Vladimir odoevsky town in a snuffbox. Town in a snuffbox Characteristics of the characters "Town in a snuffbox"

Papa put the snuffbox on the table.

Come here, Misha, look, - he said.

Misha was an obedient boy, he immediately left his toys and went up to papa. Yes, it was something to see! What a lovely snuffbox! Motley, from a turtle. What's on the lid? Gates, turrets, a house, another, third, fourth, and it is impossible to count, and everything is small, small, and all golden; and the trees are also golden, and the leaves on them are silver; and the sun rises behind the trees, and from it pink rays diverge throughout the sky.

What is this town? Misha asked.

This is the town of Ding-Ding, - answered papa and touched the spring ... And what? Suddenly, out of nowhere, music began to play. Where this music came from, Misha could not understand; he went to the door too—isn't it from the other room? And to the clock - isn't it in the clock? and to the bureau, and to the hill; listened first in one place, then in another; He also looked under the table... Finally, Misha was convinced that the music was definitely playing in the snuffbox. He went up to her, looked, and the sun came out from behind the trees, sneaking quietly across the sky, and the sky and the town were getting brighter and brighter; the windows burn with bright fire and from the turrets like a radiance. Here the sun crossed the sky to the other side, lower and lower, and, finally, completely disappeared behind the hillock, and the town darkened, the shutters closed, and the turrets faded, but not for long. Here a star lit up, here another, and here the horned moon peeped out from behind the trees, and it became brighter again in the city, the windows turned silver, and bluish rays stretched from the turrets.

Daddy! papa, is it possible to enter this town? How I wish!

Wise, my friend. This town is not your size.

Nothing, daddy, I'm so small. Just let me in there, I would so much like to know what is going on there ...

Really, my friend, it's crowded there even without you.

But who lives there?

Who lives there? Bells live there.

With these words, papa lifted the lid on the snuffbox, and what did Misha see? And bells, and hammers, and a roller, and wheels. Misha was surprised.

Why these bells? Why hammers? Why a roller with hooks? Misha asked papa.

And papa replied:

I won't tell you, Misha. Take a closer look yourself and think: maybe you can guess. Just don't touch this spring, otherwise everything will break.

Papa went out, and Misha remained over the snuffbox. So he sat over her, looked, looked, thought, thought: why are the bells ringing.

Meanwhile the music plays and plays; now everything is quieter and quieter, as if something is clinging to each note, as if something is pushing one sound away from another. Here Misha looks: at the bottom of the snuff-box the door opens and a boy with a golden head and in a steel skirt runs out of the door, stops on the threshold and beckons Misha to him.

But why, thought Misha, did papa say that it was crowded in this town even without me? No, apparently, good people live in it; You see, they invite me to visit.

Please, with the greatest joy.

With these words, Misha ran to the door and noticed with surprise that the door was exactly the same size for him. As a well-bred boy, he considered it his duty to address his guide first.

Let me ask, - said Misha, - with whom I have the honor to speak?

Ding, ding, ding, answered the stranger. - I am a bell boy, a resident of this town. We heard that you really want to visit us, and therefore we decided to ask you to do us the honor of visiting us. Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

Misha bowed politely; the bell-boy took him by the hand, and they went. Then Misha noticed that above them was a vault made of colorful embossed paper with golden edges. Before them was another vault, only smaller; then the third, even less; the fourth, even smaller, and so all the other vaults, the farther, the smaller, so that it seemed that the head of his escort could hardly pass into the last one.

I am very grateful to you for your invitation,” Misha told him, “but I don’t know if it will be possible for me to use it. True, here I can pass freely, but there further, look at what low vaults you have; there I am, let me tell you frankly, there I will not even crawl through. I wonder how you pass under them ...

Ding, ding, ding, - the boy answered, - let's go, don't worry, just follow me.

Misha obeyed. In fact, with every step, the vaults seemed to rise, and our boys went everywhere freely; when they reached the last vault, then the bell boy asked Misha to look back. Misha looked around and what did he see? Now that first vault, under which he approached, entering the doors, seemed to him small, as if, while they were walking, the vault had lowered. Misha was very surprised.

Why is this? he asked his guide.

Ding, ding, ding, - answered the conductor, laughing, - from a distance it always seems so; it’s obvious that you didn’t look at anything in the distance with attention: in the distance everything seems small, but when you approach it, it’s big.

Yes, it’s true,” Misha replied, “I still haven’t thought about it, and that’s why this is what happened to me: on the third day I wanted to draw how my mother plays the piano next to me, and my father, at the other end of the room, reads a book . I just couldn't do it! I work, I work, I draw as accurately as possible, and everything will turn out on paper, that papa is sitting next to mama and his chair is standing near the pianoforte; meanwhile, I can see very well that the piano is standing near me by the window, and papa is sitting at the other end by the fireplace. Mommy told me that daddy should be drawn small, but I thought that mommy was joking, because daddy was much larger than her; but now I see that mamma was telling the truth: papa should have been drawn small, because he was sitting far away: I am very grateful to you for the explanation, very grateful.

The bell boy laughed with all his might.

Ding, ding, ding, how funny! Ding, ding, ding, how funny! Do not be able to draw daddy with mommy! Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!

Misha felt annoyed that the bell boy was mocking him so mercilessly, and he very politely said to him:

Let me ask you: why do you keep saying to every word: ding, ding, ding!

