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From the Library of Edward K. Putnam Presented by Mrs. Edward K. Putnam

Sr Ma tl Jif inf

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KENS Dicrionary

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I ILGUTON, \ he

DickENs DICTIONARY

& Key

TO THE CHARACTERS AND PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS IN THE TALES OF CHARLES DICKENS

BY

GILBERT A. PIERCE

WITH ADDITIONS By WILLIAM A. WHEELER

ILLUSTRATED

I fhe be ignorant, who would not wish to enlarge his knowledge? If_he be knowing, sho would not willingly refresh his memory?” —Oupvs

BOSTON HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY New York: 85 Fifth Avenue be Hiversibe regs, Cambridge

\

Copyright, 1872, By JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO.

Copyright, 1900, By OLIVE W. WHEELER.

‘THE RIVERSIDE PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, MASS, U.S. A. ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY H. 0, HOUGHTON AND CO.

The Wickens DWictionary.

565507:

“ As for the odarities of Mr. Dickens, multiplied kindnesses which he has com ferred upon us all, upon our children, upon people educated and uneducated, upon the myriads who speak our common tongue, have not you, have not I, all of us, reason to be thankful to this kind friend, who soothed and charmed so many hours, brought pleasure and sweet laughter to so many homes, made such multh tades of children happy, endowed us with such a sweet store of gracious thoughts, fair fancles, soft sympathies, hearty enjoyments?...I may quarrel with Mr. Dickens's art a thousand and a thousand times: I delight and wonder at his genius; I recognize in tt—I speak with awe and reverence —a commission from that Divine Benefloence, whose blessed task we know it will one day be to wipe every tear from every eye. Thankfully I take my share of the feast of love and Kindness which this gentle and generous and charitable soul has contributed to the happiness of the world. I take and enjoy my share, and say a benediction for the meal.” —THACKERAY.

«Were all his books swept by some intellectual catastrophe out of the world, there would still exist in the world some soore, at least, of people, with all whose ways and sayings we are more intimately acquainted than with those of our brothers and sisters, who would owe to him thelr being. While we live, and while our children live, 8am Weller and Dick Swiveller, Mr. Pecksniff and Mrs. Gamp, the Micawbers and the Squeerses, can never die. . . . They are more real than we are ourselves, and will outlive and outlast us as they have outlived their ereator, This isthe one proof of genius which no critic, not the most carping o# ssatiated, can gainsay.”— Blackwood’s Mag., vol. okx. p. 0.

Preface.

On bringing the First Series of “All the Year Round” to a close, Mr. Dickens used these words, “It is better that every kind of work, honestly undertaken and discharged, should speak for itself than be spoken for.” Now, as the general intent of this volume, the manner of its execution, and its usefulness to the reading public, will be sufficiently obvious on even a cursory inspection, they need not be “spoken for” here. A few facts, however, crave to be stated by way of explanation and acknowledgment.

The arrangement of the names of characters under each tale is alphabetical; but the order im which the tales themselves are treated is chronological, The latter remark, however, does not apply to the Reprinted Pieces,” which are put at the end of the list, as having been originally published —in “ Household Words" —at various dates between the years 1850 and 1856. Nor does it apply to “Some Uncollected Pieces,” whick, though among the carlicst of our author's productions, are placed after all the rest, as being little known, and, at present, inaccessible to the majority of readers.

Besides these, a number of other sketches and tales still remain to be gathered from “ Household Words,” and “All the Year Round,” and from other sources. To the Christmas numbers" publishe in connection with these two periodicals, Mr. Dickens was gener ally a contributor; and in 1867 he collected and revised, expressly Sor the “Diamond” edition of his works (issued by the publishers of this volume), the portions of those numbers" written by him-

wd Drelace.

self; namely, “Somebody's Luggage,” “ Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings,” “ Mrs, Lirripers Legacy,” “Doctor Marigold,” “Two Ghost Stories,” “The Boy at Mughy,” and “ The Holly-Tree.” He ts said to have written the first and third portions of “ The Perils of Certain English Prisoners” (1857), and more or less of “The Haunted House" (1859), “A Message from the Sea” (1860), “No Thoroughfare" (1867), Gc. ; but as he did not see fit to acknowl- sdge any share in these composite productions, and as it would be impossible to separate his contributions from those of the other writers associated with him, these stories have been wholly omitted. Mis to be noted, however, that although, in the“ Diamond” edition, he claimed as his own only those portions of “Mughy Function” ena titled “The Boy at Mugby” and“ The SignalMan” (reprinted at the second of “Two Ghost Stories”), yet, in the Contents prefixed to this Christmas number of “ All the Year Round,” ke put his name as axthor to two other portions, entitled “ Barbox Brothers," and“ Barbox Brothers and Co.” These are accordingly included in the present work,

In three or four cases, the extracts from Dickens are taken from his“ Readings, as Condensed by Himself? and not directly from his novels. In the case of other extracts, omissions and ex planatory additions are always carefully indicated.

The summaries of the Principal Incidents in the longer tales have been borrowed (with some slight additions and changes) from the “Diamond” edition; but, as the original references were to the pages in that edition only, these hawe been omitted, und chapter references given in their stead. They will be found to furnish an excellent analysis of the tales, and to be exceedingly convenient for reference. A seneral synopsis of each story may also be readily oblained by reading the account of the principal character ar characters figuring in it,

The [lustrations are selected from those designed by Mr. S Eytinge, jun, for the Library,” “ Household, and“ Diamond

Peetace.

sditions of Dickens's Works, published, with the authors sanction, by Messrs. James R. Osgood and Company. Mr. Dickens only confirmed the general testimony to their excellence in saying of them, “ They are remarkable for a delicate perception of beauty, @ lively eye for character, a most agreeable absence of exaggeration, and a general modesty and propricty, which I greatly like.”

The number of names of characters included in the General In- dex, and more or less fully treated in the pages preceding the Index, is upwards of fifteen hundred and fifty. The number of names of imaginary places, societies, and literary works, and of familiar Phrases or sayings, and the like,— also included in the Index,— Gs upwards of two hundred.

On the completion of this Dictionary, it was placed in the hands of Mr. William A. Wheeler, as a“ scholar of critical habits and approved experience,” to be revised and corrected for the press; and he has read every page of it with scrupulous care, both in the manuscript and the proofs, suggesting many alterations which have materially improved the work, besides furnishing contributions of his own, which have given it still greater intercit, value, and com- pleteness.

As the preparation of this manual has been a pleasant task, the Author would fain hope that those who consult it may find the perusal equally pleasant; and that it may help, in however smalla degree, to extend and perpetuate the fame and influence of Charles Dickens, not only in his native land, where he rested his claims to remembrance, and in America, whose people he always regarded as “essentially one” with his own countrymen, but throughout the

* world, which he has so warmed and cheered with the sunshine of his genius and humanity, and to whose intellectual wealth he has edded so much,

APRIL 20, 1872,

Contents.

wack, Last ov InLusrmations. . . «© + + 2 © © © «© «© wf

ALPHABETICAL ORDER OF DICKENS'S NOVELS AND TALES, WITH THE Dare or Tein Fins PUBLICATION Agi es Val eon DICTIONARY. «we ee ee ee to SeercmssY Bor. «ee + ee ee tee Picnwick PArems . 6 6 ee ew ee ee ee OuvenTwur. . 5 6 2 ee ee ees MUpFoG AssoclaTION 2 2 + ee 8h 8 ee el Nicuouas Niceuesy ©, ee ee ee ee Smxtours oy Youno COUPLES. ee e+ ee ee Masen Howpnmgrs Cook. 2. 6 ee ee ee OupCumosrrSHOF - 6 6 6 7 ee ee ee BagwaBy RUDGE « + 6 © © 8 © © © © © & CurisTuas CAROL «0s 8 ee lt lt le lt ll MARTIN CHUZZLEWIF 5 2 6 8 8 8 8 ee ee TreComms. 6 08 8 et we ee (CRICKET ON THR HEARTH oe 8 8 © © ew ee BarmzorLup . . . Domazr amp 80H 6 ee ee ee ee Hauerep Maw. 6 ee ee ee ee Davin CorrEByILD 0» 6 6 ee ew ee ee Busan Hou. «se 6 8 8 ee ee Wamp Toms . 6 ee tw tt ee BEVEN PooR TRAVELLERS 2 2 6 5 6 8 6 © © « ‘HOLLY-Ters ee er i oe er i Ce er Ce ek | Tarn Domr. 5 4 es ee ee ee

SSSSSRURERRESERSEERE SS. SE

Tae oy Two Crime 6 ee Ce ee Te Ta

Huxrep Dow. . 2 6 6 0 e 2 e 8 eo ee UMCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. 4 5 er |.) WaraT EXPECTATIONS «0. 5 0s 8 ee . oy

Souznopr’s Luacacs

Contents.

Mus. Linnipea’s Lovomes . Mrs. Linniper’s LrGacr Ovg Morvan Fares

Doctor MARIGOLD Bansox Broruzns Bor at Muonr . ‘Two Guost-SToniEs Houpay RomaNcE:

Groror Sttvensan’s EXPLANATION New UNcommercian SAMPLES

Epwix Droop . REPRINTED PIECES

Some UNCOLLECTED PIECES .

ADDENDA...

A CLAssED List oF CHARACTERS, ETO,

GENERAL INDEX.

List of Illustrations.

Ouamtes Dickems’ . «5 6 6 6 0 6 06 6+ «| Brontispions

[Engraved under the superintendence of A. V. 8. ABTHO. ¥.]

Tne Proxwick Cope. eee ee + Paar 18 Jor,Tme Far Bor. . - - 1 6 8 ee ee Pay Ovp WELLER AND THE COACHMEN. we ee ee ee Tue Artrun Dopore ann CHARLEY BATES. «© » 5 + + + 0 CuEERYSLE BRoTHeRs AND TIM LINKINWATER ©. ee ed Mn. AND Mus. SquaeRs AND Masten WACKFORD =. «« ML QuILr, Mrs. Quitr, AND Mas. JumWIN,- . 4 ee +15 Dick SWIVELLER AND THE MaRCHIONESS 2 0. 1 + eee 181 Bos Crarcwrr ANDTINY TM. 1 ee ee ee ee 210 Samer Gar aNp Bersey PRIGQ . «6 s+ + + 6 + 8 Me. PECKSNIFF AND MIs DAUGHTERS =. 4. 6 + + ee OT Evsau Poonam amp Mes, Hommmy. . 6 6 ee ee + SL Capras COTTLE - 1 eee ee Caran Heer anp mis MOTHER... 4 e+ + ee es 0 Mn. MicAwBER AND HIS Fammuy . 1 4 + + + e+ + 88

MOGOTTY AND BAREIS. =» - 6 + + 6 6 ee ee 818 Wanowd SKIMPOLE- 6 ee ee ee ee Mr. TURVEYDROP AND HISSON. . - se 6 8 + + ee BOR Mn. BOUNDEPBY AND Mus. SPARSIT. . «5 + + + « + + 203 STONEY CARTON AND THE SEAMSTRESS . 4 0. 0+ 0 6 ++ (405 Jos Garnczry amp Mas.Joz . . 6 6 6 6 6 ee AT Puspiecoox AND WOPSLE 4 + 5 ee 6 ee e+ AC Ponsyar sg ee ee eee ee AD Wwe Bor ar Muar . . 6 6 6 1 ee ee el

Alphabetical Order

or DICKENS'S NOVELS AND MINOR TALES,

‘Wren tax DAs oy rie Finest PUBLICATION,

—_-—__

BARNABY RUDGE, is41. BATTLE OF LIFE, 1864. BLEAK HOUSE, 1852-53. BOY AT MUGBY, 1866. CHIMES, 1844. CHRISTMAS CAROL, 183. CRICKET ON THE HEARTH, 1845. DAVID COPPERFIELD, 1849-50, DOCTOR MARIGOLD, 1365. DOMBEY AND SON, 1846-48. GEORGE SILVERMAN'S EXPLANATION, 1968 GREAT EXPECTATIONS, 1861, HARD TIMES, 1854. = HAUNTED MAN, 1848. HOLIDAY ROMANCE, 1868. HOLLY TREE, 1855. HUNTED DOWN, 1859. LITTLE DORRIT, 1855-57. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 1843-44. MASTER HUMPHREY’S CLOCK, 1840-41. MRS. LIRRIPER'S LEGACY, 13864. MRS LIRRIPER'S LODGINGS, 1863. MUDFOG ASSOCIATION, 1837-38, MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD, 1870. NEW UNCOMMERCIAL SAMPLES, 1869. NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, 1338-39.

xin

xiv Aipdabetical @rver of

OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, 180-41. OLIVER TWIST, 1837-39. OUR MUTUAL FRIEND, 1864-65. PICKWICK PAPERS, 1836-87. REPRINTED PIECES, 1858. Nawely:—Tue Brcoiro Lerrer-Warrse, 1850. Butt Sticeio, 1851. Bierns. Mrs. Mex, or Sox, 1852 Curiy’s Daeau oF a Star, 1850. Cup's Story, 1852. Cunisras-Tree, 1850. Detective Pouice, 1850 Dowx wits Tie Tipe, 1853. A Friant, 1851. ‘Tae Guosr or An, 1850. ‘Tas Lona Vorace, 1853. Lrixe Awaxe, 1852. A Monument or Frencu Four, 1861. Noster Savace, 1853. Nozopr's Story, 1853. Ox Dorr wits Insrector Fraxp, 1851. Ove Bore, 1852. Ove Exctise WareRixo-Piace, 1851, Ook Frexce WarErine-PLAce, 1854. Our Hoxoraste Frrexp, 1852. Our Scnoor, 1851. Our Vesrer, 1852. Our or THe Szasox, 1856. Our or Towr, 1856. A Piarep Agricie, 1852. A Poor Max's TALE or a Parewr, 1850. Poor Retatiox’s Storr, 1852. Price Buit; A Farry-Tate, 1855. Scuootsor’s Story, 1853. ‘Tuner “Derective” Axzcpores, 1850. Wax i 4 Worxnouse, 1850. SEVEN POOR TRAVELLERS, 1854. BEETCHES BY BOZ, 1836.

Namely: —Ovr Pantsn; containing The Beadle, the Pansh Engine the Schoolmaster; The Curate, the Old Lady, the Half psy Captain; The Four Sisters; The Election for Beadle ‘The Broker’a Man; The Ladies’ Societies; Our Next-dco. Neighbor.

Dickens's Novels and Minor Salen.

SKETCUES BY BOZ, continued. ‘Scrxes; containing The Streots— Morning; The Streets — Night; Shops and their Tenants; Sootland Yani; Seren Dials; Meditations in Monmouth Street; Hackney-Conch Stands; Doctors’ Commons; London Recreations; ‘The River ; Asdey’a; Grecowich Fair; PrivateTheatres; Vaux- hiali Gardens by Day; Early Cooches; Omnibuses; The Last Cab-Driver, and the First Omnibus Cad; A Parha- mentary Sketch; Pablic Dinners; The First of May; Brokers’ and,Marine-Store Shops ; Gin Shops; The Pawn- broker’s Shop ; Criminal Courts; A Visit to Newgate.

Cuanacrens; confaining Thoughts nbout People; A Christ- mas Dinner ; The New Year; Miss Evans and the Eagle; ‘The Parlor Orator; The Hospital Patient; ‘The Misplaced Attachment of Mr. Johw Dounce; The Mistaken Milliner; ‘The Dancing Academy, Shabby-Gentool People; Making & Night of it; The Prisoners’ Van.

‘Tates ; containing The Boarding-House; Mr. Minna and his Cousin; Sentiment; The Tuggses at Ramagate; Horatio Bparitosy; The Bieck Veil ; Tha Steam Excursion ; The Great Winglebury Duel; Mrs. Joseph Porter; A Passage in the Life of Mr. Watkins Tottle; The Bloomsbury Christening; Tho Drankard’s Death.

SKETCHES OF YOUNG COUPLES, 1541.

Namedy:—Tho Young Couplo; The Formal Couple; The Loving Couple ;'The Contradictory Couple; ‘The Couple who Dote mpon their Children; The Cool Couple; The Plausible Couple; The Nice Little Couple; The Egotistical Couple; ‘The Couple who Coddle Themselves ; The Old Couple.

SOME UNCOLLECTED PIECES.

Namely: —Is Sun mis Wirn! 1837.

‘Tux Lawrricnren’s Stony, 1841.

Paxromtut ov Lire, 1837.

Posto Livx or Mu. Torncmnxe, 1837.

‘Tux Srmaxox Gextiemax, 1837.

‘Tue Vittacn Cogverres, 1836.

SOMEBODY'S LUGGAGE, 1862. TALE OF TWO CITIES, 1839.

TWO GHOST STORIES, 186s, '66. UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 1860.

THE DICKENS DICTIONARY.

Sketches by Bo;,

TLLUSTRATIVE OF EVERY-DAY LIFE AND EVERY-DAY PEOPLE.

‘Tikes are 8 collection of short pleors, comprising Mr. Dickens's first attempts at sathorshtp, und containing the germs of many of the characters which were more Khlly developed in his tater works, They were originally contribated to “The Mouthiy Magaxine” (“The Old Monthly,” as it was called to distingulsh st from Colburn’s “ New Monthly"), “The Morning Chronicle," and “Bell's Life in Lan- on" In 1695 they were brought together, and republished, with illustrations by George Craftshank, in two series, of which the former was contained In two vol- mes, and the latter none. The very first of these Sketches” was that entitled “Mrs. Joseph Porter.” It appeared in “The Mosthly Magazine” for January, 184. The firet In which Dickens sssumed the pseudonym of “ Hox” was the second part oF chapter of “The osrdlng-House” which came out {x the same magazine in August, 164. Of the origin of this namo, the suthor has given the fillowing sccount: “* Boz’ was the nickname of a pet child, a younger brother {Angustus Dickens}, whom I had dubbed Moses in honor of the Vioar of Wake- Geld; which, being facetiously pronounced through the nose, became Boses, and, being shortened, became Boz. ‘Box’ was a vers familiar household word to me ‘yng before I was an author; and 40 I came to adopt 1t.” It will be een that ‘4.0 name was originally pronounced with the Jong sound of o, as If spelt Loses Dut the public, being ignorant of its derivation, naturally enough gave the vowel the abort sound, asin Lob, Thus Mood says, in the verses he wrote on the ooce ‘don of Dickenw’s leaving England for America in 1542, —~

“Though s pledge had to shiver, And the longest ever was, Ere his vessel left our river,

Kwoald dink « health to Des *

2 Ebe Michens Mictlonacy.

“Mr. Dicknos's ¢wn estimate of «The Sketches "—giren tn 1880, tn the Pretuoe toa new edition of them—was, that they are“ often extremely erude and ill-con- sidered, bearing obvious marks of haxte and Inexperienoe, particularly in that scetion of the yolume which ts comprised under the general hesd of Tales Such, however, was thelr mingled shrewdacss, hamor, and pathoa, 40 varied and graphie were they, that they speedily became very popular; and for time, indeed, the de mand was greater than the eupply.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED,

OUR PARISH. THE BEADLE.

