Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

The first Day’s Journey, and the first Evening’s Adventures; with their Consequences

           

           ‘Onaccountofhisweakness!’reiteratedtheperplexedMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Healwaysfallsdownwhenhe’stookouto’thecab,’continuedthedriver,‘butwhenhe’sinit,webearshimupwerrytight,andtakeshiminwerryshort,soashecan’twerrywellfalldown;andwe’vegotapairo’preciouslargewheelson,sovenhedoesmove,theyrunafterhim,andhemustgoonhecan’thelpit.’

           Mr.Pickwickenteredeverywordofthisstatementinhisnote-book,withtheviewofcommunicatingittotheclub,asasingularinstanceofthetenacityoflifeinhorsesundertryingcircumstances.TheentrywasscarcelycompletedwhentheyreachedtheGoldenCross.Downjumpedthedriver,andoutgotMr.Pickwick.Mr.Tupman,Mr.Snodgrass,andMr.Winkle,whohadbeenanxiouslywaitingthearrivaloftheirillustriousleader,crowdedtowelcomehim.

           ‘Here’syourfare,’saidMr.Pickwick,holdingouttheshillingtothedriver.

           Whatwasthelearnedman’sastonishment,whenthatunaccountablepersonflungthemoneyonthepavement,andrequestedinfigurativetermstobeallowedthepleasureoffightinghim(Mr.Pickwick)fortheamount!

           ‘Youaremad,’saidMr.Snodgrass.

           ‘Ordrunk,’saidMr.Winkle.

           ‘Orboth,’saidMr.Tupman.

           ‘Comeon!’saidthecab-driver,sparringawaylikeclockwork.‘Comeonallfouronyou.

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