THE INDIAN SUMMEROF DRY VALLEY JOHNSONDry Valley Johnson had once been перевод - THE INDIAN SUMMEROF DRY VALLEY JOHNSONDry Valley Johnson had once been английский как сказать

THE INDIAN SUMMEROF DRY VALLEY JOHN

THE INDIAN SUMMEROF DRY VALLEY JOHNSONDry Valley Johnson had once beena sheepman. His real name was Hector, but he had been renamed "Dry Valley" after his ranch, so as to distinguish him from other Johnsons.Many years of sheep breeding wearied Dry Valley Johnson. So he sold his ranch for eighteen thousand dollars and moved to Santa Rosa to live a quiet life. Being a silent and melancholy person of thirty-five—or perhaps thirty-eight —he soon became an elderlyish bachelor with a hobby. Someone gave him a strawberry to eat, and he was done for.Dry Valley bought a small cottage in the village and a library on strawberries. Behind the cottage there was a garden of which he made a strawberry patch. In his old grey woolen shirt, his brown trousers and high boots he lay all day on a canvas cot under an oak tree at his back door and studied books on strawberries.The school teacher, Miss De Witt, spoke of him as "a fine middle-aged man." But Dry Valley was not interested in women. Whenever he met them, he lifted his hat to them and then hurried back to his beloved berries.When his strawberries were beginning to ripen Dry Valley bought the heaviest whip in the Santa Rosa store. For the bright eyes of Santa Rosa youth were watching the ripening berries, and Dry Valley was arming himself against their expected raids. He took much more care' of his beloved fruit than he ever did of his little lambs in his ranching days.In the house next to DryValley's lived a widow with a lot of children. She was Spanish, and had been married to an Irishman, by the name of O'Brien.Between the two gardens ran a fence overgrown with wild vines. Very often Dry Valley could see little heads with black hair and flashing dark eyes looking through the fence, watching the reddening berries.
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THE INDIAN SUMMEROF DRY VALLEY JOHNSON<br>Dry Valley Johnson had once beena sheepman. His real name was Hector, but he had been renamed "Dry Valley" after his ranch, so as to distinguish him from other Johnsons.<br>Many years of sheep breeding wearied Dry Valley Johnson. So he sold his ranch for eighteen thousand dollars and moved to Santa Rosa to live a quiet life. Being a silent and melancholy person of thirty-five—or perhaps thirty-eight —he soon became an elderlyish bachelor with a hobby. Someone gave him a strawberry to eat, and he was done for.<br>Dry Valley bought a small cottage in the village and a library on strawberries. Behind the cottage there was a garden of which he made a strawberry patch. In his old grey woolen shirt, his brown trousers and high boots he lay all day on a canvas cot under an oak tree at his back door and studied books on strawberries.<br>The school teacher, Miss De Witt, spoke of him as "a fine middle-aged man." But Dry Valley was not interested in women. Whenever he met them, he lifted his hat to them and then hurried back to his beloved berries.<br>When his strawberries were beginning to ripen Dry Valley bought the heaviest whip in the Santa Rosa store. For the bright eyes of Santa Rosa youth were watching the ripening berries, and Dry Valley was arming himself against their expected raids. He took much more care' of his beloved fruit than he ever did of his little lambs in his ranching days.<br>In the house next to DryValley's lived a widow with a lot of children. She was Spanish, and had been married to an Irishman, by the name of O'Brien.<br>Between the two gardens ran a fence overgrown with wild vines. Very often Dry Valley could see little heads with black hair and flashing dark eyes looking through the fence, watching the reddening berries.
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THE INDIAN SUMMEROF DRY VALLEY JOHNSON<br>Dry Valley Johnson had once beena sheepman. His real name was Hector, but he had been renamed "Dry Valley" after his ranch, so as to distinguish him from other Johnsons.<br>Many years of sheep breeding wearied Dry Valley Johnson. So he sold his ranch for eighteen thousand dollars and moved to Santa Rosa to live a quiet life. Being a silent and melancholy person of thirty-five—or perhaps thirty-eight —he soon became an elderlyish bachelor with a hobby. Someone gave him a strawberry to eat, and he was done for.<br>Dry Valley bought a small cottage in the village and a library on strawberries. Behind the cottage there was a garden of which he made a strawberry patch. In his old grey woolen shirt, his brown trousers and high boots he lay all day on a canvas cot under an oak tree at his back door and studied books on strawberries.<br>The school teacher, Miss De Witt, spoke of him as "a fine middle-aged man." But Dry Valley was not interested in women. Whenever he met them, he lifted his hat to them and then hurried back to his beloved berries.<br>When his strawberries were beginning to ripen Dry Valley bought the heaviest whip in the Santa Rosa store. For the bright eyes of Santa Rosa youth were watching the ripening berries, and Dry Valley was arming himself against their expected raids. He took much more care' of his beloved fruit than he ever did of his little lambs in his ranching days.<br>In the house next to DryValley's lived a widow with a lot of children. She was Spanish, and had been married to an Irishman, by the name of O'Brien.<br>Between the two gardens ran a fence overgrown with wild vines. Very often Dry Valley could see little heads with black hair and flashing dark eyes looking through the fence, watching the reddening berries.
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干旱河谷的印度夏日<br>干谷约翰逊曾经是比娜·希普曼。他的真名是赫克托,但他已改名为“干谷”后,他的牧场,以便区别于其他约翰逊。<br>多年的养羊劳累了干谷约翰逊。于是他以一万八千美元的价格卖掉了农场,搬到圣罗莎过着平静的生活。作为一个三十五岁或三十八岁的沉默寡言、忧郁的人,他很快就成了一个有爱好的大龄单身汉。有人给他一个草莓吃,他受够了。<br>干谷在村里买了一间小屋和一个草莓图书馆。小屋后面有一个花园,他用它做了一块草莓地。他穿着灰色的旧羊毛衫,棕色的裤子和高筒靴,整天躺在后门橡树下的帆布床上,研究有关草莓的书籍。<br>学校老师德维特小姐说他是“一个优秀的中年男人”,但干谷对女人不感兴趣。每当他遇到他们,他就向他们举起帽子,然后匆匆回到他心爱的浆果。<br>当他的草莓开始成熟时,干谷在圣罗莎商店买了最重的鞭子。因为圣罗莎年轻人明亮的眼睛注视着成熟的浆果,而干燥的山谷正在武装自己对抗他们预期的袭击。他在农场里比以往任何时候都更爱护他心爱的水果。<br>在德莱瓦利隔壁的房子里住着一个寡妇和许多孩子。她是西班牙人,嫁给了一个爱尔兰人,名叫奥布莱恩。<br>两个花园之间有一道长满野生藤蔓的篱笆。干涸的山谷里常常能看到黑发的小脑袋和闪着的黑眼睛透过篱笆望着,看着发红的浆果。<br>
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