What does K.G.'s fairy tale teach? Paustovsky "Warm bread. Warm bread Plot warm bread Paustovsky

Once, cavalrymen passed through the village and left a black horse wounded in the leg. Melnik Pankrat cured the horse, and he began to help him. But it was hard for the miller to feed the horse, so the horse sometimes went to the village houses, where he was treated to some tops, some bread, and some sweet carrots.

The boy Filka lived in the village, nicknamed "Well, you," because it was his favorite expression. One day the horse came to Filka's house, hoping that the boy would give him something to eat. But Filka came out of the gate and threw bread into the snow, shouting curses. This offended the horse very much, he reared up and at the same moment a strong snowstorm began. Filka barely found his way to the door of the house.

And at home, the grandmother, crying, told him that now they were waiting for starvation, because the river that turned the mill wheel had frozen and now it would be impossible to make flour from grain to bake bread. And the stocks of flour in the whole village remained for 2-3 days. Another grandmother told Filka a story that something similar had already happened in their village about 100 years ago. Then one greedy man took pity on bread for a disabled soldier and threw him a moldy crust on the ground, although it was hard for the soldier to bend down - he had a wooden leg.

Filka was frightened, but the grandmother said that the miller Pankrat knows how a greedy person can correct his mistake. At night, Filka ran to the miller Pankrat and told him how he offended the horse. Pankrat said that her mistake could be corrected and gave Filka 1 hour and 15 minutes to figure out how to save the village from the cold. Forty, who lived at Pankrat's, overheard everything, then got out of the house and flew south.

Filka came up with the idea of ​​asking all the boys in the village to help him break the ice on the river with crowbars and shovels. And the next morning the whole village came out to fight the elements. Fires were kindled, ice was broken with crowbars, axes and shovels. By afternoon, a warm south wind blew from the south. And in the evening the guys broke through the ice and the river rushed into the mill flume, turning the wheel and millstones. The mill began to grind flour, and the women filled sacks with it.

By evening, the magpie returned and began to tell everyone that she flew south and asked the south wind to spare the people and help them melt the ice. But no one believed her. That evening, the women kneaded sweet dough and baked fresh warm breads, the smell of bread was so strong throughout the village that all the foxes got out of their holes and thought how they could get at least a piece of warm bread.

And in the morning, Filka took warm bread, other guys and went to the mill to treat the horse and apologize to him for his greed. Pankrat released the horse, but at first he did not eat bread from Filka's hands. Then Pankrat talked to the horse and asked him to forgive Filka. The horse listened to his master and ate the whole loaf of warm bread, and then laid his head on Filka's shoulder. Everyone immediately began to rejoice and have fun that warm bread reconciled Filka and the horse.

Filka also wept with fear when the mice began to run out of the underground and bury themselves under the stove in the straw, where there was still a little warmth. "Come on you! Damned!" - he shouted at the mice, but the mice kept climbing out of the underground. Filka climbed onto the stove, covered himself with a sheepskin coat, shook all over and listened to the grandmother's lamentations.

A hundred years ago, the same severe frost fell on our district, - said the grandmother. - He froze wells, beat birds, dried forests and gardens to the roots. Ten years after that, neither trees nor grasses bloomed. The seeds in the ground withered and disappeared. Our land was naked. Every animal ran around her side - he was afraid of the desert.

Why did that frost strike? Filka asked.

From human malice, - answered the grandmother. - An old soldier was walking through our village, asked for bread in the hut, and the owner, an evil peasant, sleepy, noisy, take it and give me only a stale crust. And then he didn’t give it to his hands, but threw it on the floor and said: “Here you are! Chew!”. - "It's impossible for me to lift bread from the floor," the soldier says. "I have a piece of wood instead of a leg." - "Where did you put your leg?" - the man asks. "I lost my leg in the Balkan mountains in the Turkish battle," the soldier replies. "Nothing. Once you're hefty hungry, you'll get up," the man laughed. "There are no valets for you here." The soldier groaned, contrived, lifted the crust and sees - this is not bread, but one green mold. One poison! Then the soldier went out into the yard, whistled - and at once a blizzard broke, a blizzard, the storm swirled the village, the roofs were torn off, and then a severe frost struck. And the man died.

Why did he die? Filka asked hoarsely.