Simmons. Parish beadle, and prototype of Mr. Bumble ip “ Oliver Twist.” THE FOUR SISTERS.

Lawson, Mr, A surgeon, &e., in attendance on Mrs. Robinson at the time of her confinement.

Robinson, Mr, A gentleman in a public office, who marries the youngest Miss Willis, though he has to court her three sisters also, as they are all completely identified one with another.

Willises, The four Miss. Four sisters in “our parish,” who seem to have no separate existence, and who drive the neighbor hood distracted by keeping profoundly secret the name of the fortunate one who is to marry Mr. Robinson.

ELECTION FOR BEADLE.

Bung, Mr, A man of thirty-five years of age, with five small children; a candidate for the office of beadle, which he obtains by a large majority. (See below. )

Purday, Captain, A bluff and unceremonious old naval officer on halfpay (first introduced, though not mentioned by name, in the sketch entitled “The Curate”). He is a determined opponent of the constituted authorities, whoever they may chance to be, and zealously supports Bung for beadle.

Spruggins, Mr. Thomas. Defeated candidate for beadle; a little thin mag, fifty years old, with a pale face expressive of care

Sketches oy Bos.

‘and fatigue, owing, perhaps, to the fact of his having ten small children (two of them twins) and a wife.

Mrs. His wife. She solicits votes for ber husband, ‘and increases the general prepossession which at first provails in his favor by her personal appearance, which indicates the grebae bility of a still further addition, at no remote period, to his already large family.

THE BROKER'S MAN.

Bung, Mr. A broker’s assistant, afterwards the parish beadla (See above.) One of thoso careless, good-for-nothing, happy fellows who float cork-like on the surface for the world to play at hockey with.

Fixem. A broker, who assumes the alias of Smith; Bung’s master.

John. A servant.

THE LADIES’ SOCIETIES.

Browns, The three Miss, Members of various visitation com- tmittees and charitable societies, and admirers of the curate, who Is

a young man, and unmarried. They are opposed to—

Parker, Mrs. Johnson. The mother of seven extremely fine girls, —all unmarried,—and the founder of a Ladios’ Bible and Prayer-Book Distribution Society, from which the Miss Browns are excluded.

‘OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR.

William. A young man who overtasks himself to earn a support for himself and his widowed mother, and at last dies in her arms.

SCENES.

THE STREETS, —NIGHT.

Mrs. An inhabitant of No. 4 in one of the little streets in the suburbs of London. Peplow, Mrs. A neighbor of Mrs. Macklin. Peplow, Master. Her son. Mr, A little round-faced man, in the comic line, with a -mnixed afr of velfdenial and mental consciousness of his own powers. Walker, Mrs, An inbabitan of No. 5 in the same street with ‘Mrs, Macklin.

Ede Wickens Wictlenacy,

SEVEN DIALS.

Mary. A woman who has taken “threo-cuts” enough of gin and bitters to make her quarrelsome.

Sarah. A vixen who falls out with her, and settles the difficulty by a resort to blows.

DOCTORS' COMMONS.

Bumple, Michael. Promoter, or complainant, against Mr. Slud- berry, in a brawling case.

Bludberry, Thomas, A little red-fuced, sly-looking, ginger-beer seller, defendant in the caso of “Bumple against Sludberry ;” son tenced to excommunication for a fortnight and payment of costs.

LONDON RECREATIONS,

Bill, Uncle. One of a party of Sunday pleasurers at a tea-garden ; considered a great wit by his friends.

Bally. His niece, joked by Uncle Bill about her marriage, and her first baby, because a certain young man is “keeping company” with her.

THE RIVER,

Dando, A boatman. ASTLEY'S. Woolford, Miss, A circus-rider. PRIVATE THEATRES.

Larkins, Jem. An amateur actor in the genteel comedy line, known to the public as Mr. Horatio St. Julian.

Logging, Mr. A player who takes the part of Macbeth, and is announced on the bills as Mr. Beverley.

VAUXHALL GARDENS BY DAY. Green, Mr. An seronaut. Green, Mr., jun. His son and assistant. THE LAST CAB-DRIVER AND THE FIRST OMNIBUS-CAD.

. William, commonly called But Boorxer or

enawatin Brut. An omnibus-cad, with a remarkable talent

for enticing the youthful and unwary, and shoving the oid and help Jess, into the wrong "bus.

BPketches by Bes.

A PARLIAMENTARY SKETCH.

Captain, The. A spare, squeaking old man, always damning bis own eyes or“ somebody else's,” and « complete walking-reservoir of spirits and water.

Jane. The Hebe of “Bellamy’s,” or the refreshment-rocm of the Houses of Parliament. She has a thorough contempt for the great majority of her visitors, and a great love of admiration.

Nicholas. The butler of “Bellamy’s.” He hus held the same place, dressed exactly in the same manner, and said precisely the same things, ever since the oldest of its present visitors can remember,

Tom, Honest. A metropolitan member of the House of Commons,

THE FIRST OF MAY.

Bluffen, Mr., of Adam-and-Eve Court. A speaker at the anni vermry dinner given to the chimney-sweeps on May-day at White Conduit House.

THE PAWNBROKER'S SHOP.

Henry, Mr, A pawnbroker, whose shop is near Drury Lane. A customer, dirty, intoxicated, and quarrelsome. Mackin, Mrs, Another customer, slipshod and abusive. Tatham, Mrs. An old woman who tries to borrow eighteen pence or « shilling on a child's frock and “a beautiful silk ankecher.”

CHARACTERS. THOUGHTS ABOUT PEOPLE. ‘Smith, Mr. A poor clerk, a mere passive ‘creature of habit and endurance.

A CHRISTMAS DINNER. George, Aunt. The hostess at whose house the Christmas fumily-

party assemble.

George, Uncle. Her husband.

Jane, Aunt. Another mouiber of the family,

Margaret, Aunt. Married :o « poor man, and treated eolily by her relations in consequence.

Robert, Uncle. Husband to dunt Jane.

Ede Dickens Dictlonacy

THE NEW YEAR.

Dobble, Mr. aclerk ina public office, who gives a quadrille party on New Year's eve,

Dobble, Mr., Jun. His son.

Dobble, Miss Julia, His eldest daughter.

Dobble, Mrs. His wife.

Tupple, Mr. A junior clerk in the same office with Mr. Dobble; @ young man with a texdency to cold and corns, but “a charming person,” and “a perfect tadies’ man.”

MISS EVANS AND THE EAGLE.

Bvans, Miss Jemima (called “J'mima Ivins” by her acquaint- ances). A shoe-binder and straw-bonnet-maker, affianced to Mr. Samuel Wilkins,

Evans, Miss Tilly. One of her sisters.

Evans, Mrs. Her mother,

Wilkins, Mr. Samuel. A journeyman carpenter of small di- monsions, “keeping company” with Miss Jemima Evans.

THE PARLOR ORATOR.

Ellis, Mr. A tharp-nosed man with a very slow and soft voice, who considers Mr, Rogers “such improving company.”

Rogers, Mr. A stoutish man of about forty, with « red face and a confident oracular air, which marks him as a leading politician, gencral authority, and universal anecdote-relater. Proof is what he requires—proof, not assertions —in regard to any thing and avery thing whatsoever.

Tommy. little chubby-faced green-grocer, of great good sense, who opposes Mr. Rogers, and is denounced by him, in consequence, asa willing slave”

THE HOSPITAL PATIENT.

Jack. A young fellow who treats his paramour ¢o brutally as ta eauve her death, and yet is so loved by her, even to the last, that she cannot be persuaded to swear his life away, but dies praying God to bless him.

THE MISPLACED ATTACHMENT OF MR. JOHN DOUNCE

Dounce, Mr. John. A fat, red-faced, white-head:d old boy, s retired glove and braces maker, and a widower. He falls in love

Bhetcdes dy Boz. 7

‘with a bewitching barmaid, who trifles with his affections, and at Tast tells bim plainly that she “ wouldn't have him at no price;”

bby the last of whom he is accepted, married, — and ‘horoughly

benpecked. Barris, Mr. A law-tationer and a jolly old follow; » friend of Mr. Dounce.

Jennings, Mr, A robe-maker; also a friend of Mr. Dounce, and asad dog in bis time.

Jones, Mr. Another friend, barrister's clerk, and « rum fellow, — capital company, — full of anecdote.

THE MISTAKEN MILLINER.

Martin, Miss Amelia. A williner and dressmaker who has an ambition to “come out” as a public singer, and tries it, but fails

miserably. Rodolph, Mr. and Mrs. Jennings. Her friends and counsel- lors,

THE DANCING ACADEMY.

Billsmethi, Signor. A popular dancing-master.

Billsmethi, Master. His son.

Billsmethi, Miss. His daughter, a young Indy with her hair ourled in a crop all over her head, and ber shoes tied in sandals all over ber ankles. She sets ber cap for Mr. Cooper, and, not suc- ceeding in securing him for a husband, brings a suit for breach of promise, but finally compromises the matter for twenty pounds, four shillings, and

Cooper, Mr. Augustus. A young gentleman of Fetter Lane, ‘in the cil-and-color business, just of age, with a little : maar S Tittle business, and a little mother.

MAKING A NIGHT OF IT.

Potter, Mr. Thomas. A clerk in the city, with a limited income, and an unbounded friendship for Mr. Smithers.

Smithers, Mr. Robert. Also a clerk in the city, knit by the closest ties of intimacy and friendship to Mr. Potter. On the ‘rectipt of their quarter’s salary, these two “thick-and-thin pals,” as they style themselves, spend an ovening together, and procoed- tog by degrees from simple hilarity to drunkenness, commit various

Ebe Mickens Mictionacg.

breaches of the peace; are locked up in the station-bouse for the night; brought before the police court in the morning, and each fined five shillings for being drank, and thirty-four pounds for sev- entocn assaults at forty shillings a bead,

THE PRISONERS’ VAN.

Bella. A young girl, not fourteen, forced by a sordid and rapacious mother to a life of vice and crime, which she loathes, bat cannot escape from.

Bmily. Her sister, hardened in depravity by two additional years’ experience of the debauchery of London streetlife, and priding herself on being “game.”

TALES.

THE BOARDING-HOUSE.

Agnes, Mru. Bloas's maid.

Bloss, Mrs. ‘The wealthy widow of a cork-cutter, whose cook she had been. Having nothing to do, she imagines she mast be ill, but cats amazingly, and has the appearance of being remarkably well. She makes the acquaintance ef Mr, Gobler, and marries him.

Calton, Mr. Asuporannuated beau, exceedingly vain, inordinately selfish, and the very pink of politeness. He makes himself agreeable to Mrs. Maplesone, and agroes to marry her; but, failing to do eo, she sues him for breach of promise, and recovers a thousand pounds,

Bvonson, Mr. John, A stern, morose, and discontented man, a thorough radical, and a universal fault-finder.

Gobler, Mr, A lazy, selfish hypochondriac, whose digestion is so tmuch impaired, and whose interior so deranged, that his stomack is not of the least use to him,

Hicks, Mr. Septimus. A tallish, white-faced, spectacled young man, who has the reputation of being very talented. He falls in love with Miss Matilda Maplesone, whom he marries, but after wards Weserts,

James, A vervant to Mrs. Tibbs.

Maplesone, Mrs, An enterprising widow of fifty, shrewd, schem- img, and good-looking, with no objection to marrying again, if i ‘would benefit her dear girls

Buertedes by Bos. 9

Maplesone, Misa Julia. Her younger daughter; married to ‘Mr. Septimus Hicks,

Maplegone, Miss Matilda. Her elder daughter; married to ‘Mr, Simpson.

O'Bleary, Mr. Frederick. A patriotic Irishman recently im- ported in a perfectly wiki state; in search of employment, antl ready to do or be any thing that might turn up.

Robinson. A female servant to Mrs. Tibbs.

Simpson, Mr. One of the “walking gentlemen” of society; ar empty-headed young man, always dressed according to the carlea~ fares published in the monthly fashions,

Tibbs, Mr. A short man, with very short legs, but a foe pocaliar- ly Jong, by way of Indemnification. He Is to his wife what the 0 is in 90,— of some importance with her, but nothing without her.

Tibbs, Mra. His wifo, mistress of the boarding-house; the most tidy, fidgety, thrifty little person that ever inhaled the smoke of Loniion.

Tomkins, Mr. Alfred. Clerk in a wine-house; a connoisseur in paintings, and with a wonderfal eye for the picturesque.

‘Wisbottle, Mr. A clerk in the Woods und Forests office, and a high Tory ; addicted to whistling, and having a great idea of his

powers. Wosky, Doctor. Mrs. Bloss's medical attendant, who has amassed # fortane by invariably humoring the worst fancies of his female patients. MR. MINNS AND HIS COOSIN.

Brogson, Mr. An elderly gentleman visiting at Mr. Budden's.

Budden, Mr. Octavius. A retired corm-chandlcr, residing at Amelia Cottage, Poplar Walk, Stamford Hill. He is a cousin to Me. Minn.

Budden, Mrs. Amelia. His wife.

Budden, Master Alexander Augustus. Their son, a pre eocious child, ant the pride of his parents.

Jones, Mr. A little man with red whiskers, a visitor at Mr. Bud- den's, and s “devilisn sharp fellow talks equally well on

any subject. .

Minns, Mr. Augustus. A clerk in Somersct Youre, and a Preciee, tidy, retiring old bachelor, who is always getting into trouble when he leaves his own snug and well-ordered apartments,

10 Ede Dickens Mictlonarp.

and who is thoroughly disgusted, with » visit which he J= cumpelled to make to his cousin, Mr. Octavius Budden.

SENTIMENT,

Butler, Mr. Theodosius. A very wonderful genius, euthor of = pamphlet entitled “ Considerations on the Policy of Removing the Duty on Beeswax.” This he presents to Cornelius Brook Ding wall, Esq. M-P., under the assumed name of Edward M'Neville Walter, and thus gains admission to his house, and an opportunity of winning the heart of his supersentimental daughter.

Crumpton, Miss Amelia. A very tall, thin, skinny, upright, yellow, and precise maiden lady, with the strictest possible idea of propriety.

Crumpton, Miss Maria. The exact counterpart of her sister,in conjunction with whom she carries on a finishing-school for young ladies, called * Minerva House.”

Dadson, Mr. Writing-master at the Miss Crumptons’ school.

Dadson, Mra. His wife.

Dingwall, Cornelius Brook, Esq., M.P. A very haughty, solemn, and portentous man, having a great opinion of his own abilities, and wonderfully proud of being a member of parliament.

Dingwall, Mrs. Brook. His wife.

Dingwall, Frederick, Son of Mr. and Mrs. Brook Dingwall; one of those public nuisances, — a spoiled ehild.

Dingwall, Miss Lavinia Brook, Their daughter, the most romantic of all romantic young ladies ; in love with Edward M'Ner- ile Walter (otherwise Mr, Theodosius Butler), @ young man much her inferior in life. She Is therefore sent to the Miss Crumptons’ educational establishment, to eradicate the sentimental attachment from her young mind, on the supposition that she can have nc op- portunity of meeting him there. She does meet him, however, and runs away with and marries him in haste, only to repent at leisure

Hilton, Mr. Master of ceremonies ata ball at Minerva House.

James, Servant to Mr. Brook Dingwall.

Lobskini, Signor. A singing-master, with a splendid tenor

voie, Parsons, Miss Lestitia. A brilliant musical porformer. ‘Bmithers, Miss Emily, The belle of Minerva House. Wilson, Miss Caroline. Her bosom-ftiend, and the uglicat gir to Hammersmith, —or out of it,

Bketcdes by Boy

THE TUGGSES AT RAMSGATE.

Amelia, Jane, and Mary Ann. Young ladies who take part in games of chance in a concertroom at Ramsgate.

Blaughter, Lieutenant. A friend of Captain Waters.

Tippin, Mr. A comic singer at Ramsgate.

Tippin, Mrs. His wife; a concert-singer from the London ‘heatron

Tippin, Master, Their son.

Tippin, Miss. Their daughter; a performer on the guitar.

Tuggs, Mr. Joseph. A little pursy London grocer, with shiny hair, twinkling eyes, and short legs. By the unexpected decision of a long-pending law-suit, he comes into possession of twenty thousand pounds, whereupon he incontinently putson airs, closes his shop, and starts with his family for Ramsgate, that being » fashionable watering-place.

Tuggs, Mrs. His wife; in charge of the checeemongery depart- ment, while her husband is a shop-keeper.

Tuggs, Miss Charlotte. Their only daughter. When her fae ther becomes rich, she calls herself Charlotta.

* Tuggs, Mr. Simon. Their only eon; a young gentleman with that elongation in his thoughtful face, and that tendency to weak- ness in his interesting legs, which tell so forcibly of a great mind and romantic disposition. At first, he is a book-keeper in his fa- ther’s shop; but, when a large fortune suddenly falls to the family, he changes the orthographical architecture of his name, and styles himself Cymon ; attempts to play the gentleman ; and roundly abus- es his father for not appearing aristocratic. Going to Ramagate, he is neatly taken in and swindled by Captain Waters and his wife, ‘whom he meets there, and greatly admires, — especially the wife. ‘He eecapes with the loss of his veneration for appearances, and of fifteen hundred pounds In money.

Waters, Captain Walter. A pretended military man, and a sharper.

Waters, Mrs. Belinds. His wife; ringlots, large black cyes, brief petticoats, and unexceptionable ankles. HORATIO SPARKINS. Barton, Mr. Jacob. [P-otner of Mra Malderton; a large grocer, who mover scrupled *o avow that he wasn’t above his business, He'd made his money by it, and he didn’t care who know'd it.”

‘or, but, om great occasions, tomcbed up and brushed to look like a recon footman.

Malderton, Mr. (of Oak Lodge, Camberwell). A man who has become rich in consequence of a few successful specalations, and who ts horpttable from ostentation, illiberal from ignorance, and prejudiced from conceit. The whole scope of his ideas is limited to Lioyda, the Exchange, the India Hoare, and the Bank.

Maldorton, Mrs, His wife; a little fat woman, with a great aver. tion to any thing low.

Malderton, Miss Marianne, Their younger danghter ; a senti- mental damsel,

Malderton, Miss Teresa, Their elder daughter; a young lady of eight nnd twenty, who has flirted for ten years in vain, but is still on the lookout for a husband.

Malderton, Mr. Frederick. Their elder son; the vory Beau ideal of & #mart waiter, and the family authority on all points of taste, dress, ond fashionable arrangement.

