Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

How Mr. Pickwick sped upon his Mission, and how he was reinforced in the Outset by a most unexpected

           ThecongratulationsofanIrishfamily,too,whowerekeepingupwiththechaise,andbeggingallthetime,wereofratheraboisterousdescription,especiallythoseofitsmalehead,whoappearedtoconsiderthedisplayaspartandparcelofsomepoliticalorotherprocessionoftriumph.

           ‘Mr.Sawyer!’criedMr.Pickwick,inastateofgreatexcitement,‘Mr.Sawyer,Sir!’

           ‘Hollo!’respondedthatgentleman,lookingoverthesideofthechaisewithallthecoolnessinlife.

           ‘Areyoumad,sir?’demandedMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Notabitofit,’repliedBob;‘onlycheerful.’

           ‘Cheerful,sir!’ejaculatedMr.Pickwick.‘Takedownthatscandalousredhandkerchief,Ibeg.Iinsist,Sir.Sam,takeitdown.’

           BeforeSamcouldinterpose,Mr.BobSawyergracefullystruckhiscolours,andhavingputtheminhispocket,noddedinacourteousmannertoMr.Pickwick,wipedthemouthofthecase-bottle,andappliedittohisown,therebyinforminghim,withoutanyunnecessarywasteofwords,thathedevotedthatdraughttowishinghimallmannerofhappinessandprosperity.Havingdonethis,Bobreplacedthecorkwithgreatcare,andlookingbenignantlydownonMr.Pickwick,tookalargebiteoutofthesandwich,andsmiled.

           ‘Come,’saidMr.Pickwick,whosemomentaryangerwasnotquiteproofagainstBob’simmovableself-possession,‘prayletushavenomoreofthisabsurdity.

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