In devising his grand project to celebrate the bicentenary of the birth of Mr Charles Dickens, Mr Headstone had not anticipated how the daily business of life would interfere with his plans. The month of April was nearly over and almost one third of the time allotted to his task had run out. As he returned The Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby to its place and took down The Old Curiosity Shop, the pedagogue looked with dismay at the remaining unread volumes on the shelf. Like wealthy gentlemen of leisure they were inclined to be of large dimensions, and even the presence of one or two striplings amongst them did not compensate for the fact that the later works were of proportions to rival those of the celebrated Mr Daniel Lambert.
Mr Headstone had lately become aware that another gentleman (not of his acquaintance) was embarked on a similar endeavor to his own, and that he already had the advantage of the pedagogue by two novels clear. Spurred to action by these thoughts, Mr Headstone made a resolution to quit the noisome city and to seek the quiet and solitude of the countryside, where he could more easily devote himself to his task. He longed for the freshness of the day, the singing of the birds, the beauty of the waving grass, the deep green leaves, such simple pleasures being great joys to those who live solitarily in great cities as in the bucket of a human well.
The better to appreciate the wonders of nature (and to avoid the expense commonly incurred when travelling by other means), Mr Headstone elected to make his journey on foot, and so early one morning - as the sparkling sun beams of a new day were twinkling through blind and curtain before sleepers' eyes - the pedagogue set off.
Mr Charles Dickens