Malderton, Mr. Thomas, Their younger son; snubbed by his futher on all occasions, with a view to prevent his becoming “aharp,"— a very unnecessary precaution.

S3parkins, Mr, Horatio, A young man whose dashing manners ‘and gentiomantike appearance so dazzle the Maldertons, that they think be must be a man of lange fortune and aristocratic fumily ‘They even go so far as to suspect that he may be a nobleman, and taro greatly mortified at last to discover that he is a mere clerk in a lloon-draper’s shop, and owns to the plebelan name of Smith.

THE STEAM EXCURSION.

Reigga, Mrs, A widow-lady ; 1 rival of Mrs, Taunton,

Briggs, Miss, One of her three daughters,

Briggs, Mias Julia, Another daughter.

Driggs, Miss Kate, Another daughter.

Briggs, Mr. Alexander. Her younger son, articled to his broth: Wr. Hy is remarkable for obstinacy.

Briggs, Mr, Samuel. Hor elder son; an attorney, and a mere Mmachino; a fort of volfacting, legal walking-stick.

Stetcdes dy Boy. ot

Edkins, Mr. (of the Inner Temple). A pale young gentleman ina green stock and green spectacles, who makes a speech om every occasion on which one can possibly be made.

Fleetwood, Mr. One of the excursion party.

Fleetwood, Mrs. His wifs, who sccompanies him.

Fleetwood, Master. Their eon; an unfortunate innocent of about four years of age.

Hardy, Mr. A stout, middle-aged gentleman, with « red fare, a somewhat hnsky voice, and a tremendous laugh. He is a practical joker, is immensely popular with married ladics, and a general favorite with young men.

Helves, Capt. A military gentleman with a bass voice and an incipient red mustache; a friend of the Tauntons.

Noakes, Mr. Percy. A law-student, smart, spoflish, and eight and twenty. With a few friends he attempts to get up an excur- sion party to which no one shall be invited who has not received the unanimous vote of a committee of arrangements. But the ob- stinate Mr. Alexander Briggs being a member of this committee, and blackballing everybody who is proposed by Mr. Noakes or his friends, the original plan is abandoned; and every gentleman is allowed to bring whom he pleases. The party start on a Wednes- day morning for the Nore, and reach it after a pleasant trip; but onthe return a violent squall comes up; the pitching and tossing of the boat bring on a general seasickness; and, when they get back to the wharf at two o'clock the next morning, every one is thor- oughly dispirited and worn out.

Stubbs, Mra. A dirty old laundress, with an inflamed counte- nance.

Taunton, Mrs. A good-looking widow of fifty, with the form ot agiantess and the mind of a child. Tho sole end of her exist- ence is the pursuit of pleasure, and some means of killing time. She is a particular friend of Mr. Percy Noakes, and a mortal enemy of the Briggses.

Taunton, Miss Emily, Her daughter; a frivolous young lady.

klerd Miss Sophia, Another daughter, as light-minded as

sister,

THE GREAT WNGLEBURY OUEL.

Brown, Miss Emily. A young Indy beloved by both | and Mr. eae but finally married ‘o the latter.

u“ Sbe Mickens D ctlonarp.

Hunter, Mr. Horace. Rival of Mr. Trott for the hand of Miss Emily Brown.

Manners, Miss Julia. A buxom and wealthy woman of forty, formerly engaged to be married to a Mr. Cornberry, who died leav- ing her a large property unencumbered with the addition of hime self. Being in want of a young husband, ahe falls in love with a certain wild and prodigal nobleman, Lord Peter, who falls in low with her handsome fortune of three thousand pounds a year; b _ in the end she marries plain Mr. Trott.

Overton, Joseph, Hsq. Solicitor, and mayor of Great Win glebury.

Peter, Lord, A dissipated sprig of nobility, attached to Miss Manners (or her money) ; killed by being thrown from his horse ina steeple-chase.

Thomas. A waiter at the Winglebury Arne.

Trott, Mr, Alexander. A cowardly young tailor (or umbrella- maker). He desires to marry Miss Emily Brown, but is deterred by the hostile attitude of Mr. Horace Hunter, who challenges him to mortal combat for daring to think of such a thing. He accepts the challenge in a blood-thirsty note, but immediately sends an- other, and an anonymous one, to the mayor of Great Winglebury, urging that Mr, Trott be forthwith arrested. By a ludicrous blunder, he is mistaken for Lord Peter, who is expected at the Winglebury Arms for the purpose of meeting Miss Julia Manners, his intend- ed, and who is to be seized and carried off as an insane person, In order that his relatives may not discover him. Thus it happens that Trott is taken away in a carriage with Miss Manners, and, mutual explanations having been made, that he marries her instead of the adorable Miss Emily Brown.

Willlamson, Mrs, Landlady of the Winglebury Arms.

MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.

Balderstone, Mr. Thomas, called “Uxcre Tom.” 4 rich brother of Mra. Gattleton, always in a good temper, and always talking and joking.

Brown, Mr. A performer on the violoncello st the private theat- ricals.

Cape, Mr. A violinist.

Bvans, Mr, A tall, thin, and pale young gentleman, with lovely whiskers. and a remarkable talent fer writing verses in albums, ane

Sketches vy Bos 15 for playing the flute. He ix the Roderigo of the private theat Ticals.

Gattleton, Mr, A retired stockbroker, living at Rose Villa, Clap- bam Rise, He is infected, as are the other members of his fami- ly, with » mania for private theatricals, acting himself as prompter

Gattleton, Mrs. His wife; a kind-hearted, good-tempered, vul- gar soul, with a natural antipathy to other people's unmarried daughters, a bodily fear of ridicale, and « great dislike for Mrs. Joseph Porter.

Gattleton, Miss, One of their three daughters.

Gattleton, Miss\ iti ‘Another daughter; the Fenella of the

part of Desdemona.

Gattleton, Mr. Sempronius. Theirson, at once stage-manager and Othello.

Harleigh, Mr. A singer, who takes the part of Masaniello.

Jenkins, Miss. A piano-player.

Porter, Mrs. Joseph. A sarcastic scandal-monger, who delights in making other people uncomfortable. At the private theatricals of the Gattletons, she indulges her propensity to mischief-making by setting on Mr. Thomas Balderstone (who prides himself on his accurate knowledge of Shakspeare) to interrupt the performers in the very midst of the play by correcting their numerous mistakes,

Porter, Miss Emily. Her daughter.

Wilson, Mr. The Jago of the private theatricals.

A PASSAGE-IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE

Lcoy. ‘The factotum of Mr. Solomon Jacobs's sponzing-house.

Jacobs, Mr. Solomon. A bailiff, living in Curaitor Street.

Jom. A sallow-faced, red-haired, sulky boy in charge of the dom ‘of Mr. Jacobs's private lock-up.

John. Servant to Mrs. Parsons.

Miss, A prim spinster of uncertain age, with = com- Plexion as clear ae that of wax doll, and a face as expressive.

Martha. Servant to Mrs. Parsons.

Parsons, Mr. Gabriel, An elderly and rich sugarbaker, who mistakes rodeness for houvecy, and abrupt bluntness for an open and candid manner.

Parsons, Mrs. Fanny. His wife.

16 Ede Dickens Mictlonary.

Timson, The Reverend Charles, A friend of Mr. Parsons ‘He marries Miss Lillerton.

Tottle, Mr. Watkins. A plump, clean, rosy bachelor of fifty; a compound of strong uxorious inclinations and an unparalleled degree of anti-connubial timidity, Having been arrested for debt, and con- fined in a sponging-house, his friend Parsons engages to pay the debt, and take him out, if he will agree to marry Miss Lillerton, who las five hundred pounds a year in her own right, On being released, he offers himself to that lady, but after such an awkward and ambiguous fashion, that she quite mistakes his meaning, and answers him ina way that makes him think himself accepted. On being sent by her with » note—respecting their marringe, as ha supposes —to the Reverend Mr. Timson, it transpires that she has been engaged to that gentleman for several weeks. The upshot of the whole affair is, that Mr, Parsons renounces the friendship and acquaintance of Mr. Tottle, who takes refuge from “ the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” by walking into the Regent's Canal.

Walker, Mr. An imprisoned debtor, inmate of Mr. Solomon Jacobs's private lock-up.

Willis, Mr. Another inmate of the samo establishment

THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING.

Danton, Mr. A young man with a considerable stock of impu- dence, and a very small share of ideas, who passes for awit. He is a friend of Mr. Kitterbell’s, and a great favorite generally, espe- cially with young ladies.

Dumps, Mr, Nicodemus, called “Loxa Dumrs." An old bachelor, never happy but when he is miserable, and always miser- able when he has the best reason to be happy, and whose only real comfort is to make everybody about him wretched. He is uncle to Mr. Charles Kitterbell, and, having been invited to stand as god- father to that gentleman’s infant eon, reluctantly does so, but takes his revenge by suggesting the most dismal possibilities of sickness and accident as altogether likely to happen to tho child, and by making a spire at the supper after the christening, so Ingubrious and full of gloomy forebodings as to throw Mrs. Kitterbell inte riolen- hysterics, thus breaking up the party, and enabling him to walk home with a cheerful heart.

Kitterbell, Mr. Charles. A small, sharp, spare man, with ar extraordinarily large head and a cast in his eye; very eredalous and matterof fact.

Sketches by Boz. "

Eitterbell, Mrs. Jemima. His wife; a tall, thin young lady with very light hair, a particularly white face, a slight cough, and a smile.

languid Eitterbell, Master Frederick Charles William, Their first baby.

THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.

Tom. One of the officers who arrest young Warden.

Warden, A confirmed und irreclaimable drunkard. Remorse, fear, and shame; the loss of friends, happiness, and station; the death of his wife from grief and care; the murder of one of his sons, whom he bad driven from home in a drunken fit; his own betrayal of another eon into the hangman's hands from a like cause; his final desertion by his daughter, who has stayed by him and sup- ported him for years; the utmost extremity of poverty, discase, and ‘houseless want, —do not avail to conquer his fierce rage for drink, which drives him remorselessly on, until at last he seeks release in death by drowning himself in the Thames.

Warden, Mary. His daughter.

Warden, William. His son. He avenges his brother's death by killing the gamekeeper who shot him; flees from justice to his Exther’s solitary attic-room in the obscurest portion of Whitefriars ; fs discovered by the officers in consequence of his father’s getting ‘intoxicated and betraying his hiding-place ; and is seized, hand- cuffed, carried off, and made to suffer the penalty of his crima

r

Posthumous Papers of the Pick- wick Club,

‘Tunis work was issued in monthly shilling numbers, with green covers, —a form of poblieation which Mr. Dickens adopted in all his subsequent monthly serials. The first number appeared in March, 1836, with four (ilustrations by Robert Bey mour. But this artist dying auddenly, before the publication of the second num- ber (for which, howover, he had furnished three plates), a Mr, RW. Buss was chow en to succeed him ; and two plates “ drawn and etched ” by this gentleman appeared inNo, 3, But they were xo Inferior both in conception and execution, that he was Giemtesed, and Mr. Hablot Knight Browne was seleoted as the illustrator of the work, furnishing the two plates for No.4. In No. 8 he used for the first time the pecadonym of PAte, which be has ever since retained. In the second edition of tho work, the publishers cancelled the two plates by Mr. Buss, which appeared in the third number, and substituted two others by Mr. Browne,

‘The suthor has given the following account of the origin of the work: “The idea propounded to me was, that the moottily something should be # vehicle for certain plates to be executed by Mr, Seymour; and there was # notion, either on the part of that admirable humorous artist, or of my visitor (Mr. Chapman, of the publishing-house of Chapman and Hall] (I forget which), that a*Nimrod Club,’ the members of which were to go out shooting, fishing, and so forth, and getting themselves {nto difficulties through thelr want of dexterity, would be the best means of introducing these. I objected, on consideration, that, although born and partly bred in the country, I was no great sportsman, except In regard of all kinds of locomotion; that the idea was not novel, and had been already much used; that tt would be Influite'y better for the plates to arise naturally ont of the text; and that 1 should like to take my own way, with @ freer range of English scenes and ‘weople, and was afraid I should ultimately do so in any case, whatever course f might prescribe to myself atstarting. My views being deferred to, T thought of Mr. Pickwick, and wrote the first number; from the proof.sheets of which Mr. Seymour mado his drawing of the elub, and that happy portrait of its founder by ‘whioh he is always recognized, and which may be eald to have made him a reality

Heonnected Mr. Pickwick with x club, because of the original suggestion; and | 6

| WAID ADIMADId AHL

She Plckwiee wy.

8 at)

ui “a Mr. Winkle expressiy for the mse of Mr. Seymour." The coneiption of Pickwick as an elderly little gentleman, somewhat parsy, with a bland face, bald bead, efrenlar apectacles, faurn-colored tights, and black gaiters, Is sald to hare originated in w description by Mr. Chapman of a like odd-looking character whom ‘he ad met at Richmond. The ludicrous name of “Pickwick” is not # fabriow tion of the novella, as many suppove, but Ix also founded on fact.” Tt was ac tally borne by the proprietor of a line of stages running between London and Bath, and, catching Mr. Dickens's eyo (which was alwayson the watch for any {hing queer or out of the way), It was adopted by him as the name of his hero, and given to the club, instead of “Nimrod,” which had beon at first proposed. Ia the account of the journey to Bath which Mr. Pickwick and his friends take after the famons trial Is over, the following allusion to his namesake ocours: —

‘Me, Tapman and Mr. Snodgrass had seated themselves wt the back part of the coachy Mr. Winkle had got inside and Mr, Pickwick was preparing to follow himy when Sam ‘Weller came up to hie master, and, whispering in his ear, begged to epeak to him, with aa aie of the deepest mystery.

“Well, Sam," sald Mr. Pickwiok, “ what" the matter now?“

“ Here "* raythera ram go, slr,” replied Sam,

“This here, air," rejoined Sam. “I'm weey much afoered, ste, that the propertatar 0° ‘his here coach fs «-playin' some imperence vith as."

“How te that, Sam? "ald Mr. Pickwick: “aren't the names down on the way- ene

“The wanes ts not only down on the vay-bill, sir," replied Bam; “bat they ‘ve painted yun on ‘em up on the door o' the coach.” As Samspoke, he potnted to that part DM the comebetoct on which the proprietor's name usually appears; and there, sure mongh, In gilt letters of « goodly alze, was the magic mame of Proxwien.

“ Dear mo!” exclaimed Mr, Pickwick, quite staggered by the colncideace, * What & very extraordinary thing! "*

‘Tes Dut that aln’s wll," sald Samm, again directing his master"s attention to the coach: oor, “Bot content vith writin’ up * Pickwick,” thay puts* Moses * afore ft, vich Teall ‘idin’ tatalt to injury, aa the parrot maid ven they not only took him from his native tend, ‘ut made heim talk the English langwidge arterwards."*

“It's edd enongh, cortainly, Sam," sald Mr, Pickwick. “ But, if we stand talking here, (re shalt lose our places."

“Wet! aint nothin’ to be done in consequence, sir?" exelalmed Barn, perfoetly aghast ‘si the coolness with which Mr, Pickeiok prepared to ensconce himself inalde.

Bonet * eal Mr. Pickwick; “what should bo done?”

* Acp'e moboly to be whopped for takin’ this here liberty, ir? "sald Mr. Weller, who ‘sad ox acted thant at least he would have been commissioned to challenge the guant and vechasas bo 4 pugiliatic encounter on the spot.

“Certainly vot.” replied Mr Pickwick eagerly;—not on any account. Jump up Pour seat directly."

20 Ebe Wickens Dictionary.

‘The final tesue of “The Pickwick Papers” comprising Parts # anc 20, was Im October, 187. ‘The complete work was now brought oat te one volume ‘octavo, and was dedicated by the author to Mr. Serjeant Talfourd. See p. 063.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Allen, Arabella, Sister of Benjamin Allen; afterwards the wife of Mr, Winkle. (Ch. xxviii, xxx, xxix, xlvill, lili, liv, Ivi, Iii.) Allen, Benjamin. A medical student, and the devoted friend of Mr. Bob Sawyer, to whom he purposes marrying his sister Ara

bella.

“T designed ‘em for each other; they ware mado for each other, sent into the ‘world for each other, bora for each other, Winkle,” sald Mr. Ben Allen, vetting down his glass with great emphasls. “There's a special destiny tn the matter, my dear sir: there °s only five years’ diiferenoe between ‘om, and both thelr Dirtb-days are in August.”

Mr. Allen does not succeed in his project, however, as Mr. Winkle, with the assistance of Mr. Pickwick, carries the girl off,

and marries her without the consent of either her brother or Mr. Bob Sawyer. (Ch. xxx, xxxii, xxxviii, xlviii, |, li, lii, liv, lvii.) See Sawyer, Bos.

Ayresleigh, Mr. A prisoner for debt, whom Mr. Pickwick meets fn the “coffee-room " at Coleman Street, (Ch, xl.)

Bagman, The one-eyed. A stout, jovial, middle-aged man with a “lonely eye,” whom Mr. Pickwick mects, first at the Peacock Inn, Eatanswill, and afterwards at the Bush, in Bristol. He is the narrator of “The Bagman's Story,” and of “The Story of the Bagman’s Uncle." (Ch. xiv, xlviii, xlix-) See Saar Tom,

Bamber, Jack. A litile, high-shouldered, keen-eyed old man, whom Mr. Pickwick casually meets at the Magpic and Stamp. He relates “The Old Man's Tale about a Queer Client.". (Ch. xx.)

Bantam, Angelo Cyrus, Esq., M.C. A charming young man of not much more than fifty, whom Mr. Pickwick meets at Bath- friend to Capt. Dowler, and master of ceremonies at the ball which Mr. Pickwick 5

Bardell, Mrs. Martha, Mr, Pickwick’s landlady;

‘been drawn from a certain Mrs. Ann Ellis, a comely and buxom woman of agreeable manners, who kept an eating-house in Knight- rider Street, near Doctors’ Commons. Becoming impressed with

She Pickwick Papers. 21

‘the Hoa that Mr. Pickwick has offered to marry her, she ts highly wheo sho finds herself mistaken. In fact, she insists that she is not mistaken, and forthwith brings an action against bin for breach of promise. For a full account of this famous trial, and its sequel, sce Proxwick, Samost. (Ch. xii, xxvi, xxxiv, xlvi.) Master Tommy. The hopeful son of Mra Bardell (Ch. xii, xxvi, xlvi)

Betsey. Servant-girl at Mrs. Raddle’s. (Ch. xxxii.)

Bladud, Prince. Mythical founder of Bath; hero of the “Tre Legend” discovered by Mr. Pickwick. (Ch. xxxvi.)

