-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
-
- Стр. 683/859
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
Bless
your
heart
,
no
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Job
;
‘
a
whistling
-
shop
,
Sir
,
is
where
they
sell
spirits
.
’
Mr
.
Job
Trotter
briefly
explained
here
,
that
all
persons
,
being
prohibited
under
heavy
penalties
from
conveying
spirits
into
debtors
’
prisons
,
and
such
commodities
being
highly
prized
by
the
ladies
and
gentlemen
confined
therein
,
it
had
occurred
to
some
speculative
turnkey
to
connive
,
for
certain
lucrative
considerations
,
at
two
or
three
prisoners
retailing
the
favourite
article
of
gin
,
for
their
own
profit
and
advantage
.
‘
This
plan
,
you
see
,
Sir
,
has
been
gradually
introduced
into
all
the
prisons
for
debt
,
’
said
Mr
.
Trotter
.
‘
And
it
has
this
wery
great
advantage
,
’
said
Sam
,
‘
that
the
turnkeys
takes
wery
good
care
to
seize
hold
o
’
ev
’
rybody
but
them
as
pays
’
em
,
that
attempts
the
willainy
,
and
wen
it
gets
in
the
papers
they
’
re
applauded
for
their
wigilance
;
so
it
cuts
two
ways
—
frightens
other
people
from
the
trade
,
and
elewates
their
own
characters
.
’
‘
Exactly
so
,
Mr
.
Weller
,
’
observed
Job
.
‘
Well
,
but
are
these
rooms
never
searched
to
ascertain
whether
any
spirits
are
concealed
in
them
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Cert
’
nly
they
are
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Sam
;
‘
but
the
turnkeys
knows
beforehand
,
and
gives
the
word
to
the
wistlers
,
and
you
may
wistle
for
it
wen
you
go
to
look
.
’
By
this
time
,
Job
had
tapped
at
a
door
,
which
was
opened
by
a
gentleman
with
an
uncombed
head
,
who
bolted
it
after
them
when
they
had
walked
in
,
and
grinned
;
upon
which
Job
grinned
,
and
Sam
also
;
whereupon
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
thinking
it
might
be
expected
of
him
,
kept
on
smiling
to
the
end
of
the
interview
.
The
gentleman
with
the
uncombed
head
appeared
quite
satisfied
with
this
mute
announcement
of
their
business
,
and
,
producing
a
flat
stone
bottle
,
which
might
hold
about
a
couple
of
quarts
,
from
beneath
his
bedstead
,
filled
out
three
glasses
of
gin
,
which
Job
Trotter
and
Sam
disposed
of
in
a
most
workmanlike
manner
.