Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens (sample)
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EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (England - Cockney, Estuary, East End) British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC)Transcript
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that punctual servant of all work. The sun had just risen and begun to strike a light on the morning of the 13th of May 1827 when Mr Samuel Pickwick burst like another son from his slumbers through open, his chamber window on looked out upon the world. Beneath goes well, Street was at his feet goes well. Street was on his right hand, as far as the eye could reach. Goes well, Street extended on his left on the opposite side of gods. Well, street was over the way. Such thought, Mr Pickwick, are the narrow views of those philosophers who, content with examining the things that lie before them, look not to the truths which are hidden beyond as well. Might I be content to gaze on God's well street forever without one effort to penetrate to the hidden countries, which on every side surrounded and haven't given vent to this beautiful reflection, Mr. Pickwick proceeded to put himself into his clothes and his clothes into his Port Manto. Great men are seldom over scrupulous in the arrangement of their attire. The operation of shaving, dressing and coffee imbibing was soon performed and in another hour, Mr Pickwick, with his portmanteau in his hand, his telescope in his great coat pocket and his notebook in his waistcoat prepared for the reception off. Any discoveries worthy of being noted down had arrived at the coat stand. Instant, Martin's Legrand cab said, Mr Pickwick. Here you are, sir, shouted a strange specimen of the human race in a sack cloth coat and apron of the same who with a brass label and number around his neck, looked as if he were catalogued in some collection of rarities. This was the waterman. Here you go, sir. Now then, fast Cab on the first cab, having Bean fetched from the public house where he had been smoking his first pipe, Mr Pickwick and his portmanteau were thrown into the vehicle. Golden Cross said Mr Pickwick. Only a Bob for Tommy, cried the driver so curly for the information of his friend of Waterman as the cab drove off. How old is that horse? My friend enquired Mr Pickwick, rubbing his nose with Schilling. He had reserved for the fair for you, too, replied the driver, eyeing him a scant What ejaculated Mr Pickwick laying his hand upon his notebook, the driver reiterated his former statement. Mr Pickwick looked very hard at the man's face, but his features were immovable. So he noted down the fact forthwith. And how long do you keep him out at a time? Enquired Mr Pickwick, searching for further information to free weeks, replied the man, Weeks said Mr Pickwick and Astonishment, and out came the notebook again. He lives in Pentonville when he's at home, observed the driver, Cooley, but we seldom take him home. On account of his vic. Nous, on account of his weakness, reiterated the perplexed Mr Pickwick. He always falls down when he's took out a cab, continued to driver. But when he's in it, we bears him up where retire and takes him in weary shore. So is he can't very well fool down, and we've got a pair of precious large wheels on. So many does move. They run after him and he must go on. He can't help it