From the cooling of the heart, - the grandmother answered, paused and added: - To know, and now a bad person, an offender, has wound up in Berezhki, and has done an evil deed. That's why it's cold.

What to do now, grandma? Filka asked from under his sheepskin coat. - Really die?

Why die? Need to hope.

For what?

That a bad person will correct his villainy.

And how to fix it? asked Filka, sobbing.

And Pankrat knows about it, the miller. He is a smart old man, a scientist. You need to ask him. Can you really run to the mill in such a cold? The bleeding will stop immediately.

Come on, Pankrat! - said Filka and fell silent.

At night he climbed down from the stove. Grandma was sleeping on the bench. Outside the windows, the air was blue, thick, terrible.

In the clear sky above the osokors stood the moon, adorned like a bride with pink crowns.

Filka wrapped his sheepskin coat around him, jumped out into the street and ran to the mill. The snow sang underfoot, as if an artel of merry sawyers sawed down a birch grove across the river. It seemed that the air froze and between the earth and the moon there was only a burning void, so clear that if it lifted a speck of dust a kilometer from the earth, then it would be visible and it would glow and twinkle like a small star.

The black willows near the mill dam turned gray from the cold. Their branches gleamed like glass. The air pricked Filka's chest. He could no longer run, but walked heavily, raking the snow with his felt boots.

Filka knocked on the window of Pankrat's hut. Immediately in the barn behind the hut, a wounded horse neighed and beat with a hoof. Filka groaned, squatted down in fear, hid. Pankrat opened the door, grabbed Filka by the collar and dragged him into the hut.

Sit down by the stove, - he said. - Tell me before you freeze.

Filka, weeping, told Pankrat how he offended the wounded horse and how frost fell on the village because of this.

Yes, - Pankrat sighed, - your business is bad! It turns out that everyone is lost because of you. Why hurt the horse? For what? You stupid citizen!

Filka sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

You stop crying! Pankrat said sternly. - Roar you all masters. A little naughty - now in a roar. But I just don't see the point in that. My mill stands as if sealed with frost forever, but there is no flour, and no water, and we don’t know what to think of.

What should I do now, grandfather Pankrat? Filka asked.

Invent salvation from the cold. Then the people will not be your fault. And in front of a wounded horse - too. You will be a pure person, cheerful. Everyone will pat you on the back and forgive you. Clear?

Well, think of it. I'll give you an hour and a quarter.

A magpie lived in Pankrat's hallway. She did not sleep from the cold, she sat on the collar and eavesdropped. Then she galloped sideways, looking around, to the gap under the door. Jumped out, jumped on the railing and flew straight south. The magpie was experienced, old, and purposely flew near the very ground, because from the villages and forests it still drew warmth and the magpie was not afraid to freeze. No one saw her, only a fox in an aspen hole stuck her muzzle out of the hole, turned her nose, noticed how a magpie swept across the sky like a dark shadow, shied back into the hole and sat for a long time, scratching herself and thinking: where did the magpie go on such a terrible night?

And Filka at that time was sitting on a bench, fidgeting, inventing.

Well, - Pankrat said at last, trampling on a shag cigarette, - your time is up. Spread it! There will be no grace period.

I, grandfather Pankrat, - said Filka, - as soon as it dawns, I will gather the guys from all over the village. We will take crowbars, ice picks, axes, we will cut ice at the tray near the mill until we get to the water and it will flow onto the wheel. As the water goes, you let the mill! Turn the wheel twenty times, it will warm up and start grinding. There will be, therefore, flour, and water, and universal salvation.

Look, you are smart! - said the miller, - Under the ice, of course, there is water. And if the ice is as thick as your height, what will you do?

Yes, well, him! Filka said. - Let's break through, guys, and such ice!

What if you freeze?

We will burn fires.

And if the guys do not agree to pay for your nonsense with their hump? If they say: "Yes, well, it's his own fault - let the ice itself break off."

Agree! I will beg them. Our guys are good.

Well, go get the guys. And I'll talk with the old people. Maybe the old people will put on their mittens and take up the crowbars.

