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- Чарльз Диккенс
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Pickwick
,
‘
we
will
go
there
at
once
;
but
first
,
as
I
have
been
rather
ruffled
,
I
should
like
a
glass
of
brandy
-
and
-
water
warm
,
Sam
.
Where
can
I
have
it
,
Sam
?
’
Mr
.
Weller
’
s
knowledge
of
London
was
extensive
and
peculiar
.
He
replied
,
without
the
slightest
consideration
—
‘
Second
court
on
the
right
hand
side
—
last
house
but
vun
on
the
same
side
the
vay
—
take
the
box
as
stands
in
the
first
fireplace
,
‘
cos
there
ain
’
t
no
leg
in
the
middle
o
’
the
table
,
which
all
the
others
has
,
and
it
’
s
wery
inconvenient
.
’
Mr
.
Pickwick
observed
his
valet
’
s
directions
implicitly
,
and
bidding
Sam
follow
him
,
entered
the
tavern
he
had
pointed
out
,
where
the
hot
brandy
-
and
-
water
was
speedily
placed
before
him
;
while
Mr
.
Weller
,
seated
at
a
respectful
distance
,
though
at
the
same
table
with
his
master
,
was
accommodated
with
a
pint
of
porter
.
The
room
was
one
of
a
very
homely
description
,
and
was
apparently
under
the
especial
patronage
of
stage
-
coachmen
;
for
several
gentleman
,
who
had
all
the
appearance
of
belonging
to
that
learned
profession
,
were
drinking
and
smoking
in
the
different
boxes
.
Among
the
number
was
one
stout
,
red
-
faced
,
elderly
man
,
in
particular
,
seated
in
an
opposite
box
,
who
attracted
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
attention
.
The
stout
man
was
smoking
with
great
vehemence
,
but
between
every
half
-
dozen
puffs
,
he
took
his
pipe
from
his
mouth
,
and
looked
first
at
Mr
.
Weller
and
then
at
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
Then
,
he
would
bury
in
a
quart
pot
,
as
much
of
his
countenance
as
the
dimensions
of
the
quart
pot
admitted
of
its
receiving
,
and
take
another
look
at
Sam
and
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
Then
he
would
take
another
half
-
dozen
puffs
with
an
air
of
profound
meditation
and
look
at
them
again
.
At
last
the
stout
man
,
putting
up
his
legs
on
the
seat
,
and
leaning
his
back
against
the
wall
,
began
to
puff
at
his
pipe
without
leaving
off
at
all
,
and
to
stare
through
the
smoke
at
the
new
-
comers
,
as
if
he
had
made
up
his
mind
to
see
the
most
he
could
of
them
.
At
first
the
evolutions
of
the
stout
man
had
escaped
Mr
.
Weller
’
s
observation
,
but
by
degrees
,
as
he
saw
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
eyes
every
now
and
then
turning
towards
him
,
he
began
to
gaze
in
the
same
direction
,
at
the
same
time
shading
his
eyes
with
his
hand
,
as
if
he
partially
recognised
the
object
before
him
,
and
wished
to
make
quite
sure
of
its
identity
.
His
doubts
were
speedily
dispelled
,
however
;
for
the
stout
man
having
blown
a
thick
cloud
from
his
pipe
,
a
hoarse
voice
,
like
some
strange
effort
of
ventriloquism
,
emerged
from
beneath
the
capacious
shawls
which
muffled
his
throat
and
chest
,
and
slowly
uttered
these
sounds
—
‘
Wy
,
Sammy
!
’
‘
Who
’
s
that
,
Sam
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Why
,
I
wouldn
’
t
ha
’
believed
it
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
,
with
astonished
eyes
.
‘
It
’
s
the
old
’
un
.
’
‘
Old
one
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
What
old
one
?
’
