-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Тяжёлые времена
-
- Стр. 18/247
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
No
.
Coketown
did
not
come
out
of
its
own
furnaces
,
in
all
respects
like
gold
that
had
stood
the
fire
.
First
,
the
perplexing
mystery
of
the
place
was
,
Who
belonged
to
the
eighteen
denominations
?
Because
,
whoever
did
,
the
labouring
people
did
not
.
It
was
very
strange
to
walk
through
the
streets
on
a
Sunday
morning
,
and
note
how
few
of
them
the
barbarous
jangling
of
bells
that
was
driving
the
sick
and
nervous
mad
,
called
away
from
their
own
quarter
,
from
their
own
close
rooms
,
from
the
corners
of
their
own
streets
,
where
they
lounged
listlessly
,
gazing
at
all
the
church
and
chapel
going
,
as
at
a
thing
with
which
they
had
no
manner
of
concern
.
Nor
was
it
merely
the
stranger
who
noticed
this
,
because
there
was
a
native
organization
in
Coketown
itself
,
whose
members
were
to
be
heard
of
in
the
House
of
Commons
every
session
,
indignantly
petitioning
for
acts
of
parliament
that
should
make
these
people
religious
by
main
force
.
Then
came
the
Teetotal
Society
,
who
complained
that
these
same
people
would
get
drunk
,
and
showed
in
tabular
statements
that
they
did
get
drunk
,
and
proved
at
tea
parties
that
no
inducement
,
human
or
Divine
(
except
a
medal
)
,
would
induce
them
to
forego
their
custom
of
getting
drunk
.
Then
came
the
chemist
and
druggist
,
with
other
tabular
statements
,
showing
that
when
they
did
n't
get
drunk
,
they
took
opium
.
Then
came
the
experienced
chaplain
of
the
jail
,
with
more
tabular
statements
,
outdoing
all
the
previous
tabular
statements
,
and
showing
that
the
same
people
would
resort
to
low
haunts
,
hidden
from
the
public
eye
,
where
they
heard
low
singing
and
saw
low
dancing
,
and
mayhap
joined
in
it
;
and
where
A.
B.
,
aged
twenty-four
next
birthday
,
and
committed
for
eighteen
months
'
solitary
,
had
himself
said
(
not
that
he
had
ever
shown
himself
particularly
worthy
of
belief
)
his
ruin
began
,
as
he
was
perfectly
sure
and
confident
that
otherwise
he
would
have
been
a
tip-top
moral
specimen
.
Then
came
Mr.
Gradgrind
and
Mr.
Bounderby
,
the
two
gentlemen
at
this
present
moment
walking
through
Coketown
,
and
both
eminently
practical
,
who
could
,
on
occasion
,
furnish
more
tabular
statements
derived
from
their
own
personal
experience
,
and
illustrated
by
cases
they
had
known
and
seen
,
from
which
it
clearly
appeared
--
in
short
,
it
was
the
only
clear
thing
in
the
case
--
that
these
same
people
were
a
bad
lot
altogether
,
gentlemen
;
that
do
what
you
would
for
them
they
were
never
thankful
for
it
,
gentlemen
;
that
they
were
restless
,
gentlemen
;
that
they
never
knew
what
they
wanted
;
that
they
lived
upon
the
best
,
and
bought
fresh
butter
;
and
insisted
on
Mocha
coffee
,
and
rejected
all
but
prime
parts
of
meat
,
and
yet
were
eternally
dissatisfied
and
unmanageable
.
In
short
,
it
was
the
moral
of
the
old
nursery
fable
:
There
was
an
old
woman
,
and
what
do
you
think
?
She
lived
upon
nothing
but
victuals
and
drink
;
Victuals
and
drink
were
the
whole
of
her
diet
,
And
yet
this
old
woman
would
NEVER
be
quiet
.
Is
it
possible
,
I
wonder
,
that
there
was
any
analogy
between
the
case
of
the
Coketown
population
and
the
case
of
the
little
Gradgrinds
?
Surely
,
none
of
us
in
our
sober
senses
and
acquainted
with
figures
,
are
to
be
told
at
this
time
of
day
,
that
one
of
the
foremost
elements
in
the
existence
of
the
Coketown
working-people
had
been
for
scores
of
years
,
deliberately
set
at
nought
?
That
there
was
any
Fancy
in
them
demanding
to
be
brought
into
healthy
existence
instead
of
struggling
on
in
convulsions
?
That
exactly
in
the
ratio
as
they
worked
long
and
monotonously
,
the
craving
grew
within
them
for
some
physical
relief
--
some
relaxation
,
encouraging
good
humour
and
good
spirits
,
and
giving
them
a
vent
--
some
recognized
holiday
,
though
it
were
but
for
an
honest
dance
to
a
stirring
band
of
music
--
some
occasional
light
pie
in
which
even
M'Choakumchild
had
no
finger
--
which
craving
must
and
would
be
satisfied
aright
,
or
must
and
would
inevitably
go
wrong
,
until
the
laws
of
the
Creation
were
repealed
?
'
This
man
lives
at
Pod
's
End
,
and
I
do
n't
quite
know
Pod
's
End
,
'
said
Mr.
Gradgrind
.
'
Which
is
it
,
Bounderby
?
'
Mr.
Bounderby
knew
it
was
somewhere
down
town
,
but
knew
no
more
respecting
it
.
So
they
stopped
for
a
moment
,
looking
about
.
