Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Descriptive of an affecting Interview between Mr. Samuel Weller and a Family Party. Mr. Pickwick mak

           

           ‘Ihavebeendoin’nothingformanyweekspast,’saidJob;andeatinganddrinkingalmostaslittle.’

           SamtookonecomprehensiveglanceatMr.Trotter’sthinfaceandwretchedapparel;andthen,seizinghimbythearm,commenceddragginghimawaywithgreatviolence.

           ‘Whereareyougoing,Mr.Weller?’saidJob,vainlystrugglinginthepowerfulgraspofhisoldenemy.‘Comeon,’saidSam;‘comeon!’Hedeignednofurtherexplanationtilltheyreachedthetap,andthencalledforapotofporter,whichwasspeedilyproduced.

           ‘Now,’saidSam,‘drinkthatup,ev’rydroponit,andthenturnthepotupsidedown,toletmeseeasyou’vetookthemedicine.’

           ‘But,mydearMr.Weller,’remonstratedJob.

           ‘Downvithit!’saidSamperemptorily.

           Thusadmonished,Mr.Trotterraisedthepottohislips,and,bygentleandalmostimperceptibledegrees,tilteditintotheair.Hepausedonce,andonlyonce,todrawalongbreath,butwithoutraisinghisfacefromthevessel,which,inafewmomentsthereafter,heheldoutatarm’slength,bottomupward.Nothingfelluponthegroundbutafewparticlesoffroth,whichslowlydetachedthemselvesfromtherim,andtrickledlazilydown.

           ‘Welldone!’saidSam.‘Howdoyoufindyourselfarterit?’

           ‘Better,Sir.IthinkIambetter,’respondedJob.

           ‘O’courseyouair,’saidSamargumentatively.

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