On frosty days, the sun rises crimson, in heavy smoke. And this morning such a sun rose over Berezhki. The frequent sound of crowbars was heard on the river. Fires crackled. The guys and old people worked from the very dawn, chipped off the ice at the mill. And no one in the heat of the moment noticed that in the afternoon the sky was overcast with low clouds and a steady and warm wind blew over the gray willows. And when they noticed that the weather had changed, the branches of the willows had already thawed, and the wet birch grove rustled merrily, loudly behind the river. The air smelled of spring, of manure.

The wind was blowing from the south. It got warmer every hour. Icicles fell from the roofs and smashed with a clang.

The ravens crawled out from under the jams and again dried themselves on the pipes, jostled, croaked.

Only the old magpie was missing. She arrived in the evening, when the ice began to settle from the warmth, work at the mill went quickly and the first polynya with dark water appeared.

The boys pulled off their triplets and cheered. Pankrat said that if it were not for the warm wind, then, perhaps, the guys and old people would not have chipped the ice. And the magpie was sitting on a willow above the dam, chirping, shaking its tail, bowing in all directions and telling something, but no one but the crows understood it.

The wind seemed not to dare to refuse her, the magpie, and blew, rushed over the fields, whistling and laughing at the frost. And if you listen carefully, you can already hear how warm water boils and gurgles along the ravines under the snow, washes the roots of lingonberries, breaks ice on the river.

Everyone knows that the magpie is the most talkative bird in the world, and therefore the crows did not believe her - they only croaked among themselves: that, they say, the old one was lying again.

So, until now, no one knows whether the magpie spoke the truth, or whether she invented all this from boasting. Only one thing is known that by the evening the ice cracked, dispersed, the guys and old people pressed - and water poured into the mill flume with a noise.
Ringing birch firewood was chopping in all the yards. The huts glowed from the hot stove fire. The women were kneading the tight sweet dough. And everything that was alive in the huts - guys, cats, even mice - all this was spinning around the housewives, and the housewives slapped the guys on the back with a hand white from flour so that they would not climb into the very mess and interfere.

At night, there was such a smell of warm bread with a ruddy crust, with cabbage leaves burnt to the bottom, that even the foxes crawled out of their holes, sat in the snow, trembled and whined softly, thinking how to manage to steal from people at least a piece of this wonderful bread.

What is the phenomenon? Would you bring me some bread and salt? For what such merits?

Well no! - shouted the guys. - You will be special. And this is a wounded horse. From Filka. We want to reconcile them.

Well, - said Pankrat, - not only a person needs an apology. Now I will introduce you to the horse in kind.

Pankrat opened the gates of the shed and released his horse.

Everyone smiled and rejoiced. Only the old magpie sat on the willow and cracked angrily: she must have boasted again that she alone managed to reconcile the horse with Filka.

Year: 1954 Genre: story

Main characters: boy Filka, wounded horse, miller

The boy Filka lived in the village of Berezhki. his nickname was “Yes, well, you!”, since he always answered everything like this: “Yes, well, you!”.

An unpleasant incident happened to him, which led to trouble.

In Berezhki lived the miller Pankrat, who sheltered a black horse. The horse was considered a draw, so everyone considered it necessary to feed him, either with stale bread, or even with sweet carrots. Filka, on the other hand, showed strictness towards the animal and did not give bread, but threw it into the snow, and also cursed strongly. The horse snorted and did not take a piece of bread.

The weather changed immediately. Everything was covered with a blizzard, roads, paths covered with powder. The river froze, the mill stopped - the inevitable death for the village came.

Filkin's grandmother lamented. He says that an unkind person got wound up. The boy ran to the miller and told him about the horse. He advised me to fix the mistake. Filka called the boys, the old people came. They began to hollow out the ice on the river, break through.

The bad weather has passed. The mill started working again, there was a smell of fresh bread that the women had baked from freshly ground flour. The horse accepted the bread that the boy brought him for reconciliation.

The story teaches the reader to the fact that Evil always breeds evil in return. And kindness is sweet, rich in fruits. Anger and greed are the death of the human soul.

A military detachment passed by the village of Berezhki. A German shell exploded and shrapnel wounded the commander's horse. They left him in the village. Sheltered by the miller Pankrat. But the horse was considered to be nobody's, common.

It was difficult for a peasant to keep an animal, the horse began to walk around the village, begging. Who will endure stale bread, and who will bear crispy carrots and beet tops.

A boy lived with his grandmother in Berezhki. The boy's name was Filka, his nickname was "Come on, you!".

