Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

In which Mr. Pickwick thinks he had better go to Bath; and goes accordingly

           Pickwick,quitestaggeredbythecoincidence;‘whataveryextraordinarything!’

           ‘Yes,butthatain’tall,’saidSam,againdirectinghismaster’sattentiontothecoachdoor;‘notcontentvithwritin’up"Pick–wick,"theyputs"Moses"aforeit,vichIcalladdin’insulttoinjury,astheparrotsaidventheynotonlytookhimfromhisnativeland,butmadehimtalktheEnglishlangwidgearterwards.’

           ‘It’soddenough,certainly,Sam,’saidMr.Pickwick;‘butifwestandtalkinghere,weshallloseourplaces.’

           ‘Wot,ain’tnothin’tobedoneinconsequence,sir?’exclaimedSam,perfectlyaghastatthecoolnesswithwhichMr.Pickwickpreparedtoensconcehimselfinside.

           ‘Done!’saidMr.Pickwick.‘Whatshouldbedone?’‘Ain’tnobodytobewhoppedfortakin’thishereliberty,sir?’saidMr.Weller,whohadexpectedthatatleasthewouldhavebeencommissionedtochallengetheguardandthecoachmantoapugilisticencounteronthespot.

           ‘Certainlynot,’repliedMr.Pickwickeagerly;‘notonanyaccount.Jumpuptoyourseatdirectly.’

           ‘Iamwerymuchafeered,’mutteredSamtohimself,asheturnedaway,‘thatsomethin’queer’scomeoverthegovernor,orhe’dneverha’stoodthissoquiet.Ihopethat‘eretrialhasn’tbrokehisspirit,butitlooksbad,werybad.’Mr.

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