Английский язык с Джеромом К. Джеромом. Трое в лодке, не считая собаки

But, there, I don't suppose I should really care for it when it came to actual practice (но я не думаю, что мне бы это действительно понравилось, если бы дошло до фактического осуществления = если бы это действительно случилось; to suppose — /пред/полагать, допускать, думать; practice — практика, осуществление /на практике/). It would be so ghastly dull and depressing in the evening (было бы ужасно скучно и уныло вечером), when your lamp cast uncanny shadows on the panelled walls (когда лампа бросает призрачные тени на обшитые панелями стены; uncanny — жуткий, зловещий; сверхъестественный; неосторожный), and the echo of distant feet rang through the cold stone corridors (отзвук далеких шагов разносится по холодным каменным коридорам; echo — эхо, отзвук, отголосок; to ring — звенеть, звучать; отдаваться эхом), and now drew nearer, and now died away (то приближаясь, то замирая; to draw near; to die away — затихать, гаснуть, увядать), and all was death-like silence, save the beating of one's own heart (и все — мертвая тишина, кроме биения сердца = лишь биение сердца нарушает мертвую тишину; own — свой, собственный).

lichen [ˈlaɪkǝn] hue [hju:] busy [ˈbɪzɪ]

What a dear old wall that is that runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling better for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what a charming picture it would make, with the lichen creeping here, and the moss growing there, a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on upon the busy river, and the sober old ivy clustering a little farther down! There are fifty shades and tints and hues in every ten yards of that old wall. If I could only draw, and knew how to paint, I could make a lovely sketch of that old wall, I'm sure. I've often thought I should like to live at Hampton Court. It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in the early morning before many people are about.

But, there, I don't suppose I should really care for it when it came to actual practice. It would be so ghastly dull and depressing in the evening, when your lamp cast uncanny shadows on the panelled walls, and the echo of distant feet rang through the cold stone corridors, and now drew nearer, and now died away, and all was death-like silence, save the beating of one's own heart.