The sun is a faithful servant which gives light for everyone to work by. It had just risen and begun to shine its light on the morning of the thirteenth of May, 1827, when Mr Samuel Pickwick rose like another sun from his dreams, opened his bedroom window, and looked out upon the world.
Goswell Street was in front of him, Goswell Street was on the right, Goswell Street stretched out on the left as far as he could see. The opposite side of Goswell Street was over the road. 'This,' thought Mr Pickwick, 'is just like the narrow views of some philosophers. They are happy to examine the things that are in front of them, and don't look for the truths which are hidden further away. It is as if I was happy to look out at Goswell Street for ever, and never make any effort to explore all the places which are around it.'
And after having this beautiful thought, Mr Pickwick got into his clothes, and put the rest of his clothes into a suitcase. Great men are not usually very careful in the way they dress and arrange their clothing; so the business of shaving, dressing, and drinking coffee was soon completed. In another hour, Mr Pickwick had arrived at St Martin's-le-Grand to catch a cab.
His suitcase was in his hand, his telescope in his coat pocket, and his note-book was in his waistcoat, ready for him to write down anything interesting which he discovered.
