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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 636/859
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‘
Stop
there
by
himself
,
poor
creetur
!
’
exclaimed
the
elder
Mr
.
Weller
,
‘
without
nobody
to
take
his
part
!
It
can
’
t
be
done
,
Samivel
,
it
can
’
t
be
done
.
’
‘
O
’
course
it
can
’
t
,
’
asserted
Sam
:
‘
I
know
’
d
that
,
afore
I
came
.
’
‘
Why
,
they
’
ll
eat
him
up
alive
,
Sammy
,
‘
exclaimed
Mr
.
Weller
.
Sam
nodded
his
concurrence
in
the
opinion
.
‘
He
goes
in
rayther
raw
,
Sammy
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
metaphorically
,
‘
and
he
’
ll
come
out
,
done
so
ex
-
ceedin
’
brown
,
that
his
most
formiliar
friends
won
’
t
know
him
.
Roast
pigeon
’
s
nothin
’
to
it
,
Sammy
.
’
Again
Sam
Weller
nodded
.
‘
It
oughtn
’
t
to
be
,
Samivel
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
gravely
.
‘
It
mustn
’
t
be
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
Cert
’
nly
not
,
’
said
Mr
.
Weller
.
‘
Vell
now
,
’
said
Sam
,
‘
you
’
ve
been
a
-
prophecyin
’
away
,
wery
fine
,
like
a
red
-
faced
Nixon
,
as
the
sixpenny
books
gives
picters
on
.
’