The weather this winter has been good and warm. The river didn't rise. Near the mill, the water was black and calm.

The women complained to Pankrat that the flour would soon be over, the grain had to be ground. The old man repaired the mill, he was going to grind the grain.

And the horse kept walking around the village. He knocked on the gate to Filka's grandmother. The boy ate bread with salt.

I saw a horse, lazily leaned out, went out the gate. The stallion stretched its nose to the fragrant piece. Filka hit him hard on the lips. The animal snorted, recoiled, backed away. The boy threw a piece into the loose snow, shouted: "Here, take your bread, muzzle swarm, get it!"

A tear appeared in the eyes of the poor horse. He neighed so pitifully, loudly. He hit himself with his tail and galloped away.

And then misfortune happened. The wind howled, the blizzard rose so much that nothing could be seen. All roads and paths were covered. The river froze through. Filka did not enter the hut soon, he lost where his porch was, he was frightened. The cold was chilling to the bone, all the animals of the forest hid in their burrows. There was no heat anywhere. The hut is cold and damp. The little boy kept burrowing under the covers, but the stove did not heat up, it had already cooled down.

Lamented, the grandmother groaned. A bad man, apparently, appeared in Berezhki, brought trouble. Indeed, without flour and water, the people of the village will not survive.

Filka asked the grandmother what happened a hundred years ago: a peasant lived alone, and he spared bread for the begging poor man. And then the same weather happened, so many people died. The boy was frightened, he realized that such bad weather was his fault.

Filka ran headlong to Pankrat, told him everything, about the horse, about the bread that he had thrown into the snowdrift. The old man shook his head, said to correct the situation. We decided to hollow out the river with the whole village, free it from ice. They took it together. The weather began to change, the river began to thaw, the heat came. As if there was nothing.

The mill started working, the old man Pankrat began to grind the grain. There was a smell of fresh bread in the village, even the foxes got out of their holes - I wanted to try a piece. The village began to live again.

And Filka and the local guys went to put up with the horse. They brought bread and salt. Pankrat met them. He took out the horse. Filka held out the bread, but he turned away, did not take it. Then the boy cried. The old man stroked the animal, said: "Well, take a treat, the boy is good." The stallion took a piece from Filka's hands, closed his eyes in pleasure, and laid his head on his shoulder. So they measured.

And the magpie that crackled about everything and boasted before the crows that she had called the fresh, warm wind from the southern countries, probably thought that this was her merit.

Picture or drawing Warm bread

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Warm bread

When the cavalrymen passed through the village of Berezhki, a German shell exploded on the outskirts and wounded a black horse in the leg. The commander left the wounded horse in the village, and the detachment went further, dusting and ringing the bits, left, rolled behind the groves, over the hills, where the wind shook the ripe rye.

The miller Pankrat took the horse. The mill has not worked for a long time, but the flour dust has forever eaten into Pankrat. She lay with a gray crust on his quilted jacket and cap. From under the cap, the quick eyes of the miller looked at everyone. Pankrat was an ambulance to work, an angry old man, and the guys considered him a sorcerer.

Pankrat cured the horse. The horse remained at the mill and patiently carried clay, manure and poles - helping Pankrat to repair the dam.

It was difficult for Pankrat to feed the horse, and the horse began to go around the yards to beg. He would stand, snort, knock with his muzzle on the gate, and, you see, they would bring him beet tops, or stale bread, or, it happened even, sweet carrots. It was said in the village that nobody's horse, or rather, a public one, and everyone considered it their duty to feed him. In addition, the horse is wounded, suffered from the enemy.

The boy Filka lived in Berezhki with his grandmother, nicknamed "Well, you." Filka was silent, incredulous, and his favorite expression was: "Come on!". Whether the neighbor's boy suggested that he walk on stilts or look for green cartridges, Filka answered in an angry bass: "Come on! Look for yourself!" When the grandmother reprimanded him for his unkindness, Filka turned away and muttered: "Come on, you! I'm tired!"

The winter was warm this year. Smoke hung in the air. Snow fell and immediately melted. Wet crows sat on the chimneys to dry off, jostled, croaked at each other. Near the mill flume, the water did not freeze, but stood black, still, and ice floes swirled in it.

Pankrat had repaired the mill by that time and was going to grind bread - the housewives complained that the flour was running out, each had two or three days left, and the grain lay unground.

