I have kept one secret in the course of my life. I am a bashful man. Nobody would suppose it, nobody ever does suppose it, nobody ever did suppose it, but I am naturally a bashful man. This isthe secret which I have never breathed until now.I might greatly move the reader by some account of the innumerable places I have not been to, theinnumerable people I have not called upon or received, the innumerable social evasions I have beenguilty of, solely because I am by original constitution and character a bashful man. But I will leavethe reader unmoved, and proceed with the object before me.That object is to give a plain account of my travels and discoveries in the Holly-Tree Inn; in whichplace of good entertainment for man and beast I was once snowed up.It happened in the memorable year when I parted for ever from Angela Leath, whom I was shortlyto have married, on making the discovery that she preferred my bosom friend. From our schooldays I had freely admitted Edwin, in my own mind, to be far superior to myself; and, though I wasgrievously wounded at heart, I felt the preference to be natural, and tried to forgive them both. Itwas under these circumstances that I resolved to go to America-on my way to the Devil
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