Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

A pleasant Day with an unpleasant Termination

           

           Suchwasthemorning,whenanopencarriage,inwhichwerethreePickwickians(Mr.Snodgrasshavingpreferredtoremainathome),Mr.Wardle,andMr.Trundle,withSamWellerontheboxbesidethedriver,pulledupbyagateattheroadside,beforewhichstoodatall,raw-bonedgamekeeper,andahalf-booted,leather-leggingedboy,eachbearingabagofcapaciousdimensions,andaccompaniedbyabraceofpointers.

           ‘Isay,’whisperedMr.WinkletoWardle,asthemanletdownthesteps,‘theydon’tsupposewe’regoingtokillgameenoughtofillthosebags,dothey?’

           ‘Fillthem!’exclaimedoldWardle.‘Blessyou,yes!Youshallfillone,andItheother;andwhenwe’vedonewiththem,thepocketsofourshooting-jacketswillholdasmuchmore.’

           Mr.Winkledismountedwithoutsayinganythinginreplytothisobservation;buthethoughtwithinhimself,thatifthepartyremainedintheopenair,tillhehadfilledoneofthebags,theystoodaconsiderablechanceofcatchingcoldsintheirheads.

           ‘Hi,Juno,lass-hi,oldgirl;down,Daph,down,’saidWardle,caressingthedogs.‘SirGeoffreystillinScotland,ofcourse,Martin?’

           Thetallgamekeeperrepliedintheaffirmative,andlookedwithsomesurprisefromMr.Winkle,whowasholdinghisgunasifhewishedhiscoatpockettosavehimthetroubleofpullingthetrigger,toMr.

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