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Sam
looked
after
him
,
until
he
turned
a
corner
of
the
road
;
and
then
set
forward
on
his
walk
to
London
.
He
meditated
at
first
,
on
the
probable
consequences
of
his
own
advice
,
and
the
likelihood
of
his
father
s
adopting
it
.
He
dismissed
the
subject
from
his
mind
,
however
,
with
the
consolatory
reflection
that
time
alone
would
show
;
and
this
is
the
reflection
we
would
impress
upon
the
reader
.
As
brisk
as
bees
,
if
not
altogether
as
light
as
fairies
,
did
the
four
Pickwickians
assemble
on
the
morning
of
the
twenty
-
second
day
of
December
,
in
the
year
of
grace
in
which
these
,
their
faithfully
-
recorded
adventures
,
were
undertaken
and
accomplished
.
Christmas
was
close
at
hand
,
in
all
his
bluff
and
hearty
honesty
;
it
was
the
season
of
hospitality
,
merriment
,
and
open
-
heartedness
;
the
old
year
was
preparing
,
like
an
ancient
philosopher
,
to
call
his
friends
around
him
,
and
amidst
the
sound
of
feasting
and
revelry
to
pass
gently
and
calmly
away
.
Gay
and
merry
was
the
time
;
and
right
gay
and
merry
were
at
least
four
of
the
numerous
hearts
that
were
gladdened
by
its
coming
.
And
numerous
indeed
are
the
hearts
to
which
Christmas
brings
a
brief
season
of
happiness
and
enjoyment
.
How
many
families
,
whose
members
have
been
dispersed
and
scattered
far
and
wide
,
in
the
restless
struggles
of
life
,
are
then
reunited
,
and
meet
once
again
in
that
happy
state
of
companionship
and
mutual
goodwill
,
which
is
a
source
of
such
pure
and
unalloyed
delight
;
and
one
so
incompatible
with
the
cares
and
sorrows
of
the
world
,
that
the
religious
belief
of
the
most
civilised
nations
,
and
the
rude
traditions
of
the
roughest
savages
,
alike
number
it
among
the
first
joys
of
a
future
condition
of
existence
,
provided
for
the
blessed
and
happy
!
How
many
old
recollections
,
and
how
many
dormant
sympathies
,
does
Christmas
time
awaken
!
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We
write
these
words
now
,
many
miles
distant
from
the
spot
at
which
,
year
after
year
,
we
met
on
that
day
,
a
merry
and
joyous
circle
.
Many
of
the
hearts
that
throbbed
so
gaily
then
,
have
ceased
to
beat
;
many
of
the
looks
that
shone
so
brightly
then
,
have
ceased
to
glow
;
the
hands
we
grasped
,
have
grown
cold
;
the
eyes
we
sought
,
have
hid
their
lustre
in
the
grave
;
and
yet
the
old
house
,
the
room
,
the
merry
voices
and
smiling
faces
,
the
jest
,
the
laugh
,
the
most
minute
and
trivial
circumstances
connected
with
those
happy
meetings
,
crowd
upon
our
mind
at
each
recurrence
of
the
season
,
as
if
the
last
assemblage
had
been
but
yesterday
!
Happy
,
happy
Christmas
,
that
can
win
us
back
to
the
delusions
of
our
childish
days
;
that
can
recall
to
the
old
man
the
pleasures
of
his
youth
;
that
can
transport
the
sailor
and
the
traveller
,
thousands
of
miles
away
,
back
to
his
own
fireside
and
his
quiet
home
!
But
we
are
so
taken
up
and
occupied
with
the
good
qualities
of
this
saint
Christmas
,
that
we
are
keeping
Mr
.
Pickwick
and
his
friends
waiting
in
the
cold
on
the
outside
of
the
Muggleton
coach
,
which
they
have
just
attained
,
well
wrapped
up
in
great
coats
,
shawls
,
and
comforters
.
The
portmanteaus
and
carpet
bags
have
been
stowed
away
,
and
Mr
.
Weller
and
the
guard
are
endeavouring
to
insinuate
into
the
fore
-
boot
a
huge
cod
-
fish
several
sizes
too
large
for
it
which
is
snugly
packed
up
,
in
a
long
brown
basket
,
with
a
layer
of
straw
over
the
top
,
and
which
has
been
left
to
the
last
,
in
order
that
he
may
repose
in
safety
on
the
half
-
dozen
barrels
of
real
native
oysters
,
all
the
property
of
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
which
have
been
arranged
in
regular
order
at
the
bottom
of
the
receptacle
.
The
interest
displayed
in
Mr
.
Pickwick
s
countenance
is
most
intense
,
as
Mr
.
