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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 604/859
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‘
I
think
you
’
re
right
,
Sam
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
after
a
few
moments
’
reflection
,
‘
quite
right
.
’
‘
P
’
raps
,
now
and
then
,
there
’
s
some
honest
people
as
likes
it
,
’
observed
Mr
.
Weller
,
in
a
ruminative
tone
,
‘
but
I
never
heerd
o
’
one
as
I
can
call
to
mind
,
‘
cept
the
little
dirty
-
faced
man
in
the
brown
coat
;
and
that
was
force
of
habit
.
’
‘
And
who
was
he
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Wy
,
that
’
s
just
the
wery
point
as
nobody
never
know
’
d
,
’
replied
Sam
.
‘
But
what
did
he
do
?
’
‘
Wy
,
he
did
wot
many
men
as
has
been
much
better
know
’
d
has
done
in
their
time
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Sam
,
‘
he
run
a
match
agin
the
constable
,
and
vun
it
.
’
‘
In
other
words
,
I
suppose
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
he
got
into
debt
.
’
‘
Just
that
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Sam
,
‘
and
in
course
o
’
time
he
come
here
in
consekens
.
It
warn
’
t
much
—
execution
for
nine
pound
nothin
’
,
multiplied
by
five
for
costs
;
but
hows
’
ever
here
he
stopped
for
seventeen
year
.
If
he
got
any
wrinkles
in
his
face
,
they
were
stopped
up
vith
the
dirt
,
for
both
the
dirty
face
and
the
brown
coat
wos
just
the
same
at
the
end
o
’
that
time
as
they
wos
at
the
beginnin
’
.
He
wos
a
wery
peaceful
,
inoffendin
’
little
creetur
,
and
wos
alvays
a
-
bustlin
’
about
for
somebody
,
or
playin
’
rackets
and
never
vinnin
’
;
till
at
last
the
turnkeys
they
got
quite
fond
on
him
,
and
he
wos
in
the
lodge
ev
’
ry
night
,
a
-
chattering
vith
’
em
,
and
tellin
’
stories
,
and
all
that
‘
ere
.
Vun
night
he
wos
in
there
as
usual
,
along
vith
a
wery
old
friend
of
his
,
as
wos
on
the
lock
,
ven
he
says
all
of
a
sudden
,
"
I
ain
’
t
seen
the
market
outside
,
Bill
,
"
he
says
(
Fleet
Market
wos
there
at
that
time
)
—
"
I
ain
’
t
seen
the
market
outside
,
Bill
,
"
he
says
,
"
for
seventeen
year
.
"
"
I
know
you
ain
’
t
,
"
says
the
turnkey
,
smoking
his
pipe
.
"
I
should
like
to
see
it
for
a
minit
,
Bill
,
"
he
says
.
"
Wery
probable
,
"
says
the
turnkey
,
smoking
his
pipe
wery
fierce
,
and
making
believe
he
warn
’
t
up
to
wot
the
little
man
wanted
.
"
Bill
,
"
says
the
little
man
,
more
abrupt
than
afore
,
"
I
’
ve
got
the
fancy
in
my
head
.
Let
me
see
the
public
streets
once
more
afore
I
die
;
and
if
I
ain
’
t
struck
with
apoplexy
,
I
’
ll
be
back
in
five
minits
by
the
clock
.
"
"
And
wot
’
ud
become
o
’
me
if
you
WOS
struck
with
apoplexy
?
"
said
the
turnkey
.
"
Wy
,
"
says
the
little
creetur
,
"
whoever
found
me
,
’
ud
bring
me
home
,
for
I
’
ve
got
my
card
in
my
pocket
,
Bill
,
"
he
says
,
"
No
.
20
,
Coffee
-
room
Flight
"
:
and
that
wos
true
,
sure
enough
,
for
wen
he
wanted
to
make
the
acquaintance
of
any
new
-
comer
,
he
used
to
pull
out
a
little
limp
card
vith
them
words
on
it
and
nothin
’
else
;
in
consideration
of
vich
,
he
vos
alvays
called
Number
Tventy
.
The
turnkey
takes
a
fixed
look
at
him
,
and
at
last
he
says
in
a
solemn
manner
,
"
Tventy
,
"
he
says
,
"
I
’
ll
trust
you
;
you
Won
’
t
get
your
old
friend
into
trouble
.
"
"
No
,
my
boy
;
I
hope
I
’
ve
somethin
’
better
behind
here
,
"
says
the
little
man
;
and
as
he
said
it
he
hit
his
little
vesket
wery
hard
,
and
then
a
tear
started
out
o
’
each
eye
,
which
wos
wery
extraordinary
,
for
it
wos
supposed
as
water
never
touched
his
face
.
He
shook
the
turnkey
by
the
hand
;
out
he
vent
—
’
