Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

In which Mr. Pickwick thinks he had better go to Bath; and goes accordingly

           Dowlerpaidhisbill,andhurriedoutwithhistravellingcap,coat,andcloak;andMr.Pickwickandhisfriendsfollowedtosecuretheirplaces.Mr.TupmanandMr.Snodgrasshadseatedthemselvesatthebackpartofthecoach;Mr.Winklehadgotinside;andMr.Pickwickwaspreparingtofollowhim,whenSamWellercameuptohismaster,andwhisperinginhisear,beggedtospeaktohim,withanairofthedeepestmystery.

           ‘Well,Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick,‘what’sthematternow?’

           ‘Here’sraytherarumgo,sir,’repliedSam.

           ‘What?’inquiredMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Thishere,Sir,’rejoinedSam.‘I’mwerymuchafeerd,sir,thattheproperiatoro’thisherecoachisaplayin’someimperencevithus.’

           ‘Howisthat,Sam?’saidMr.Pickwick;‘aren’tthenamesdownontheway-bill?’

           ‘Thenamesisnotonlydownonthevay-bill,Sir,’repliedSam,‘butthey’vepaintedvunon’emup,onthedooro’thecoach.’AsSamspoke,hepointedtothatpartofthecoachdooronwhichtheproprietor’snameusuallyappears;andthere,sureenough,ingiltlettersofagoodlysize,wasthemagicnameofPICKWICK!

           ‘Dearme,’exclaimedMr.

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