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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 290/859
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‘
None
whatever
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Wery
glad
to
hear
it
,
sir
,
’
replied
the
old
man
;
‘
I
took
a
good
deal
o
’
pains
with
his
eddication
,
sir
;
let
him
run
in
the
streets
when
he
was
wery
young
,
and
shift
for
hisself
.
It
’
s
the
only
way
to
make
a
boy
sharp
,
sir
.
’
‘
Rather
a
dangerous
process
,
I
should
imagine
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
a
smile
.
‘
And
not
a
wery
sure
one
,
neither
,
’
added
Mr
.
Weller
;
‘
I
got
reg
’
larly
done
the
other
day
.
’
‘
No
!
’
said
his
father
.
‘
I
did
,
’
said
the
son
;
and
he
proceeded
to
relate
,
in
as
few
words
as
possible
,
how
he
had
fallen
a
ready
dupe
to
the
stratagems
of
Job
Trotter
.
Mr
.
Weller
,
senior
,
listened
to
the
tale
with
the
most
profound
attention
,
and
,
at
its
termination
,
said
—
‘
Worn
’
t
one
o
’
these
chaps
slim
and
tall
,
with
long
hair
,
and
the
gift
o
’
the
gab
wery
gallopin
’
?
’
Mr
.
Pickwick
did
not
quite
understand
the
last
item
of
description
,
but
,
comprehending
the
first
,
said
‘
Yes
,
’
at
a
venture
.
