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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 159/859
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‘
There
is
a
man
in
the
passage
now
,
’
said
Mr
.
Tupman
.
‘
It
’
s
the
man
I
spoke
to
you
about
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
;
‘
I
sent
for
him
to
the
Borough
this
morning
.
Have
the
goodness
to
call
him
up
,
Snodgrass
.
’
Mr
.
Snodgrass
did
as
he
was
desired
;
and
Mr
.
Samuel
Weller
forthwith
presented
himself
.
‘
Oh
—
you
remember
me
,
I
suppose
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
I
should
think
so
,
’
replied
Sam
,
with
a
patronising
wink
.
‘
Queer
start
that
‘
ere
,
but
he
was
one
too
many
for
you
,
warn
’
t
he
?
Up
to
snuff
and
a
pinch
or
two
over
—
eh
?
’
‘
Never
mind
that
matter
now
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
hastily
;
‘
I
want
to
speak
to
you
about
something
else
.
Sit
down
.
’
‘
Thank
’
ee
,
sir
,
’
said
Sam
.
And
down
he
sat
without
further
bidding
,
having
previously
deposited
his
old
white
hat
on
the
landing
outside
the
door
.
‘
‘
Tain
’
t
a
wery
good
’
un
to
look
at
,
’
said
Sam
,
‘
but
it
’
s
an
astonishin
’
’
un
to
wear
;
and
afore
the
brim
went
,
it
was
a
wery
handsome
tile
.
Hows
’
ever
it
’
s
lighter
without
it
,
that
’
s
one
thing
,
and
every
hole
lets
in
some
air
,
that
’
s
another
—
wentilation
gossamer
I
calls
it
.
’
On
the
delivery
of
this
sentiment
,
Mr
.
Weller
smiled
agreeably
upon
the
assembled
Pickwickians
.
‘
Now
with
regard
to
the
matter
on
which
I
,
with
the
concurrence
of
these
gentlemen
,
sent
for
you
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
That
’
s
the
pint
,
sir
,
’
interposed
Sam
;
‘
out
vith
it
,
as
the
father
said
to
his
child
,
when
he
swallowed
a
farden
.
’
