No one
save myself knew in that man's lifetime who he was, or whence he
came--it was John Edmunds, the returned convict.'
CHAPTER VII
HOW Mr. WINKLE, INSTEAD OF SHOOTING AT THE PIGEON
AND KILLING THE CROW, SHOT AT THE CROW AND
WOUNDED THE PIGEON; HOW THE DINGLEY DELL
CRICKET CLUB PLAYED ALL-MUGGLETON, AND HOW ALL-
MUGGLETON DINED AT THE DINGLEY DELL EXPENSE;
WITH OTHER INTERESTING AND INSTRUCTIVE MATTERS
The fatiguing adventures of the day or the somniferous influence
of the clergyman's tale operated so strongly on the drowsy
tendencies of Mr. Pickwick, that in less than five minutes
after he had been shown to his comfortable bedroom he fell
into a sound and dreamless sleep, from which he was only awakened
by the morning sun darting his bright beams reproachfully into the
apartment. Mr. Pickwick was no sluggard, and he sprang like an
ardent warrior from his tent-bedstead.
'Pleasant, pleasant country,' sighed the enthusiastic gentleman,
as he opened his lattice window. 'Who could live to gaze from
day to day on bricks and slates who had once felt the influence of
a scene like this? Who could continue to exist where there are no
cows but the cows on the chimney-pots; nothing redolent of Pan
but pan-tiles; no crop but stone crop? Who could bear to drag
out a life in such a spot? Who, I ask, could endure it?' and,
having cross-examined solitude after the most approved precedents,
at considerable length, Mr.
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