Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

Some Account of Eatanswill; of the State of Parties therein; and of the Election of a Member to serv

           

           ThePickwickianshadnosoonerdismountedthantheyweresurroundedbyabranchmobofthehonestandindependent,whoforthwithsetupthreedeafeningcheers,whichbeingrespondedtobythemainbody(forit’snotatallnecessaryforacrowdtoknowwhattheyarecheeringabout),swelledintoatremendousroaroftriumph,whichstoppedeventhered-facedmaninthebalcony.

           ‘Hurrah!’shoutedthemob,inconclusion.

           ‘Onecheermore,’screamedthelittlefuglemaninthebalcony,andoutshoutedthemobagain,asiflungswerecast-iron,withsteelworks.

           ‘Slumkeyforever!’roaredthehonestandindependent.

           ‘Slumkeyforever!’echoedMr.Pickwick,takingoffhishat.‘NoFizkin!’roaredthecrowd.

           ‘Certainlynot!’shoutedMr.Pickwick.‘Hurrah!’Andthentherewasanotherroaring,likethatofawholemenageriewhentheelephanthasrungthebellforthecoldmeat.

           ‘WhoisSlumkey?‘whisperedMr.Tupman.

           ‘Idon’tknow,’repliedMr.Pickwick,inthesametone.‘Hush.Don’taskanyquestions.It’salwaysbestontheseoccasionstodowhatthemobdo.’

           ‘Butsupposetherearetwomobs?’suggestedMr.Snodgrass.

           ‘Shoutwiththelargest,’repliedMr.Pickwick.

           Volumescouldnothavesaidmore.

           Theyenteredthehouse,thecrowdopeningrightandlefttoletthempass,andcheeringvociferously.

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