On one of these warm gray days, the wounded horse knocked with his muzzle on the gate to Filka's grandmother. Grandmother was not at home, and Filka was sitting at the table and chewing a piece of bread, heavily sprinkled with salt.

Filka reluctantly got up and went out the gate. The horse shifted from foot to foot and reached for the bread. "Come on you! Devil!" - Filka shouted and hit the horse on the lips with a backhand. The horse staggered back, shook his head, and Filka threw the bread far into the loose snow and shouted:

You won’t get enough of you, Christ-lovers! There is your bread! Go dig it with your face from under the snow! Go dig!

And after this malicious shout, those amazing things happened in Berezhki, about which people still talk, shaking their heads, because they themselves do not know whether it was or nothing like that happened.

A tear rolled down from the horse's eyes. The horse neighed plaintively, drawlingly, waved his tail, and immediately howled in the bare trees, in the hedges and chimneys, a piercing wind whistled, snow blew up, powdered Filka's throat. Filka rushed back into the house, but could not find the porch in any way - it was already snowy all around and whipped into his eyes. Frozen straw flew from the roofs in the wind, birdhouses broke, torn shutters slammed. And columns of snow dust rose higher and higher from the surrounding fields, rushing to the village, rustling, spinning, overtaking each other.

Filka finally jumped into the hut, locked the door, said: "Come on!" - and listened. The blizzard roared, maddened, but through its roar Filka heard a thin and short whistle - this is how a horse's tail whistles when an angry horse hits its sides with it.

The blizzard began to subside in the evening, and only then was Grandmother Filkin able to get to her hut from her neighbor. And by nightfall, the sky turned green as ice, the stars froze to the vault of heaven, and a prickly frost passed through the village. No one saw him, but everyone heard the creak of his boots on the hard snow, heard how the frost, mischievous, squeezed the thick logs in the walls, and they cracked and burst.

The grandmother, crying, told Filka that the wells had probably already frozen over and now imminent death awaited them. There is no water, everyone has run out of flour, and now the mill will not be able to work, because the river has frozen to the very bottom.

Filka also wept with fear when the mice began to run out of the underground and bury themselves under the stove in the straw, where there was still a little warmth. "Come on you! Damned!" - he shouted at the mice, but the mice kept climbing out of the underground. Filka climbed onto the stove, covered himself with a sheepskin coat, shook all over and listened to the grandmother's lamentations.

A hundred years ago, the same severe frost fell on our district, - said the grandmother. - He froze wells, beat birds, dried forests and gardens to the roots. Ten years after that, neither trees nor grasses bloomed. The seeds in the ground withered and disappeared. Our land was naked. Every animal ran around her side - he was afraid of the desert.

Why did that frost strike? Filka asked.

From human malice, - answered the grandmother. - An old soldier was walking through our village, asked for bread in the hut, and the owner, an evil peasant, sleepy, noisy, take it and give me only a stale crust. And then he didn’t give it to his hands, but threw it on the floor and said: “Here you are! Chew!”. - "It's impossible for me to lift bread from the floor," the soldier says. "I have a piece of wood instead of a leg." - "Where did you put your leg?" - the man asks. "I lost my leg in the Balkan mountains in the Turkish battle" (1) - the soldier answers. "Nothing. Once you're hefty hungry, you'll get up," the peasant laughed. "There are no valets (2) for you here." The soldier groaned, contrived, lifted the crust and sees - this is not bread, but one green mold. One poison! Then the soldier went out into the yard, whistled - and at once a blizzard broke, a blizzard, the storm swirled the village, the roofs were torn off, and then a severe frost struck. And the man died.

Why did he die? Filka asked hoarsely.

From the cooling of the heart, - the grandmother answered, paused and added: - To know, and now a bad person, an offender, has wound up in Berezhki, and has done an evil deed. That's why it's cold.

What to do now, grandma? Filka asked from under his sheepskin coat. - Really die?

Why die? Need to hope.

That a bad person will correct his villainy.

And how to fix it? asked Filka, sobbing.

And Pankrat knows about it, the miller. He is a smart old man, a scientist. You need to ask him. Can you really run to the mill in such a cold? The bleeding will stop immediately.

Come on, Pankrat! - said Filka and fell silent.

