Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

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

           

           ‘Remorseandmisery,’repliedthestranger.‘Suddendisappearancetalkofthewholecitysearchmadeeverywherewithoutsuccesspublicfountaininthegreatsquaresuddenlyceasedplayingweekselapsedstillastoppageworkmenemployedtocleanitwaterdrawnofffather-in-lawdiscoveredstickingheadfirstinthemainpipe,withafullconfessioninhisrightboottookhimout,andthefountainplayedawayagain,aswellasever.’

           ‘Willyouallowmetonotethatlittleromancedown,Sir?’saidMr.Snodgrass,deeplyaffected.

           ‘Certainly,Sir,certainlyfiftymoreifyouliketohear’emstrangelifeminerathercurioushistorynotextraordinary,butsingular.’

           Inthisstrain,withanoccasionalglassofale,bywayofparenthesis,whenthecoachchangedhorses,didthestrangerproceed,untiltheyreachedRochesterbridge,bywhichtimethenote-books,bothofMr.PickwickandMr.Snodgrass,werecompletelyfilledwithselectionsfromhisadventures.

           ‘Magnificentruin!’saidMr.AugustusSnodgrass,withallthepoeticfervourthatdistinguishedhim,whentheycameinsightofthefineoldcastle.

           ‘Whatasightforanantiquarian!’weretheverywordswhichfellfromMr.Pickwick’smouth,asheappliedhistelescopetohiseye.

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