Blotton, Mr. (of Aldgate). A member of the Pickwick Club. Having been acoused by Mr. Pickwick, at a meeting of the club, of acting in “a vile and calumnious manner,” he retorts by calling Mr. Pickwick “a humbug ;" but it finally being made to appear that they both used the words not in a common, but in a parlia- mentary or merely technical or constructive sense, and that each

entertains the highest regard and esteem for the other, the difficulty is readily sottled, and the gentlemen express them: selves mutually satisfied with the explanations which have been made. [This incident was intended to ridicule a somewhat similar ‘one which took place in parliament about the time that “ The Pick- wick Papers” first appeared.] (Ch. i.)

Boldwig, Captain. A fierce little man, very consequential ana ‘imperious; owner of the premises on which Mr. Pickwick and his friends trespass while hunting. Mr. Pickwick, having fallen asleep cunder the influence of too much cold punch, is left there by the ‘rest of his party, and is discovered by the captain, who indig-

orders him to be taken to the pound in a wheelbarrow. (Ch. xix.) See Proxwicx, Saunt.

Bolo, Miss. A fashionable lady at Bath. (Ch. xxxv.)

Budger, Mrs. A little old widow, with plenty of money; Mr. ‘Topman’s partner in a quadrille at the charit Ler the Bull Inn,

Busfuz, Becieant. Mra, Bardens connse ‘brutal and bullying insolenee to the witnesses on }

‘said to represent a ce-tain Serjeant Bumpus, a lawyer in Londow

2 Ehe Pickens Mictfonacy. at the time “ The Pickwick Papers” wore written. (Ch. xxxiv.) See Picxwrex, Sawont.

Chancery Prisoner, The. An old man whose acquaintance Mr. Pickwick makes in the Fleet, He has been confined there for twenty years, but gets his release at Inst from the hands of his Maker, and accepts it with smile of quiet satisfuction, (Cb. xlii, xliv.) .

Clergyman, The. One of the guests at Mr, Wanile’s, He sings the song of “The Ivy Green,” and relates the story of * The Con- vict's Return.” (Ch. vi, xi, xxviii.)

Clubber, Sir Thomas. A fishionable gentleman at Rochester, commissioner at the head of the dock-yard thers. (Ch. ii)

Clubber, Lady. His wife. (Ch. it)

Clubbers, The Miss, His daughters, (Ch. ti.)

Cluppins, Mrs. Betsey. A bosom-friend of Mrs. Bardell’s (Ch. xxvi, xxxiv, xlvi.) Sve Prokwick, Samone.

Craddock, Mrs. Mr. Pickwick's landlady at Bath. (Ch. xxxvi, xxxvii.)

Crookey, An attendant at the sponging-house in Coleman Street. (Ch. x1.)

Crushton, The Honorable Mr. A gentleman whom Mr, Pick- wick meets at Bath; a friend of Capt. Dowler’s (Ch. xxxv.)

Dismal Jemmy. See Hurrey, Jem.

Dodson and Fogg. Attorneys for Mrs. Bardell. (Ch. xx, xxxiy, lili.) See Pickwick, SAMUEL.

Dowler, Captain. A blustering coward, formerly in the army, whom Mr. Pickwick meets at the travellers’ room at the White Horse Cellar. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi, xxxviil.)

.

‘The travellers? room at the White Horse Cellar ts . . . divided into boxes for he solitary confinement of travellers; and is furnished with a clock, a looking- ines, and a live walter, which latter article {s kept in s email kennel for washing, #lasses, Iu a corner of the apartment.

‘One of than boxes was occupied, on this particular occasion, bys stern-eyed man of about five-and-forty, who had a bald and glossy forehead, with m good deal of black halr wt the sides and buck of his head, and large black whiskers. Me was buttoned up to the chin in a brown coat; nnd bad m large seal-slkin trav. elling-oap, and a great-coat and cloak, lying on the seat beside him, Ie looked up from his breakfast as Mr. Pickwick entered, with a Beree aad peremptory air, which was very dignified; and, having scrutinized that gentleman and hie companious to his extire satisfaction. hummed a tune in » manner whicd ‘seemed to say that he rather surpeeted somebody wanted to take the advantage shim; but it would n’t do.

“ Waiter,” sald the gentlomax with the whiskers.

=

She Plehwre Papers 23

“Sir?” replied # man with a dirty complexion, and @ towel 3 the tame,

‘from the kennel before mentioned, “Somer more toast.” #: ir”

“ Direetly, alr,” replied the walter.

‘The ‘with the whiskers hummed a tune tn the same manner as be

fore, and, pending the nrrival of the tosst, advanced to the front of the fire, and hit coat-tails under his arms, looked at his boots, and ruminated.

“T wonder whereabouts tn Bath this coach puts up,” said Mr. Pickwick, mild, sAdreasing Mr. Winkle.

“Hom —eh — what's that?” eald the strange man.

“T made an observation to my friend, air,” replied Mr. Pickwick, always ready to enter into conversation. ‘I wondered at what house the Bath coach puts up, ‘Perhaps you can {nform me.”

“ Are you going to Bath ?” «uid the strange man,

ian droped Mr. Pickwick.

“

“Not inside! I’m damned if you 're going inside!” aid the strange man.

“Not all of us,” said Mr. Pickwick.

“No, not all of you,” eaid the strange man emphatically. “f *ve taken two places. If they try to aqueeze six people into an Infernal box that only holds four, I 1 take » post-chalve, and bring an actina, Ive paid my fare. Tt won't do: ‘Ttold the clerk that it wouldnt do. I know these things have been done; I know they are done erery day: but I nerer was done, and I never will be. Those who ‘know me best, best know {t. Crush me!" Here the florce geutlembn rang the ell wiih great violence, and told the waiter he \d better bring the tomst in five seconds, or he 'd know the reason why.

™ My dear sir," said Mr, Pickwick, “ you ‘ll allow me to observe that this is a ery unnecessary of excitement. I have only taken places inside fortwo.”

“Tam giad to hear it," sald the feree man. “I withdraw my expressions, I tender anapology. There's my card. Give mo your acquaintance.”

With great pleasure, air)" replied Mr. Pickwick. “ We aro to be follow trav- ellers, and I hope we shall find each other's society mutually agreeable.”

“I Bope we shall,” eaid the flerce gentleman. “I know we shall. I like your looks: they please me. Gentlemen, your hands and names. Know mo,"

‘Of course, an intercbange of friendly salutations follows this gra ‘tious speech; and it is soon found that the second place in the conch ‘has been taken for none other than the illustrious Mrs, Dowler.

“Shea fine woman,” sald Mr. Dowler. “Iam proud of her. I have reson.”

“Thope I shall bare the pleasure of judging," auld Mr. Pickwick, with « emile.

“You shall,” replied Dowlor. “She shalt know you. She shall esteem you. 1 courted ber under singular clroumstances, I won her through rash row, ‘Thus; Ieaw ber; I loved her; 1 proposed; she refused me. * You love another ??

‘Spare my blushes, !—I know him.’ —* You do?*—' Very good, if he remains bere, Fld kin him"

Did you akin the gentleman, sir?” inquired Mr. Winkle with ave-y pale face *Lwrote him a note. Tesid it wes a painfi. thing. And so it was™

(all \

“4 Ede Wickens Wietlonar,

“Certainly,” Interposed Mtr, Winkle,

“T sald Thad pledged my word as ® gentleman to skin him. My eharscter ‘was at stake. Thad wo alternative. As an officer tn hls Majesty" service, Iwas bound toukin him, Iregretied the necessity; but It mast be doge. He war ‘open to conviction, He saw that the rules of the service were imperative ‘He fled, Tmarried her. Here's the coach. ‘That's her head”

Dowler, Mrs. Wife of Capt. Dowler. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi.)

Dubbley. One of the special officers of the Mayor's Court at Ips wich ; a dirty-faced man, over six fect high, and stout in proportion. (Ch. xxiv.) See Norxrxs, Gronar.

Damkins, Mr. A momber of the All-Muggleton Cricket Cluty (Ch. vii.)

Edmunds, John. Hero of the story of * The Convict’s Return ;” 4 sullen, wilful young man, condemned to death for crime, but, by commutation of his sentence, transported for fourteen years. A repentant and altered man, le returns to his old home, only to find his mother buried, and to see his father die suddenly from the “effects of passion and terror, — the same hard-hearted and ferocious brate that he had always known him. (Ch. vi.)

Edmunds, Mr. His father; a morose, dissolute, and savage-hearted man, (Ch. vi.)

Edmunds, Mrs. His mother; a gentle, ill-used, and heart-broken woman. (Ch. vi)

Broma, A servant-girl at Mr. Wanile’s. (Ch. xxviii!)

Fitz-Marshall, Charles, See Jixcun, Aynep.

Fizkin, Horatio, Hsq. (of Fizkin Lodge, near Entanswill). A candidate for parliament, defeated by the Honorable Samuel Slam key. (Ch. xiii.) See Stomxer, Taz Hoxonante Saver.

Flasher, Wilkins. A stock-broker. (Ch. lv.)

Fogg, Mr. See Donsox and Foss.

Goodwin. Servant to Mrs, Pout. (Ch. xviii.)

Groffin, Thomas. One of the jury in the case of Bardell es, Pickwick. He desires to be excused from attendance on the ground that he is a chemist, and bas no assistant. (Ch. xxxiv.)

“1 can't help that, sir,” replied Mr. Justice Stareieigh: “you should hire aa

‘Loan’t afford It, my lord,” nefotned hie chemist.

“Then you eaght to be able to aiford Ht, er," ext the Jodge, reddening” for Mr. Justice Stareleigh’s temper bordered om the irritable, and brocked mot contradiction. ... “Swear the gestlemen” ...

“Very well, my lord," replied the chestist tn a resigned manner. “Ther Ubere ll be murder before this trial"s over: that ‘sal. Swear me, if you please

She Pickwick Papers.

sir” And sworn the chemist wax before the Judge could fod werde 10 utter.

41 merely wanted te observe, my lord,” «ald the chemist, taking his seat ‘with great detiberation, * that Eve left nobody but an evrand-boy tn my shop. ‘He bs 2 very aice boy, my lord; but he Is not aequaluted with drags: wnd 1 know ‘that the prevailing impression cn fix mind is, that Epsom salts mean exalte acid; and syrep of senna, laudanum. That's all, my lord.”

Grub, Gabriel. Hero of Mr. Wardle's “ Story of the Got tins who stole a Sexton;” a cross-grained, surly, solitary fellow, who is made good-natured and contented by his remarkable experiences on Christmas Eve. (Ch. xxix.)

Grummer, Daniel. A constable in attendance upon the Mayor's Court at Ipswich, (Ch. xxiv, xxv.) See Norxivs, Groror.

Grundy, Mr. A friend of Mr. Lowten’s, and a frequenter of the Magpie and Stamp Inn. (Ch. xx.)

Gunter, Mr, A friend of Mr. Bob Sawyer’s. (Ch. xxxii.)

Gwynn, Miss. Writing and ciphering governess at Westgate House Eetablishmont for Young Ladics, at Bury St. Edmunds. (Ch. xvi.)

Harris. Agreen-grocer. (Ch, xxxviil.)

Henry. A character in “The Parish Clerk;" cousin to Maria Lobbs, whom he finally marries. (Cb. xvil.)

Beyling, George. Hero of “The Old Man's Tale about a

* Queer Client."" He is a prisoner for debt inthe Marshalsea. Dur- ing his confinement, his little boy is taken sick and dies; and his wife, who thereupon shares her husband's lot, soon follows, sinking uncomplainingly under the combined effects of bodily and mental illness. Released from prison by the sudden death of his father, a ‘yery wealthy man who had disowned him, and had meant to disin- herlt bim, he devotes himself unremittingly to avenge the death of his wife and child upon his wifo’s father, who had cast him into prison, and had spurned daughter and grandchild from his door wher, they sued at his fect for mercy. In this schemeof vengeance he is successful, suffering the old man’s boy to drown before his eyes, though he might easily have saved him, and afterwards pur Suing the father until he reduces him to utter destitution. He intends to consign him to the hopeless imprisonment which he had himself 20 long endured, but, on annot \¢ his purpose, i Gills lifeless, and Hoyling disappears, leaving no clew to his subse

_ quent history. (Ch. xxi) Beyling, Mary. His wife. (Ch. xxi) 3

6 Ede Wickens Wietlonary.

Hopkins, Jack, A medical student, whom Mr. Pickwick necta at Mr, Bob Sawyer’s party. (Ch. xxxii.)

“I hope that ’ Jack Hopkins," easd Mr. Bob Sawyer, “ Hush} Yea:

ton, ‘and a blae atriped shirt with a white false collar.

You ‘re inte, Jack,” said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

“Been detained nt Bartholomew's,” replied Hopkins.

“Any thing new 7”

“No: nothing particular. Rather a good aceldent brought tnto tho ens: alty ward.”

“What was that, alr?” inqutred Mr. Pickwick.

“Only a man fallen out of a fourpairofatalra window; but it "sa very fair case, —very fair cave, Indeed.”

“Do you mean that the patient is in a fulr way to recover?” inquired Mr

“No,” replied Hopkins carelessly. ‘No, I should rather nay he would 2". ‘There must be a splendid operation though, tomorrow,— magnificent sight

“ You consider Mr. Slasher a good operator?” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Beat alive!” repilied Hopkins. “Took a boy’s leg out of the socket last week, —boy ate five apples and a gingerbread-cake. Exactly two minutes after it ‘was all over, boy sald he would n’t lie there to be made game of; and he 'd tell his mother if they did n't begin.

“Dear me!” raid Mr, Pickwick, sstonished.

“Pooh! that’s nothing, —that ala’t," aaid Jack Hopkins. “Is it, Bob?”

“Nouhing at all,” replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

“By the by, Bob," sxld Hopkins, with a scarcely perceptible glance at Mr. Pickwick’s attentive fico,“ we had # curious accident last night. A child ‘was brought in who had ewallowed a necklace."

“Swallowed what, sir?” toterrupted Mr. Pickwick.

“A necklace,” replied Jack Hopkins. “Not all at once: you know that would be too much. You could n't swallow that, if the child did,—eb, Mr, Pick- wiok? Ha, bat" Mr. Hopkins appeared highly gratitied with his own pleas ‘antry,and continued, “No, the way was this: child’s parents were poor peo ple who lived In # court. Child's eldest sister bought # neckince,—eommon necklace, made of large black wooden beads. Child, being foad of toys, eribbea the necklace, hid it, played with ft, cut the string, and swallowed a bead, Child thought It capital fun; went back next day, and swallowed another bead.”

“Blew my heart,” said Mr. Pickwick, “what a dreadful thing! 1 beg your pardon, slr. Goon.”

Next day, child swallowed two beads; the day after that, he treated him self to three; and so on, till in a week’s time he had got through the necklace, — five-and-twenty beads In all. ‘The sister, who was an industrious girl, and eel- dom treated herself to bit of finery, cried her eyes out at the loss of the necklace; looked high and 1 +w for it; but, I need wit say, didn’t find {t. A few days after, the fumnlly were at dinner: the child, who was n't hungry, was play tng about the room, when suddenly there was heard a devil of a noise, Ifke = small ball-etorm. ‘Don’t do that, my boy,'sald the father. ‘1 aln’t a-doln ‘sothin',’ said the child. ‘Well, don’t do it agatn,'sald the father, ‘There wase

The Pichwien Papers. a

skort silence, and then the noite began sgain worse than ever. If you don” mind what I say, my boy,' said the father, ‘ you "ll find yourself in bed in some ‘less than s pig's whisper.’ He gave the child a shake to make hira obe dient; amd och m rattling ensued ax nobody ever heard before. ‘ Why,dumme t's tn the childt? sald the father. ‘Jes got the croup in the wrong place! ‘No, I haven't, father! said the child, beginning to cry. ‘It's the neck Jace: Eawailowed it, futher.’ The father caught the child up, and ran with his ‘4othe horpltal; the beads tn the boy’s stomach rattling all (ve way with the jolt: Ang, and the people looking up in the air, and down in the cellars, to see where the uuusual sound came from. He's in the hospital now,” sald Jack Hopkins: “and he makes such a devil of a nolse when he walks about, that they ‘re obliged tomuftle him in m watchman's coat, for fear he should wake the pw tents.”

Humm, Anthony. Chairman of the Brick Lane Branch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. (Ch. xxxili) See Wetter, Samvet.

Hunt. Gardener to Captain Boldwig. (Ch. xix.)

Hunter, Mrs. Leo. A literary lady whom Mr. Pickwick meets at Eatanswill. (Ch xv.) One morning, Sam Weller bands Mr, Pickwick « card bearing the following inscription: —

firs, Leo Munte The Den, Eatannsill

Person's s-waltin’,” said Sam epigrammatically.

Does the person want me, Sam?” inquired Mr, Pickwick.

“Ie wants you partickler; and no one elso "ll do, ns tho Devil"s petrate see retary said ven he fetched avay Dr. Faustus,” replied Mr. Weller.

“He? Tnitagontloman?” said Mr. Pickwick,

“But this ls o lady's card,” waid Mr. Pickwick.

* Given me by a gen'lm'n, hows'erer,” replied Sam; “ and he %* n-waltin’ tu the drawing-room — sald he ’d rather walt all day t

Mr. Pickwick, on hearing this determination, descended to the drawing room, where sat mee et who started up on his entranes, and |

“Allow mes sir, the honor of grasping your hand —permlt me, sir, to shake

Mey" sad tho grave man. “Certainly,” said Mr. Pickwick.

“The

“Weave heard of your fume. sir. ‘The sion has reac‘red the cars of Mrs. Leo Hunter. —w ‘Hunter” The stranger paused, as if he expeced that Mr. Pickwick would be ‘overoome by the disclosure; bus »eing that he remained perfectly calm, pro

B Ebe Dickens Bietlonacy.

“ My wife, str,— Mrs. Leo Hunter,—ts proud to notaber among her aoquatnt ance all those who here rendered themselves celebrated by thelr works and talents. Permitme, sir, to place in a conspicuous part of the list the name of Mr. Pickwick. and his brother-members of the elub that derives ftx name from him.”

“I shall be extremely bappy to make the nequaintance of auch w lady. #tr,* replied Sr. Pickwick.

“You shall make It, slr," sald the grave man. “To-morrow morning, slr, we

‘Haater, sir to have the gratification of seeing you at the Den,” With grent pleasure,” replied Mr. Pie*-~tek. “Mrs. Leo Hunter has many of thes. oreskfuts, slr,” resumed the new ae

‘8 sounct to Mrs. Leo Hunter on her breakfasts, feelingly and originally observed.”

“Was he celebrated for his works and talents?” inquired Mr. Plokwiok.

Tio was, tr," replied the grave man. All Mrs, Leo Hunter aequalntanes are: it is her ambition, sir, to have no other acquaintance.”

