Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Samuel Weller makes a Pilgrimage to Dorking, and beholds his Mother-in-law

           Weller,senior,ontheother,inaneasyditto,theyproceededtoenjoythemselveswithallduegravity.

           ‘Anybodybeenhere,Sammy?’askedMr.Weller,senior,dryly,afteralongsilence.

           Samnoddedanexpressiveassent.

           ‘Red-nosedchap?’inquiredMr.Weller.

           Samnoddedagain.

           ‘Amiablemanthat‘ere,Sammy,’saidMr.Weller,smokingviolently.

           ‘Seemsso,’observedSam.

           ‘Goodhandataccounts,’saidMr.Weller.‘Ishe?’saidSam.

           ‘BorrowseighteenpenceonMonday,andcomesonTuesdayforashillin’tomakeituphalf-a-crown;callsagainonVensdayforanotherhalf-crowntomakeitfiveshillin’s;andgoeson,doubling,tillhegetsituptoafivepundnoteinnotime,likethemsumsinthe‘rithmeticbook‘boutthenailsinthehorse’sshoes,Sammy.’

           Samintimatedbyanodthatherecollectedtheproblemalludedtobyhisparent.

           ‘Soyouvouldn’tsubscribetotheflannelveskits?’saidSam,afteranotherintervalofsmoking.

           ‘Cert’nlynot,’repliedMr.Weller;‘what’sthegoodo’flannelveskitstotheyoungniggersabroad?ButI’lltellyouwhatitis,Sammy,’saidMr.Weller,loweringhisvoice,andbendingacrossthefireplace;‘I’dcomedownweryhandsometowardsstraitveskitsforsomepeopleathome.’

           AsMr.

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