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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
"
Hollo
!
"
said
my
uncle
,
falling
back
a
step
or
two
.
"
That
’
s
familiar
!
"
‘
"
It
’
s
so
on
the
way
-
bill
,
"
said
the
guard
.
‘
"
Isn
’
t
there
a
‘
Mister
’
before
it
?
"
said
my
uncle
.
For
he
felt
,
gentlemen
,
that
for
a
guard
he
didn
’
t
know
,
to
call
him
Jack
Martin
,
was
a
liberty
which
the
Post
Office
wouldn
’
t
have
sanctioned
if
they
had
known
it
.
‘
"
No
,
there
is
not
,
"
rejoined
the
guard
coolly
.
‘
"
Is
the
fare
paid
?
"
inquired
my
uncle
.
‘
"
Of
course
it
is
,
"
rejoined
the
guard
.
‘
"
it
is
,
is
it
?
"
said
my
uncle
.
"
Then
here
goes
!
Which
coach
?
"
‘
"
This
,
"
said
the
guard
,
pointing
to
an
old
-
fashioned
Edinburgh
and
London
mail
,
which
had
the
steps
down
and
the
door
open
.
"
Stop
!
Here
are
the
other
passengers
.
Let
them
get
in
first
.
"
‘
As
the
guard
spoke
,
there
all
at
once
appeared
,
right
in
front
of
my
uncle
,
a
young
gentleman
in
a
powdered
wig
,
and
a
sky
-
blue
coat
trimmed
with
silver
,
made
very
full
and
broad
in
the
skirts
,
which
were
lined
with
buckram
.
Tiggin
and
Welps
were
in
the
printed
calico
and
waistcoat
piece
line
,
gentlemen
,
so
my
uncle
knew
all
the
materials
at
once
.
He
wore
knee
breeches
,
and
a
kind
of
leggings
rolled
up
over
his
silk
stockings
,
and
shoes
with
buckles
;
he
had
ruffles
at
his
wrists
,
a
three
-
cornered
hat
on
his
head
,
and
a
long
taper
sword
by
his
side
.
The
flaps
of
his
waist
-
coat
came
half
-
way
down
his
thighs
,
and
the
ends
of
his
cravat
reached
to
his
waist
.
He
stalked
gravely
to
the
coach
door
,
pulled
off
his
hat
,
and
held
it
above
his
head
at
arm
’
s
length
,
cocking
his
little
finger
in
the
air
at
the
same
time
,
as
some
affected
people
do
,
when
they
take
a
cup
of
tea
.
Then
he
drew
his
feet
together
,
and
made
a
low
,
grave
bow
,
and
then
put
out
his
left
hand
.
My
uncle
was
just
going
to
step
forward
,
and
shake
it
heartily
,
when
he
perceived
that
these
attentions
were
directed
,
not
towards
him
,
but
to
a
young
lady
who
just
then
appeared
at
the
foot
of
the
steps
,
attired
in
an
old
-
fashioned
green
velvet
dress
with
a
long
waist
and
stomacher
.
She
had
no
bonnet
on
her
head
,
gentlemen
,
which
was
muffled
in
a
black
silk
hood
,
but
she
looked
round
for
an
instant
as
she
prepared
to
get
into
the
coach
,
and
such
a
beautiful
face
as
she
disclosed
,
my
uncle
had
never
seen
—
not
even
in
a
picture
.
She
got
into
the
coach
,
holding
up
her
dress
with
one
hand
;
and
as
my
uncle
always
said
with
a
round
oath
,
when
he
told
the
story
,
he
wouldn
’
t
have
believed
it
possible
that
legs
and
feet
could
have
been
brought
to
such
a
state
of
perfection
unless
he
had
seen
them
with
his
own
eyes
.
