The first Day’s Journey, and the first Evening’s Adventures; with their Consequences

           Thatpunctualservantofallwork,thesun,hadjustrisen,andbeguntostrikealightonthemorningofthethirteenthofMay,onethousandeighthundredandtwenty-seven,whenMr.SamuelPickwickburstlikeanothersunfromhisslumbers,threwopenhischamberwindow,andlookedoutupontheworldbeneath.GoswellStreetwasathisfeet,GoswellStreetwasonhisrighthandasfarastheeyecouldreach,GoswellStreetextendedonhisleft;andtheoppositesideofGoswellStreetwasovertheway.‘Such,’thoughtMr.Pickwick,‘arethenarrowviewsofthosephilosopherswho,contentwithexaminingthethingsthatliebeforethem,looknottothetruthswhicharehiddenbeyond.AswellmightIbecontenttogazeonGoswellStreetforever,withoutoneefforttopenetratetothehiddencountrieswhichoneverysidesurroundit.’Andhavinggivenventtothisbeautifulreflection,Mr.Pickwickproceededtoputhimselfintohisclothes,andhisclothesintohisportmanteau.Greatmenareseldomoverscrupulousinthearrangementoftheirattire;theoperationofshaving,dressing,andcoffee-imbibingwassoonperformed;and,inanotherhour,Mr.Pickwick,withhisportmanteauinhishand,histelescopeinhisgreatcoatpocket,andhisnote-bookinhiswaistcoat,readyforthereceptionofanydiscoveriesworthyofbeingnoteddown,hadarrivedatthecoach-standinSt.Martin’s-le–Grand.‘Cab!’saidMr.Pickwick.

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