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