“itis a very noble ambition," anid Mr. Pickwick.

“When T Inform Mra. Leo Hunter, that that rerhark fell from your lipt, tlt, ‘she will indeed be proud,” said the grave man. “You have # gentleman In your train who has produced some beautiful little pooms, I think, sir.”

“My friend Mr. Snodgrass hos m great taste for pootry,” replied Mr. Pick wick.

“So has Mrs. Leo Hunter, slr, She doats on poctry, sir. She adores it; {may say that ber whols souland mind are wound up nnd Intwined with It, She has produced some delightful pieces herself, sir. You may have met with her ‘Ode to ‘s Expiring Frog,’ str.”

“T don't think I have,” aaid Mr, Pickwick.

“You astonish mn, air," sald Mr, Leo Hunter, ‘Xt created an tmmense sensm tion, It was signed with an‘ "and eight stars, and appeared originally in « Lady's Magaxive. It commenced :—

“Can I view theo panting, tying ‘On thy stomach, without sighing} Gan F unmoved seo thee dying

Besutifult” sald Mr. Pickwick. “Pine,” sald Mr. Leo Hunter; ‘so simple!*

“Very,” sald Mr, Pickwick.

“The next verse is still more touching. Shall I repest tt?” “If you please,” said Mr, Pickwick,

“Tt runs thus,” eald tho grave man till more gravely: —

“* day, havo flonds tn shape of boys, ‘With wild ballon snd bratal nous, Hunted thee from marshy Joys, ‘With a dog, ‘Expiring frog?’

~ Finely expressed,” sald Mr. Plokwick. “All point, sir, all point,” said Mr. Leo Hunter; “bat you shall hear Mre, Las ‘Wanter repent it. She can do Justice to it, alr”

She Pickwick Papers. 29

‘Bunter, Mr. Leo. Mrs. Leo Hunter’s husband (Ch. av.)

Hutley, Jom, called “Diaat Jewxy." An itinerant actor, who “dous the heavy business;” brother to Job Trotter, and friewl ot ‘Mr. Alfr:d Jingle, who introduces him to Mr. Pickwick. He relates to them “The Strollers Tale,” in which he himself figures. (Ch. iii, v.) See Jomx,

Tsaac. A friend of Mr. Jackson's. (Cb. xlvi.)

Jackson, Mr. A clork in the office of Dodson and Fogg. (Ch Xxx, xxxi, xlvi.)

Jemmy, Dismal. See Hutter, Jem.

Jingle, Alfred. An impudent strolling actor, who palms himself off on Mr. Pickwick and his travelling-companions of the club as a gentleman of consequence, sponges good dinners and borrows moncy ‘from them, and finally gets into the Flect prison, where, some time ‘afterwards, Mr. Pickwick finds him in great destitution and dis freas, and benevolently pays his debts and releases him, on satis factory evidence of penitence, and on promise of reformation, which is faithfully kept. Mr. Jingle is a very loquacious person, talking incessantly; rarely speaking a connected sentence, however, but stringing together mere disjointed phrases, generally without verbs. ‘He firet meets Mr. Pickwick and his party at the coxch-stand in Saint Martin’eJe-Grand.

“Heads, heads; take care of your heads!" erled the loquacious stranger, ax they came out under the low archway, which in those dass formed the entrance to the couch-yard. “Terrible place — dangerous work —other dren —mother—tall lady, eating sandwiches — forgot the areh —erash — knock =stildren look round — mother's hend off — sandwich in her band—no mouth to pat It in—head of a family off shocking, shocking! Look

heat off there, eh, sie?—he

‘swivestiop —wrote it down — back again — whi, ”

Fite VAT ROY.

Che Dickens Wictionarp

jae porte nell Nile — tenets — ext and — ira abr rig wr ae aaa ae ato

Fm tne at Do, air?” oKejan am “ld Mr, Winkle,

tll] ened him — Ponto, Ponto — would n't move — dog transiixed — staring at ® beard —lowked up, aw au Laveription—* Gamekeeper has orders to aboot af dogs fund th thls entlowre’— would n't pass it —wonderfsl dog —valaabie dog that — very”

" Oartabnly, sf, eertuiily —Iundred more anecdotes of the same axtial. — Wino gir, +e” (to Mr. ‘Trsey Tupran, who had been bestowing sundry anti Piekwteklan glamor on a young Indy by the rond-xide),

‘“Hingileh girlie not 90 flue ae Spaulsh — noble creatures — jet hair —bisck yee lovely Forms — rweet crentures — beautiful”

“You have bewn tn Aged ARTY call Mir: Tindy Tapa.

“Lived there =

“ Cunquesta! Thousands, Don Bolaro Fiasgig — Grandeo — only daughter = Downs Cheletlin— splendid creature loved me to distraction — jealous father — high-oulod daughter — handsome Englishtan— Donna Christina ta deapule—prisaio acd —stomach-pimp in my portmanteau — operation per formed —old Bolaro tn eestasies —consent to our union Jain hands and floods of tour — romantic #tary — very.

“Ue the lady in Bngiand now, sir?” inquired Mr. Tupman, on whom thi reription of her chartos hat produeed a powerful impression.

handkerchief.

“And her fathor 7" Inquired the poetic Snodgrass.

“ Retnorse aud misery,” replied the stranger. “Sudden disappearance — talk of the whole city —search maile everywhere — without success —pablic foun- ‘ali kn the great equare rnddenly erased plartng — weeks elapsed — still a stop page — workmen employed to clean tt — water drawn off — futherin-law discov: ered nicking head frst in the main pips, with a full confession En hls right boot = took lili eat and the foutatn played away again as well as ever.”

“WH you allow me to mote that tthe romance down, sir?” said Mr. snod renee, deeply Arete, ;

(Ob, ti, iii, vii—x, xv, axxy, ell, sly, xlvil, HL) See Workin,

Navnanren. Dinka, Mr, A palo, sharp-nosed, halffed, shabbily<lad clerk of the Mayor's Oourt at Ipswich. (Ch. xxiv, xxv) See Norxrxa

Grorax,

THE FAT BOY.

Ede Plekwick Papers. 31

Jinkins, Mr, A character in “The Bagman’s Story ;” a raseally adventurer with a wife and six babes, — all of them small ones, — who tries to marry & baxom widow, the landlady of a roadside inn, bat is provented by Tom Smart, who marries her himself, (Cb. xiv.)

Joo, the Fat Boy. Servant to Mr. Wardle; a youth of astonish

‘obesity and voracity, who has a way of going to sleep on the

provocation, and in all sorts of places and attitudes. Mr

Wardle, having met Mr, Pickwick and his friends at « grand review at Rochester, invites them into his carriage for a lunch,

Joe, Joe.” sald the stout gentleman, when the citadel was taken, and the

and besdeged eat down to dinner. “Damn that boy! be" gone te

a eat sine epi, — nfo og, I yom planes, wakes lim. Thank you! Undo the hamper, Joo.”

tue tt boy, who had been effectually roused by the compression of = por- tion of is leg between the finger and thumb of Mr. Winkle, rolled of the box ouce agai, and proceeded to unpack the hamper, with more expedition than could ave been expected from his previous inactlvity,

“Now, we must elt close,” said the stout gentleman, After # great many ‘Jokes about squcezing the Indies" sleeves, and a vast quantity of blushing at sasdry Jocose proposals that the Indies should sit In the gentlemen’s laps, the ‘whole party were stowed down inthe barouche; and the stout gentleman pro- eveded to hand the things from the fat boy (who bad mounted up behind for ‘the purpore) {nto the carringe,

“Now, Joe, knives and forks!" The knives and forks were handed in; and the ladies and gentlemen Inside, and Mr. Winkle on the box, were each firnlabed ‘with thowe ueeful Implements,

“Plates, Joe, plates!” A similar process employed in the distribution of

crockery.

“Now, Joe, the fowls, —Damn that boy! he’s gone to sleep again. Joe, 4e1 (Sundry taps ou the head with a stick, and the fat boy, with some disii+ ‘cally, roused from hls lethargy.) “Come, hand In the eatables.”

‘There wns something in the sound of the last word, which roused the unctu- ‘car boy. He Jumpedup; and the leaden eyes, which twinkled bind his mouw talnows checks, leered horribly upon the food as he unpacked It from the

“Now, make haste,” sald Mr. Wardle; for the fut boy wns banging fondly Saco nets, which he seemed wholly unable to part with. The boy alghed ‘Seeply, and, bestowing an ardent gaze upon its plumpuess, unwillingly consigned it to his master.

(Ch. iv ~ix, xxviii, liv, Ivi.)

John. A low pantomime actor, and an habitual drunkard, whose oath is deseribed in “ The stroller’s Tale,” related to Mr. Pick- Wick and his friends by Mr Hutley. (Ch. iii.)

ate, A character in the story of “The Parish Clerk ;" cousin to

Maria Lobbs. (Ch. xvii.)

Lobbs, Maria. A chiwacter in Mr. Pickwick’s story of “The Par

—

4 Ede Dickens Diettonaep.

ish Clerk ;” s pretty girl, beloved by Nathaniel Pipkio, and alée

~ (Ch, xx, xxi, xxxi, xxxtv, xl, xlvil, lili, liv.) ri Lucas, Solomon. A costumer. (Ch. xv.)

Luffey, Mr. Vice-president of the Dingley Dell Cricket Club. (Cb. vii.)

Magnus, Peter. A red-haired man, with an inquisitive nose and blue spectacles, who is a fellow-traveller with Mr. Pickwick from Lendon to Ipswich. The two gentlemen chat cosily on the road, and dine together on their arrival at “The Great White Horse” inn. Mr. Magnus, being naturally of a very communicative dispo~ tition, and made more so by the brandy and water he drinks, eonfi- dentially informs Mr. Pickwick that be has come down to Ipswich to propose to a certain lady who is even then in the same house. ‘The next morning at broakfhst he recurs to the same subject, and the following conversation takes place : —

“1 beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick; but have you ever done this sort of thing in your the?" said Mr, Magnus,

“You mean proposing?” sald Mr. Pickwick.

“Yeu.”

4 Never!” said Mr. Pickwick with great energy, —"‘never!”

“You have no idea, then, how It best to begin?" aad Mr. Magnus,

Why," sald Mr. Pickwick, “1 may hare formed some ideas upon the sub- fect; but, as I hare never submitted them to the test of experience, I should be sorry if you were Induced to regulate your proceedings by them”

“I should feel very much obliged to you for any advice,” sald Mr, Magna, talking another look nt the clock, the hand of which was verging on the Ave min tutes past.

“Well, sir," sald Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity with which vhat great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so deeply impres- siva, *Tahould conamence, sir, with a tribute to the lady's beauty aud excollent qualities; trom them, sir, I #hould diverge to my own unworthiness,”

* Very good," anid Mr. Magnus.

“Unworthiness for her only, mind, alr," resumed Mr. Plokwick; ‘for te show that I was not wholly unworthy, sx, I should take @ brief review of my past {if and present condition. I should argue, by analogy, that, to anybody lsc, K must be a very desirable object. I should then expatiate on the waraith of my love and the depth of my devotion. Herbaps I might then be tempted te seize her hand.”

“Yes, L see,” eald Mr. Magous: * that would be a very great pont.”

“ I ehould then, sir,” continued Mr, Pickwick, growing warmer as the subject presented {tself in more giowing colors before him,—*' T should then, air, come

0 tho plain and simple question, ‘Will you have me?? T think I am Justified ‘te assuining, that, upon this, she would turn away ber head.”

* You think that maybe taken for granted?” said Mr. Magnna; “becanse, if “she did not do that at the right place, 1t would be embarrassing,

“TD think she would,” said Mr, Pickwick. “Upon this, air, T ahould squeeze eerhand, and f think, —-I¢hink, Mr. Maguus,—thatafter J had doue that, euppos ing there was no refusal, I should gently draw away tho hndkerehief. which my ‘Aight knowledge of human wature leads me to suppose the Lady would! bo applying to her eyes at the moment, and steal a respectful kiss. I think 1 should kiss her, ‘Mr. Magons; and, af this particular polat. Tam decidedly of opinion, that. if the acy wero poling to take me at ail, she would wurmur into my ear a bashful accapt-

—

Dr. Magnus atarted, parod on Mr, Piekwick’s ltelligent face for sbort time tn silence, and theu (the diat pointing to the ten minutes past) shook him warmly ‘by the hand, and rushed desperately from the room.

Mr. Pickwick had taken fow steides to and fro; and the small band of the ‘het. following the latter part of his example, had arrived at the figure which indicates the haifhour, when the door suddenly opened. He tarned round to greet Mr. Peter Magnus, and euconntorod, in his xtead, the Joyous face of Mr. ‘Tupmas, the rerene countensnoe of Mr; Winkle, and the intellectual lineaments

of Mr. Snodgrass. As Mr. Pickwick greeted them, Mr. Peter Magnus tripped into the room. eee enema res ting Mr Magnus,"—said 2€r. Pick-

“Your servant, gentlemen,” yald Mr: Magnus, evidently In @ high atate of ‘excitement. "Mr. Viekwick, allow me to speak to you, one moment, sir.” As ho said this, Mr. Magaus harnessed his foretinger to Mr. Mokwick’s button- ole, aud, drawing bm into a window-recess, aid.— ‘me, Mr, Pickwiek: I followed your advice to the very letter.” And St was all correct, was {t?” inquired Mr. Iickwiok. “Tt was, #tr, — could not possibly have been better," replied Mr. Magnus. “ Mr, hee, he a witne |” “Leougratulate you with sil my heart," replied Mr. Pickwick, warmly shaking hisnew fend by the hand. “You must wee her, se,” sald Mr. Magnus: “this way, if you please, Excase for ove Instant, gentlemen.” And, hurrying on in this way. Mr. Peter Magnus ote limaa He paused at the next door in the passage, gently thereat. sera Ia ald fomaie voles. And in they went,

Now, it has unfortunately happened that Mr. Pickwick, on tho aight of their arrival, had occasion to leave his room to get his watch, ‘which he had left on a table down stairs, Returning in the dark, fost his way, and gropod about in search of his room for a long time,

Adozentimesdid be softy turn the handle of some bedroot-door whlch reser. Died kit ows, when a gruffers from witms, of W Yea want here?” caused him to steal away, on tiptoe, with a -perftetly ms ‘mary felerity. He was reduced to the vorge of despair, when un open di attention. He peeptd in—rightat last! Thore were the two m he perfectly remembered, and the fire atill burning. His can: Jone when Le first reoelved tt, had flicke-ed away tn the dranghts of

uu She Mickens Mictlonary.

‘hich he had passed, and sunk tntothe socket jast ax he closed the door after bim_ et es ee eee

‘The bedsteads stood one on each side of the door; and on the inner side of tach was alittle path, terminating in a rash-bottomed chalr, Just wide enough to sdmit of u person's getting Into or out of bed on that side, if he or she thought proper. Having carefully drawn the curtains of his bed on the outslde, Mr. Pick. wick sat down on the rush-bottomed chair, and leisurely divested himself of hie shoes and gniters. Me then took off nnd folded up his cont, walstooat, and neck:

nightcap,

wick Inughed to himself so heartily, that {t would have been quite any asa of trll-qrnttated mid to hare wecdhed the sulle Wok eeyended he ‘amiable features as they shone forth from beneat: the night-cap.

“It Is the best {dea,” sald Mr. Pickwick to himself. smiling till be almost erncked

ee tho best des, my Joning myself fa this place, and

those statreases, that I ever heard of. Droll, droll, very droll!” Here Mr Pld sed aga x broader smile than before, and was about to eontinue the process of undrevaing, in the bert possible humor. when he was sud denly stopped by & most unexpected interruption; to wit, the entrance Into the room of some person with a candle, who, after locking the door, advanced to the drewsing-table, and sot down the Nght upon It,

‘The smile that played on Mr. Pickwick’s features was instantaneously fost in ‘look of the moat unbounded and wonder-stricken surprise. ‘The person, who ‘ver it wns, bad come tn sosuddenly, and with #0 little nolee, that Mr. Pickwick ‘had no time to call out, or oppose their entrance. Who could it be? A robber! Some crit minded person who had seen iim come up stairs with « handsome wateh in his band, perhaps. What was heto dot

‘The only way in which Mr. Pickwick could catch a glimpse of his mysterious visitor, with the least danger of being eeen himself. was by creeping on to the bed. ‘and peoping out from botween the curtains on the opposite side. ‘To thls manmuyre he accordingly resorted. Keeping the curtains carefully closed with his hands, 50 that nothing more of him could be agen than hia face and wight-cap, and putting ‘on his spectacien, be mustered up courage and looked out.

Mr. Pickwick almost fulnted with horror snd dismay, Standing before the Mrevalng-glass was a middle-aged lady in yellow curl-papers, busily engaged in brashing what ladies call thelr~ back hair." However the uneonselous ta tady came into that room, it was quite clear that she contemplated remaining there for the night; for she had brought a rushlight and shade with her, which, with praiseworthy precaution against fire, she had stationed in a basin on the floor, where It was glimmering away, like # gigantlo lighthouse in « particularly small

Tece of water.

* Tless my soul,” thought Mr. Pickwick, “what a dreadful thing!”

“Hem!” eaid the old Indy; and in went Mr, Viokwiok’s head with sutomaten: like rapidity.

“1 never met with any thing #0 awful ws this!" thought poor Mr. Pickwick the cold perspiration starting in drops upon his night-oap,—“ never! Thia ts earful”

It was quite impossible to resist the urgent dire 10 see what was geing for ward. So out went Mr. Pickwick’s head ogain, ‘The prospect was worse thay

f

—- _s

¢ Plekwlch Papers cd : = =i

‘before. ‘The miditie-aged lady hod finished arranging her hair, and earefatly envel | Sa ee emersae eee wen neal pind border sal wes gatogpemstrty

‘This matter Is growlag alarming,” reasoned Mr. Pickwick with himself.

| ‘“Lean't allow things to go on in this way. Dy the self-possession of that Indy, ‘it's clear to me that I must have come into the wrong room. If I call out, she "IL alarm te house; but, if I remain here, the consequence will be still more frightful.”

‘Mr. Pickwick, it {4 quite unnecessary to aay, was one of the most modest and deticnte-minded of mortals. The very ides of exhibiting his night-cap to = lady orerpowered hin; but he had tied these coufonusded strings tn knot, and, do what

‘be would, he could n't get it off, The disclosure must be made, There was only

gue other way of doing it. He shrunk behind the curtains, and called out very

Ata, bors!" Sear nes edn senpeehad coved wae rite by her falling ap against the rushlight-shade: that she persuaded herself tt must have been the ‘effect of imagination was equally clear: for when Mr. Pickwick, under the impres- idem that abe had fainted away, stone-dead.frot fright, ventured to peep outagain, she was gazing ponsively om the fire ax before. “Most extrnordinary female this!" thought Mr. Pickwick, popping in again. “Ha, bent” ‘These hast rounds, vo like thove In which, ws legends Inform us, the ferocious Gant Blanderbore was in the habit of expressing his opinion that it was time to lag the cloth, were too diatincdly audible to be again mistaken for the workings of

taney. * Gracious Hearent " eaid the middle-aged lady, “ what '» that?" | “It's —{t 's—only a gentleman, ma’am,” sald Mr. Pickwick from behind the

“It's all over,” thonght Mr. Pickwick.