We have a saying like that, - answered the bell boy.

Proverb? Misha noticed. - But papa says that it's not good to get used to sayings.

The Bell Boy bit his lips and said no more.

There are more doors in front of them; they opened, and Misha found himself in the street. What a street! What a town! The pavement is paved with mother-of-pearl; the sky is motley, tortoiseshell; the golden sun walks across the sky; you beckon him - it will descend from the sky, go around your hand and rise again. And the houses are steel, polished, covered with multi-colored shells, and under each cover sits a bell-boy with a golden head, in a silver skirt, and there are many of them, many and all small and small less.

No, now you can't deceive me, - said Misha, - it only seems to me from a distance, but the bells are all the same.

But that's not true, - answered the guide, - the bells are not the same. If we were all the same, then we would all ring in one voice, one like the other; Do you hear what songs we play? This is because one of us is bigger, and his voice is thicker; don't you know that either? You see, Misha, this is a lesson for you: don't laugh at those who have a bad saying; one with a proverb, but he knows more than another, and one can learn something from him.

Misha, in turn, bit her tongue.

Meanwhile, the bell boys surrounded them, tugging at Misha's dress, jingling, jumping, and running.

You live merrily, - said Misha, - a century would remain with you; the whole day you do nothing; you have no lessons, no teachers, and even music all day long.

Ding, ding, ding! the bells chimed. - We've found some fun! No, Misha, life is bad for us. True, we have no lessons, but what's the point. We would not be afraid of lessons. Our whole misfortune lies precisely in the fact that we poor people have nothing to do; we have neither books nor pictures; there is no father or mother; have nothing to do; play and play all day long, but this, Misha, is very, very boring! Our tortoiseshell sky is good, the golden sun and golden trees are good, but we, the poor, we have seen enough of them, and we are very tired of all this; we are not an inch from the town, and you can imagine what it is like for a whole century, doing nothing, to sit in a snuffbox with music.

Yes, - answered Misha, - you are telling the truth. This happens to me too: when after school you start playing with toys, it's so much fun; and when on a holiday you play and play all day long, then by the evening it will become boring; and for that and for another toy you will take - everything is not cute. For a long time I did not understand why this was, but now I understand.

Yes, besides that, we have another trouble, Misha: we have uncles.

What kind of uncles? Misha asked.

Hammer uncles, - answered the bells, - how evil! Every now and then they walk around the city and tap us. The larger ones, the more rare the tuk-tuk happens, and the little ones get hurt where.

In fact, Misha saw that some gentlemen on thin legs, with long noses, were walking along the street and hissing among themselves: knock, knock, knock! Knock-Knock! Pick it up, pick it up. Knock-Knock! Knock-Knock!

And in fact, the uncles-hammers incessantly on one bell, then on another bell tuk tuk, Indo, poor Misha felt sorry. He approached these gentlemen, bowed very politely, and asked with good nature: why do they beat the poor boys without any regret?

And the hammers answered him:

Go away, don't interfere! There, in the ward and in a dressing gown, the warder lies and tells us to knock. Everything is tossing and turning. Knock-Knock! Knock-Knock!

What is your overseer? Misha asked the bells.

And this is Mr. Valik, - they rang out, - a kind man - he does not leave the sofa day and night. We cannot complain about him.

Misha to the warden. He looks - he really lies on the sofa, in a dressing gown and turns from side to side, only everything is face up. And on his dressing gown, he has hairpins, hooks, apparently invisible, as soon as he comes across a hammer, he will first hook it with a hook, then lower it, and the hammer will hit the bell.

As soon as Misha approached him, the warder shouted:

Hanky panky! Who walks here? Who is wandering around here? Shura-mura, who does not go away? Who won't let me sleep? Hanky panky! Hanky panky!

It's me, - Misha answered bravely, - I am Misha ...

What do you need? asked the warden.

Yes, I feel sorry for the poor bell boys, they are all so smart, so kind, such musicians, and at your order the uncles constantly tap them ...

And what do I care, fools! I'm not the biggest here. Let the uncles hit the boys! What do I care! I’m a kind overseer, I’m always lying on the sofa and not looking at anyone ... Shury-mura, shura-mura ...

Well, I learned a lot in this town! Misha said to himself. “Sometimes I still get annoyed why the warden doesn’t take his eyes off me!” “So evil,” I think. - After all, he is not a father and not a mother. What does it matter to him that I'm naughty? If I had known, I would have sat in my room.” No, now I see what happens to poor boys when no one looks after them.

Meanwhile, Misha went on - and stopped. He looks - a golden tent with a pearl fringe, at the top a golden weather vane spins like a windmill, and under the tent lies a princess-spring and, like a snake, now curls up, then turns around and constantly pushes the overseer in the side. Misha was very surprised at this and said to her:

Madam-princess! Why are you pushing the warden on the side?

Zits, zits, zits, - answered the princess, - you are a stupid boy, an unreasonable boy! You look at everything - you see nothing! If I had not pushed the roller, the roller would not have turned; if the roller did not spin, then it would not cling to the hammers, if it did not cling to the hammers, the hammers would not knock, the bells would not ring; if the bells did not ring, and there would be no music! Zitz, zitz, zitz!

