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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 165/859
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You
have
come
down
here
to
see
an
election
—
eh
?
’
Mr
.
Pickwick
replied
in
the
affirmative
.
‘
Spirited
contest
,
my
dear
sir
,
’
said
the
little
man
.
‘
I
’
m
delighted
to
hear
it
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
rubbing
his
hands
.
‘
I
like
to
see
sturdy
patriotism
,
on
whatever
side
it
is
called
forth
—
and
so
it
’
s
a
spirited
contest
?
’
‘
Oh
,
yes
,
’
said
the
little
man
,
‘
very
much
so
indeed
.
We
have
opened
all
the
public
-
houses
in
the
place
,
and
left
our
adversary
nothing
but
the
beer
-
shops
-
masterly
stroke
of
policy
that
,
my
dear
Sir
,
eh
?
’
The
little
man
smiled
complacently
,
and
took
a
large
pinch
of
snuff
.
‘
And
what
are
the
probabilities
as
to
the
result
of
the
contest
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Why
,
doubtful
,
my
dear
Sir
;
rather
doubtful
as
yet
,
’
replied
the
little
man
.
‘
Fizkin
’
s
people
have
got
three
-
and
-
thirty
voters
in
the
lock
-
up
coach
-
house
at
the
White
Hart
.
’
‘
In
the
coach
-
house
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
considerably
astonished
by
this
second
stroke
of
policy
.
‘
They
keep
’
em
locked
up
there
till
they
want
’
em
,
’
resumed
the
little
man
.
‘
The
effect
of
that
is
,
you
see
,
to
prevent
our
getting
at
them
;
and
even
if
we
could
,
it
would
be
of
no
use
,
for
they
keep
them
very
drunk
on
purpose
.
Smart
fellow
Fizkin
’
s
agent
—
very
smart
fellow
indeed
.
’
Mr
.
Pickwick
stared
,
but
said
nothing
.
‘
We
are
pretty
confident
,
though
,
’
said
Mr
.