+ A strange man!” shricked the lady. Another Instant, and the house would be alarmed. Her garments rusiced as she rashed towards the door.

“Malem,” said Mr. Piok-rick, throsting out his head, in the extremity of nis

—"ma'em .

‘Now, although Mr. ickwivk was not actunted by any definite object In putting ‘pat his ead, it was Instautancously productive of a good effect. The lady, as we ‘ave already stated, was near the door. She must pass it to reach the staircase, sand she would most undoubtedly have done so by this time, had not the audden eypspeieed Plokwick’s nightesp driven her back Into the remotest corver

of the apartment, where shestood star ng wildly at Mr. Pickwick, while Mr. Piek- wok. in bis turn, stared wildly at he

‘SWreteht” anid the Indy, covering her eyes with her hands,“ what do you ‘went here?”

‘Nothing, ma'am, —nothing whaterer, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick earnestly.

4 Nothing! ® eaid the lady, looking up,

“Nothing, ma'am, upon my honor,” sald Mr. Pickwick, nodding his head #0

that the tassel of ale night-cap danced again, “1 am almost

ready to sink, ma’am, beneath the confusion of addressing a indy In my night-cap *here the lady hastily enar-hed off hers); but I can’t got it off, ma’am (here Mr. Pickwick gave ita tremendous tag in proof of the statement). Its evident tome, ‘ewan, now, that I have mistakes this bearoom for my own. 1 had not beew ‘ere Gre minutes, ma'am, when you suddenly entered tt.”

— =

”

36 Ebe Dickens Mictronary.

“ Ufthle improbable story be really true, eir,” sald the Indy, sobbing rlolently. “you will leave it instantly”

“1 will, ma’atn, with the greatest pleasure,” replied Mr, Pickwick.

“Instantly, str," rald the Indy.

po reratscillved errant sole amy aes ae aber eet very sorry. ma'am,” aid Mr. Pickwick, making his appearanoe at the Iatsbni ec to0 RAL To fore Bees Eis broad venient da alte wo ention, = deeply sorry, ma’am.”

‘The lady polnted to the door, One excellent quality of Mr. Pickwiek's ebar Star won enact. ior ot ln mimes nt havea tring rece ‘Mances. Although he had hastily put on his hat over his nighteap, ater tmanoer of the old patrol; although he carried bie shows and galters in his tend, ‘sod his cont and waistcoat over his arm, —nothing could subdue his native polite: Bess.

xin exceedingly sorry, ma'am,” sald Mr, Pickwick, bowing very tow.

“If you are. sir, you will at once leave the room,” said the Indy.

“Immediately, malum,—this fnstant, maam," aid Mr. Pickwick, opening the door, and dropping bot his shoes with a loud crash In so doing,

trust, mo’am," resumed Mfr. Pickwick, gathering up his shoes, and turning round to bow again, —“ trust, ma'am, that my anblemished character, and the devoted respect I entertain for your sex, will plend as some slight excuse for thie” — But, before Mr. Pickwick could conelnde the senteuce, the lady had thrust him Into the passage, and locked and bolted the door bebind him,

Mr, Pickwick finally encounters Sam Weller, his valet, who leads him to his room; bui this night-adventure disturbs him considerably. The remembrance of it wears away, however, and, at the moment of being introduced by Mr. Magnus to his betrothed, the occurrence is not in his mind at all.

“Mies Withertield," suid Mr. Magnus, “allow me to introduce my very par- Weular frend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I bog to make you known to Miss Witherfietd."

‘Tho Indy was at the npper end of the room; and, as Mr. Pickwick bowed, he took his spectacles from his waisteont-pocket, and put them on, —a process which se had no sooner gone through. than, uttering an wxclamation of turprine. Mr, Pickwick retreated several paces, and the indy, with a half-suppreased scream, hid her face in her hands. and dropped Into. chalr; whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus was struck motionless on the xpot, and gazed from one to the other with # eoun- _ananoe expressive of the extremities of horror aind surprise.

‘This certainty was. to all appearance, very unaccountable bebasior: bat the

ract was, that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles than be at once ree ognized in the future Mrs. Magnus the Indy Into whose room he had #0 unwar- rantably Intraded on the prerlous ni ‘nd the spectacles had no sooner crossed Mr. Wickwick’s nose thon the Indy at once Identified the countenance which she bad seen surrounded by all the horrors of a nighteap. So the lady screamed, and Mr. Plekerick started, Mr, Mokwick!" exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost In sstonlehinent, “what ie the meaning of thir. sir? What ls the meaning of it, sir?” added Mr. Magnus, in « Shreatening and # louder tane.

“lr,” sald Sr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden manner |y

She Pickwick Papers. a

which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjagated himself Into the imperative mood, 1 dectine answering that question.” You decline it air? antd Mr. Stagnns, “To. air, replied Me. Pickwick, “Y object to saying any (hing which may thi Indy, or awenken unplensant recollections in her breast, with out he: consent and permission.”

Miss Withertield,” sald Mr. Peter Mngous, do you know this person?” “ Know him!™ repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating, “Yes, know him, mavam. Tanid know him,” replied Mr. Magnus with fere

“T hare seen him" replied the middle-aged Indy. “Where?” inquired Mr. Magnus, —“ where?” = That," raid the middieaged Indy, rising from her seat, and averting her heed, —"' that I would not reveal for worlds.” “T understand you, ma‘am," #nid Mr. Pickwick, “and respect your delicacy. | Bahall never be revealed by me, depend upon it."

‘This, of course, makes Mr. Magnus very angry; and ho proceeds to work himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming passion, and indulges freely in threats of n duel. Miss Witherfield, however, eontrives to settle matters by informing the mayor that Mr. Pick- wick is about to fight a duel, in which Mr. Tupman proposes to act as his second, and that the other party has absconded. The sequel fs, that Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman are arrested, and taken before the mayor. For proceedings at the trial see Nurkrs, Groner. (Ch. xxii, xxiv.)

Mallard, Mr. Clerk toMr. Serjeant Snubbin. (Ch. xxi, xxiv.)

Martin, Mr. A prisoncr confined in the Flect prison. (Ch. xlit)

Martin. Aconchman. (Ch. x!

Martin. A gamekeeper. (Ch. xix.)

Martin, Jack, Hero of “The Story of the Bagman's Uncle, (Ch. xlix.)

Mary. A servant-girl at Mr. Nopkins’s; afterwards married to Sam Weller. (Ch. xxv, xxxix, xlvii, ii, liv, vi.)

Matinters, The two Miss. Ladies attending the bali at Bath. (Ch. xxv.)

.Ailler, Mr. A guest at Mr. Wardle’s, (Ch. vi, xxviii.)

ins, Mr,, called the “Zxrnrn.” A fellow-prisoner with Mr. Pickwick in the Fleet. (Ch. xli, xiii)

Madge, Mr. Jonas. Secretary of she Brick Lane Branch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association (Ch. oxxxiii.)

Matanhed, Lord A fashionable gentleman whow My. Pickwick

- 4

lal

38 She Dickens Mictlonary.

‘meets af a ballin Bath ; «friend of Captain and Mrs. Dowler. (Ch xxxy.)

Muzzle, Mr. An undersized footman, with s long body and short lege, in the service of George Nupkins, Esq. (Ch. xxiv, xxv.) Namby, Mr. A sheriff’s officer who arrests Mr, Pickwlex. (Ch. xl.) Neddy. A prisoner for debt, confined in the Fleet; a gaiegmatic

and taciturn man. (Ch. xlii, xiii.) Noddy, Mr. A friend of Mr. Bob Sawyer. (Ch. xxxii.) Nupkins, George, Esq, Mayor of Ipswich. Mr. Pickwick and his friend Mr. Tupman are brought before him on a charge pre- ferred by Miss Witherfield, that they are about to engage In s duel, — Mr. Pickwick as principal, and Mr, Tapman as his second. (Ch. xxiv, xxv.) See Macnes, Petru.

‘Tho roene was an impressive one, well calculated to strike terror to the hearts of culprits, and to Impress them with an adequate Idea of the stern ma Jesty of the law, In front of a big book-case, in a big chair, bohind # big table, and before » big volume, swt Mr, Nupkins, looking a full size larger than any one of them, big as they were. The table was adorned with piles of papers; ‘and abore the further end of It appeared the head and shoulders of Mr. Jinks, who was busily engaged tn looking as busy ax possible. ‘The party having all ‘entered, Muzzle carefully closed the door, and placed himself behind his mas ter's chair to awnit his orders: Mr. Napkins threw himself back with thrilling solemnity, and scrutinized the faces of bia unwilling visitors.

“Now, Grummer, who Is that pervon?” said Mr. Nupkins, polnting to Mr Pickwick, who. as the spokesman of hls friends, stood hat in hand, bowing with ‘the utmost politeness nud respect,

“This here’s Piokvick, your wash-up,” said Graramer.

“ Come, none o” that ‘ere, old Strike-a-light!” Interposed Mr. Weller, elbow- ing himself Into the front rank. “ Beg your pardon, sir; but this here officer 0” yourn fn the gamboge tops "ll never earn a decent livin’ as a master 0° the cere- monies any vere. This here, air,” continued Mr. Weller, thrusting Grammer aside, and addressing tho mngistrate with pleasant familiarity, —*' this here ts 8. Pickvick, Esquire; this here 's Mr. Tupman; that "ere ’s Mr. Snodgrass, and furder on, next him on the (other aide, Mr. Winkle —all wory aloe gun'?'m'n, ‘sir, ws you'll be wery happy to have the sequalntance on: 60 the sooner you commits these here officers 0” yourn to the treadmill for a month or two, the sooner wo shall begin to be on » pleasant understanding. Dusiners first, peas ure arterwards, as King Itfchard the Third said ven he stabbed the tother Ring 4u the Tower. afore he smothered the babbies.”

At the conclusion of thts address, Mr, Wetler brushed hls hat with hile rlht ‘elbow, and nodded benlgnly to Jinks, who had heard Lim throughout with ue speakable awe.

“ Who ts thls man, Grummer?” said the magistrate.

*Wery desp'rate charneter, your wash-up.” replied Grummer. “He attempt €1 to rescue the prisoners, and assaulted the officers: 40 we took him Into cus tedty, and brought him here.”

* You did quite right,” replied the magistrate, “He ts evidently a desperate maffian."”

“Ott he ts your eervant; Is he?” asid Mr. Nupkins. “A consplracy to de Aut the ends of justice, and murder ite officers, Pekwick’s servant. Put that town, Mr. Jinks.»

Mr. Jinks did 20.

“What "* your name, fellow 2" thundered Mfr, Nupkins.

“Veller," replied Sam.

‘A very good name for the Newgate Calendar,” sald Mr. Nopkins,

‘This wasajoke: o Jinks, Grammer, Dubbley, all the specials, and Musale went into fits of langhter for five minutes? duration.

Pat down his name, Mr. Jinks,” said the magistrate.

“Two 174, old feller,” aald Sam.

Here an unfortannte special Isughed again, whereapon tho magistrate threat- xed to commit him instantly. It's dangerous thing laughing at the wrong magn Is these cases.

“ Where do you lire?” said tho magistrate,

“ Vare-over I can,” replied Sam.

“Put that down, Mr. Jinks," sald the magistrate, who was fast rising Into arage,

Score tt under," sald Sam.

“He fs & vagabond, Mr. Jinks,” said the magistrate. “He is a vagabond oa bis own statement; 1s he not, Mr, Jinks?”

“This ism very impartial country for Justice, . There ain't magise trate going ax don't commit himself twice as often as he commits other people.”

‘At thils aally another special laughed, and then tried to look «0 supernaturally solemn, that the magistrate detected him immediately.

Grummer,” said Mr. Nupikins, reddening with passion, * how dare you seleot rach an incificlent and disreputable person for @ special constable, as that man? ‘How dare you do It, sir?”

“Tam wery sorry, your wash-up," stammered Grummer.

Very sorry" gald tho furious magistrate. “ You shall repent of this neglect of duty, Mr. Grummer: you shall be made an example of, ‘Take that fellow's stall away. He '* drunk. —You ’re drunk, fellow.”

Tam not drunk, your worship," sald the man,

“You are drunk.” returned the magistrate. “How dare you say yon are not drunk, sir, when I say you are? Does n't be amell of epirits, Grummer?”

“Horrid! your wash-up,” replied Grummer, who had « vague impression that some was a smell of rum somewhere,

“Tinew he did!" said Mr. Nupkins. “I saw he was drunk when he first cam > \crhievialahrophactmtaalaca Did you observe his excited eye, Mr. Jinks?

rp wir? 2 Thave 11 touched a drop of spirits this morning,” sald the man, who was = tober # fellow ax nved be.

“ How dare you telf ne a falschowd ?” axid Mr. Nupkins “Isn't he drunk « Abts moment, Me Jinks?"

“Certainly ein,” replied Juke

“Mr. Jinks,” sald the magistrate, “I shall commit that man for contempt, Make out hij* committal, Mr. Jinks.'*

And committed the special would have been, only Jinks, who was the magls rate’s adviver, having had 4 lega, education of three years In a country attorney’: uilice, whirpered the magistrate that be thought It would n’t do; #0 the magi

ai

fctlonarp,

pointers mer every cor preparyaeers of the speclal's family be

Deddiey, Muzelo, and all the other specials, murmured their admiration of the of Mr. Nupkins.

Now, Mr. Jinks," sald the magistrate, swear Grummer.” Grumsser was sworn direotly; but as Grummer wandered, and Mr. Nupkine’s dinner was nearly ready, Mr. Nupkina eat the matter short by putting leading questions to Grummer, which Grammer answered as nearly tu the alfirmative aa he could. So the examination went off all very smooth and comfortable; and the and a threat against Mr. Winkle,

‘The consultation having lasted about ten minutes, Mr. Jinks retired 10 Als end of the tablo; and the magistrate, with a preparatory cough, drew bimmaolf up in hile ‘chair, and was proceeding to commence his address, when Mr, Pickwick interposed

“I beg your pardon, alr, for interrupting you," sald Mr, Pickwick; “bat, before you proceed to express and mot upon any opinion you may have formed on the statements which have been made here. I must claim my right to be heard

c ‘Hold your tongue, sir!” interposed the magistrate, “or shall order an ofleee

to remove you."”

* You may order your officers to do whatever you plense, alr" said Mr. Wek»

wick; “and Thave wo doubt, from the specimen I have had of the mbordination

among ther, that, whatever you order, they will exeoute: but I shall tuke the liberty, oir, of claiming my right to be heard, until T am removed by force.”

Piekvick and principle!" exclaimed Mr, Weller in m very audible volos.

am, be quiet," said Mr. Pickwick.

Damb 4 a dent rith a hole in it,” replied Sam,

‘Mr. Nupkins looked pt ickwick with a gaze of intense astonishment at ls displaying auc! moatea temerity, and was apparently about, to return @ very angry reply, when Mr. Jinks pulled him by the sleeve, and whispered some- thing i his ear. To this the magistrate returned a halfaudible answer; and then the whispering wa: renewed. Jinks was evidently remonstrating,

‘At length the magistrate, gulplng down with a very bad grace his distnelinw Yon to hear any thing more, turned to Mtr. Pickwick, and sald sharply, * What Yoyou want tosay?”

hore for #*

“ Must F tell iim?" whispered the mngistrnte to Jinks.

“4 Lihtuk you had better, sir,” whispered Jinks to the magistrate.

# An information hins been sworn before me," said the magistrate, “that ft i ithended you are going to fight a duel, and that the other man, Tupman, & snidier nnd abottor ‘a ls, ‘Therefore —els, Mr. Jinks 2”

Certainly, str” : ‘ ‘Therefore I call upon you both to—I think that’s the course, Mr, Jinks?”

“Cortaloly, sir."

fo—to— what, Mr. Jinks?” said the magistrate pettlehly,

was about to say when I was

“1 shall require good bail,” auld the magistrate,

“Town'speople," whisperea Jinks.

“ Wifty pounds exch,” whispered Jinks, “und householders, of course.”

“shail require two sureties of fifty pounds each,” sald the magistrate aloud, with great dignity; “and they must be householders, of course.”

But bless ray heart, wir!” eid Mr. Pickwick, who, together with Mr. Tupman, ‘was all amazement and indignation, “we are perfoct strangers in this town. 1 have xs little knowledge of any householders here as I have Latention of fighting ‘a doel with anybody."

Hi Eaars em Fepiod to maghatrace, “1 are ons; don't you, Mr Jtka?”

“Certabaly, slr.

atineie silty ag ees wrt inquired the magistrate,

Mr. Pickwick recollects that he has lately heard of the adventure ef Mr. Alfred Jingle in those parts, under the alias of Charles Ed- ward Fitz-Marshall, and that rumor has it that he is about to marry a daughter of the mayor. Mr. Pickwick determines to speak private- fyto the magistrate, and, if this proves to be the fact, to expose Jingle, aud gain the good will of Mr. Nupkins. He therefore asks a private word, which, after some hesitation and great astonishment, is granted, ‘The consultation over, Mr. Pickwick and the mayor return to the office.

“Grummer,” eald the magistrate in an awful voice. “Your wash-up,” replied Grummer with the «tile of # favorite. ™ Come, come, sir,” sald the magistrate sternly, * don’t let me see any of this Patribesen Tt tnvery unbecoming; and 1 can assure you that you have very gmille at. Was the account you gare me Just now strictly tru? Now te peels ir Your wash-up,” stammered Grummer, #1" — “Ohi you are confused, aro you?" said the magistrate, “ Mr. Jinks, you obeerre. ts comfusion?” “Certainly. sir.” replied Jinks. “Now,” sald the magistrate, “just repeat your statement, Grummer; and gain 1 warn seo to be cnreful. Mr, Jivks, take his words down.” ‘The unfortunate Grummer proceeded to restate bis complaint; but whut Se ewes Mr, Jiwky's taking down hie words and the magistrate’ taking them up, hie teninency to rambling, and his extreme confusion, he managed to get tavolved, In something under three minutes. ip such a mass of entanglement and sontradiction, that Mr. Nupkins at once declared he did n't believe him. So the nes were remitted, and Mr. Jinks found « couple of ball in no time; and, all hese soleent proceedings having been atirfactorily concluded, Mr. Grammer wat ‘ordered out,— a0 awful Instance of the inmability of human great ‘seus and ths uncertain tenure of great men’s favor, ”

a

The Wickens Mictlonarn

Nupkins, Mrs. Wife of George Nupkins, Esq. (Ch. xxv.)

