Burton Egbert Stevenson: The City of Edwin Drood

Отправлено 16 мар. 2014 г., 13:55 пользователем Sven Karsten   [ обновлено 16 мар. 2014 г., 13:55 ]

The lit­tle old town of Rochester, snug­gled tip into the curv­ing arm of the Med­way on the Ken­tish bor­der, must al­ways be the chief place of pil­grim­age for the Dick­en­sian. It fair­ly reeks of Dick­ens; it was the scene of his first story and his last, and of many oth­ers in be­tween. Hith­er Mr. Pick­wick and his three com­pan­ions jour­neyed on their first his­toric ex­pe­di­tion out of Lon­don. They stopped at the Bull Hotel, still stand­ing, prac­ti­cal­ly un­al­tered, where their rooms may yet be seen — and even slept in! It was here that Mr. Al­fred Jin­gle and Mr. Tracy Tup­man at­tend­ed a ball — in a room still used for balls — and had an al­ter­ca­tion with Dr. Slam­mer of the Nine­ty-sev­enth, which in­volved the be­wil­dered Mr. Win­kle in a duel next day. It was in this same Bull Hotel, mas­querad­ing under the name of the Blue Boar, that Pip and Mrs. Gargery and Uncle Pum­ble­chook and the Hub­bies and Mr. Wop­sle cel­e­brat­ed a wind­fall of twen­ty-five guineas — the price of Pip's free­dom — by a great din­ner, at which, rather late in the evening, Mr. Wop­sle favoured with Collins's Ode, and threw his blood­stained sword in thun­der down with such ef­fect that the com­mer­cials un­der­neath sent a wait­er up to protest.

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