Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

A Field Day and Bivouac — More new Friends — An Invitation to the Country

           Pickwickandhistwocompanionsfoundthemselvessuddenlyinclosedbetweentwolinesofgreatlength,theoneadvancingatarapidpace,andtheotherfirmlywaitingthecollisioninhostilearray.

           ‘Hoi!’shoutedtheofficersoftheadvancingline.

           ‘Getoutoftheway!’criedtheofficersofthestationaryone.

           ‘Wherearewetogoto?’screamedtheagitatedPickwickians.

           ‘Hoihoihoi!’wastheonlyreply.Therewasamomentofintensebewilderment,aheavytrampoffootsteps,aviolentconcussion,asmotheredlaugh;thehalf-dozenregimentswerehalfathousandyardsoff,andthesolesofMr.Pickwick’sbootswereelevatedinair.

           Mr.SnodgrassandMr.Winklehadeachperformedacompulsorysomersetwithremarkableagility,whenthefirstobjectthatmettheeyesofthelatterashesatontheground,staunchingwithayellowsilkhandkerchiefthestreamoflifewhichissuedfromhisnose,washisveneratedleaderatsomedistanceoff,runningafterhisownhat,whichwasgambollingplayfullyawayinperspective.

           Thereareveryfewmomentsinaman’sexistencewhenheexperiencessomuchludicrousdistress,ormeetswithsolittlecharitablecommiseration,aswhenheisinpursuitofhisownhat.Avastdealofcoolness,andapeculiardegreeofjudgment,arerequisiteincatchingahat.Amanmustnotbeprecipitate,orherunsoverit;hemustnotrushintotheoppositeextreme,orhelosesitaltogether.

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