Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

Too full of Adventure to be briefly described

           Bydegreeshisattentiongrewmoreandmoreattractedbytheobjectsaroundhim;andatlasthederivedasmuchenjoymentfromtheride,asifithadbeenundertakenforthepleasantestreasonintheworld.

           ‘Delightfulprospect,Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Beatsthechimbley-pots,Sir,’repliedMr.Weller,touchinghishat.

           ‘Isupposeyouhavehardlyseenanythingbutchimney-potsandbricksandmortarallyourlife,Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick,smiling.

           ‘Iworn’talwaysaboots,sir,’saidMr.Weller,withashakeofthehead.‘Iwosavaginer’sboy,once.’

           ‘Whenwasthat?’inquiredMr.Pickwick.

           ‘WhenIwosfirstpitchedneckandcropintotheworld,toplayatleap-frogwithitstroubles,’repliedSam.‘Iwosacarrier’sboyatstartin’;thenavaginer’s,thenahelper,thenaboots.NowI’magen’l’m’n’sservant.Ishallbeagen’l’m’nmyselfoneofthesedays,perhaps,withapipeinmymouth,andasummer-houseintheback-garden.Whoknows?Ishouldn’tbesurprisedforone.’

           ‘Youarequiteaphilosopher,Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Itrunsinthefamily,Ib’lieve,sir,’repliedMr.Weller.‘Myfather’swerymuchinthatlinenow.Ifmymother-in-lawblowshimup,hewhistles.Shefliesinapassion,andbreakshispipe;hestepsout,andgetsanother.

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