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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
When
I
wos
first
pitched
neck
and
crop
into
the
world
,
to
play
at
leap
-
frog
with
its
troubles
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
I
wos
a
carrier
’
s
boy
at
startin
’
;
then
a
vaginer
’
s
,
then
a
helper
,
then
a
boots
.
Now
I
’
m
a
gen
’
l
’
m
’
n
’
s
servant
.
I
shall
be
a
gen
’
l
’
m
’
n
myself
one
of
these
days
,
perhaps
,
with
a
pipe
in
my
mouth
,
and
a
summer
-
house
in
the
back
-
garden
.
Who
knows
?
I
shouldn
’
t
be
surprised
for
one
.
’
‘
You
are
quite
a
philosopher
,
Sam
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
It
runs
in
the
family
,
I
b
’
lieve
,
sir
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
.
‘
My
father
’
s
wery
much
in
that
line
now
.
If
my
mother
-
in
-
law
blows
him
up
,
he
whistles
.
She
flies
in
a
passion
,
and
breaks
his
pipe
;
he
steps
out
,
and
gets
another
.
Then
she
screams
wery
loud
,
and
falls
into
‘
sterics
;
and
he
smokes
wery
comfortably
till
she
comes
to
agin
.
That
’
s
philosophy
,
Sir
,
ain
’
t
it
?
’
‘
A
very
good
substitute
for
it
,
at
all
events
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
laughing
.
‘
It
must
have
been
of
great
service
to
you
,
in
the
course
of
your
rambling
life
,
Sam
.
’
‘
Service
,
sir
,
’
exclaimed
Sam
.
‘
You
may
say
that
.
Arter
I
run
away
from
the
carrier
,
and
afore
I
took
up
with
the
vaginer
,
I
had
unfurnished
lodgin
’
s
for
a
fortnight
.
’
‘
Unfurnished
lodgings
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Yes
—
the
dry
arches
of
Waterloo
Bridge
.
Fine
sleeping
-
place
—
vithin
ten
minutes
’
walk
of
all
the
public
offices
—
only
if
there
is
any
objection
to
it
,
it
is
that
the
sitivation
’
s
rayther
too
airy
.
I
see
some
queer
sights
there
.
’
‘
Ah
,
I
suppose
you
did
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
an
air
of
considerable
interest
.
‘
Sights
,
sir
,
’
resumed
Mr
.
Weller
,
‘
as
’
ud
penetrate
your
benevolent
heart
,
and
come
out
on
the
other
side
.
You
don
’
t
see
the
reg
’
lar
wagrants
there
;
trust
’
em
,
they
knows
better
than
that
.
Young
beggars
,
male
and
female
,
as
hasn
’
t
made
a
rise
in
their
profession
,
takes
up
their
quarters
there
sometimes
;
but
it
’
s
generally
the
worn
-
out
,
starving
,
houseless
creeturs
as
roll
themselves
in
the
dark
corners
o
’
them
lonesome
places
—
poor
creeturs
as
ain
’
t
up
to
the
twopenny
rope
.
’
‘
And
pray
,
Sam
,
what
is
the
twopenny
rope
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
