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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
One
winter
’
s
evening
,
about
five
o
’
clock
,
just
as
it
began
to
grow
dusk
,
a
man
in
a
gig
might
have
been
seen
urging
his
tired
horse
along
the
road
which
leads
across
Marlborough
Downs
,
in
the
direction
of
Bristol
.
I
say
he
might
have
been
seen
,
and
I
have
no
doubt
he
would
have
been
,
if
anybody
but
a
blind
man
had
happened
to
pass
that
way
;
but
the
weather
was
so
bad
,
and
the
night
so
cold
and
wet
,
that
nothing
was
out
but
the
water
,
and
so
the
traveller
jogged
along
in
the
middle
of
the
road
,
lonesome
and
dreary
enough
.
If
any
bagman
of
that
day
could
have
caught
sight
of
the
little
neck
-
or
-
nothing
sort
of
gig
,
with
a
clay
-
coloured
body
and
red
wheels
,
and
the
vixenish
,
ill
tempered
,
fast
-
going
bay
mare
,
that
looked
like
a
cross
between
a
butcher
’
s
horse
and
a
twopenny
post
-
office
pony
,
he
would
have
known
at
once
,
that
this
traveller
could
have
been
no
other
than
Tom
Smart
,
of
the
great
house
of
Bilson
and
Slum
,
Cateaton
Street
,
City
.
However
,
as
there
was
no
bagman
to
look
on
,
nobody
knew
anything
at
all
about
the
matter
;
and
so
Tom
Smart
and
his
clay
-
coloured
gig
with
the
red
wheels
,
and
the
vixenish
mare
with
the
fast
pace
,
went
on
together
,
keeping
the
secret
among
them
,
and
nobody
was
a
bit
the
wiser
.
‘
There
are
many
pleasanter
places
even
in
this
dreary
world
,
than
Marlborough
Downs
when
it
blows
hard
;
and
if
you
throw
in
beside
,
a
gloomy
winter
’
s
evening
,
a
miry
and
sloppy
road
,
and
a
pelting
fall
of
heavy
rain
,
and
try
the
effect
,
by
way
of
experiment
,
in
your
own
proper
person
,
you
will
experience
the
full
force
of
this
observation
.
‘
The
wind
blew
—
not
up
the
road
or
down
it
,
though
that
’
s
bad
enough
,
but
sheer
across
it
,
sending
the
rain
slanting
down
like
the
lines
they
used
to
rule
in
the
copy
-
books
at
school
,
to
make
the
boys
slope
well
.
For
a
moment
it
would
die
away
,
and
the
traveller
would
begin
to
delude
himself
into
the
belief
that
,
exhausted
with
its
previous
fury
,
it
had
quietly
laid
itself
down
to
rest
,
when
,
whoo
!
he
could
hear
it
growling
and
whistling
in
the
distance
,
and
on
it
would
come
rushing
over
the
hill
-
tops
,
and
sweeping
along
the
plain
,
gathering
sound
and
strength
as
it
drew
nearer
,
until
it
dashed
with
a
heavy
gust
against
horse
and
man
,
driving
the
sharp
rain
into
their
ears
,
and
its
cold
damp
breath
into
their
very
bones
;
and
past
them
it
would
scour
,
far
,
far
away
,
with
a
stunning
roar
,
as
if
in
ridicule
of
their
weakness
,
and
triumphant
in
the
consciousness
of
its
own
strength
and
power
.
‘
The
bay
mare
splashed
away
,
through
the
mud
and
water
,
with
drooping
ears
;
now
and
then
tossing
her
head
as
if
to
express
her
disgust
at
this
very
ungentlemanly
behaviour
of
the
elements
,
but
keeping
a
good
pace
notwithstanding
,
until
a
gust
of
wind
,
more
furious
than
any
that
had
yet
assailed
them
,
caused
her
to
stop
suddenly
and
plant
her
four
feet
firmly
against
the
ground
,
to
prevent
her
being
blown
over
.
It
’
s
a
special
mercy
that
she
did
this
,
for
if
she
HAD
been
blown
over
,
the
vixenish
mare
was
so
light
,
and
the
gig
was
so
light
,
and
Tom
Smart
such
a
light
weight
into
the
bargain
,
that
they
must
infallibly
have
all
gone
rolling
over
and
over
together
,
until
they
reached
the
confines
of
earth
,
or
until
the
wind
fell
;
and
in
either
case
the
probability
is
,
that
neither
the
vixenish
mare
,
nor
the
clay
-
coloured
gig
with
the
red
wheels
,
nor
Tom
Smart
,
would
ever
have
been
fit
for
service
again
.
‘
"
Well
,
damn
my
straps
and
whiskers
,
"
says
Tom
Smart
(
Tom
sometimes
had
an
unpleasant
knack
of
swearing
)
—
"
damn
my
straps
and
whiskers
,
"
says
Tom
,
"
if
this
ain
’
t
pleasant
,
blow
me
!
"
‘
You
’
ll
very
likely
ask
me
why
,
as
Tom
Smart
had
been
pretty
well
blown
already
,
he
expressed
this
wish
to
be
submitted
to
the
same
process
again
.
I
can
’
t
say
—
all
I
know
is
,
that
Tom
Smart
said
so
—
or
at
least
he
always
told
my
uncle
he
said
so
,
and
it
’
s
just
the
same
thing
.
"
‘
Blow
me
,
"
says
Tom
Smart
;
and
the
mare
neighed
as
if
she
were
precisely
of
the
same
opinion
.
"
‘
Cheer
up
,
old
girl
,
"
said
Tom
,
patting
the
bay
mare
on
the
neck
with
the
end
of
his
whip
.
"
It
won
’
t
do
pushing
on
,
such
a
night
as
this
;
the
first
house
we
come
to
we
’
ll
put
up
at
,
so
the
faster
you
go
the
sooner
it
’
s
over
.
Soho
,
old
girl
—
gently
—
gently
.
"
‘
Whether
the
vixenish
mare
was
sufficiently
well
acquainted
with
the
tones
of
Tom
’
s
voice
to
comprehend
his
meaning
,
or
whether
she
found
it
colder
standing
still
than
moving
on
,
of
course
I
can
’
t
say
.
But
I
can
say
that
Tom
had
no
sooner
finished
speaking
,
than
she
pricked
up
her
ears
,
and
started
forward
at
a
speed
which
made
the
clay
-
coloured
gig
rattle
until
you
would
have
supposed
every
one
of
the
red
spokes
were
going
to
fly
out
on
the
turf
of
Marlborough
Downs
;
and
even
Tom
,
whip
as
he
was
,
couldn
’
t
stop
or
check
her
pace
,
until
she
drew
up
of
her
own
accord
,
before
a
roadside
inn
on
the
right
-
hand
side
of
the
way
,
about
half
a
quarter
of
a
mile
from
the
end
of
the
Downs
.
‘
Tom
cast
a
hasty
glance
at
the
upper
part
of
the
house
as
he
threw
the
reins
to
the
hostler
,
and
stuck
the
whip
in
the
box
.
It
was
a
strange
old
place
,
built
of
a
kind
of
shingle
,
inlaid
,
as
it
were
,
with
cross
-
beams
,
with
gabled
-
topped
windows
projecting
completely
over
the
pathway
,
and
a
low
door
with
a
dark
porch
,
and
a
couple
of
steep
steps
leading
down
into
the
house
,
instead
of
the
modern
fashion
of
half
a
dozen
shallow
ones
leading
up
to
it
.
