Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Which is all about the Law, and sundry Great Authorities learned therein

           Pickwicktrottingonbefore,plungedinprofoundmeditation,andSamfollowingbehind,withacountenanceexpressiveofthemostenviableandeasydefianceofeverythingandeverybody,whenthelatter,whowasalwaysespeciallyanxioustoimparttohismasteranyexclusiveinformationhepossessed,quickenedhispaceuntilhewascloseatMr.Pickwick’sheels;and,pointingupatahousetheywerepassing,said

           ‘Werynicepork-shopthat‘ere,sir.’

           ‘Yes,itseemsso,’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Celebratedsassagefactory,’saidSam.

           ‘Isit?’saidMr.Pickwick.

           ‘Isit!’reiteratedSam,withsomeindignation;‘Ishouldraytherthinkitwas.Why,sir,blessyourinnocenteyebrows,that’swherethemysteriousdisappearanceofa‘spectabletradesmantookplacefouryearsago.’

           ‘Youdon’tmeantosayhewasburked,Sam?’saidMr.Pickwick,lookinghastilyround.

           ‘No,Idon’tindeed,sir,’repliedMr.Weller,‘IwishIdid;farworsethanthat.Hewasthemastero’that‘ereshop,sir,andtheinwentoro’thepatent-never-leavin’-offsassagesteam-ingin,as’udswallerupapavin’stoneifyouputittoonear,andgrinditintosassagesaseasyasifitwasatenderyoungbabby.Weryproudo’thatmachinehewas,asitwasnat’ralheshouldbe,andhe’dstanddowninthecellera-lookin’atitwenitwasinfullplay,tillhegotquitemelancholywithjoy.

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