The first ray of light which illumined the gloom of Mr Headstone's bedchamber was greeted with that gentleman's blinking eye protruding from above the covers and an inarticulate expression emitting from beneath. It being a Sunday and the first day of a new year, Mr Headstone did not feel compelled to rouse himself from that drowsy state of near slumber in which he found himself, and so fell to a contemplation of the incidents of the previous night - some of which have already been faithfully recorded below.
As the hour of midnight approached and the church bells rang out, the company (which, among other worthies, included Mr Guppy, Mr Snodgrass, Mr Pluck and Mr Plyke, and Simon Tappertit) grew sentimental and lachrymose. Glasses were raised, toasts were made, hands were clasped, songs were sung, and in the general revelry of the moment it seemed that humanity had - after so many thousand years of conflict - put aside all its differences and resolved to henceforth live a life of harmony and equanimity.
In the spirit of the occasion, Mr Headstone directed his felicitations towards a surly individual in the corner, who was not of their party, and who had been making frequent intimations during the course of the evening that they desist in their revelries and allow him to eat his dinner in peace. On receiving Mr Headstone's hearty greeting, the diner turned to scowl upon the company and in so doing presented a much puckered and wrinkled visage, the most unusual feature of which was that - in contrast to the common arrangement - it contained only one eye. This orb, which was of a greenish grey colour, was not shortcoming in conveying the displeasure of its owner despite its lack of a companion. In ordinary circumstances, Mr Headstone might have shriveled under that stony gaze and retreated, but as he was full of the spirit of the hour and convinced that no man could reject the hand of friendship, he advanced upon the diner.
It was a fortunate circumstance that the hand which Mr Headstone extended in filial greeting contained a full measure of brandy and water, and the diner, having eaten a game pie with roast potatoes and green beans, was in want of something to aid his digestion. The stranger took the proffered mixture, swallowed it in a single draft and declared that Wackford Squeers - for such was his name - would be honoured to join the company in any further toasts they might propose on the proviso that any replenishment of his empty glass would be reckoned on that company's bill. This arrangement being agreed upon - despite the objections of Mr Guppy - Mr Squeers joined them at their table.
Mr Headstone was gratified to learn that Mr Squeers was a member of that same noble profession to which he himself belonged, and - as is common when two individuals of a similar calling find themselves in conversation - they were soon discussing matters of shared interest. Amongst the manifold and various topics that range across the art and science of pedagogy , there was but one that excited the minds of these two excellent gentlemen, and that was none other than the most effective method of punishing with impunity the recalcitrant pupil.
On this subject, Mr Squeers had a great deal to say both of a practical and anecdotal nature. Mr Headstone, who was somewhat of a novice in the art, was rapt with attention, spellbound by the ingenuity with which such everyday objects as birch wood, fire tongs and pails of icy water could be employed for instructional purposes. Regrettably, the unfortunate consequence of Mr Headstone's attentiveness - normally such an admirable quality in a pupil - was his singular failure to observe the backward motion of his chair, which, having been propped on its hind legs the better to accommodate his own limbs on the table, was inclined to demonstrate once again the natural proclivity of heavy objects to gravitate towards the floor. It was furthermore regrettable that the pot boy - who had learned to give the party a wide berth whenever he was required to cross the room - was not in the immediate vicinity to prevent the crown of Mr Headstone's head from striking the stone flags with a report that Mr Tappertit claimed was a fair imitation of the sound of a musket being discharged. With the assistance of his friends, the schoolmaster got to his feet - an operation that might have been effected in a much shorter period of time had he been allowed to do it without their intervention - and revived with a glass of brandy and water.
As is common in those circumstances whenever a mild physical injury is sustained, each member of the party was eager to offer his advice as to the most effective method for allaying those unpleasant sensations that must always attend an incident involving a blow to the head. Mr Snodgrass was in favour of fresh air and exercise. Mr Pluck advised against any sudden movements. Mr Plyke recommended brandy and water to be taken internally and brandy without water to be applied externally. Simon Tappertit had nothing to say on the matter other than to repeat his remark that the sound of Mr Headstone's skull striking against the stone had been 'damnably like a pistol shot.'
Mr Guppy, not being a medical man, deferred from offering up any advice which, if acted upon by the injured party, might lead to complications of a legal nature. Mr Squeers, who was still wiping from his eyes the tears of laughter that had been engendered by the spectacle of his new companion's precipitous backward motion, recommended brown paper and vinegar as the best remedy for a sore head and then retired for the night. The party soon after broke up and the individuals made their way to their respective homes, their journeys made that much longer by the tendency of their drunken limbs to traverse each street from pavement to pavement in the mistaken belief that this comprised the most effective method of forward propulsion.
So it was that when Mr Headstone was roused from his slumber by the first rays of the sun on the first day of the new year, he was not inclined to greet the morning with his customary enthusiasm. He rose at midday and breakfasted on a cold cutlet that he was able to pry from the congealed grease of an unwashed platter and took a glass of Old Tom to lift his spirits. Recalling himself to his resolution for the year, he took down from his bookshelf a copy of The Pickwick Papers, bound in red cloth with gilt lettering, and opened it to the frontispiece. Having examined this illustration and perused the subsequent chapter headings, and then having opened the book to the first chapter and having read the first sentence (which constituted an entire paragraph) several times over, Mr Headstone came to the conclusion that he should delay the commencement of his great project to such a time as when he was in full possession of his mental faculties, and with this noble resolution he retired to bed.
Mr Charles Dickens
