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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 428/859
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‘
What
!
Don
’
t
you
know
what
a
sawbones
is
,
sir
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Weller
.
‘
I
thought
everybody
know
’
d
as
a
sawbones
was
a
surgeon
.
’
‘
Oh
,
a
surgeon
,
eh
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
a
smile
.
‘
Just
that
,
sir
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
These
here
ones
as
is
below
,
though
,
ain
’
t
reg
’
lar
thoroughbred
sawbones
;
they
’
re
only
in
trainin
’
.
’
‘
In
other
words
they
’
re
medical
students
,
I
suppose
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
Sam
Weller
nodded
assent
.
‘
I
am
glad
of
it
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
casting
his
nightcap
energetically
on
the
counterpane
.
‘
They
are
fine
fellows
—
very
fine
fellows
;
with
judgments
matured
by
observation
and
reflection
;
and
tastes
refined
by
reading
and
study
.
I
am
very
glad
of
it
.
’
‘
They
’
re
a
-
smokin
’
cigars
by
the
kitchen
fire
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
Ah
!
’
observed
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
rubbing
his
hands
,
‘
overflowing
with
kindly
feelings
and
animal
spirits
.
Just
what
I
like
to
see
.
’
‘
And
one
on
’
em
,
’
said
Sam
,
not
noticing
his
master
’
s
interruption
,
‘
one
on
’
em
’
s
got
his
legs
on
the
table
,
and
is
a
-
drinking
brandy
neat
,
vile
the
t
’
other
one
—
him
in
the
barnacles
—
has
got
a
barrel
o
’
oysters
atween
his
knees
,
which
he
’
s
a
-
openin
’
like
steam
,
and
as
fast
as
he
eats
’
em
,
he
takes
a
aim
vith
the
shells
at
young
dropsy
,
who
’
s
a
sittin
’
down
fast
asleep
,
in
the
chimbley
corner
.
’
‘
Eccentricities
of
genius
,
Sam
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
You
may
retire
.
’
Sam
did
retire
accordingly
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
at
the
expiration
of
the
quarter
of
an
hour
,
went
down
to
breakfast
.