Nupkins, Miss Henrietta. Their daughter. (Ch. xxv.)

Payne, Doctor. Surgeon of the Forty-third regiment, anda friend ‘of Doctor Slammer's. (Ch. ii, iii.) See Staxmer, Doctor.

Pell, Mr. Solomon. An attorney at the Insolvent Court in Por tugal Street; a fat, flabby, pale man, with a narrow forehead, wide fiance, large head, short neck, ana wry nose. (Ch. xliii, lv.)

Perker, Mr. Agent for the Honorable Samuel Slumkey in bis race for parliament; afterwards Mr, Pickwick's attorney, —a little, high-dried man, with a dark, squeezed-up face, small, restless black eyes, and the air of one in the habit of propounding regular posers. (Oh. x, xiii, xxxi, xxxiv, xxv, xlvii, Ii, liv.)

Phunky, Mr. Associate counsel with Serjeant Snubbin in the case of Bardell vs. Pickwick ; regarded as “an infant barrister,” as he has not been at the bar quite eight years. (Ch. xxxi, xxxi¥.)

Pickwick, Samuel. Founder of the Pickwak Club. (Ch. i- xxvii, xxx=xxxii, xxxiv-xxxvil, xxxix-xlvili, |-lvi)

‘The first ray of light which (lumines the gloom, ane eo. verts into a dazzling brilliancy that obscurity in which the earlier history of tas public career of the Smmortal Pickwick would appear to be involved, {s derived from the perusul of the following entry In the Transactions of the Pickwick Clul

May 12, 1817.—Joneph Smniggers, Faqs,

‘That thls Association has heard read with feelings of wnmlngled xatsfuetion

‘and unqualified approval the paper communicated by Samuel Pickwick, Esq. . P.0,,t entitled * Speculations on the Source of the Hampstead Ponds,

ations on the Theory of Tittlebate;! and that this Association

oes hereby return [ts warmest thanks to the sald Samuel Wckwick, Hq, G.C.

M.P.C., for the «

Me eTost while this -Assootation ls Aoeply sensible of the advantages which aust acorue to the cause of science from the production to which they bare Just sxiverted, no loss than from the wawearied researches of Samuel Pickwick, Exq.y G.0.M.P.C.,1n Hornsey, Highgate, lrixton, and Camberwell, they cannot but ‘entertain 0 lively sense of the inestimable benefits which must Inevitably rest, from carrying the speculations of that Iearued man Into « wider field, from €x-

teudirg hia travels, aud consequently enlarging hls «phere of observation; to the Sirsceenent of knowledge and the disfusion of learning.

“That, with the view Just mentioned, this Association has taken into Its wert

qmnsideration & proposal, emanating from the aforesaid Samuol Pickwick,

C., and three other Piekwickians hereinafter named, for

of United Pickwlckiaus under the title of «The Corre

‘Vice-President,— Member Pickwiek Ola 4 General Chairman, — Member Pickwick Club.

Tbe Plekwick Papers 43

ee ns ti restred sanction and approval of this Asso

‘That the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club fs therefore hereby com mituted; and that Samuel Pickwick, Esq. G.C, M P, C., Tracy Tupman, Eeqy MP. O.. Augustus Snodgrass, Esq.,M.P.C.,nnd Nathaniel Winkle, Esq., MP. Cy are hereby nominated wud appointed members of the same; and that they be ‘requested to forward, from tie to tine, authenticated accounts of thelr Journeys and investigations; of their observations of character and manners; and of the whole of thelr adventures, together with all tales and papers to which local seem ‘ty oF associations may give rise, to the Pickwick Club, stazloned in London.

“That this Ansoolation cordially recoguixes the principle of every member of the Corresponding Soctety defraying his own travelling-expenses; and that it ween no objection whatever to the members of the aald soolety pursuing thelr inquiries for any length of time they please, upon the same terms.

“That the members of the aforesaid Corresponding Society be and are hereby Informed, that thelr proposal to pay the postage of thetr letters, and the carriage of thelr parcels, has been deliborsted upon by this Association. That thix Asso tation considers such proposal worthy of the great minds from which it emanated; ‘ead that it hereby signifies ite perfect acquiescence therein.”

‘A casual observer, adds the secretary, to whose notes we are indebted for the following account, — n casual observer might possibly have remarked nothing ex- teaordinary in the bald head, and elreular spectacles, which were Intently turned turned towards hls (tho secretary's) face during the reading of the above resolu- tious. ‘To those who knew that the gigantic brain of Pickwick was working be: neath that forehead, and thet the besming eyes of Pickwick were twinkling be luind those glasses, the sight was indeed an interesting one. There sat the man who had traced to their source the mighty ponds of Hampetead, and agitated the Aclentiti¢ world with lila Thoory of Tittlebats, as calm and unmoved as the deop ‘wuters of the one on a frosty day, oF as a solitary specimen of the other in the Tamost recesses of an earthen Jar. Aud how much more interesting did the spec tacle become, when starting into full life and animation, as ® ximultancous call for * Pickwick” burst from his followers, that illustrious man slowly mounted nto the Windsor chair, on which he had been previously seated, and addressed ‘nw club himself nad founded! What study for an artist did that exciting scene

‘sent! The eloquent Pickwick, with one’hand gracefully concealed behind his soat-talla, and the other waving in alr to asslet lis glowing declamation,— his ele ‘vated position revealing those tights and guiters, which, had they clothedan: ‘Bary mon, might have passed without observation, but which, when Pickwick dothed them (if we may use the expression), inspired involuntary awe aud respect, surrounded by the men who had voluntecred to share the peril of his travels, and who were destined to participate iu the glories of his discoveries, Oo hus right hand 4at Mr. Tracy Tupman; thn too susceptible Tupman, who to the ‘wledom and experience of maturer year euperadded the enthusiasm and ardor of ‘a boy In the most interesting €nd pardonable of human weakaeases,—love. ‘Thine nd feeding hod expanded that once romantic form; the black silk walstooat had become more and more developed; inch by inch had the gold wateb-cham ‘neneath It dixappeared from within the range of Tupman’s vision; and gradually ‘éad the enpactous chin encronched upon the borders of the white cravat: but the {oul of Tupman hind known no change, — admiration of the fair eex was still ite rul- Lag passion, On the left of hie great leader aut the poetic Snodgrass ; and near him, ‘again, thesporting Winkle, — the former poetically enveloyed in « mysterious blue soak with a canine-vkin collar; and the latter commanicating additional lustre te ‘Snow grees shooting-coat, plaid neckerchief, and closely-(tted drabs,

al

4 The Wickens Bictlenarp. ©

Mr, Pickwick starts out upon his travels with the other members of the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Clab, and moets with

many laughable and interesting adventures. At Rochester they attend a grand review, station themselves in the front rank of the

erowd, and patiently await the commencement of the proceedings.

‘The Birong was increasing every moment; and the efforts they were compelle® apes iti crm Reg dy regogenat oe fr tet Hlon during the two hours that ensued. At ouo time, there was a snddon pressure from behind; apd then Mr. Pickwick was jerked forward for several yards, with a dlogron of speed and elasticity highly incousistent with the general gravity of hie demennor; ut another moment there was A request to “keep back” from the front; and then tho butt-ond of # minket was either dropped upon Mz. Pickwick’s too to remind him of the demand, or thrust into his chest to Insure its being com plied with. ‘Then some fucetious gentleman on the left, after pressing eldeways fa s dody, and squeezing Mr. Snodgrass {nto the very last extreme of human torture, ‘would request to know “vere he was a-shovin’ (o;” and, when Mr. Winkle had done expressing his excestive indignation at witnexing this unprovoked assault, some person behind would knock his hist over tls eres, and beg the favor of his putting his head in his pocket. These, and other practical wittielams, coupled with ‘the unaccountable absence of Mr. Tupman (who had suddenly disappeared, and wat nowhere to be found). rendered thelr situation, upon the whole, rather more ‘uncomfortable than pleasing or desirable.

‘At longth that low roar of many voices ran through the crowd, which axaally ‘Announces the nrrival of whatever they have been waiting for. All eyes wore turned fa the direction of the sally-port. A few motents of eager ex| and colors were sven flattering gayly in the alr; armé glistened brightly tn the aun; ‘column after column poured ow to the plain. The troops halted and formed; the ‘word of command rung through the line; there was a general clash of muskets ae ‘arms were prosonted; and the commandertn-chlef, attended by Colonel Bulder and numerous officers, cantered to the front. The military bands strack up alt together; the horses stood upon two legs each, eantered backwards, and whisked

the doge barked; the mob screamed; the troop recovered; and nothing was to be scen on elther side, ns far ns the eye could reach but a long perspective of red coats and white trousers. fixed and motionless.

Mr. Plokwick had been so fully occupied in falling about, and disentangling ‘Simself, miraculously. from between the legs of horees, that he hind not enjoyed

ficient lofsure to observe tho yoone before him, wutil it assumed the dppearance ve have just deseribed. When he was at Inst enabled (o#tand firmly on hit bags, ‘als gratitication and delight were unbounded.

“Cain any thing be finer or more delightful ? he tnquired of Mr. Wink!

* Notilng,” replied that gentleman, who tad kad a short mag standing on each of le feot for the quarter of un hour immediately préceding.

“it ls indeed a noble and a brilliant sight,” sald Mfr. Suodgrass. in whose bosoe a binze of pootry was rapidly bursting forth.“ to see the gallant defenders of their ountry deawn up in « brilliant array before its penceful citieens their faces beam Ing, not with warlike ferocity, but with civilized gentleness ; eyes Hashing, not with the rude fire of rapine oF revenge, but with the soft light of bumanity and Aatelligence.”

Mr. Pickwick fully entered into the spirit of this eulogiain; but be ould not ‘exactly reccho its terms; for the soft light of intelligence burnt rather feebly ts

Ede Blekwiek Papers 40

ithe eyes of the warriors, Insemuch as the command, “ yes front " had been given; and all the spectator anw before tlm was several thousand pair of optics staring straight forward, wholly divested of any expression whatever.

“We are in a capital eituntion, now!” sald Mr. Pickwick, looking round bim. The crowd had gradually dispersed from their immediste vicinity, and they were nearly alone.

“Capital | echoed both Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle.

“What are they doing now?” inquired Mr. Pickwick, adjusting his spectacles.

“I—1—rather think." sald Me. Winkle, changing colory—"I rather think rey 're going to fire."

“Nonsense!” said Mr, Pickwick hastily.

“I—I—really think they are,” urged Mfr. Snodgrass, somewhat alarmed.

‘*Tmponsible!” replied Mr. Pickwick. He had hardly uttered the word, when tne whole half-dozen regiments levelled thelr muskets as if they had bat one com: ‘sion object, and that object the Pickwickiany, and burst forth with te most awful ‘and Eremendous discharge that ever shook the earth to its centre, or an elderly entieman off his.

Te was fn this trying sltuation, exposed to a galling fire of blank cartridges, and harassed by the operations of the military, —a fresh body of whom had begun to fall in on the opposite side, —that Mr. Pickwick displayed that perfect coolness and

ion, which are the indispensable accompaniments of a great mind. He seteed Dir. Winkle by the arm, and, placing himself between that gentleman and ‘Mr. Snodgrass, earnestly besought them to remember, that, beyond the possibility ‘of being rendered deaf by the noise. there was no immediate danger to be appre ‘heasted from the firing.

* But —but—suppose some of the men should happen to have ball cartridges by mistake,” remonstrated Mr. Winkle, pallid wt the conjuring up. “I heard something whistle through lose to my ear."

+ We hind better throw ourselves on our fhoes, had n't wo?” enld Mr. Snodgrnss.

“No, no! it" over now,” sald Mr. Pickwick. His ip might quiver, and his cheek might blanch; but no expression of fear or concern escaped the fips of that immortal man,

‘Mr. Pickwick was right: the firing ceased. But he had scarcely time to congrat- late himself on the accuracy of his opinion, when a quick movement was visible fu the ne: the hoarse shout of the word of command ran along it, and, before ticher of the party could form a goes at the meaning of this new manauyre, the whole of the half-dozen regiments, with fixed bayonets, charged at doublequick thme down upon the very spot on which Mr. Pickwick aud his friends were sta- thoned.

‘Man ts but mortal; and there tsa point besond which tuman cournge cannot extend. Mr. Pickwick gazed through his spectacles for an Instant on the advan- clog mas; and then falely turned his back, and—we will not say fled; first, beenuse it is an ignoble term, and, secondly, because Mr. Pickwick's figure was by (bo soenne adupted for that mode of retreat. He trotted away nt a quick a rate ax ‘is legs would convey him.—so quickly, indeed, that he did not perceive the awk» ‘aniaess of his situation to the full extent, until too lave.

‘The opposite troops, whore falling-in had perplexed Mr, Pickwick a few seconde before, were drawn up to repel the mimio attack of the cham besiegers of the eit Sel; and the consequence was, that Mr. Pickwick and his two companions found dhemeeives suddenly enclosed between two lines of great length, —the une advan ‘sing at & rapid pace, and the other firmly waiting the collision {n hostile array.

lesgh—

reg wey Sel 5 Sect yards od; and the soles of Mr. Plekwici"> Rents serve chewed se al

Me Soolgraee aun Se White Sad each pectoral a compulsory somerset with

Pemmartablie att. weve ier Se whe ae cet Che wee of te Larter as he ea

(90 the grotnah, commthiong weit a iw Tk Menkerchief the stream of life whieh

‘suet fom Ris ee ae te re ewe at weet Ghcace off, running after

th praia Ri owe hak A wae dead af meine and a peculiar degree of Jadg ent are ceyuindie ceting a tet A mee meat not be precipitate, or he runs ‘over ik; be tise we To bute che eppenie extreme, or be loves it altogether. The

‘The wind peed and Me Pletwick puted, and the hat rolled orer and over as sereSly as 2 Ret pecqedie be a creme tide; aad on It might have rolled, far berumd Me Pettey reach. Dad nest he coarse oeem providentially stopped Just (as that gramiiemamn wae om the peta of evsigning It to [ts fate,

‘Mr. Pickwick we aay, was compintety exhaasted, and adnt to give up the chase, when te bas wae blows with some violence apsiaat the wheel of a carriage,

Ducting Sheward to pick it up, Mr. Pickwick % accosted by Mr. ‘Tupman, who has made the anpusintance of My Wardle and his Sail (he occupants of the carriage’ and is introduced to them, a¢ ace Mb Suoiigrass an Ms. Winkle, #ho come up shortly after, Being all ineBei to visit Manor Farm, Mr. Wardle's home, on the llowing Gap. they determine to igo, —thrve of them in a chaise, and wee om Rermeback. At an early hour, the carriage is brought to the nr

Se ten — el abe De Mr. Winkie. lhe mer som” Maid Mi, Pickwick: as they stood pos the pa wment while Gece wae Doing pat — "Dessay eae! who's todrire? neve thought

Oe rem ae cous,” mua Me, Tope Oh ee seed

Ede Vichwiek Papers. a7

“He Gon't shy; doos ho?” inquired Sr. Plekwick.

“Shy, ger? He would u’t aby if he was to meet m vaggin-lond ot monkers who hetr tails burnt off.”

“The last recommendation was indisputable, Mr, Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass fot into the bin; Mr. Piekwick ascenced to his perch, and deposited bis foot on # Soor<lothed shelf erected beneath It for that purpose.

“Now, Shlay Villiem,” sald the hostler to the deputy hoxtler, “gire the gen" tv's the ribbins.” “Shiny Villiam”—so called, probably, from his sleek halr and oily countenance—placed the reins {a Mr. Pickwick’s left hand; and the upper Sostler thrust a whip into his right,

“Woo! eried Mr. I'fokwick, as the tall quadruped evinced a decided tnclination 0 bsek Into the coffee-room window.

“Wo=o!" echoed Mr. Tupmun and Mr. Snodgrass from the bin.

“Only his playfulness, gen"lm'n,” said the head hostler encouragingly; “jist kited bold on him, Villiam.” The deputy restrained the animal's impetuosity, and the principal ran to assist Mr. Winkle in mounting.

“TD other side, wir, if you please”

“ Blowed if the gen’lm'n worn’t a-gettin’ up on the wrong side!” whispered a grtaning post-boy to the inexpressibly gratified walter.

‘Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, olimbed into his snddio with about ss much «lft. eee experienced in getting up the aide of a first-rate man-of-

Se ath” {nguired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward presentiment that it was

wrong.

“All right1™ replied Mr. Winkle faintly.

“Let ‘em got” eried the hoatler, “hold htm fn, alr; and away went the chaise and the saddle-horse, with Mr. Pickwick on the box of the one, nnd Mr. Winkle on the back of the other, to the delight and gratification of the whole Inn-yard.

“Whitt mules him go aideways ?” said Mr. Snodgrass in the bin tw Str. Winkle fs the saddle.

Loan’ imagine,” replied Mr. Winkle, His horse was going wp the «treet tn the most mysterious manner,—side Grat, with his head towards one side of the way, and his tall to the other.

‘Mr, Pickwick had no lelsure to observe elther this or any other particular; the whole of his faculties being concentrated in the management of the animal at- tached to the chaise, who displayed various peculiarities highly Interesting to m bystander, but by no means equally amusing to any one seated behind him. Besides constantly Jerking his head up In avery unpleasant aud uncomfortable ‘manner, and tugging wt the reins to an extent which rendered it a master of great difiealty for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had m singular propensity for darting suddenly, every now and then, to the side of the road, then stopplag ahort, and then rushing forward for some minutes, at a speed which It was wholly Impossible wcontrot.

“What can he mean by this?” «aid Mr. Snodgrass, when the horse had exe

this manceavre for the twentieth time. #1 don% know," replied Mr. Tupman: it looks very like shying, don’t It?” ‘Mr. Suodgracs was about to reply, when ho was interrupted by ® shout from Mr.

Pickwick.

“Woo! said that gentleman, “1 have dropped my whip.”

“ Winkle," cried Mr. Snodgrass, ax the equestrian came trotting up on the tall “Pores, with his hist over his ears, and shaking all over, as if he would shake to toes with the violence of the exercise, —~ pick up the whip; there "a a good

ss Ebe Dickens Dictlonary.

Rilow? Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle of the tall bores till he was Dinck in the faco; and having. at length, succeeded In stopping tim, diemoanted, handed the ‘whip to Mr. Pickwick, and, grasping the reins, prepared to remount.

