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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
Wardle
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
almost
as
soon
as
they
were
all
seated
,
‘
a
glass
of
wine
in
honour
of
this
happy
occasion
!
’
‘
I
shall
be
delighted
,
my
boy
,
’
said
Wardle
.
‘
Joe
—
damn
that
boy
,
he
’
s
gone
to
sleep
.
’
‘
No
,
I
ain
’
t
,
sir
,
’
replied
the
fat
boy
,
starting
up
from
a
remote
corner
,
where
,
like
the
patron
saint
of
fat
boys
—
the
immortal
Horner
—
he
had
been
devouring
a
Christmas
pie
,
though
not
with
the
coolness
and
deliberation
which
characterised
that
young
gentleman
’
s
proceedings
.
‘
Fill
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
glass
.
’
‘
Yes
,
sir
.
’
The
fat
boy
filled
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
glass
,
and
then
retired
behind
his
master
’
s
chair
,
from
whence
he
watched
the
play
of
the
knives
and
forks
,
and
the
progress
of
the
choice
morsels
from
the
dishes
to
the
mouths
of
the
company
,
with
a
kind
of
dark
and
gloomy
joy
that
was
most
impressive
.
‘
God
bless
you
,
old
fellow
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Same
to
you
,
my
boy
,
’
replied
Wardle
;
and
they
pledged
each
other
,
heartily
.
‘
Mrs
.
Wardle
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
we
old
folks
must
have
a
glass
of
wine
together
,
in
honour
of
this
joyful
event
.
’
The
old
lady
was
in
a
state
of
great
grandeur
just
then
,
for
she
was
sitting
at
the
top
of
the
table
in
the
brocaded
gown
,
with
her
newly
-
married
granddaughter
on
one
side
,
and
Mr
.
Pickwick
on
the
other
,
to
do
the
carving
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
had
not
spoken
in
a
very
loud
tone
,
but
she
understood
him
at
once
,
and
drank
off
a
full
glass
of
wine
to
his
long
life
and
happiness
;
after
which
the
worthy
old
soul
launched
forth
into
a
minute
and
particular
account
of
her
own
wedding
,
with
a
dissertation
on
the
fashion
of
wearing
high
-
heeled
shoes
,
and
some
particulars
concerning
the
life
and
adventures
of
the
beautiful
Lady
Tollimglower
,
deceased
;
at
all
of
which
the
old
lady
herself
laughed
very
heartily
indeed
,
and
so
did
the
young
ladies
too
,
for
they
were
wondering
among
themselves
what
on
earth
grandma
was
talking
about
.
When
they
laughed
,
the
old
lady
laughed
ten
times
more
heartily
,
and
said
that
these
always
had
been
considered
capital
stories
,
which
caused
them
all
to
laugh
again
,
and
put
the
old
lady
into
the
very
best
of
humours
.
Then
the
cake
was
cut
,
and
passed
through
the
ring
;
the
young
ladies
saved
pieces
to
put
under
their
pillows
to
dream
of
their
future
husbands
on
;
and
a
great
deal
of
blushing
and
merriment
was
thereby
occasioned
.
‘
Mr
.
Miller
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
to
his
old
acquaintance
,
the
hard
-
headed
gentleman
,
‘
a
glass
of
wine
?
’
