Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Introduces Mr. Pickwick to a new and not uninteresting Scene in the great Drama of Life

           Pickwickwasfastasleepinbed,whenhisearlyvisitor,followedbySam,enteredtheroom.Thenoisetheymade,insodoing,awokehim.

           ‘Shaving-water,Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick,fromwithinthecurtains.

           ‘Shaveyoudirectly,Mr.Pickwick,’saidthevisitor,drawingoneofthembackfromthebed’shead.‘I’vegotanexecutionagainstyou,atthesuitofBardell.Here’sthewarrant.CommonPleas.Here’smycard.Isupposeyou’llcomeovertomyhouse.’GivingMr.Pickwickafriendlytapontheshoulder,thesheriff’sofficer(forsuchhewas)threwhiscardonthecounterpane,andpulledagoldtoothpickfromhiswaistcoatpocket.

           ‘Namby’sthename,’saidthesheriff’sdeputy,asMr.Pickwicktookhisspectaclesfromunderthepillow,andputthemon,toreadthecard.‘Namby,BellAlley,ColemanStreet.’

           Atthispoint,SamWeller,whohadhadhiseyesfixedhithertoonMr.Namby’sshiningbeaver,interfered.

           ‘AreyouaQuaker?’saidSam.

           ‘I’llletyouknowIam,beforeI’vedonewithyou,’repliedtheindignantofficer.‘I’llteachyoumanners,myfinefellow,oneofthesefinemornings.’

           ‘Thank’ee,’saidSam.‘I’lldothesametoyou.Takeyourhatoff.’Withthis,Mr.Weller,inthemostdexterousmanner,knockedMr.Namby’shattotheothersideoftheroom,withsuchviolence,thathehadverynearlycausedhimtoswallowthegoldtoothpickintothebargain.

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