Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Illustrative, like the preceding one, of the old Proverb, that Adversity brings a Man acquainted wit

           ‘Whatathorough-pacedgoerheusedtobesure-ly!YourememberTomMartin,Neddy?’saidRoker,appealingtoanothermaninthelodge,whowasparingthemudoffhisshoeswithafive-and-twenty-bladedpocket-knife.

           ‘Ishouldthinkso,’repliedthepartyaddressed,withastrongemphasisonthepersonalpronoun.

           ‘Blessmydeareyes!’saidMr.Roker,shakinghisheadslowlyfromsidetoside,andgazingabstractedlyoutofthegratedwindowsbeforehim,asifhewerefondlyrecallingsomepeacefulsceneofhisearlyyouth;‘itseemsbutyesterdaythathewhoppedthecoal-heaverdownFox-under-the–Hillbythewharfthere.IthinkIcanseehimnow,a-cominguptheStrandbetweenthetwostreet-keepers,alittlesoberedbythebruising,withapatcho’winegarandbrownpaperoverhisrighteyelid,andthat‘erelovelybulldog,aspinnedthelittleboyarterwards,a-followingathisheels.Whatarumthingtimeis,ain’tit,Neddy?’

           Thegentlemantowhomtheseobservationswereaddressed,whoappearedofataciturnandthoughtfulcast,merelyechoedtheinquiry;Mr.Roker,shakingoffthepoeticalandgloomytrainofthoughtintowhichhehadbeenbetrayed,descendedtothecommonbusinessoflife,andresumedhispen.

           ‘Doyouknowwhatthethirdgentlemenis?’inquiredMr.Pickwick,notverymuchgratifiedbythisdescriptionofhisfutureassociates.

           ‘WhatisthatSimpson,Neddy?’saidMr.Roker,turningtohiscompanion.

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