Misha wanted to know if the princess was telling the truth. He bent down and pressed her finger - and what? In an instant, the spring developed with force, the roller spun violently, the hammers quickly clattered, the bells played rubbish, and suddenly the spring burst. Everything fell silent, the roller stopped, the hammers fell, the bells turned to the side, the sun hung down, the houses broke. Then Misha remembered that papa didn't order him to touch the springs, got scared and... woke up.

Vladimir Fyodorovich Odoevsky

Town in a snuffbox. Tales of grandfather Iriney

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet and corporate networks, for private and public use, without the written permission of the copyright owner.

Address to the reader

DEAR READER!

In your hands is a book that contains works created more than 150 years ago, back in the 19th century. Grandfather Iriney is one of the many pseudonyms of the writer Vladimir Fedorovich Odoevsky (1804–1869).

He belonged to the ancient Russian family of Rurikovich. Vladimir from childhood was inquisitive, read a lot, enthusiastically. He studied diligently at the Noble Boarding School of Moscow University, founded by the brilliant Russian scientist and poet Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov. Successfully completed his "Preparatory-encyclopedic program" and tirelessly studied additionally. Already in childhood, he was known as an encyclopedist, that is, a widely educated person. Boarding house Vladimir Odoevsky finished with a gold medal.

In his student years, V. Odoevsky was fascinated by various sciences, arts: philosophy and chemistry, mathematics and music, history and museum work ... Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov was his idol. This person is my ideal. He is a type of the all-encompassing Slavic spirit,” admitted Vladimir Odoevsky. But most of all, Odoevsky was attracted by literature: Russian speech, Russian poetry, literary creativity, which became the work of his life. However, having become a famous writer, he often changed professional occupations. “A person should not ... refuse the activity to which he is called by the conjugation of the circumstances of his life,” the writer said. And Odoevsky's life was interesting, emotional, intellectually rich.

He was a member of the famous Society of Lovers of Wisdom. Together with the future Decembrist V.K. Küchelbecker published the almanac Mnemosyne, popular in those years. A. S. Pushkin, N. V. Gogol, V. A. Zhukovsky, M. Yu. Lermontov, the composer M. I. Glinka, the scientist-critic "frantic" Vissarion Belinsky gave him their friendly attention ... Vladimir Fedorovich wrote his first book Odoevsky gave the following title: "Colorful fairy tales with a red word, collected by Iriney Modestovich Gomozeykoy, master of philosophy and member of various learned societies, published by V. Bezglasny."

Literally - a hoax name, but interesting. When you become an adult, my friend, read this book. You will get great pleasure! One of the tales is named after the mystical hero - "Igosh". He is from the genus Shishimor, Shishig (these are restless lake spirits). This is exactly how Igosha is – armless, legless, invisible, mischievous. He is looking for justice. It brings a lot of anxiety. But at the same time, it makes you respect yourself.

This fantastic tale by V. Odoevsky echoes the writings of Ernest Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann, a German writer (1776–1822). The fidget is related to Igosh and Carlson, who lives on the roof. It was invented by Astrid Lindgren, a wonderful Swedish writer, very beloved by children in many countries.

VF Odoevsky loved children. He studied the pedagogical ideas of Russian and foreign scientists. He created his own theory of childhood, used it when writing fairy tales for children. The writer saw in the child not only the need for rapid movement, for live play. He appreciated in him a penchant for reflection, curiosity, responsiveness. He was very interested in what and how children read: with love or only out of necessity. After all, he himself read a lot and enthusiastically, therefore he knew the value of books and reading. It is no coincidence that the book "Tales of Grandfather Iriney" was published in the years of Odoevsky's literary maturity, the full recognition of his talent by both readers and critics.

The first children's fairy tale "The Town in the Snuffbox" was published in 1834. Only six years later, in 1840, the writer prepared a separate book edition of "Children's Tales of Grandpa Iriney". But there was a misunderstanding: due to the large number of typos, it was not released to the public. It appeared only in 1841, although Vissarion Belinsky had already published a long article about this book in the then popular journal Otechestvennye Zapiski for 1840.

Fairy tales were reprinted more than once in the 19th and 20th centuries. You, my friend, have a 21st century edition in your hands. It includes fourteen pieces. When you read them, please think: can they all be called fairy tales? For example, "Silver Ruble", "Poor Gnedko", "Excerpts from Masha's Journal" (and maybe some more)? They contain pictures of real life. Why does the good grandfather Irenaeus put these works on a par with those that, by their very name, set people up to read fairy tales? For example, "Moroz Ivanovich", "Town in a Snuffbox" ... You probably met Moroz Ivanovich when you read or listened to Russian folk tales. A snuffbox, even if it is large, can hardly contain a whole town, even a toy one. Everything is possible in a fairy tale. That's why she's a fairy tale.

Apparently, grandfather Irenaeus wanted to interest, captivate his reader, awaken the imagination, infect with fantasy. And at the same time, to encourage you, my friend, to your own reflections, so that you yourself, together with the storyteller Iriney, would like to get involved in the life of the characters, feel the intonation of the narration, hear the gentle voice of the narrator. Grandpa Irenaeus wants you to be not an outside observer when reading, but, as it were, the protagonist of the work. The wise Irenaeus knew that the story becomes fabulously fascinating, unusual, if the reader experiences it along with the characters. Imagine that you personally hear the ringing of bells, their conversation, traveling around the city in a snuffbox. It is you personally, together with Masha, who are mastering the secrets of housekeeping. It is you yourself who are offended by the behavior of Masha's friends, who humiliate one of the girls because she is not from a rich family. It is you who overcome the temptation to spend all your money on something very pleasant and desirable for you, and not on what you need for your home. And, of course, you give "an account to yourself in your life", guided by the voice of a kind heart and a "hearted" mind.

