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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 310/435
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"
So
be
it
.
"
He
took
out
his
black
pipe
and
was
going
to
fill
it
with
negro
-
head
,
when
,
looking
at
the
tangle
of
tobacco
in
his
hand
,
he
seemed
to
think
it
might
perplex
the
thread
of
his
narrative
He
put
it
back
again
,
stuck
his
pipe
in
a
button
-
hole
of
his
coat
,
spread
a
hand
on
each
knee
,
and
after
turning
an
angry
eye
on
the
fire
for
a
few
silent
moments
,
looked
round
at
us
and
said
what
follows
.
"
Dear
boy
and
Pip
’
s
comrade
.
I
am
not
a
going
fur
to
tell
you
my
life
like
a
song
,
or
a
story
-
book
.
But
to
give
it
you
short
and
handy
,
I
’
ll
put
it
at
once
into
a
mouthful
of
English
.
In
jail
and
out
of
jail
,
in
jail
and
out
of
jail
,
in
jail
and
out
of
jail
.
There
,
you
’
ve
got
it
.
That
’
s
my
life
pretty
much
,
down
to
such
times
as
I
got
shipped
off
,
arter
Pip
stood
my
friend
.
"
I
’
ve
been
done
everything
to
,
pretty
well
—
except
hanged
.
I
’
ve
been
locked
up
as
much
as
a
silver
tea
-
kittle
.
I
’
ve
been
carted
here
and
carted
there
,
and
put
out
of
this
town
,
and
put
out
of
that
town
,
and
stuck
in
the
stocks
,
and
whipped
and
worried
and
drove
.
I
’
ve
no
more
notion
where
I
was
born
than
you
have
—
if
so
much
.
I
first
become
aware
of
myself
down
in
Essex
,
a
thieving
turnips
for
my
living
.
Summun
had
run
away
from
me
—
a
man
—
a
tinker
—
and
he
’
d
took
the
fire
with
him
,
and
left
me
wery
cold
.
"
I
know
’
d
my
name
to
be
Magwitch
,
chrisen
’
d
Abel
.
How
did
I
know
it
?
Much
as
I
know
’
d
the
birds
’
names
in
the
hedges
to
be
chaffinch
,
sparrer
,
thrush
.
I
might
have
thought
it
was
all
lies
together
,
only
as
the
birds
’
names
come
out
true
,
I
supposed
mine
did
.
"
So
fur
as
I
could
find
,
there
warn
’
t
a
soul
that
see
young
Abel
Magwitch
,
with
us
little
on
him
as
in
him
,
but
wot
caught
fright
at
him
,
and
either
drove
him
off
,
or
took
him
up
.
I
was
took
up
,
took
up
,
took
up
,
to
that
extent
that
I
reg
’
larly
grow
’
d
up
took
up
.
"
This
is
the
way
it
was
,
that
when
I
was
a
ragged
little
creetur
as
much
to
be
pitied
as
ever
I
see
(
not
that
I
looked
in
the
glass
,
for
there
warn
’
t
many
insides
of
furnished
houses
known
to
me
)
,
I
got
the
name
of
being
hardened
.
"
This
is
a
terrible
hardened
one
,
"
they
says
to
prison
wisitors
,
picking
out
me
.
"
May
be
said
to
live
in
jails
,
this
boy
.
"
Then
they
looked
at
me
,
and
I
looked
at
them
,
and
they
measured
my
head
,
some
on
’
em
—
they
had
better
a
measured
my
stomach
—
and
others
on
’
em
giv
me
tracts
what
I
couldn
’
t
read
,
and
made
me
speeches
what
I
couldn
’
t
understand
.
They
always
went
on
agen
me
about
the
Devil
.
But
what
the
Devil
was
I
to
do
?
I
must
put
something
into
my
stomach
,
mustn
’
t
I
?
—
Howsomever
,
I
’
m
a
getting
low
,
and
I
know
what
’
s
due
.
Dear
boy
and
Pip
’
s
comrade
,
don
’
t
you
be
afeerd
of
me
being
low
.
"
Tramping
,
begging
,
thieving
,
working
sometimes
when
I
could
—
though
that
warn
’
t
as
often
as
you
may
think
,
till
you
put
the
question
whether
you
would
ha
’
been
over
-
ready
to
give
me
work
yourselves
—
a
bit
of
a
poacher
,
a
bit
of
a
laborer
,
a
bit
of
a
wagoner
,
a
bit
of
a
haymaker
,
a
bit
of
a
hawker
,
a
bit
of
most
things
that
don
’
t
pay
and
lead
to
trouble
,
I
got
to
be
a
man
.
A
deserting
soldier
in
a
Traveller
’
s
Rest
,
what
lay
hid
up
to
the
chin
under
a
lot
of
taturs
,
learnt
me
to
read
;
and
a
travelling
Giant
what
signed
his
name
at
a
penny
a
time
learnt
me
to
write
.
I
warn
’
t
locked
up
as
often
now
as
formerly
,
but
I
wore
out
my
good
share
of
key
-
metal
still
.
"
At
Epsom
races
,
a
matter
of
over
twenty
years
ago
,
I
got
acquainted
wi
’
a
man
whose
skull
I
’
d
crack
wi
’
this
poker
,
like
the
claw
of
a
lobster
,
if
I
’
d
got
it
on
this
hob
.
His
right
name
was
Compeyson
;
and
that
’
s
the
man
,
dear
boy
,
what
you
see
me
a
pounding
in
the
ditch
,
according
to
what
you
truly
told
your
comrade
arter
I
was
gone
last
night
.
