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‘
You
have
got
the
address
?
’
‘
Manor
Farm
,
Dingley
Dell
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
consulting
his
pocket
-
book
.
‘
That
’
s
it
,
’
said
the
old
gentleman
.
‘
I
don
’
t
let
you
off
,
mind
,
under
a
week
;
and
undertake
that
you
shall
see
everything
worth
seeing
.
If
you
’
ve
come
down
for
a
country
life
,
come
to
me
,
and
I
’
ll
give
you
plenty
of
it
.
Joe
—
damn
that
boy
,
he
’
s
gone
to
sleep
again
—
Joe
,
help
Tom
put
in
the
horses
.
’
The
horses
were
put
in
—
the
driver
mounted
—
the
fat
boy
clambered
up
by
his
side
—
farewells
were
exchanged
—
and
the
carriage
rattled
off
As
the
Pickwickians
turned
round
to
take
a
last
glimpse
of
it
,
the
setting
sun
cast
a
rich
glow
on
the
faces
of
their
entertainers
,
and
fell
upon
the
form
of
the
fat
boy
.
His
head
was
sunk
upon
his
bosom
;
and
he
slumbered
again
.
Bright
and
pleasant
was
the
sky
,
balmy
the
air
,
and
beautiful
the
appearance
of
every
object
around
,
as
Mr
.
Pickwick
leaned
over
the
balustrades
of
Rochester
Bridge
,
contemplating
nature
,
and
waiting
for
breakfast
.
The
scene
was
indeed
one
which
might
well
have
charmed
a
far
less
reflective
mind
,
than
that
to
which
it
was
presented
.
On
the
left
of
the
spectator
lay
the
ruined
wall
,
broken
in
many
places
,
and
in
some
,
overhanging
the
narrow
beach
below
in
rude
and
heavy
masses
.
Huge
knots
of
seaweed
hung
upon
the
jagged
and
pointed
stones
,
trembling
in
every
breath
of
wind
;
and
the
green
ivy
clung
mournfully
round
the
dark
and
ruined
battlements
.
Behind
it
rose
the
ancient
castle
,
its
towers
roofless
,
and
its
massive
walls
crumbling
away
,
but
telling
us
proudly
of
its
old
might
and
strength
,
as
when
,
seven
hundred
years
ago
,
it
rang
with
the
clash
of
arms
,
or
resounded
with
the
noise
of
feasting
and
revelry
.
On
either
side
,
the
banks
of
the
Medway
,
covered
with
cornfields
and
pastures
,
with
here
and
there
a
windmill
,
or
a
distant
church
,
stretched
away
as
far
as
the
eye
could
see
,
presenting
a
rich
and
varied
landscape
,
rendered
more
beautiful
by
the
changing
shadows
which
passed
swiftly
across
it
as
the
thin
and
half
-
formed
clouds
skimmed
away
in
the
light
of
the
morning
sun
.
The
river
,
reflecting
the
clear
blue
of
the
sky
,
glistened
and
sparkled
as
it
flowed
noiselessly
on
;
and
the
oars
of
the
fishermen
dipped
into
the
water
with
a
clear
and
liquid
sound
,
as
their
heavy
but
picturesque
boats
glided
slowly
down
the
stream
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
was
roused
from
the
agreeable
reverie
into
which
he
had
been
led
by
the
objects
before
him
,
by
a
deep
sigh
,
and
a
touch
on
his
shoulder
.
He
turned
round
:
and
the
dismal
man
was
at
his
side
.
‘
Contemplating
the
scene
?
’
inquired
the
dismal
man
.
‘
I
was
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
And
congratulating
yourself
on
being
up
so
soon
?
’