The main thing when reading is to feel the kindness of the author himself, grandfather Iriney. “What a wonderful old man! What a young, blessed soul he has! What warmth and life emanates from his stories, and what an extraordinary skill he has to lure the imagination, irritate curiosity, excite attention sometimes with the most apparently simple story! We advise, dear children, to get to know grandfather Iriney better ... If you go for a walk with him, the greatest pleasure awaits you: you can run, jump, make noise, and meanwhile he will tell you the name of each grass, each butterfly, how they are born , grow and, dying, resurrect again for a new life ”- this is how the great critic V. Belinsky wrote about the book that you have in your hands.

Well, my dear reader, travel with the writer and further through the pages of his writings. Here is the fairy tale "Worm". Prior to publication in the collection of fairy tales of grandfather Iriney, it was published back in 1835 in the "Children's Book for Sundays". Only a few pages are devoted to the history of the birth of a worm, its short life, rebirth into a butterfly. Short, elegant sketch. It contains one of the eternal ideas - about the immortality of the soul and about life after death. And how many amazing observations the attentive and wise guide Irenaeus shared with us. Here, together with Misha and Lizanka, we saw a moving worm: “... on a leaf of a flowering shrub, under a light transparent blanket that looked like cotton paper, a worm lay in a thin shell. He had been lying there for a long time, for a long time already the breeze had rocked his cradle, and he was dozing sweetly in his airy bed. The conversation of the children awakened the worm; he drilled a window in his shell, looked out into God's light, looks - it's light, good, and the sun is warming; thought our worm.

Papa put the snuffbox on the table. “Come here, Misha, look,” he said. Misha was an obedient boy; immediately left the toys and went up to papa. Yes, it was something to see! What a lovely snuffbox! Motley, from a turtle. What's on the lid? Gates, turrets, a house, another, third, fourth - and it is impossible to count, and everything is small and small, and everything is golden, and the trees are also golden, and the leaves on them are silver; and behind the trees the sun rises, and from it pink rays diverge throughout the sky.

- What is this town? Misha asked.

- This is the town of Tin-Din, - answered papa and touched the spring ...

And what? Suddenly, out of nowhere, music began to play. Where this music was coming from, Misha could not understand: he went to the doors too - was it from another room? and to the clock—is it not in the clock? and to the bureau, and to the hill; listened first in one place, then in another; he also looked under the table... At last Misha was convinced that the music was definitely playing in the snuffbox. He went up to her, looked, and the sun came out from behind the trees, sneaking quietly across the sky, and the sky and the town were getting brighter and brighter; the windows are burning with bright fire, and from the turrets there is like a radiance. Here the sun crossed the sky to the other side, lower and lower, and finally completely disappeared behind the hillock; and the town darkened, the shutters closed, and the turrets grew dark, but not for long. Here a star lit up, here another, and here the horned moon peeped out from behind the trees, and it became brighter again in the town, the windows were silvered, and bluish rays stretched from the turrets.

- Daddy! daddy! is it possible to enter this town? How I wish!

- It's a trick, my friend: this town is not for your growth.

- Nothing, daddy, I'm so small; just let me in there; I'd love to know what's going on there...

“Really, my friend, it’s crowded there even without you.

- But who lives there?

- Who lives there? Bells live there.

With these words, papa lifted the lid on the snuffbox, and what did Misha see? And bells, and hammers, and a roller, and wheels ... Misha was surprised. “What are these bells for? why hammers? why a roller with hooks? Misha asked papa.

And papa answered: “I won’t tell you, Misha; look more closely yourself and think: maybe you can guess. Just don’t touch this spring, otherwise everything will break.”

Papa went out, and Misha remained over the snuffbox. So he sat and sat over her, looked, looked, thought, thought, why did the bells ring?

Meanwhile the music plays and plays; now everything is quieter and quieter, as if something is clinging to each note, as if something is pushing one sound away from another. Here Misha looks: a door opens at the bottom of the snuffbox, and a boy with a golden head and in a steel skirt runs out of the door, stops on the threshold and beckons Misha to him.

“But why,” thought Misha, “daddy said that it’s crowded in this town even without me? No, apparently, good people live in it, you see, they invite me to visit.

- Excuse me, with the greatest joy!

With these words, Misha ran to the door and noticed with surprise that the door was exactly the same size for him. As a well-bred boy, he considered it his duty to address his guide first.

“Let me know,” Misha said, “with whom do I have the honor of speaking?”

- What is this town? Misha asked.

- This is the town of Tin-Din, - answered papa and touched the spring ...

- Daddy! daddy! is it possible to enter this town? How I wish!

- It's a trick, my friend: this town is not for your growth.

- Nothing, daddy, I'm so small; just let me in there; I'd love to know what's going on there...

“Really, my friend, it’s crowded there even without you.

- But who lives there?

- Who lives there? Bells live there.

