Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба/Posthumous notes of the Pickwick Club (Чарльз Диккенс). Страница 412 из 859

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‘

My

dear

friends

,

’

resumed

Mr

.

Pickwick

,

‘

I

am

going

to

propose

the

health

of

the

bride

and

bridegroom

—

God

bless

’

em

(

cheers

and

tears

)

.

My

young

friend

,

Trundle

,

I

believe

to

be

a

very

excellent

and

manly

fellow

;

and

his

wife

I

know

to

be

a

very

amiable

and

lovely

girl

,

well

qualified

to

transfer

to

another

sphere

of

action

the

happiness

which

for

twenty

years

she

has

diffused

around

her

,

in

her

father

’

s

house

.

(

Here

,

the

fat

boy

burst

forth

into

stentorian

blubberings

,

and

was

led

forth

by

the

coat

collar

,

by

Mr

.

Weller

.

)

I

wish

,

’

added

Mr

.

Pickwick

—

‘

I

wish

I

was

young

enough

to

be

her

sister

’

s

husband

(

cheers

)

,

but

,

failing

that

,

I

am

happy

to

be

old

enough

to

be

her

father

;

for

,

being

so

,

I

shall

not

be

suspected

of

any

latent

designs

when

I

say

,

that

I

admire

,

esteem

,

and

love

them

both

(

cheers

and

sobs

)

.

The

bride

’

s

father

,

our

good

friend

there

,

is

a

noble

person

,

and

I

am

proud

to

know

him

(

great

uproar

)

.

He

is

a

kind

,

excellent

,

independent

-

spirited

,

fine

-

hearted

,

hospitable

,

liberal

man

(

enthusiastic

shouts

from

the

poor

relations

,

at

all

the

adjectives

;

and

especially

at

the

two

last

)

.

That

his

daughter

may

enjoy

all

the

happiness

,

even

he

can

desire

;

and

that

he

may

derive

from

the

contemplation

of

her

felicity

all

the

gratification

of

heart

and

peace

of

mind

which

he

so

well

deserves

,

is

,

I

am

persuaded

,

our

united

wish

.

So

,

let

us

drink

their

healths

,

and

wish

them

prolonged

life

,

and

every

blessing

!

’

Mr

.

Pickwick

concluded

amidst

a

whirlwind

of

applause

;

and

once

more

were

the

lungs

of

the

supernumeraries

,

under

Mr

.

Weller

’

s

command

,

brought

into

active

and

efficient

operation

.

Mr

.

Wardle

proposed

Mr

.

Pickwick

;

Mr

.

Pickwick

proposed

the

old

lady

.

Mr

.

Snodgrass

proposed

Mr

.

Wardle

;

Mr

.

Wardle

proposed

Mr

.

Snodgrass

.

One

of

the

poor

relations

proposed

Mr

.

Tupman

,

and

the

other

poor

relation

proposed

Mr

.

Winkle

;

all

was

happiness

and

festivity

,

until

the

mysterious

disappearance

of

both

the

poor

relations

beneath

the

table

,

warned

the

party

that

it

was

time

to

adjourn

.

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At

dinner

they

met

again

,

after

a

five

-

and

-

twenty

mile

walk

,

undertaken

by

the

males

at

Wardle

’

s

recommendation

,

to

get

rid

of

the

effects

of

the

wine

at

breakfast

.

The

poor

relations

had

kept

in

bed

all

day

,

with

the

view

of

attaining

the

same

happy

consummation

,

but

,

as

they

had

been

unsuccessful

,

they

stopped

there

.

Mr

.

Weller

kept

the

domestics

in

a

state

of

perpetual

hilarity

;

and

the

fat

boy

divided

his

time

into

small

alternate

allotments

of

eating

and

sleeping

.

The

dinner

was

as

hearty

an

affair

as

the

breakfast

,

and

was

quite

as

noisy

,

without

the

tears

.

Then

came

the

dessert

and

some

more

toasts

.

Then

came

the

tea

and

coffee

;

and

then

,

the

ball

.

The

best

sitting

-

room

at

Manor

Farm

was

a

good

,

long

,

dark

-

panelled

room

with

a

high

chimney

-

piece

,

and

a

capacious

chimney

,

up

which

you

could

have

driven

one

of

the

new

patent

cabs

,

wheels

and

all

.

At

the

upper

end

of

the

room

,

seated

in

a

shady

bower

of

holly

and

evergreens

were

the

two

best

fiddlers

,

and

the

only

harp

,

in

all

Muggleton

.

In

all

sorts

of

recesses

,

and

on

all

kinds

of

brackets

,

stood

massive

old

silver

candlesticks

with

four

branches

each

.

The

carpet

was

up

,

the

candles

burned

bright

,

the

fire

blazed

and

crackled

on

the

hearth

,

and

merry

voices

and

light

-

hearted

laughter

rang

through

the

room

.

If

any

of

the

old

English

yeomen

had

turned

into

fairies

when

they

died

,

it

was

just

the

place

in

which

they

would

have

held

their

revels

.

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If

anything

could

have

added

to

the

interest

of

this

agreeable

scene

,

it

would

have

been

the

remarkable

fact

of

Mr

.

Pickwick

’

s

appearing

without

his

gaiters

,

for

the

first

time

within

the

memory

of

his

oldest

friends

.

‘

You

mean

to

dance

?

’

said

Wardle

.

‘

Of

course

I

do

,

’

replied

Mr

.

Pickwick

.

‘

Don

’

t

you

see

I

am

dressed

for

the

purpose

?

’

Mr

.

Pickwick

called

attention

to

his

speckled

silk

stockings

,

and

smartly

tied

pumps

.

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