Mr. Pickwick was roused from the agreeable reverie into which he had been led by the objects before him, by a deep sigh, and a touch on his shoulder. He turned round: and the dismal man was at his side.

“Contemplating the scene?” inquired the dismal man.

“I was,” said Mr. Pickwick.

“And congratulating yourself on being up so soon?”

Mr. Pickwick nodded assent.

“Ah! people need to rise early, to see the sun in all his splendour, for his brightness seldom lasts the day through. The morning of day and the morning of life are but too much alike.”