And papa answered: “I won’t tell you, Misha; look more closely yourself and think: maybe you can guess. Just don’t touch this spring, otherwise everything will break.”

Papa went out, and Misha remained over the snuffbox. So he sat and sat over her, looked, looked, thought, thought, why did the bells ring?

Meanwhile the music plays and plays; now everything is quieter and quieter, as if something is clinging to each note, as if something is pushing one sound away from another. Here Misha looks: a door opens at the bottom of the snuffbox, and a boy with a golden head and in a steel skirt runs out of the door, stops on the threshold and beckons Misha to him.

“But why,” thought Misha, “daddy said that it’s crowded in this town even without me? No, apparently, good people live in it, you see, they invite me to visit.

- Excuse me, with the greatest joy!

With these words, Misha ran to the door and noticed with surprise that the door was exactly the same size for him.

As a well-bred boy, he considered it his duty to address his guide first.

“Let me know,” Misha said, “with whom do I have the honor of speaking?”

“Ding, ding, ding,” answered the stranger, “I am a bell boy, a resident of this town. We heard that you really want to visit us, and therefore we decided to ask you to do us the honor of visiting us. Ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding.

Misha bowed politely; the bell-boy took him by the hand, and they went. Then Misha noticed that above them was a vault made of motley embossed paper with golden edges. Before them was another vault, only smaller; then a third, even less; the fourth, even smaller, and so all the other arches - the farther, the smaller, so that it seemed that the head of his escort could hardly pass into the last one.

“I am very grateful to you for your invitation,” Misha told him, “but I don’t know if it will be possible for me to use it. True, here I can pass freely, but there, farther, look at what low vaults you have - there I am, let me tell you frankly, I won’t even crawl through there. I wonder how you pass under them.

- Ding-ding-ding! the boy replied. “Let’s go, don’t worry, just follow me.”

Misha obeyed. In fact, with every step they took, the vaults seemed to rise, and our boys went everywhere freely; when they reached the last vault, then the bell boy asked Misha to look back. Misha looked around, and what did he see? Now that first vault, under which he approached, entering through the doors, seemed to him small, as if, while they were walking, the vault had lowered. Misha was very surprised.

- Why is this? he asked his guide.

- Ding-ding-ding! answered the conductor, laughing. “It always seems that way from afar. It is evident that you did not look at anything in the distance with attention; everything seems small in the distance, but when you approach it, everything seems big.

“Yes, it’s true,” answered Misha, “I still haven’t thought about it, and that’s why this is what happened to me: on the third day I wanted to draw how my mother plays the piano next to me, and my father reads a book on the other side of the room.” . Only I couldn’t manage to do this: I work, I work, I draw as accurately as possible, and everything will come out on paper, that my father is sitting next to my mother and his chair is standing near the piano, but meanwhile I can see very well that the piano is standing next to me , by the window, and papa is sitting at the other end, by the fireplace. Mama told me that papa should be drawn small, but I thought that mama was joking, because papa was much bigger than she was; but now I see that she was telling the truth: papa should have been drawn small, because he was sitting far away. Thank you very much for your explanation, thank you very much.

The bell boy laughed with all his might: “Ding, ding, ding, how funny! Do not be able to draw daddy with mommy! Ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding!

Misha felt annoyed that the bell boy was mocking him so mercilessly, and he very politely said to him:

“Let me ask you: why do you all say “ding-ding-ding” to every word?

“We have a saying like that,” answered the bell boy.

- Proverb? Misha noticed. - But papa says that it is very bad to get used to sayings.

The Bell Boy bit his lips and said no more.

There are more doors in front of them; they opened, and Misha found himself in the street. What a street! What a town! The pavement is paved with mother-of-pearl; the sky is motley, tortoiseshell, a golden sun walks across the sky; you beckon it, it will descend from the sky, go around your hand and rise again. And the houses are steel, polished, covered with multi-colored shells, and under each lid sits a bell boy with a golden head, in a silver skirt, and there are many, many, and all are small and small less.

“No, they won’t deceive me now,” Misha said. - It only seems so to me from afar, but the bells are all the same.

- But that's not true, - answered the guide, - the bells are not the same. If everyone were the same, then we would all ring in one voice, one like the other; and you hear what songs we bring out. This is because one of us is bigger, and his voice is thicker. Don't you know that too? You see, Misha, this is a lesson for you: do not laugh ahead of those who have a bad saying; one with a saying, but he knows more than another, and one can learn something from him.

Misha, in turn, bit his tongue.

Meanwhile, the bell boys surrounded them, tugging at Misha's dress, jingling, jumping, and running.

- You live merrily, - Misha told them, - a century would remain with you. The whole day you do nothing, you have no lessons, no teachers, and even music all day long.

- Ding-ding-ding! the bells chimed. - We've found some fun! No, Misha, life is bad for us. True, we have no lessons, but what's the point? We would not be afraid of the lessons. Our whole misfortune lies precisely in the fact that we poor people have nothing to do; we have neither books nor pictures; there is no father or mother; there is nothing to do, play and play all day long, and this, Misha, is very, very boring. Will you believe? Good is our tortoiseshell sky, good is the golden sun and golden trees; but we, the poor, we have seen enough of them, and we are very tired of all this; we are not an inch from the town, and you can imagine what it is like for a whole century, doing nothing, to sit in a snuffbox, and even in a snuffbox with music.

