Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

The first Day’s Journey, and the first Evening’s Adventures; with their Consequences

           

           Theofficerturnedsuddenlyfromthepath,andafterclimbingapaling,andscalingahedge,enteredasecludedfield.Twogentlemenwerewaitinginit;onewasalittle,fatman,withblackhair;andtheotheraportlypersonageinabraidedsurtoutwassittingwithperfectequanimityonacamp-stool.

           ‘Theotherparty,andasurgeon,Isuppose,’saidMr.Snodgrass;‘takeadropofbrandy.’Mr.Winkleseizedthewickerbottlewhichhisfriendproffered,andtookalengthenedpullattheexhilaratingliquid.

           ‘Myfriend,Sir,Mr.Snodgrass,’saidMr.Winkle,astheofficerapproached.DoctorSlammer’sfriendbowed,andproducedacasesimilartothatwhichMr.Snodgrasscarried.

           ‘Wehavenothingfurthertosay,Sir,Ithink,’hecoldlyremarked,asheopenedthecase;‘anapologyhasbeenresolutelydeclined.’

           ‘Nothing,Sir,’saidMr.Snodgrass,whobegantofeelratheruncomfortablehimself.

           ‘Willyoustepforward?’saidtheofficer.

           ‘Certainly,’repliedMr.Snodgrass.Thegroundwasmeasured,andpreliminariesarranged.‘Youwillfindthesebetterthanyourown,’saidtheoppositesecond,producinghispistols.‘Yousawmeloadthem.Doyouobjecttousethem?’

           ‘Certainlynot,’repliedMr.Snodgrass.Theofferrelievedhimfromconsiderableembarrassment,forhispreviousnotionsofloadingapistolwererathervagueandundefined.

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