قراءة كتاب Scenes and Characters from the Works of Charles Dickens Being Eight Hundred and Sixty-six Pictures Printed From the Original Wood Blocks
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اللغة: English
Scenes and Characters from the Works of Charles Dickens Being Eight Hundred and Sixty-six Pictures Printed From the Original Wood Blocks
الصفحة رقم: 5
with remarkable agility—Chap. iv. 
The horse no sooner beheld Mr. Pickwick advancing with the chaise whip in his hand—Chap. v.
There was a scream as of an individual—not a rook—in corporeal anguish. Mr. Tupman had saved the lives of innumerable unoffending birds by receiving a portion of the charge in his left arm—Chap. vii. 
Mr. Wardle looked on, in silent wonder—Chap. vii.
Old Mr. Wardle, with a highly-inflamed countenance, was grasping the hand of a strange gentleman—Chap. viii.
Mr. Tupman looked round. There was the fat boy—Chap. viii. 
Sam stole a look at the inquirer—Chap. x.
"God bless me, what's the matter"—Chap. xi. 
"Take this little villain away," said the agonised Mr. Pickwick—Chap. xii.
"He has come out," said little Mr. Perker, greatly excited; the more so as their position did not enable them to see what was going forward—Chap. xiii. 
The chair was an ugly old gentleman; and what was more, he was winking at Tom Smart—Chap. xiv.
"Permit me to introduce my friends—Mr. Tupman—Mr. Winkle—Mr. Snodgrass"—Chap. xv.
The heroic man actually threw himself into a paralytic attitude, confidently supposed by the two bystanders to have been intended as a posture of self-defence—Chap. xv. 
Mr. Weller was dispelling all the feverish remains of the previous evening's conviviality, . . . when he was attracted by the appearance of a young fellow in mulberry-coloured livery—Chap. xvi.
The door was just going to be closed in consequence, when an inquisitive boarder, who had been peeping between the hinges, set up a fearful screaming—Chap. xvi. 
Old Lobbs gave it one tug, and open it flew, disclosing Nathaniel Pipkin standing bolt upright inside, and shaking with apprehension from head to foot—Chap. xvii.
"Who are you, you rascal?" said the captain, administering several pokes to Mr. Pickwick's body with the thick stick. "What's your name?"—Chap. xix. 
"You just come away," said Mr. Weller. "Battledore and Shuttlecock's a wery good game, when you an't the shuttlecock and two lawyers the battledores"—Chap. xx.
"Heyling!" said the old man wildly. "My boy, Heyling, my dear boy, look, look!" gasping for breath, the miserable father pointed to the spot where the young man was struggling for life—Chap. xxi. 
Standing before the dressing-glass was a middle-aged lady in yellow curl-papers, busily engaged in brushing what ladies call their "back hair"—Chap. xxii.
Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles, than he at once recognised in the future Mrs. Magnus the lady into whose room he had so unwarrantably intruded on the previous night—Chap. xxiv. 