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Dickens, Charles

"The Pickwick Papers"

I am a dead man; dead to society,
without the pity they bestow on those whose souls have passed to
judgment. Friends to see me! My God! I have sunk, from the
prime of life into old age, in this place, and there is not one to
raise his hand above my bed when I lie dead upon it, and say,
"It is a blessing he is gone!"'
The excitement, which had cast an unwonted light over the
man's face, while he spoke, subsided as he concluded; and
pressing his withered hands together in a hasty and disordered
manner, he shuffled from the room.
'Rides rather rusty,' said Mr. Roker, with a smile. 'Ah! they're
like the elephants. They feel it now and then, and it makes 'em wild!'
Having made this deeply-sympathising remark, Mr. Roker
entered upon his arrangements with such expedition, that in a
short time the room was furnished with a carpet, six chairs, a
table, a sofa bedstead, a tea-kettle, and various small articles, on
hire, at the very reasonable rate of seven-and-twenty shillings and
sixpence per week.
'Now, is there anything more we can do for you?' inquired
Mr. Roker, looking round with great satisfaction, and gaily
chinking the first week's hire in his closed fist.


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