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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
Can
’
t
be
helped
,
’
said
Wardle
,
‘
we
must
walk
it
,
Pickwick
.
’
‘
No
help
for
it
,
’
replied
that
truly
great
man
.
So
sending
forward
one
of
the
boys
on
horseback
,
to
procure
a
fresh
chaise
and
horses
,
and
leaving
the
other
behind
to
take
care
of
the
broken
one
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
and
Mr
.
Wardle
set
manfully
forward
on
the
walk
,
first
tying
their
shawls
round
their
necks
,
and
slouching
down
their
hats
to
escape
as
much
as
possible
from
the
deluge
of
rain
,
which
after
a
slight
cessation
had
again
begun
to
pour
heavily
down
.
There
are
in
London
several
old
inns
,
once
the
headquarters
of
celebrated
coaches
in
the
days
when
coaches
performed
their
journeys
in
a
graver
and
more
solemn
manner
than
they
do
in
these
times
;
but
which
have
now
degenerated
into
little
more
than
the
abiding
and
booking
-
places
of
country
wagons
.
The
reader
would
look
in
vain
for
any
of
these
ancient
hostelries
,
among
the
Golden
Crosses
and
Bull
and
Mouths
,
which
rear
their
stately
fronts
in
the
improved
streets
of
London
.
If
he
would
light
upon
any
of
these
old
places
,
he
must
direct
his
steps
to
the
obscurer
quarters
of
the
town
,
and
there
in
some
secluded
nooks
he
will
find
several
,
still
standing
with
a
kind
of
gloomy
sturdiness
,
amidst
the
modern
innovations
which
surround
them
.
In
the
Borough
especially
,
there
still
remain
some
half
-
dozen
old
inns
,
which
have
preserved
their
external
features
unchanged
,
and
which
have
escaped
alike
the
rage
for
public
improvement
and
the
encroachments
of
private
speculation
.
Great
,
rambling
queer
old
places
they
are
,
with
galleries
,
and
passages
,
and
staircases
,
wide
enough
and
antiquated
enough
to
furnish
materials
for
a
hundred
ghost
stories
,
supposing
we
should
ever
be
reduced
to
the
lamentable
necessity
of
inventing
any
,
and
that
the
world
should
exist
long
enough
to
exhaust
the
innumerable
veracious
legends
connected
with
old
London
Bridge
,
and
its
adjacent
neighbourhood
on
the
Surrey
side
.
It
was
in
the
yard
of
one
of
these
inns
—
of
no
less
celebrated
a
one
than
the
White
Hart
—
that
a
man
was
busily
employed
in
brushing
the
dirt
off
a
pair
of
boots
,
early
on
the
morning
succeeding
the
events
narrated
in
the
last
chapter
.
He
was
habited
in
a
coarse
,
striped
waistcoat
,
with
black
calico
sleeves
,
and
blue
glass
buttons
;
drab
breeches
and
leggings
.
A
bright
red
handkerchief
was
wound
in
a
very
loose
and
unstudied
style
round
his
neck
,
and
an
old
white
hat
was
carelessly
thrown
on
one
side
of
his
head
.
There
were
two
rows
of
boots
before
him
,
one
cleaned
and
the
other
dirty
,
and
at
every
addition
he
made
to
the
clean
row
,
he
paused
from
his
work
,
and
contemplated
its
results
with
evident
satisfaction
.
The
yard
presented
none
of
that
bustle
and
activity
which
are
the
usual
characteristics
of
a
large
coach
inn
.
Three
or
four
lumbering
wagons
,
each
with
a
pile
of
goods
beneath
its
ample
canopy
,
about
the
height
of
the
second
-
floor
window
of
an
ordinary
house
,
were
stowed
away
beneath
a
lofty
roof
which
extended
over
one
end
of
the
yard
;
and
another
,
which
was
probably
to
commence
its
journey
that
morning
,
was
drawn
out
into
the
open
space
.
A
double
tier
of
bedroom
galleries
,
with
old
Clumsy
balustrades
,
ran
round
two
sides
of
the
straggling
area
,
and
a
double
row
of
bells
to
correspond
,
sheltered
from
the
weather
by
a
little
sloping
roof
,
hung
over
the
door
leading
to
the
bar
and
coffee
-
room
.
Two
or
three
gigs
and
chaise
-
carts
were
wheeled
up
under
different
little
sheds
and
pent
-
houses
;
and
the
occasional
heavy
tread
of
a
cart
-
horse
,
or
rattling
of
a
chain
at
the
farther
end
of
the
yard
,
announced
to
anybody
who
cared
about
the
matter
,
that
the
stable
lay
in
that
direction
.
When
we
add
that
a
few
boys
in
smock
-
frocks
were
lying
asleep
on
heavy
packages
,
wool
-
packs
,
and
other
articles
that
were
scattered
about
on
heaps
of
straw
,
we
have
described
as
fully
as
need
be
the
general
appearance
of
the
yard
of
the
White
Hart
Inn
,
High
Street
,
Borough
,
on
the
particular
morning
in
question
.
A
loud
ringing
of
one
of
the
bells
was
followed
by
the
appearance
of
a
smart
chambermaid
in
the
upper
sleeping
gallery
,
who
,
after
tapping
at
one
of
the
doors
,
and
receiving
a
request
from
within
,
called
over
the
balustrades
—
‘
Sam
!
’
‘
Hollo
,
’
replied
the
man
with
the
white
hat
.
