an instant and looks round him. As he does so, the tears roll down his

cheeks, in the fullness of his joy.

Let us leave our old friend in one of those moments of unmixed

happiness, of which, if we seek them, there are ever some, to cheer

our transitory existence here. There are dark shadows on the earth,

but its lights are stronger in the contrast. Some men, like bats or

owls, have better eyes for the darkness than for the light. We, who

have no such optical powers, are better pleased to take our last

parting look at the visionary companions of many solitary hours,

when the brief sunshine of the world is blazing full upon them.

It is the fate of most men who mingle with the world, and attain even

the prime of life, to make many real friends, and lose them in the

course of nature. It is the fate of all authors or chroniclers to create

imaginary friends, and lose them in the course of art. Nor is this the

full extent of their misfortunes; for they are required to furnish an

account of them besides.

In compliance with this custom - unquestionably a bad one - we

subjoin a few biographical words, in relation to the party at Mr

Pickwick's assembled.

Mr and Mrs. Winkle, being fully received into favour by the old

gentleman, were shortly afterwards installed in a newly- built house,

not half a mile from Mr Pickwick's. Mr Winkle, being engaged in the

city as agent or town correspondent of his father, exchanged his old

costume for the ordinary dress of Englishmen, and presented all the

external appearance of a civilised Christian ever afterwards.

Mr and Mrs. Snodgrass settled at Dingley Dell, where they purchased

and cultivated a small farm, more for occupation than profit. Mr

Snodgrass, being occasionally abstracted and melancholy, is to this

day reputed a great poet among his friends and acquaintance,

although we do not find that he has ever written anything to

encourage the belief. There are many celebrated characters, literary,

philosophical, and otherwise, who hold a high reputation on a similar

tenure.

Mr Tupman, when his friends married, and Mr Pickwick settled, took

lodgings at Richmond, where he has ever since resided. He walks

constantly on the terrace during the summer months, with a youthful

and jaunty air, which has rendered him the admiration of the

numerous elderly ladies of single condition, who reside in the vicinity.

He has never proposed again.

Mr Bob Sawyer, having previously passed through the GAZETTE,

passed over to Bengal, accompanied by Mr Benjamin Allen; both

The Pickwick Papers