“Yes,” Misha answered, “you are telling the truth. This happens to me too: when after school you start playing with toys, it's so much fun; and when on a holiday you play and play all day long, then by the evening it will become boring; and for this and for the other toy you will take - everything is not cute. For a long time I did not understand why this was, but now I understand.

- Yes, moreover, we have another problem, Misha: we have uncles.

- What kind of uncles? Misha asked.

“Uncles-hammers,” answered the bells, “how evil they are!” every now and then that they walk around the city and tap us. The larger ones, the more rarely the “knock-knock” happens, and even the little ones get hurt where.

In fact, Misha saw that some gentlemen on thin legs, with long noses, were walking along the street and whispering among themselves: “Knock-knock-knock! Knock-Knock! pick it up! hurt! Knock-Knock!" And in fact, the uncles-hammers incessantly on one bell, then on another bell tuk tuk, Indo, poor Misha felt sorry. He approached these gentlemen, bowed very politely, and kindly asked why they beat the poor boys without any regret. And the hammers answered him:

- Go away, don't interfere! There, in the ward and in a dressing gown, the warder lies and tells us to knock. Everything is tossing and turning. Knock-Knock! Knock-Knock!

- What is your overseer? Misha asked the bells.

- And this is Mr. Valik, - they rang out, - a kind man, he does not leave the sofa day and night; we cannot complain about it.

Misha - to the warden. He looks: he really lies on the sofa, in a dressing gown and turns from side to side, only his face is up. And on his dressing gown he has hairpins, hooks, apparently invisible; as soon as he comes across a hammer, he will first hook it with a hook, then lower it, and the hammer will knock on the bell.

As soon as Misha approached him, the guard shouted:

- Hanky panky! who walks here? who wanders around here? Hanky panky! who doesn't walk away? who won't let me sleep? Hanky panky! hanky panky!

- It's me, - Misha answered bravely, - I am Misha ...

– What do you need? the warden asked.

- Yes, I feel sorry for the poor bell boys, they are all so smart, so kind, such musicians, and at your order the uncles constantly tap them ...

- And what do I care, shura-muras! I'm not here for ?greater. Let the uncles hit the boys! What do I care! I am a kind warden, I lie on the sofa and do not look at anyone. Shura-moors, shura-moors...

- Well, I learned a lot in this town! Misha said to himself. “Sometimes I still get annoyed why the warden doesn’t take his eyes off me. “What an evil one! I think. “After all, he is not a father and not a mother; what does it matter to him that I'm naughty? If I had known, I would have sat in my room.” No, now I see what happens to poor boys when no one looks after them.

Meanwhile, Misha went on - and stopped. Looks, a golden tent with a pearl fringe; above, a golden weather vane spins like a windmill, and under the tent lies Princess Spring, and, like a snake, it either curls up, then turns around and constantly pushes the warder in the side. Misha was very surprised at this and said to her:

- Madam princess! Why are you pushing the warden on the side?

“Zits-zits-zits,” answered the princess. “You foolish boy, foolish boy. You look at everything, you see nothing! If I had not pushed the roller, the roller would not have turned; if the roller did not spin, then it would not cling to the hammers, the hammers would not knock; if the hammers did not knock, the bells would not ring; if the bells did not ring, and there would be no music! Zitz-zitz-zitz.

Misha wanted to know if the princess was telling the truth. He bent down and pressed her finger - and what?

In an instant, the spring developed with force, the roller spun violently, the hammers quickly clattered, the bells played rubbish, and suddenly the spring burst. Everything fell silent, the roller stopped, the hammers fell, the bells turned to the side, the sun hung, the houses broke ... Then Misha remembered that papa did not order him to touch the springs, got scared and ... woke up.

- What did you see in a dream, Misha? asked papa. Misha could not come to his senses for a long time. He looks: the same papa's room, the same snuffbox in front of him; papa and mama are sitting next to him and laughing.

"Where's the bell boy?" Where is uncle hammer? Where is Princess Spring? Misha asked. "So it was a dream?"

- Yes, Misha, the music lulled you to sleep, and you took a decent nap here. Tell us, at least, what you dreamed about!

“Yes, you see, papa,” said Misha, rubbing his eyes, “I kept wanting to know why the music was playing in the snuffbox; so I began to diligently look at her and make out what was moving in her and why she was moving; I thought and thought and began to get there, when suddenly, I see, the door to the snuffbox opened ... - Here Misha told his whole dream in order.

“Well, now I see,” said papa, “that you really almost understood why the music plays in the snuffbox; but you will understand it even better when you study mechanics.

Here is an excerpt from the book.
Only part of the text is open for free reading (restriction of the copyright holder). If you liked the book, the full text can be obtained from our partner's website.

The father gave his son an unusual snuffbox. The boy really wanted to know what was inside. Having miraculously got into the middle of the snuffbox, the hero met the whole city there and made friends with the bell boy. The boy learned a lot of new things, but it all turned out to be just a dream.

Fairy tale Town in a snuffbox download:

Fairy tale Town in a snuffbox read

Papa put the snuffbox on the table. "Come here, Misha, look," he said.

Misha was an obedient boy; immediately left the toys and went up to papa. Yes, it was something to see! What a lovely snuffbox! Pestrenkaya, from a turtle. What's on the lid?

