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Reprinted Pieces. Charles Dickens

Contents:

The Long Voyage
The Begging-Letter Writer
A Child′s Dream of a Star
Our English Watering-Place
Our French Watering-Place
Bill-Sticking
Births. Mrs. Meek, of a Son
Lying Awake
The Ghost of Art
Out of Town
Out of the Season
A Poor Man′s Tale of a Patent
The Noble Savage
A Flight
The Detective Police
Three Detective Anecdotes
On Duty with Inspector Field
Down with the Tide
A Walk in a Workhouse
Prince Bull: A Fairy Tale
A Plated Article
Our Honourable Friend
Our School
Our Vestry
Our Bore
A Monument of French Folly

THE LONG VOYAGE

WHEN the wind is blowing and the sleet or rain is driving against the dark windows, I love to sit by the fire, thinking of what I have read in books of voyage and travel. Such books have had a strong fascination for my mind from my earliest childhood; and I wonder it should have come to pass that I never have been round the world, never have been shipwrecked, ice-environed, tomahawked, or eaten.

Sitting on my ruddy hearth in the twilight of New Year′s Eve, I find incidents of travel rise around me from all the latitudes and longitudes of the globe. They observe no order or sequence, but appear and vanish as they will - ′come like shadows, so depart.′ Columbus, alone upon the sea with his disaffected crew, looks over the waste of waters from his high station on the poop of his ship, and sees the first uncertain glimmer of the light, ′rising and falling with the waves, like a torch in the bark of some fisherman,′ which is the shining star of a new world. Bruce is caged in Abyssinia, surrounded by the gory horrors which shall often startle him out of his sleep at home when years have passed away. Franklin, come to the end of his unhappy overland journey - would that it had been his last! - lies perishing of hunger with his brave companions: each emaciated figure stretched upon its miserable bed without the power to rise: all, dividing the weary days between their prayers, their remembrances of the dear ones at home, and conversation on the pleasures of eating; the last-named topic being ever present to them, likewise, in their dreams. All the African travellers, wayworn, solitary and sad, submit themselves again to drunken, murderous, man-selling despots, of the lowest order of humanity; and Mungo Park, fainting under a tree and succoured by a woman, gratefully remembers how his Good Samaritan has always come to him in woman′s shape, the wide world over.

A shadow on the wall in which my mind′s eye can discern some traces of a rocky sea-coast, recalls to me a fearful story of travel derived from that unpromising narrator of such stories, a parliamentary blue-book. A convict is its chief figure, and this man escapes with other prisoners from a penal settlement. It is an island, and they seize a boat, and get to the main land. Their way is by a rugged and precipitous sea-shore, and they have no earthly hope of ultimate escape, for the party of soldiers despatched by an easier course to cut them off, must inevitably arrive at their distant bourne long before them, and retake them if by any hazard they survive the horrors of the way. Famine, as they all must have foreseen, besets them early in their course.

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Overall 153 pages


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