Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

How Mr. Winkle, when he stepped out of the Frying-pan, walked gently and comfortably into the Fire

           Blessyourheart,oldfellow,it’sbetterthanalltheadvertisingintheworld.Wehavegotonefour-ouncebottlethat’sbeentohalfthehousesinBristol,andhasn’tdoneyet.’

           ‘Dearme,Isee,’observedMr.Winkle;‘whatanexcellentplan!’

           ‘Oh,BenandIhavehituponadozensuch,’repliedBobSawyer,withgreatglee.‘Thelamplighterhaseighteenpenceaweektopullthenight-bellfortenminuteseverytimehecomesround;andmyboyalwaysrushesintothechurchjustbeforethepsalms,whenthepeoplehavegotnothingtodobutlookabout’em,andcallsmeout,withhorroranddismaydepictedonhiscountenance."Blessmysoul,"everybodysays,"somebodytakensuddenlyill!Sawyer,lateNockemorf,sentfor.Whatabusinessthatyoungmanhas!"’

           Attheterminationofthisdisclosureofsomeofthemysteriesofmedicine,Mr.BobSawyerandhisfriend,BenAllen,threwthemselvesbackintheirrespectivechairs,andlaughedboisterously.Whentheyhadenjoyedthejoketotheirheart’scontent,thediscoursechangedtotopicsinwhichMr.Winklewasmoreimmediatelyinterested.

           Wethinkwehavehintedelsewhere,thatMr.BenjaminAllenhadawayofbecomingsentimentalafterbrandy.Thecaseisnotapeculiarone,asweourselfcantestify,having,onafewoccasions,hadtodealwithpatientswhohavebeenafflictedinasimilarmanner.Atthispreciseperiodofhisexistence,Mr.

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