Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

           ‘Capitalgame—wellplayed—somestrokesadmirable,’saidthestranger,asbothsidescrowdedintothetent,attheconclusionofthegame.

           ‘Youhaveplayedit,sir?’inquiredMr.Wardle,whohadbeenmuchamusedbyhisloquacity.‘Playedit!ThinkIhave—thousandsoftimes—nothere—WestIndies—excitingthing—hotwork—very.’‘Itmustberatherawarmpursuitinsuchaclimate,’observedMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Warm!—redhot—scorching—glowing.Playedamatchonce—singlewicket—friendthecolonel—SirThomasBlazo—whoshouldgetthegreatestnumberofruns.—Wonthetoss—firstinnings—seveno’clockA.m.—sixnativestolookout—wentin;keptin—heatintense—nativesallfainted—takenaway—freshhalf-dozenordered—faintedalso—Blazobowling—supportedbytwonatives—couldn’tbowlmeout—faintedtoo—clearedawaythecolonel—wouldn’tgivein—faithfulattendant—QuankoSamba—lastmanleft—sunsohot,batinblisters,ballscorchedbrown—fivehundredandseventyruns—ratherexhausted—Quankomustereduplastremainingstrength—bowledmeout—hadabath,andwentouttodinner.’

           ‘Andwhatbecameofwhat’s-his-name,Sir?’inquiredanoldgentleman.

           ‘Blazo?’

           ‘No—theothergentleman.’‘QuankoSamba?’

           ‘Yes,sir.