At night he climbed down from the stove. Grandma was sleeping on the bench. Outside the windows, the air was blue, thick, terrible.

In the clear sky above the osokori (3) stood the moon, adorned like a bride, with pink crowns.

Filka wrapped his sheepskin coat around him, jumped out into the street and ran to the mill. The snow sang underfoot, as if an artel of merry sawyers sawed down a birch grove across the river. It seemed that the air froze and between the earth and the moon there was only one void - burning and so clear that if it lifted a speck of dust a kilometer from the earth, then it would be visible and it would glow and twinkle like a small star.

The black willows near the mill dam turned gray from the cold. Their branches gleamed like glass. The air pricked Filka's chest. He could no longer run, but walked heavily, raking the snow with his felt boots.

Filka knocked on the window of Pankrat's hut. Immediately in the barn behind the hut, a wounded horse neighed and beat with a hoof. Filka groaned, squatted down in fear, hid. Pankrat opened the door, grabbed Filka by the collar and dragged him into the hut.

Sit down by the stove, - he said. - Tell me before you freeze.

Filka, weeping, told Pankrat how he offended the wounded horse and how frost fell on the village because of this.

Yes, - Pankrat sighed, - your business is bad! It turns out that everyone is lost because of you. Why hurt the horse? For what? You stupid citizen!

Filka sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

You stop crying! Pankrat said sternly. - Roar you all masters. A little naughty - now in a roar. But I just don't see the point in that. My mill stands as if sealed with frost forever, but there is no flour, and no water, and we don’t know what to think of.

What should I do now, grandfather Pankrat? Filka asked.

Invent salvation from the cold. Then the people will not be your fault. And in front of a wounded horse - too. You will be a pure person, cheerful. Everyone will pat you on the shoulder and forgive you. Clear?

Well, think of it. I'll give you an hour and a quarter.

A magpie lived in Pankrat's hallway. She did not sleep from the cold, sat on the collar - eavesdropped. Then she galloped sideways, looking around, to the gap under the door. Jumped out, jumped on the railing and flew straight south. The magpie was experienced, old, and purposely flew near the very ground, because from the villages and forests it still drew warmth and the magpie was not afraid to freeze. No one saw her, only a fox in an aspen hole (4) stuck her muzzle out of the hole, turned her nose, noticed how a magpie swept through the sky like a dark shadow, shied back into the hole and sat for a long time, scratching herself and thinking: where is it on such a terrible night gave forty?

And Filka at that time was sitting on a bench, fidgeting, inventing.

Well, - Pankrat said at last, trampling on a shag cigarette, - your time is up. Spread it! There will be no grace period.

I, grandfather Pankrat, - said Filka, - as soon as it dawns, I will gather the guys from all over the village. We will take crowbars, picks (5), axes, we will chop ice at the tray near the mill until we get to the water and it will flow onto the wheel. As the water goes, you let the mill! Turn the wheel twenty times, it will warm up and start grinding. There will be, therefore, flour, and water, and universal salvation.

Look, you are smart! - said the miller, - Under the ice, of course, there is water. And if the ice is as thick as your height, what will you do?

Yes, well, him! Filka said. - Let's break through, guys, and such ice!

What if you freeze?

We will burn fires.

And if the guys do not agree to pay for your nonsense with their hump? If they say: "Yes, well, it's his own fault - let the ice itself break off."

Agree! I will beg them. Our guys are good.

Well, go get the guys. And I'll talk with the old people. Maybe the old people will put on their mittens and take up the crowbars.

On frosty days, the sun rises crimson, in heavy smoke. And this morning such a sun rose over Berezhki. The frequent sound of crowbars was heard on the river. Fires crackled. The guys and old people worked from the very dawn, chipped off the ice at the mill. And no one in the heat of the moment noticed that in the afternoon the sky was overcast with low clouds and a steady and warm wind blew over the gray willows. And when they noticed that the weather had changed, the branches of the willows had already thawed, and the wet birch grove rustled merrily, loudly behind the river. The air smelled of spring, of manure.

The wind was blowing from the south. It got warmer every hour. Icicles fell from the roofs and smashed with a clang.

The ravens crawled out from under the jams (6) and again dried themselves on the pipes, pushed, croaked.

