Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

A good-humoured Christmas Chapter, containing an Account of a Wedding, and some other Sports beside:

           

           ‘Ishouldraytherha’thought,tolookatyou,thatyouwasa-labourin’underanunrequitedattachmenttosomeyoung‘ooman,’saidSam.

           Thefatboyshookhishead.

           ‘Vell,’saidSam,‘Iamgladtohearit.Doyoueverdrinkanythin’?’

           ‘Ilikeseatingbetter,’repliedtheboy.

           ‘Ah,’saidSam,‘Ishouldha’s’posedthat;butwhatImeanis,shouldyoulikeadropofanythin’as’dwarmyou?butIs’poseyouneverwascold,withallthemelasticfixtures,wasyou?’

           ‘Sometimes,’repliedtheboy;‘andIlikesadropofsomething,whenit’sgood.’

           ‘Oh,youdo,doyou?’saidSam,‘comethisway,then!’

           TheBlueLiontapwassoongained,andthefatboyswallowedaglassofliquorwithoutsomuchaswinkingafeatwhichconsiderablyadvancedhiminMr.Weller’sgoodopinion.Mr.Wellerhavingtransactedasimilarpieceofbusinessonhisownaccount,theygotintothecart.

           ‘Canyoudrive?’saidthefatboy.‘Ishouldraytherthinkso,’repliedSam.

           ‘There,then,’saidthefatboy,puttingthereinsinhishand,andpointingupalane,‘it’sasstraightasyoucango;youcan’tmissit.’

           Withthesewords,thefatboylaidhimselfaffectionatelydownbythesideofthecod-fish,and,placinganoyster-barrelunderhisheadforapillow,fellasleepinstantaneously.

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