'Then here,' said the old gentleman, 'is a little manuscript, which I had

hoped to have the pleasure of reading to you myself. I found it on the

death of a friend of mine - a medical man, engaged in our county

lunatic asylum - among a variety of papers, which I had the option of

destroying or preserving, as I thought proper. I can hardly believe that

the manuscript is genuine, though it certainly is not in my friend's

hand. However, whether it be the genuine production of a maniac, or

founded upon the ravings of some unhappy being (which I think more

probable), read it, and judge for yourself.'

Mr Pickwick received the manuscript, and parted from the benevolent

old gentleman with many expressions of good-will and esteem.

It was a more difficult task to take leave of the inmates of Manor

Farm, from whom they had received so much hospitality and

kindness. Mr Pickwick kissed the young ladies - we were going to say,

as if they were his own daughters, only, as he might possibly have

infused a little more warmth into the salutation, the comparison

would not be quite appropriate - hugged the old lady with filial

cordiality; and patted the rosy cheeks of the female servants in a most

patriarchal manner, as he slipped into the hands of each some more

substantial expression of his approval. The exchange of cordialities

with their fine old host and Mr Trundle was even more hearty and

prolonged; and it was not until Mr Snodgrass had been several times

called for, and at last emerged from a dark passage followed soon after

by Emily (whose bright eyes looked unusually dim), that the three

friends were enabled to tear themselves from their friendly

entertainers. Many a backward look they gave at the farm, as they

walked slowly away; and many a kiss did Mr Snodgrass waft in the

air, in acknowledgment of something very like a lady's handkerchief,

which was waved from one of the upper windows, until a turn of the

lane hid the old house from their sight.

At Muggleton they procured a conveyance to Rochester. By the time

they reached the last-named place, the violence of their grief had

sufficiently abated to admit of their making a very excellent early

dinner; and having procured the necessary information relative to the

road, the three friends set forward again in the afternoon to walk to

Cobham.

A delightful walk it was; for it was a pleasant afternoon in June, and

their way lay through a deep and shady wood, cooled by the light wind

which gently rustled the thick foliage, and enlivened by the songs of

the birds that perched upon the boughs. The ivy and the moss crept

in thick clusters over the old trees, and the soft green turf overspread

the ground like a silken mat. They emerged upon an open park, with

an ancient hall, displaying the quaint and picturesque architecture of

Elizabeth's time. Long vistas of stately oaks and elm trees appeared on

The Pickwick Papers