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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 337/435
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This
is
Mr
.
Barley
’
s
breakfast
for
to
-
morrow
,
served
out
to
be
cooked
.
Two
mutton
-
chops
,
three
potatoes
,
some
split
peas
,
a
little
flour
,
two
ounces
of
butter
,
a
pinch
of
salt
,
and
all
this
black
pepper
.
It
’
s
stewed
up
together
,
and
taken
hot
,
and
it
’
s
a
nice
thing
for
the
gout
,
I
should
think
!
"
There
was
something
so
natural
and
winning
in
Clara
’
s
resigned
way
of
looking
at
these
stores
in
detail
,
as
Herbert
pointed
them
out
;
and
something
so
confiding
,
loving
,
and
innocent
in
her
modest
manner
of
yielding
herself
to
Herbert
’
s
embracing
arm
;
and
something
so
gentle
in
her
,
so
much
needing
protection
on
Mill
Pond
Bank
,
by
Chinks
’
s
Basin
,
and
the
Old
Green
Copper
Ropewalk
,
with
Old
Barley
growling
in
the
beam
—
that
I
would
not
have
undone
the
engagement
between
her
and
Herbert
for
all
the
money
in
the
pocket
-
book
I
had
never
opened
.
I
was
looking
at
her
with
pleasure
and
admiration
,
when
suddenly
the
growl
swelled
into
a
roar
again
,
and
a
frightful
bumping
noise
was
heard
above
,
as
if
a
giant
with
a
wooden
leg
were
trying
to
bore
it
through
the
ceiling
to
come
at
us
.
Upon
this
Clara
said
to
Herbert
,
"
Papa
wants
me
,
darling
!
"
and
ran
away
.
"
There
is
an
unconscionable
old
shark
for
you
!
"
said
Herbert
.
"
What
do
you
suppose
he
wants
now
,
Handel
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
,
"
said
I
.
"
Something
to
drink
?
"
"
That
’
s
it
!
"
cried
Herbert
,
as
if
I
had
made
a
guess
of
extraordinary
merit
.
"
He
keeps
his
grog
ready
mixed
in
a
little
tub
on
the
table
.
Wait
a
moment
,
and
you
’
ll
hear
Clara
lift
him
up
to
take
some
.
There
he
goes
!
"
Another
roar
,
with
a
prolonged
shake
at
the
end
.
"
Now
,
"
said
Herbert
,
as
it
was
succeeded
by
silence
,
"
he
’
s
drinking
.
Now
,
"
said
Herbert
,
as
the
growl
resounded
in
the
beam
once
more
,
"
he
’
s
down
again
on
his
back
!
"
Clara
returned
soon
afterwards
,
and
Herbert
accompanied
me
up
stairs
to
see
our
charge
.
As
we
passed
Mr
.
Barley
’
s
door
,
he
was
heard
hoarsely
muttering
within
,
in
a
strain
that
rose
and
fell
like
wind
,
the
following
Refrain
,
in
which
I
substitute
good
wishes
for
something
quite
the
reverse
:
—
"
Ahoy
!
Bless
your
eyes
,
here
’
s
old
Bill
Barley
.
Here
’
s
old
Bill
Barley
,
bless
your
eyes
.
Here
’
s
old
Bill
Barley
on
the
flat
of
his
back
,
by
the
Lord
.
Lying
on
the
flat
of
his
back
like
a
drifting
old
dead
flounder
,
here
’
s
your
old
Bill
Barley
,
bless
your
eyes
.
Ahoy
!
Bless
you
.
"
In
this
strain
of
consolation
,
Herbert
informed
me
the
invisible
Barley
would
commune
with
himself
by
the
day
and
night
together
;
Often
,
while
it
was
light
,
having
,
at
the
same
time
,
one
eye
at
a
telescope
which
was
fitted
on
his
bed
for
the
convenience
of
sweeping
the
river
.