Weller
and
the
guard
try
to
squeeze
the
cod
-
fish
into
the
boot
,
first
head
first
,
and
then
tail
first
,
and
then
top
upward
,
and
then
bottom
upward
,
and
then
side
-
ways
,
and
then
long
-
ways
,
all
of
which
artifices
the
implacable
cod
-
fish
sturdily
resists
,
until
the
guard
accidentally
hits
him
in
the
very
middle
of
the
basket
,
whereupon
he
suddenly
disappears
into
the
boot
,
and
with
him
,
the
head
and
shoulders
of
the
guard
himself
,
who
,
not
calculating
upon
so
sudden
a
cessation
of
the
passive
resistance
of
the
cod
-
fish
,
experiences
a
very
unexpected
shock
,
to
the
unsmotherable
delight
of
all
the
porters
and
bystanders
.
Upon
this
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
smiles
with
great
good
-
humour
,
and
drawing
a
shilling
from
his
waistcoat
pocket
,
begs
the
guard
,
as
he
picks
himself
out
of
the
boot
,
to
drink
his
health
in
a
glass
of
hot
brandy
-
and
-
water
;
at
which
the
guard
smiles
too
,
and
Messrs
.
Snodgrass
,
Winkle
,
and
Tupman
,
all
smile
in
company
.
The
guard
and
Mr
.
Weller
disappear
for
five
minutes
,
most
probably
to
get
the
hot
brandy
-
and
-
water
,
for
they
smell
very
strongly
of
it
,
when
they
return
,
the
coachman
mounts
to
the
box
,
Mr
.
Weller
jumps
up
behind
,
the
Pickwickians
pull
their
coats
round
their
legs
and
their
shawls
over
their
noses
,
the
helpers
pull
the
horse
-
cloths
off
,
the
coachman
shouts
out
a
cheery
All
right
,
and
away
they
go
.
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They
have
rumbled
through
the
streets
,
and
jolted
over
the
stones
,
and
at
length
reach
the
wide
and
open
country
.
The
wheels
skim
over
the
hard
and
frosty
ground
;
and
the
horses
,
bursting
into
a
canter
at
a
smart
crack
of
the
whip
,
step
along
the
road
as
if
the
load
behind
them
coach
,
passengers
,
cod
-
fish
,
oyster
-
barrels
,
and
all
were
but
a
feather
at
their
heels
.
They
have
descended
a
gentle
slope
,
and
enter
upon
a
level
,
as
compact
and
dry
as
a
solid
block
of
marble
,
two
miles
long
.
Another
crack
of
the
whip
,
and
on
they
speed
,
at
a
smart
gallop
,
the
horses
tossing
their
heads
and
rattling
the
harness
,
as
if
in
exhilaration
at
the
rapidity
of
the
motion
;
while
the
coachman
,
holding
whip
and
reins
in
one
hand
,
takes
off
his
hat
with
the
other
,
and
resting
it
on
his
knees
,
pulls
out
his
handkerchief
,
and
wipes
his
forehead
,
partly
because
he
has
a
habit
of
doing
it
,
and
partly
because
it
s
as
well
to
show
the
passengers
how
cool
he
is
,
and
what
an
easy
thing
it
is
to
drive
four
-
in
-
hand
,
when
you
have
had
as
much
practice
as
he
has
.
Having
done
this
very
leisurely
(
otherwise
the
effect
would
be
materially
impaired
)
,
he
replaces
his
handkerchief
,
pulls
on
his
hat
,
adjusts
his
gloves
,
squares
his
elbows
,
cracks
the
whip
again
,
and
on
they
speed
,
more
merrily
than
before
.
A
few
small
houses
,
scattered
on
either
side
of
the
road
,
betoken
the
entrance
to
some
town
or
village
.
The
lively
notes
of
the
guard
s
key
-
bugle
vibrate
in
the
clear
cold
air
,
and
wake
up
the
old
gentleman
inside
,
who
,
carefully
letting
down
the
window
-
sash
half
-
way
,
and
standing
sentry
over
the
air
,
takes
a
short
peep
out
,
and
then
carefully
pulling
it
up
again
,
informs
the
other
inside
that
they
re
going
to
change
directly
;
on
which
the
other
inside
wakes
himself
up
,
and
determines
to
postpone
his
next
nap
until
after
the
stoppage
.
Again
the
bugle
sounds
lustily
forth
,
and
rouses
the
cottager
s
wife
and
children
,
who
peep
out
at
the
house
door
,
and
watch
the
coach
till
it
turns
the
corner
,
when
they
once
more
crouch
round
the
blazing
fire
,
and
throw
on
another
log
of
wood
against
father
comes
home
;
while
father
himself
,
a
full
mile
off
,
has
just
exchanged
a
friendly
nod
with
the
coachman
,
and
turned
round
to
take
a
good
long
stare
at
the
vehicle
as
it
whirls
away
.