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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 138/435
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"
My
dear
young
friend
,
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
;
"
if
you
will
allow
me
to
call
you
so
—
"
I
murmured
"
Certainly
,
"
and
Mr
.
Pumblechook
took
me
by
both
hands
again
,
and
communicated
a
movement
to
his
waistcoat
,
which
had
an
emotional
appearance
,
though
it
was
rather
low
down
,
"
My
dear
young
friend
,
rely
upon
my
doing
my
little
all
in
your
absence
,
by
keeping
the
fact
before
the
mind
of
Joseph
.
—
Joseph
!
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
,
in
the
way
of
a
compassionate
adjuration
.
"
Joseph
!
!
Joseph
!
!
!
"
Thereupon
he
shook
his
head
and
tapped
it
,
expressing
his
sense
of
deficiency
in
Joseph
.
"
But
my
dear
young
friend
,
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
,
"
you
must
be
hungry
,
you
must
be
exhausted
.
Be
seated
.
Here
is
a
chicken
had
round
from
the
Boar
,
here
is
a
tongue
had
round
from
the
Boar
,
here
’
s
one
or
two
little
things
had
round
from
the
Boar
,
that
I
hope
you
may
not
despise
.
But
do
I
,
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
,
getting
up
again
the
moment
after
he
had
sat
down
,
"
see
afore
me
,
him
as
I
ever
sported
with
in
his
times
of
happy
infancy
?
And
may
I
—
may
I
—
?
"
This
May
I
,
meant
might
he
shake
hands
?
I
consented
,
and
he
was
fervent
,
and
then
sat
down
again
.
"
Here
is
wine
,
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
.
"
Let
us
drink
,
Thanks
to
Fortune
,
and
may
she
ever
pick
out
her
favorites
with
equal
judgment
!
And
yet
I
cannot
,
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
,
getting
up
again
,
"
see
afore
me
One
—
and
likewise
drink
to
One
—
without
again
expressing
—
May
I
—
may
I
—
?
"
I
said
he
might
,
and
he
shook
hands
with
me
again
,
and
emptied
his
glass
and
turned
it
upside
down
.
I
did
the
same
;
and
if
I
had
turned
myself
upside
down
before
drinking
,
the
wine
could
not
have
gone
more
direct
to
my
head
.
Mr
.
Pumblechook
helped
me
to
the
liver
wing
,
and
to
the
best
slice
of
tongue
(
none
of
those
out
-
of
-
the
-
way
No
Thoroughfares
of
Pork
now
)
,
and
took
,
comparatively
speaking
,
no
care
of
himself
at
all
.
"
Ah
!
poultry
,
poultry
!
You
little
thought
,
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
,
apostrophizing
the
fowl
in
the
dish
,
"
when
you
was
a
young
fledgling
,
what
was
in
store
for
you
.
You
little
thought
you
was
to
be
refreshment
beneath
this
humble
roof
for
one
as
—
Call
it
a
weakness
,
if
you
will
,
"
said
Mr
.
Pumblechook
,
getting
up
again
,
"
but
may
I
?
may
I
—
?
"
It
began
to
be
unnecessary
to
repeat
the
form
of
saying
he
might
,
so
he
did
it
at
once
.
How
he
ever
did
it
so
often
without
wounding
himself
with
my
knife
,
I
don
’
t
know
.
"
And
your
sister
,
"
he
resumed
,
after
a
little
steady
eating
,
"
which
had
the
honor
of
bringing
you
up
by
hand
!
It
’
s
a
sad
picter
,
to
reflect
that
she
’
s
no
longer
equal
to
fully
understanding
the
honor
.
May
—
"