Only the old magpie was missing. She arrived in the evening, when the ice began to settle from the warmth, work at the mill went quickly and the first polynya with dark water appeared.

The boys pulled off their triplets and cheered. Pankrat said that if it were not for the warm wind, then, perhaps, the guys and old people would not have chipped the ice. And the magpie was sitting on a willow above the dam, chirping, shaking its tail, bowing in all directions and telling something, but no one but the crows understood it. And the magpie said that she flew to the warm sea, where the summer wind was sleeping in the mountains, woke him up, cracked him about the severe frost and begged him to drive away this frost, to help people.

The wind seemed not to dare to refuse her, the magpie, and blew, rushed over the fields, whistling and laughing at the frost. And if you listen carefully, you can already hear how warm water boils and gurgles along the ravines under the snow, washes the roots of lingonberries, breaks ice on the river.

Everyone knows that the magpie is the most talkative bird in the world, and therefore the crows did not believe her - they only croaked among themselves: that, they say, the old one was lying again.

So, until now, no one knows whether the magpie spoke the truth, or whether she invented all this from boasting. Only one thing is known that by the evening the ice cracked, dispersed, the guys and old people pressed - and water poured into the mill flume with a noise.

The old wheel creaked - icicles fell from it - and slowly turned. The millstones gnashed, then the wheel turned faster, and suddenly the whole old mill shook, started shaking and began to knock, creak, grind grain.

Pankrat poured grain, and hot flour poured from under the millstone into sacks. The women dipped their chilled hands into it and laughed.

Ringing birch firewood was chopping in all the yards. The huts glowed from the hot stove fire. The women were kneading the tight sweet dough. And everything that was alive in the huts - guys, cats, even mice - all this was spinning around the housewives, and the housewives slapped the guys on the back with a hand white from flour so that they would not climb into the very mess and interfere.

At night, there was such a smell of warm bread with a ruddy crust, with cabbage leaves burnt to the bottom, that even the foxes crawled out of their holes, sat in the snow, trembled and whined softly, thinking how to manage to steal from people at least a piece of this wonderful bread.

The next morning, Filka came with the guys to the mill. The wind drove loose clouds across the blue sky and did not allow them to take a breath for a minute, and therefore cold shadows, then hot sunspots, alternately rushed across the earth.

Filka was dragging a loaf of fresh bread, and a very small boy, Nikolka, was holding a wooden salt shaker with coarse yellow salt. Pankrat came out on the threshold and asked:

What is the phenomenon? Would you bring me some bread and salt? For what such merits?

Well no! - shouted the guys. - You will be special. And this is a wounded horse. From Filka. We want to reconcile them.

Well, - said Pankrat, - not only a person needs an apology. Now I will introduce you to the horse in kind.

Pankrat opened the gates of the shed and released his horse. The horse came out, stretched out his head, neighed - he smelled the smell of fresh bread. Filka broke the loaf, salted the bread from the salt shaker and handed it to the horse. But the horse did not take the bread, began to finely sort it out with his feet, and backed into the barn. Filka was scared. Then Filka wept loudly in front of the whole village.

The guys whispered and fell silent, and Pankrat patted the horse on the neck and said:

Don't be scared, Boy! Filka is not an evil person. Why offend him? Take bread, put up!

The horse shook his head, thought, then carefully stretched out his neck and finally took the bread from Filka's hands with soft lips. He ate one piece, sniffed Filka and took the second piece. Filka grinned through his tears, and the horse chewed bread and snorted. And when he ate all the bread, he put his head on Filka's shoulder, sighed and closed his eyes from satiety and pleasure.

Everyone smiled and rejoiced. Only the old magpie sat on the willow and cracked angrily: she must have boasted again that she alone managed to reconcile the horse with Filka. But no one listened to her and did not understand, and the magpie became more and more angry from this and cracked like a machine gun.

(1) We are talking about the wars with Turkey (1877-1878) for the liberation of Bulgaria and other countries of the Balkan Peninsula.

(2) A valet is a servant.

(3) Osokor - a tree, a kind of poplar.

(4) Yar - a ravine with steep slopes.

(5) Icepick - a heavy crowbar on a wooden handle for breaking through ice.

(6) Fences - the lower edges of the roof.

A brief retelling of "Warm Bread" grade 5 can read in 5 minutes. But this instructive story of Paustovsky is better to read in full.

