All night my broken sleep was filled with fantastic visions, and I arose early and sat by my window, taking a last look at the familiar view.  Then came an early, hurried breakfast, and then I kissed my sister and Biddy, and threw my arms around Joe’s neck, took up my little portmanteau, and walked out.  Presently I heard a scuffle behind me, and there was Joe, throwing an old shoe after me.  I waved my hat, and dear old Joe waved his arm over his head, crying huskily, “Hooroar!”

I walked away rapidly then, thinking it was not so hard to go, after all.  But then came a thought of the peaceful village where I had been so care-free and innocent, and beyond was the great unknown world,—­and in a moment, I broke into tears, sobbing: 

“Good-bye, oh my dear, dear friend!” I was better after that, more sorry, more aware of my ingratitude to Joe, more gentle.

So subdued was I by my tears that when I was on the coach, I deliberated, with an aching heart, whether I should not get down when we changed horses, and walk back for one more evening at home and a better parting, but while I was still deliberating, we went on, and changed again, and then it was too late and too far for me to go back, and I must go on.  And the mists had all solemnly risen about me now, and the world lay spread before me, and I must go on.  And so my boyhood came to an end, and the first stage of my Great Expectations was over.