Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

The Story of the Goblins who stole a Sexton

           Hewassittingperfectlystill;histonguewasputout,asifinderision;andhewasgrinningatGabrielGrubwithsuchagrinasonlyagoblincouldcallup.

           ‘"ItwasNOTtheechoes,"saidthegoblin.

           ‘GabrielGrubwasparalysed,andcouldmakenoreply.

           ‘"WhatdoyoudohereonChristmasEve?"saidthegoblinsternly.‘"Icametodigagrave,Sir,"stammeredGabrielGrub.

           ‘"Whatmanwandersamonggravesandchurchyardsonsuchanightasthis?"criedthegoblin.

           ‘"GabrielGrub!GabrielGrub!"screamedawildchorusofvoicesthatseemedtofillthechurchyard.Gabriellookedfearfullyroundnothingwastobeseen.

           ‘"Whathaveyougotinthatbottle?"saidthegoblin.

           ‘"Hollands,sir,"repliedthesexton,tremblingmorethanever;forhehadboughtitofthesmugglers,andhethoughtthatperhapshisquestionermightbeintheexcisedepartmentofthegoblins.

           ‘"WhodrinksHollandsalone,andinachurchyard,onsuchanightasthis?"saidthegoblin.

           ‘"GabrielGrub!GabrielGrub!"exclaimedthewildvoicesagain.

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