"Warm bread" in abbreviation

In the village of Berezhki, cavalrymen left a wounded horse, which was sheltered by the miller Pankrat. Pankrat was considered a sorcerer, but he was a kind soul and a man. In the same village lived the boy Filka, nicknamed "Come on, you!". Filka was rude to adults and other children, even to his grandmother.

This horse walked around the yards of the village and begged for food, no one refused, everyone felt sorry for the horse and gave him bread, carrots, beet tops.

Once the horse reached for the bread in Filka's hand, to which the boy hit the horse hard on the lips. The horse recoiled, there were tears in his eyes. Filka threw a piece of bread into the snow with the words: “Here, take your bread, muzzle swarm, get it!”. The horse did not take a piece of bread and galloped away.

After this incident, the weather immediately deteriorated, a snowstorm began, the river froze, the mill did not work, all this could lead to the death of people in the village. Grandmother Filka lamented that a bad person in the village got wound up, because of this, the weather deteriorated.

Grandmother Filke said that a hundred years ago there was already such a severe frost in the village, and it happened when one of the peasants offended a passing soldier - he didn’t give bread, but threw it on the floor. Filka was frightened that everything happened because of his rudeness and ran to Pankrat for advice. Pankrat said that Filka himself should figure out how to correct his mistake. The boy gathered the guys from the village and they began to break the ice on the river to start the mill. The work went smoothly, by the evening of the next day it got warmer, the mill was started, the housewives baked bread.

There were cavalrymen through Berezhki. Wounded by a shell of a black horse in the leg. The commander decided to leave the horse in the village, and he left with the detachment.

Pankrat, unfriendly and considered a sorcerer, worked at the mill, he took the wounded man, cured him and left him. The horse worked for a new owner.

But there was nothing to feed the assistant, and the horse walked around the village and asked for food. No one refused the poor animal, everyone fed them with what they could.

The boy Filka lived there, lived with his grandmother, had a nickname "Well, you." The boy did not trust anyone and was uncommunicative.

In the middle of winter, Pankrat managed to start the mill. It was just in time, as it was time to grind grain in every yard.

The horse approached Filka's house. The boy ate bread, and the animal stood behind the gate and reached for food. Filka got angry and, striking the horse's warm lips, threw the bread into the snow. The horse neighed as if crying. And the snow began to take revenge so that it beat in the eyes, did not allow to enter the house. The boy ran into the hut, and the blizzard was mad, only by the end of the day it subsided. A sudden frost left people without water, and therefore without bread. Filka was seriously scared. The grandmother remembered the stories of her great-grandfathers about the same frost in the last century, which began from human anger.

And the grandmother told the following: the old soldier was hungry, the owner of one house threw him a stale crust like a dog. And the soldier was happy about this, but he had a wooden leg, it was difficult for him to bend down. The man offended the serviceman, the soldier whistled. So frost fell on the village, and death overtook the peasant, he died because his heart went cold.

Filka learned from his grandmother that Pankrat knew what to do. At night the boy went to the miller. It was hard to run, the frost greatly interfered, but the boy got to the hut he needed. The horse was the first to respond to a knock on the door with a neigh, then Pankrat quickly dragged Filka and sat him down to the stove, and he told everything as if in spirit about what an evil deed he had committed.

The miller instructed the offender to come up with a plan in an hour and a quarter, how to defeat the cold. The boy came up with the idea of ​​​​hollowing ice with the whole childish world in order to put water on the mill wheel, to get flour for the housewives. The men also agreed to help, they started working at sunrise. Work began to boil in unison, and suddenly the wind began to blow warmer, spring was coming. By evening, the mill was running. They rejoiced at the warm flour with the whole world, made dough, baked bread. In the morning, Filka was already at the mill, he did not come alone. He himself carried fresh bread, and a younger boy brought a salt shaker with salt. It was Filka who came to put up with the horse. The horse came out of the barn, did not even reach out to the fresh bread that was being offered, but backed away. The boy began to cry, and Pankrat hurried to persuade the horse, explaining to him that Filka was not evil.

The horse believed the owner and took a treat with warm lips. And when he ate everything, as a token of gratitude, he put his horse's head on Filkin's shoulder, closing his eyes.

Grade 5 Brief content for the reader's diary. Take 7-8 sentences

Reader's diary.