Gates, turrets, a house, another, third, fourth - and it is impossible to count, and everything is small, small, and all golden; and the trees are also golden, and the leaves on them are silver; and the sun rises behind the trees, and from it pink rays diverge throughout the sky.

What is this town? Misha asked.

This is the town of Tinker Bell, - answered papa and touched the spring ...

And what? Suddenly, out of nowhere, music began to play. Where this music was heard from, Misha could not understand: he went to the doors too - was it from another room? and to the clock - isn't it in the clock? and to the bureau, and to the hill; listened first in one place, then in another; he also looked under the table... At last Misha was convinced that the music was definitely playing in the snuffbox. He went up to her, looked, and the sun came out from behind the trees, sneaking quietly across the sky, and the sky and the town were getting brighter and brighter; the windows burn with bright fire, and from the turrets there is like a radiance. Here the sun crossed the sky to the other side, lower and lower, and finally completely disappeared behind the hillock; and the town darkened, the shutters closed, and the turrets grew dark, only for a little while. Here a star lit up, here another one, and here the horned moon peeped out from behind the trees, and it became brighter again in the town, the windows turned silver, and bluish rays stretched from the turrets.

Daddy! daddy! is it possible to enter this town? How I wish!

Tricky, my friend: this town is too big for you.

Nothing, papa, I'm so small; just let me in there; I'd love to know what's going on there...

Really, my friend, it's crowded there even without you.

But who lives there?

Who lives there? Bells live there.

With these words, papa lifted the lid on the snuffbox, and what did Misha see? And bells, and hammers, and a roller, and wheels ... Misha was surprised:

Why these bells? Why hammers? Why a roller with hooks? Misha asked papa.

And papa replied:

I won't tell you, Misha; look more closely and think: maybe you can guess. Just don't touch this spring, otherwise everything will break.

Papa went out, and Misha remained over the snuffbox. So he sat and sat over her, looked, looked, thought, thought, why did the bells ring?

Meanwhile the music plays and plays; now everything is quieter and quieter, as if something is clinging to each note, as if something is pushing one sound away from another. Here Misha looks: a door opens at the bottom of the snuffbox, and a boy with a golden head and in a steel skirt runs out of the door, stops on the threshold and beckons Misha to him.

“But why,” thought Misha, “daddy said that it’s crowded in this town even without me? No, apparently, good people live in it, you see, they invite me to visit.

Please, with the greatest joy!

With these words, Misha ran to the door and noticed with surprise that the door was exactly the same size for him. As a well-bred boy, he considered it his duty to address his guide first.

Let me ask, - said Misha, - with whom I have the honor to speak?

Ding, ding, ding, answered the stranger, I am a bell boy, a resident of this town. We heard that you really want to visit us, and therefore we decided to ask you to do us the honor of visiting us. Ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding.

Misha bowed politely; the bell-boy took him by the hand, and they went. Then Misha noticed that above them was a vault made of colorful embossed paper with golden edges. Before them was another vault, only smaller; then the third, even less; the fourth, even smaller, and so all the other arches - the farther, the smaller, so that it seemed that the head of his escort could hardly pass into the last one.

I am very grateful to you for your invitation,” Misha told him, “but I don’t know if it will be possible for me to use it. True, here I can pass freely, but there, farther, look at what low vaults you have - there I am, let me tell you frankly, there I won’t even crawl through. I wonder how you pass under them.

Ding-ding-ding! - answered the boy. - Let's go, don't worry, just follow me.

Misha obeyed. In fact, with every step they took, the vaults seemed to rise, and our boys went everywhere freely; when they reached the last vault, then the bell boy asked Misha to look back. Misha looked around, and what did he see? Now that first vault, under which he approached, entering the doors, seemed to him small, as if, while they were walking, the vault had lowered. Misha was very surprised.

Why is this? he asked his guide.

Ding-ding-ding! answered the conductor, laughing.

It always seems that way from a distance. It is evident that you did not look at anything in the distance with attention; From a distance everything seems small, but when you get closer it looks big.

Yes, it’s true,” Misha answered, “I still haven’t thought about it, and that’s why this is what happened to me: the third day I wanted to draw how my mother plays the piano next to me, and my father reads a book on the other side of the room. Only I couldn’t manage to do this in any way: I work, I work, I draw as accurately as possible, and everything on paper will turn out that my father is sitting next to my mother and his chair is standing near the piano, but meanwhile I can see very well that the piano is standing next to me , by the window, and papa is sitting at the other end, by the fireplace. Mommy told me that daddy should be drawn small, but I thought that mommy was joking, because daddy was much larger than her; but now I see that she was telling the truth: papa should have been drawn small, because he was sitting far away. Thank you very much for your explanation, thank you very much.

The bell boy laughed with all his might: “Ding, ding, ding, how funny! Not to be able to draw papa and mama! Ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding!

Misha felt annoyed that the bell boy was mocking him so mercilessly, and he very politely said to him:

Let me ask you: why do you keep saying “ding-ding-ding” to every word?

We have a saying like that, - answered the bell boy.

Proverb? Misha noticed. - But papa says that it is very bad to get used to sayings.

Bell Boy bit his lips and didn't say another word.

