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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 168/820
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Traddles
still
remained
,
perhaps
,
but
it
was
very
doubtful
;
and
I
had
not
sufficient
confidence
in
his
discretion
or
good
luck
,
however
strong
my
reliance
was
on
his
good
nature
,
to
wish
to
trust
him
with
my
situation
.
So
I
crept
away
from
the
wall
as
Mr
.
Creakle
’
s
boys
were
getting
up
,
and
struck
into
the
long
dusty
track
which
I
had
first
known
to
be
the
Dover
Road
when
I
was
one
of
them
,
and
when
I
little
expected
that
any
eyes
would
ever
see
me
the
wayfarer
I
was
now
,
upon
it
.
What
a
different
Sunday
morning
from
the
old
Sunday
morning
at
Yarmouth
!
In
due
time
I
heard
the
church
-
bells
ringing
,
as
I
plodded
on
;
and
I
met
people
who
were
going
to
church
;
and
I
passed
a
church
or
two
where
the
congregation
were
inside
,
and
the
sound
of
singing
came
out
into
the
sunshine
,
while
the
beadle
sat
and
cooled
himself
in
the
shade
of
the
porch
,
or
stood
beneath
the
yew
-
tree
,
with
his
hand
to
his
forehead
,
glowering
at
me
going
by
.
But
the
peace
and
rest
of
the
old
Sunday
morning
were
on
everything
,
except
me
.
That
was
the
difference
.
I
felt
quite
wicked
in
my
dirt
and
dust
,
with
my
tangled
hair
.
But
for
the
quiet
picture
I
had
conjured
up
,
of
my
mother
in
her
youth
and
beauty
,
weeping
by
the
fire
,
and
my
aunt
relenting
to
her
,
I
hardly
think
I
should
have
had
the
courage
to
go
on
until
next
day
.
But
it
always
went
before
me
,
and
I
followed
.
I
got
,
that
Sunday
,
through
three
-
and
-
twenty
miles
on
the
straight
road
,
though
not
very
easily
,
for
I
was
new
to
that
kind
of
toil
.
I
see
myself
,
as
evening
closes
in
,
coming
over
the
bridge
at
Rochester
,
footsore
and
tired
,
and
eating
bread
that
I
had
bought
for
supper
.
One
or
two
little
houses
,
with
the
notice
,
‘
Lodgings
for
Travellers
’
,
hanging
out
,
had
tempted
me
;
but
I
was
afraid
of
spending
the
few
pence
I
had
,
and
was
even
more
afraid
of
the
vicious
looks
of
the
trampers
I
had
met
or
overtaken
.
I
sought
no
shelter
,
therefore
,
but
the
sky
;
and
toiling
into
Chatham
,
—
which
,
in
that
night
’
s
aspect
,
is
a
mere
dream
of
chalk
,
and
drawbridges
,
and
mastless
ships
in
a
muddy
river
,
roofed
like
Noah
’
s
arks
,
—
crept
,
at
last
,
upon
a
sort
of
grass
-
grown
battery
overhanging
a
lane
,
where
a
sentry
was
walking
to
and
fro
.
Here
I
lay
down
,
near
a
cannon
;
and
,
happy
in
the
society
of
the
sentry
’
s
footsteps
,
though
he
knew
no
more
of
my
being
above
him
than
the
boys
at
Salem
House
had
known
of
my
lying
by
the
wall
,
slept
soundly
until
morning
.
Very
stiff
and
sore
of
foot
I
was
in
the
morning
,
and
quite
dazed
by
the
beating
of
drums
and
marching
of
troops
,
which
seemed
to
hem
me
in
on
every
side
when
I
went
down
towards
the
long
narrow
street
.
Feeling
that
I
could
go
but
a
very
little
way
that
day
,
if
I
were
to
reserve
any
strength
for
getting
to
my
journey
’
s
end
,
I
resolved
to
make
the
sale
of
my
jacket
its
principal
business
.
Accordingly
,
I
took
the
jacket
off
,
that
I
might
learn
to
do
without
it
;
and
carrying
it
under
my
arm
,
began
a
tour
of
inspection
of
the
various
slop
-
shops
.
It
was
a
likely
place
to
sell
a
jacket
in
;
for
the
dealers
in
second
-
hand
clothes
were
numerous
,
and
were
,
generally
speaking
,
on
the
look
-
out
for
customers
at
their
shop
doors
.
But
as
most
of
them
had
,
hanging
up
among
their
stock
,
an
officer
’
s
coat
or
two
,
epaulettes
and
all
,
I
was
rendered
timid
by
the
costly
nature
of
their
dealings
,
and
walked
about
for
a
long
time
without
offering
my
merchandise
to
anyone
.
This
modesty
of
mine
directed
my
attention
to
the
marine
-
store
shops
,
and
such
shops
as
Mr
.
Dolloby
’
s
,
in
preference
to
the
regular
dealers
.
At
last
I
found
one
that
I
thought
looked
promising
,
at
the
corner
of
a
dirty
lane
,
ending
in
an
enclosure
full
of
stinging
-
nettles
,
against
the
palings
of
which
some
second
-
hand
sailors
’
clothes
,
that
seemed
to
have
overflowed
the
shop
,
were
fluttering
among
some
cots
,
and
rusty
guns
,
and
oilskin
hats
,
and
certain
trays
full
of
so
many
old
rusty
keys
of
so
many
sizes
that
they
seemed
various
enough
to
open
all
the
doors
in
the
world
.
Into
this
shop
,
which
was
low
and
small
,
and
which
was
darkened
rather
than
lighted
by
a
little
window
,
overhung
with
clothes
,
and
was
descended
into
by
some
steps
,
I
went
with
a
palpitating
heart
;
which
was
not
relieved
when
an
ugly
old
man
,
with
the
lower
part
of
his
face
all
covered
with
a
stubbly
grey
beard
,
rushed
out
of
a
dirty
den
behind
it
,
and
seized
me
by
the
hair
of
my
head
.
He
was
a
dreadful
old
man
to
look
at
,
in
a
filthy
flannel
waistcoat
,
and
smelling
terribly
of
rum
.
His
bedstead
,
covered
with
a
tumbled
and
ragged
piece
of
patchwork
,
was
in
the
den
he
had
come
from
,
where
another
little
window
showed
a
prospect
of
more
stinging
-
nettles
,
and
a
lame
donkey
.
‘
Oh
,
what
do
you
want
?
’
grinned
this
old
man
,
in
a
fierce
,
monotonous
whine
.
‘
Oh
,
my
eyes
and
limbs
,
what
do
you
want
?
Oh
,
my
lungs
and
liver
,
what
do
you
want
?
Oh
,
goroo
,
goroo
!
’
