aksinya said to Dunyashka: - I'm going to the farm, and tomorrow I'll come early. - Is there a case? - A business. The next morning Aksinya returned. She went up to Dunyashka, who was harnessing the bulls, carelessly waving a twig, but her eyebrows were knitted, and bitter folds lay at the corners of her lips. - Fedor Melnikov came. I went and asked him about Gregory. He doesn’t know anything,” she said shortly and, turning abruptly, went to the seeder. After sowing, Aksinya set about farming: she planted watermelons on melons, smeared and whitewashed the chicken, and herself - as best she could - covered the roof of the shed with the remnants of straw. Days passed in work, but anxiety for Grigory's life did not leave Aksinya for an hour. Aksinya remembered Stepan with reluctance, and for some reason it seemed to her that he would not return, but when one of the Cossacks came to the farm, she first asked: "Have you seen my Stepan?" - and only then, carefully and gradually, she tried to find out something about Gregory. Everyone in the farm knew about their connection. Even the gossip-hungry women ceased to gossip about them, but Aksinya was ashamed to express her feelings, and only occasionally, when the stingy serviceman did not mention Grigory, she, screwing up her eyes and visibly embarrassed, asked: “But our neighbor, Grigory Panteleevich, is not Mother worries about him, all dried up ... "None of the farm Cossacks saw either Grigory or Stepan after the surrender of the Don Army in Novorossiysk. And only at the end of June, Stepan's colleague from the Kolundaevsky farm, who was making his way across the Don, came to Aksinya. It was he who told her: - Stepan left for the Crimea, I tell you the right word. I myself saw how he was loaded onto the ship. I didn't have to chat with him. The crush was such that they walked over their heads. - To the question about Gregory, he answered evasively: - I saw him on the pier, he was in uniform, but after that it was not a good idea to see him. Many officers were taken to Moscow, who knows where he is at the moment ... And a week later, the wounded Prokhor Zykov showed up in Tatarsky. He was brought from the Millerovo station on a philistine cart. Hearing about this, Aksinya stopped milking the cow, let the heifer go to her and, covering herself with a scarf on the move, hurriedly walked, almost ran to the Zykov base: “Prokhor knows, he must know! alive? How am I then?" she thought on her way, and every minute she slowed her steps more and more, pressing her hand to her heart, afraid to hear the black news. Prokhor met her in the room, smiling broadly, hiding behind his back the stubby stump of his left arm. - Hello, one-bag! Great! I live to see you! And we already thought that you gave oak in this village. Oh, and it was hard for you to lie ... Well, how does he, typhoid, preen your brother? And you see me, how white Poles treated me, they had a drawbar in their mouth! - Prokhor showed an empty, knotted sleeve of a protective tunic. - My wife saw it, she screams in tears, and I tell her: “Don’t cry, fool, it tears off the heads of others, and even then they don’t take offense, but the hand is important! her - the blood will not go. The trouble is that he has not learned, girl, to manage affairs with one hand. I won’t fasten my pants - and the Sabbath! From Kyiv itself to the house I rode with an unbuttoned coat. What a shame! So excuse me, if you notice a mess behind me ... Well, come in, sit down, you will be a guest. Let's talk while my grandmother is gone. Equipped her, Anchichrist, for moonshine. The husband arrived with a severed arm, and she had nothing to congratulate him with. All of you are without husbands, I know you, wet-tailed devils, to the subtleties! - You would say... - I know, I'll tell you. He told me how to bow. - Prokhor bowed jokingly, raised his head and moved his eyebrows in surprise: - That's it for you! Why are you crying, stupid? All you women are so twisted and twisted. If they kill - they scream, if he remains alive - they scream again. Wipe yourself, wipe yourself off, why are you snotty? I tell you, alive and healthy, I ate my face in what! Together with him in Novorossiysk, they entered the Cavalry Army of Comrade Budyonny, in the Fourteenth Division. Our Grigory Pantelevich took a hundred, that is, a squadron, I, of course, am with him, and went in marching order near Kyiv. Well, girl, and we gave devils to these white Poles! We went there, Grigory Pantelevich and said: "He chopped the Germans, tried the broadsword on all sorts of Austrians, do the Poles really have stronger shards? It seems to me that it is easier to cut them than your own - Russians, what do you think?" - and winks at me, grins. He changed, as he entered the Red Army, he became cheerful of himself, smooth as a gelding. Well, we did not manage without a family scandal ... Once I drove up to him and I say jokingly: "It's time to become a halt, your honor - Comrade Melekhov!" He rolled his eyes at me, saying: "You throw these jokes at me, otherwise it will be bad." In the evening, on some business, he calls me, and the devil pulled me to call him "nobility" again ... How he grabs the Mauser! He turned white all over, grinned like a wolf, and his mouth was full of teeth, at least a hundred. I am a horse under the belly and move away from it. He didn’t kill for a little, that’s what a devil! “Well, maybe he’s on vacation ...” Aksinya began to hint. And you can't think! - cut off Prokhor. - He says I will serve until I atone for my past sins. He will do this - a simple fool's business ... Near one place, he led us on the attack. Before my very eyes, he cut down four of their lancers. He, damned, was left-handed from childhood, so he got them from both sides ... After the battle, Budyonny himself, before the ranks, handled him, and there was gratitude to the squadron and him. Here he throws out what bowlers, your Pantelevich! Aksinya listened as if in a daze ... She came to her senses only at the Melekhov gate. In the passage Dunyashka was sipping milk; Without raising her head, she asked: - Are you looking for sourdough? And I promised to bring, and forgot. - But, looking into Aksinya's eyes, wet with tears, shining with happiness, she understood everything without words. Pressing her burning face against her shoulder, breathless with joy, Aksinya whispered: - Alive and healthy ... I sent you a bow ... Go on! Go tell your mother!

Which is correct: during the day or during the day? This question is asked by many students. high school. An exhaustive answer to it can be obtained from the presented article.

general information

Summing up

Now you know in which cases the letter “and” should be written at the end of the expression “during ...”, and in which - “e”. To remember the described rules, we present them in a shorter form:

1. The letter “e” is always written at the end of the word “during” if it is a complex preposition that means “in a certain period of time”. Such a service part of speech can also be recognized by the fact that it cannot be questioned, but can be easily replaced by a synonym (at the time).

2. At the end of the word “during” the letter “and” is written, if this is a noun in In order to determine this part of speech, it is enough to ask the question to the presented expression: “in what?” - during. Also, between a preposition and a noun, you can easily put a word (for example, in a slow current, in a stormy current, etc.).

Exercises to consolidate the material

To remember the above rules of the Russian language, we recommend that you independently complete the following tasks:

1. Find mistakes in sentences:

Within 14 days I must return to Moscow.
There were many whirlpools along the river.
I will be released within the day.
During my life I have seen a lot.

2. Fill in the gaps in the following sentences:

Why didn't you come to me during the lesson?
Oh, how many months we used these papers, no one knows.
In the turbulent flow of the river, I noticed a man.
Over the course of the year, we fought several times.
During this year, I will definitely visit you.
How was it possible to swim in the strong current of the river?
In the turbulent course of my life there were so many events that you can’t remember everything.

Hello! Please tell me how to write correctly: do not perform an action within 3-5 seconds or within 3-5 seconds

Right: within 3-5 seconds.


	Question #298944

Good afternoon. The preposition "during" does not raise a question. But recently I came across the fact that the text was allegedly rewritten from the original of 1941, and it was written "in the course" there. And they didn't mean the river. Is it possible? Maybe the rules were different then?