Here are more doors in front of them; they opened, and Misha found himself in the street. What a street! What a town! The pavement is paved with mother-of-pearl; the sky is motley, tortoiseshell; the golden sun walks across the sky; you beckon it, it will descend from the sky, go around your hand and rise again. And the houses are steel, polished, covered with multi-colored shells, and under each cover sits a bell-boy with a golden head, in a silver skirt, and there are many of them, many and all small and small less.

No, they won’t deceive me now,” Misha said. - It only seems so to me from afar, but the bells are all the same.

And that's not true, - answered the guide, - the bells are not the same.

If everyone were the same, then we would all ring in one voice, one like the other; and you hear what songs we bring out. This is because whoever is bigger among us has a thicker voice. Don't you know that too? You see, Misha, this is a lesson for you: don't laugh at those who have a bad saying; one with a saying, but he knows more than another, and one can learn something from him.

Misha, in turn, bit his tongue.

Meanwhile, the bell boys surrounded them, tugging at Misha's dress, jingling, jumping, and running.

You live merrily, - Misha told them, - a century would remain with you. The whole day you do nothing, you have no lessons, no teachers, and even music all day long.

Ding-ding-ding! the bells chimed. - We've found some fun! No, Misha, life is bad for us. True, we have no lessons, but what's the point?

We would not be afraid of the lessons. Our whole misfortune lies precisely in the fact that we poor people have nothing to do; we have neither books nor pictures; there is no father or mother; have nothing to do; play and play all day long, but this, Misha, is very, very boring. Will you believe? Good is our tortoiseshell sky, good is the golden sun and golden trees; but we, the poor, have seen enough of them, and we are very tired of all this; we are not a step out of the town, and you can imagine what it is like for a whole century, doing nothing, to sit in a snuffbox, and even in a snuffbox with music.

Yes, - answered Misha, - you are telling the truth. This happens to me too: when after school you start playing with toys, it's so much fun; and when on a holiday you play and play all day long, then by the evening it will become boring; and for that and for another toy you will take - everything is not cute. I did not understand for a long time; why, and now I understand.

Yes, besides that, we have another problem, Misha: we have uncles.

What kind of uncles? Misha asked.

Hammer uncles, - answered the bells, - how evil! Every now and then they walk around the city and tap us. The larger ones, the more rarely the “knock-knock” happens, and even the little ones get hurt where.

In fact, Misha saw that some gentlemen on thin legs, with long noses, were walking along the street and whispering among themselves: “Knock-knock-knock! Knock-knock-knock, pick up! Touch! Knock-Knock!". And in fact, uncles-hammers incessantly on one bell, then on another bell, knock and knock. Misha even felt sorry for them. He went up to these gentlemen, bowed to them very politely, and asked with good nature why they beat the poor boys without any regret. And the hammers answered him:

Go away, don't interfere! There, in the ward and in a dressing gown, the warder lies and tells us to knock. Everything is tossing and turning. Knock-Knock! Knock-Knock!

What is your overseer? Misha asked the bells.

And this is Mr. Valik, - they rang out, - a kind man, he does not leave the sofa day and night; we cannot complain about it.

As soon as Misha approached him, the warder shouted:

Hanky panky! Who walks here? Who is wandering around here? Hanky panky! Who doesn't walk away? Who won't let me sleep? Hanky panky! Hanky panky!

It's me, - Misha answered bravely, - I am Misha ...

What do you need? asked the warden.

Yes, I feel sorry for the poor bell boys, they are all so smart, so kind, such musicians, and at your order the uncles constantly tap them ...

And what do I care, fools! I'm not the biggest here. Let the uncles hit the boys! What do I care! I am a kind overseer, I lie on the sofa and do not look after anyone. Shura-moors, shura-moors...

Well, I learned a lot in this town! Misha said to himself. “Sometimes I still get annoyed why the warden doesn’t take his eyes off me…

Meanwhile, Misha went on - and stopped. Looks, a golden tent with a pearl fringe; at the top, a golden weather vane spins like a windmill, and under the tent lies the princess Springs and, like a snake, it will curl up, then turn around and constantly push the warder in the side.

Misha was very surprised at this and said to her:

Madam princess! Why are you pushing the warden on the side?

Zits-zits-zits, - answered the princess. “You foolish boy, foolish boy. You look at everything, you see nothing! If I had not pushed the roller, the roller would not have turned; if the roller did not spin, then it would not cling to the hammers, the hammers would not knock; if the hammers did not knock, the bells would not ring; if the bells did not ring, and there would be no music! Zitz-zitz-zitz.

Misha wanted to know if the princess was telling the truth. He bent down and pressed her finger - and what?

What did you see in a dream, Misha? - asked papa.

Misha could not come to his senses for a long time. He looks: the same papa's room, the same snuffbox in front of him; papa and mama are sitting next to him and laughing.

Where is the bell boy? Where is uncle hammer? Where is Princess Spring? Misha asked. - So it was a dream?

Yes, Misha, the music lulled you to sleep, and you took a decent nap here. Tell us at least what you dreamed about!

You see, papa,” said Misha, rubbing his eyes, “I kept wanting to know why the music was playing in the snuffbox; so I began to diligently look at her and make out what was moving in her and why she was moving; I thought and thought and began to get there, when suddenly, I see, the door to the snuffbox was dissolved ... - Then Misha told his whole dream in order.

Well, now I see, - said papa, - that you really almost understood why the music plays in the snuffbox; but you will understand it even better when you study mechanics.