Lest, however, I
should grow prolix in the outset by lingering too long upon our
little association, confounding the enthusiasm with which I regard
this chief happiness of my life with that minor degree of interest
which those to whom I address myself may be supposed to feel for
it, I have deemed it expedient to break off as they have seen.
But, still clinging to my old friend, and naturally desirous that
all its merits should be known, I am tempted to open (somewhat
irregularly and against our laws, I must admit) the clock-case.
The first roll of paper on which I lay my hand is in the writing of
the deaf gentleman. I shall have to speak of him in my next paper;
and how can I better approach that welcome task than by prefacing
it with a production of his own pen, consigned to the safe keeping
of my honest Clock by his own hand?
The manuscript runs thus
INTRODUCTION TO THE GIANT CHRONICLES
Once upon a time, that is to say, in this our time, - the exact
year, month, and day are of no matter, - there dwelt in the city of
London a substantial citizen, who united in his single person the
dignities of wholesale fruiterer, alderman, common-councilman, and
member of the worshipful Company of Patten-makers; who had
superadded to these extraordinary distinctions the important post
and title of Sheriff, and who at length, and to crown all, stood
next in rotation for the high and honourable office of Lord Mayor.
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