‘Now, whether the tall horse, in the natural playfulness of lls disposition, was desirous of having a little fanocent recreation with Mr. Winkle, or whethor { oveurred to him that he could perform the Journey ax much to his own satisfaction without # rider ws with one, are polnts upon which, of course, we can arrive at no ‘tednite and distinct conclusion. By whatever motives the animal was actuated, ‘ceriaiu it fs, that Mr. Winkle had no sooner touched the reins than he slipped them ‘over his head, and darted backwards to thelr full length.

“Boor fellow!" said Bir. Winkle soothingly, “poor fellow, good old horse!" ‘The “poor fellow” was proof against flattery: the more Mr. Winkle tried to get hearer him, the more he sidied away; snd, notwithstanding wil kinds of coaxing and wheedting, there were Mr. Winkle and the horse going round and round each other for ten minates, at the end of which time each was at precisely the same dis- tance from the othor as when they first commenced, — nn unsatisfactory sort of thing under any circumstances, but particularly s0 in a lonely road, where no assistance can be procured.

“What am I todo?” shouted Mr, Winkle, after the dodging had been prolonged for a considerable time. “What am Ito do? I can't get on him!”

“You had better lead him till we come to # turnpike," replied Mr. Pickwick from the chalse.

“But he wont come,” roared Mr. Winkle. “Do come and hold him.”

Dr. Pickwick was the very persountion of kindness wud humanity: he threw the reins on the horse's back, and, having descended from hie seat, carefully drew ho chaise tnto the hedge, leat any thing should come along the road, and stepped bavk to the aasistance of his distressed companion, lesving Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the vehicle.

‘Tho horve no soonee bebeld Mr. Pickwick advancog towards him, with the chalsewwhip in his hand, than he exchanged the rotary motion in whiok he bad

revlously indulged, for a retrogrede movement, of ao very determined a charac- ter, that It at once drew Mr. Winkle, who was still nt tho end of the bridle, at a rather quicker rate than fust walking, in the direction from which they had Just come, Mr. Pickwick ran to bis masiatance; but, the faster Mr. Pickwick ran for ward, the faster the horse ran backward. ‘There was a grest ecraping of feet, and kicking wp of the dust; and at last Mr. Winkle, his arms being nearly putled ont ot thelr sockets, fairly let go his hold, ‘The horse paused, stared, shook bis head, Aurned round, and quietly trotted home to Rochester, leaving Mr, Winkle and Mr. Vickwiek gazing om each other with countenances of blank dismay. A rattling tole at w little distance attracted thelr attention. They looken up.

“Blots my seul! exclaimed the agonteed Mr. Pickwick: “there ‘s the other horse runing avway!”

11 was bat too true. ‘The animal was startled by the noise, and the reius were fm hls back. The result may be guessed. He tore off with the four-wheeled chalre belied bmn, went Mr, ‘Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass tn the fourwheeled chalve, ‘The bear was a short one, Mr. Topman threw himself into the hedge; Mz. Snodgrass fhliuwed his example; the horse dashed the fourwheoled chain against a wooden bridge, separated the wheels from the bedy, and finally #7004 stock still to gaze pn Vive rus be had mate.

After oxtrieating themselves, the party are compelled to walk and fe lonil thy horse; and it is not until late in the afternoon that they reach Manor Faru, tired, dusty, and foot-sore.

She Pickwick Papers. 49

‘When in London, Mr. Pickwick makes it his home at Mrs. Bar dell’s, in Goswell Street, where he has very comfortable lodgings, and = very accommodating landlady. He determines, however, to take a servant; and, desiring to consult Mra. Bardell in relation to the mat- ter, be sends for hor.

“Mev. Bandoll,” sald Mr, Pickwick

“Sir, sald Mrs, Bardell . «

“Do you think Ita much greater expense to keep two people than to keep one?

“Ls, Mr, Pickwick!” said Mrs. Dardelt, coloring up to the very border ¢€ ker ‘ap, us the fancied she observed a species of matrimoulal twinkle In the eyes of her lodger, —“ la, Mr. Pickwick, what a question! *

Bs Wats bak ae gos tS Tejulred Dr. Paco.

‘That depends,” anid Mrs. Bardell, . . . “that depends a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pickwick; and whether it's a saving and careful person,

”

“That's very true," sald Mr. Pickwick; “but the porson I hare In my eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) I think possesses these qualities, and has, morvorer, a considerable knowledge of the world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs, Bardelt, which may be of material use to me."

“La, Mr, Pickwick!” anid Mra. Bardoll, the crimson rising to her cap-border

again,

‘“f do," said Mr. Piekwiek, growing energetic, us was his wout In speaking of subject which Interested him,—*'T do, indeed; and, to tell you the truth, Mrs, Bardell, { have made up tay mind.”

“ Dear me, sir!” exclaimed Mrs. Bardell.

= You it think It not very strange now,” raid the amiable Mr. Pickwick, with a good:tumored glance at his companion, “that I never consulted you about ‘matter, and never mentioned it, till I sent your little boy out thix morning—eh?”

Mrs. Biardell could only reply by m look. She had long worshipped Mr. Pick- ‘wick at distaneo; but here she was, all at once raised to a plunacle to whlch her wildest and most extravagant hopes had never dared to aspire. Mr, Pickwick was ein to propore—n deliberate plan, too—sent hor little boy away.

After a few words more, Mrs. Bardell, overcome by her feelings, goes off into eestatic hysterics, and throws herself into the arms of Mr. Pickwick, who vehomently protests, and begs her to desist.

“Mrs. Bartoily my good worman—dear mo, what a altuation! Pray ecnalder, Mrs. Hardell; don't—~if wnybody should come" —

“Oh! let them come," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell frantically. “I'll never lears ‘you—desr, kind, good, soul! "Acd with these words Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter.

“ Merey upon ma!" aid Mr. Pickwick, straggling violently. “ f tear somebody 4 the stairs. Don't, don’t, there’s a good creature, don’t.* Butentreaty “Gnd remonstrancs were alike unavailing: for Mrs. Bardell had fainted in Mr. Piek- wick's arse; and. before he could gain timo 19 deposit her on w chair, Master Bar- “dell entered the room, ushering in Mr. Tupman. Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass.

‘Mr. Pickwiek was struck motionless ana speechless. fe stood with lus Lovely eee ay otee recently ‘on the countenances of his friends, without

50 She Wickens Wietlonary

Iho slightest attempt at recognition oF explanation, ‘They, ka thele tara, stared et him; and Master Bardell, in his turn, stared ut everybody.

‘Th) artoalahment ofthe Pickwickians was so absorbing, and tho perplexity of Mr. Pickwick was so extreme, that they might have romainodin exactly the same relative situations until the suspended antmation of the Indy was restored, hal t not been for @ most beautiful and touching expression of fllal affection on the part of her youthful son. Clad {n a tight sult of corduroy spangled with brass buttons of a very considerable size, he at first stood at the door astounded and un- certain; but, by degrees, the Impression that his mother must have suffered some personal damage pervaded his partially-teveloped mind, and, considering Mr. Pickwick as the aggressor, he ect up an appalling and semb-earthly kind of how! lag, and, batting forward with his head, commenced assalling that fmmortal gen. oman about tho back aud legs, with such blows and pinches ss the strength of ‘hls arm and the violence of his excitement allowed.

“Take this litte villaia away!” aald the agonized Mr. Pickwick. “Me's madt*

“1 doo’t know,” replied Mr. Pickwick pettishly. “Take away the boy (here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, screaming and struggling, to the farther end of the apartment), Now help mo to lead this woman down stairs."

“Oh! [am better now,” sald Mrs. Bardell fulntly.

“Let mo lead you down stalre.” sald the ever gallant Mr. Tupman.

“Thank you, sir; thank yout" exclaimed Mrs. Bartell hysterically. And down stairs sho was led accordingly, aosompanted by her affectionate son.

“Teannot conceive," sald Mr. Pickwick, when his friend returncd,—"“I ean- not conceive what has been the matter with that woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of keeping @ man-servant, when she fell into the extraordl- ‘ary paroxysm tn which you found her. Very extraordinary thing!”

Very sald his three friends.

“Placed mo in such an extremely awkward situation,” continued Mr. Pick wick.

+ Very!” was the reply of his followers, as they coughed alightly, and looked dubjoualy at each other.

‘This behavior was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked thelr Incredu- Mty. ‘They evidently suspected him.

After this occurrence Mr. Pickwick engages Samuel Weller as his servant; and the next day they all set out for Eatanswill to observe the incidents attending an election at that borough. The parties there are dirided into two factions, —the Buffs and the Blues.

‘Of course it was exsntially and indlspensably necessary that each of these pow+ erful parties should have its chosen organ and representative; and, accordingly, there were two newspapers In the town,—“ The Eatanswill Gazette" and “The Eatanswill Independent ;" the former advocating Biue principles, wnd the latter con ducted on grounds decidedly Buf. Fine newspapers they were! Such leading ar- Holes, ana tach xplrited attacks !—“ Our worthless contemporary «The Gazette)” That disgraceful and dastardly journal ‘The Independent” “That false and sourrilous print ‘The Independent,” “ That vile and slanderous calumniator The ‘Gaxotte,'”—thooe and other splrit-stireing denunciations were strowa plentifilly ‘ever the columus of each, in every number, and excited feelings of the most \otenye delight and indignation in the bosoms of the town's-people,

‘Mr, Pickwick, with his usual foresight and sagacity, had chosen w peeullarly de

Sbe Plckilet Papers. 61

‘tirable moment for his visit to the borough. Never was such a contest known, The Honorable Samuel S.umkey of Slumkey Hull was the Blue candidate; and Horatio Fizkin, Keq., of Fizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill, had been prevailed upon ty his friends to stand forward on the Huif Interest. “The Gazetto” warned the tlectors of Eatanswill that the eyes, not ouly of England, but of the whole clvil- teed world, were upon them. “The Independent ” imperatively demanded to know ‘whether the constituency of Eatanswill were the grand fellows they bad always taken them for, or base und servile tools, undeserving allke of the name of Eng- lishmen and the blessings of freedom. Never had such a commotion agitated ‘the town before.

Te was late in the evening when Mr. Pickwick and his companions, assisted by ‘Sam, dismounted from the roof of the Eatanewill coach. Large blue «ilk flags ‘were lying from the windows of the Town Arms Inn; and bills were posted in every sash, intimating, in gigantic letters, that the Honorable Samuel Slumkey”s ‘Committee sat there dally. A crowd of idlers wer assembled in the road, look- ing at a hoarse man in the balcony, who was apparently talking himself very red fn the face in Mr. Slumkey’s behalf; Dut the force and polnt of whose arguments ‘were somewhat impalred by the perpetual beating of four large drums, which Mr. Fizkin’s committee had stationed at the strect-corner. There was busy little man beside him, though, who took off his hat at fntervals,and motioned to the people to cheer, which they regularly did, most onthuslastically; and, aa the red- ficed gentleman went on talking till he was redder in the faco than ever, t seemed to answer his purpore quite as well as if anybody had heard him,

‘The Pickwickians had no sooner dismounted than they wore surrounded by = branch mob of the honest and independent, who forthwith set up three deafening cheers, which, being responded to bythe main body (for It" not atall necewsary for crowd toknow what they are cheering about), swelled into tremendous roar of triumph, which stopped even the red-fuced man in the balcony.

“Murrah?” shouted the mob in conclusion.

“One cheer more!” screamed the little fugleman in the balcony; xnd out shout ed the mob again; as if Langs were cast {ron, with atee) works.

“ Slumkey forever!” roared the honest and independent,

“Shumbkey forever!” echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat.

“No Pizkin! " roared the crowd,

“Certainly not! " shouted Mr. Pickwick.

“Harrah!” And then there was another roaring. like that of a whole monnge- the when the elephant has rung the bell for the cold meat,

“Who ts Slumkey ?* whispered Mr. Tupman.

“Edon't know,” replied Mr. Pickwick in the samo tone. “Hush! Don't ask any questions. It%s always best on these occasions to do what the mob do?

“But suppose there aro two mobs,” suggested Mr. Suodgrass.

“Shoat with the largest |” replied Mr. Pickwick,

‘Volumes could not have said more.

While in the country, Mr. Pickwick and his friends think it will pe well to indulge in a little sport, and consequently resolve to go out gunning. Accompanied by Mr. Wardle, they take an open care Fiageand driveoff, Arrived at the grounds, Mr. Pickwick finds him- self too lame to walk, and is much disappointed thereat; but Sam, eaving discovered a wheelbarrow, proposes to give him a free ride

52 Ede Oickens Dictlonary

inthis novel vehicle, which proposition Mr. Pickwick gratefully ac cepts. But here a difficulty arises. The gamekeeper resolutely protests against the introduction into « shooting-party of a gentle man in a barrow, as a gross violation of all established rules and pre« codenta,

‘It was » great objection, but not an turarmountable one, The gamekeeper bav- Ing been ccaxed and feed, and having, moreover, eased his mind by “punching® the head of the tuventive youth who had first suggested the use of the machine, Mr, Pickwick was placed In tt, and off the party set, — Wardle and the long game Keeper leading the way; and Mr. Pickwick in the barrow, propelled by Sam, brings Ing up the rear.

Stop, Sam" said Mr, Pickwick, when they hnd got haif across the first field,

“| What ‘s the matter now ?” said Wardle,

“ T won't suffer this barrow to be moved another step," sald Mr. Pickwick reso lutely, “untoss Winkle oarries that gun of his inn different manner”

‘“ How am Tto carry it?” said the wretched Winkle.

“ Curry it with the muzzle of it to the ground,” replied Mr. Plokwick.

“It’s 60 uneportaman-like," reasoned Winkle.

T don’t care whether it's unsporteman-like, or not,” replied Mr. Pickwick. “T am not going to be shot in a wheelbarrow, for the sake of appearances, to plese anybody."

“Tknow the gentlemax "It put that 'ere chargeinto somebody afore he 'sdane,* growled the long man,

“Well, well, f don’t mind,” said poor Winkle, turning hi gun-ttock upper

“there! ‘Any thin’ for a quiet life,” raid Mr. Weller; and on they went again.

“Stop!” said Mr. Pickwick after they had gone a few yards further.

“What now ?" suid Wardle.

That gun of Tupman’s is not aafe: T know it ent!" aald Mr. Wokwiok.

“Eh? What! not safo?” sald Mr. Tupman in a tone of great alarm.

“ Not as you are carrying tt,” said Mr. Pickwick. “I am very sorry to make any further objections; but I caunot consent to go on unless you carry {tas Wine ele does hts.”

“I think you had better, sir," sald the long gamekeeper, “or you ‘re quite as likely to lodge the charge into your own restoont as in anybody else's."

‘Mr. Tupman, with the most obliging haste, placed his piece In the position re quired, and the party moved on aguin; tho two amature marching with revered arms, like m couple of privates at a royal funeral.

‘The dogs came suddenly to a dead stop; und the party, advancing stealthily « tingle pace, stopped too.

“Whats the matter with the dogs" legs?" whispered Mr. Winkle. “How quecr they *re standing!”

“Hash! can’ you?* replied Wardle softly, “Don’t you see they *re making #

2”

“Making # point} ” sald Mr, Winklo, staring about him, os if he expected to discover some particutar beanty in the landscape, which the sagucions animals wore calling special attention to, —“ making a point! What are they pointing we”

Keep your eyes open,” said Wanile, not heeding the question tn the excite fernt of the moment, “ Now, then!

The Plekinich Papers fis]

‘Toure wus a sharp whirring nolse, that made Mr. Wiukle start back as if le bad been shot himself. Bang, bang, went a-couple of guns, ‘The smoke swept quickly auray over the field, and curled into the air.

“Where are thoy?” anid Mfr. Winkle in a state of the highest excitement, turns fog round and round In all direetions,—"" where are they? ‘fell me when to fre, ‘Where are they ? where are they?”

“Where are they /" sald Wardle, taking up s brace of birds which the dogs head deposited at his foet,—" where are they? Why, liere they are,”

/+No, 80! I mean tho others,” said the bewildered Winkle.

* Bar enough off by this time," replied Wardle, coolly reloading hls gun.

“Weshall very likely be up with another covey ta five minutes," raid the long wamekecporr. “If the gentleman begins to fire now, perhaps he’ just get the ‘shot out of the barrel by the time they riso.”

“Ha, ha, hat" roared Mr. Weller.

“ Sam," raid Mr, Pickwick, compassionating his follower’s confusion and em- barrassment,

46 Bara

Don’ tnngh.”

* Certainly not, str” So, by way of indemnification, Mr. Weller contorted his features from behind the wheelbarrow, for the exclusive amusement of the boy ‘with the leggings, who thereupon burst into » boisterous laugh, and was sum marily cuffed by the long gamckeeper, who wanted a pretext for turning round to hide hls own merriment,

“ old follow!” said Wardle to Mr. Tupman: “ you fired that time, at al frente

“Oh, yos! replied Mr. Tupman with consetous pride, “1 let It off.

“Well dene. You ll bt something next cline If you look sharp. Very easy; anbrate”

©Ab1" sald the old gentleman, smiling. * You ‘ll got used to it In time, Now, then —all ready, all right with the barrow there?!

“All right, air,” replied Mr. Wel

“Come along, then.”

“Hold hard, air,” said Sam. ralsing the barrow.

“Ay, ay!" replied Mr. Pickwick; and on they went as briskly as need be.

# Keep that burrow back. now,” oried Wardle, when it had been hotsted over a sille tnto another field, and Mr. Pickwick had been deposited in It once more.

* All right. xir.” replied Mr, Weller, paneing.

“ Now, Winkle,” suid the olf gentleman, ‘follow me softly, and don’t be tow late this time.”

* Never fear,” ald Mr. Winkle. Are they potnting””

“No. no! not now. Quietly now. quietly.” On they crept, and very quictly hey would have ndvanced, if Mr. Winkle, in the performance of some very intr. gate evolutions with his gun, had not accidentally fired, at the most critical moe ment, over the boy's head, exactly in the very spot where the tall mau’s brain Would have been, had he been there testead.

+ Why, what om earth did you do that for?” sald oid Wardio, ax the birds flew anharmed away.

“1 nuver saw muck a gun in my life!" replied noor Winkle, looking atthelock, as ‘W that would do any good. “It goos off of its ewnscoord. It will do it.”

»

oh Ebe Wickens Mictlonarp.

“Wilt do it! "echoed Wardle, with something of trritation in his manner. *« ‘wish H would kill something of ite own accord”

“Tt de that afore long, alr," observed the tall man tn» low, prophetic ‘voles.

‘“ Never mind, alr, never mind” replied the long gamekeeper, * 1 "ve no family myself, sir; and this here boy's mother will get something handwme from Mir GeotTroy, If he ' killed on his tand. Load again, str; load again”

Toke away hie gual” erlod Mr. Pickwick from the barrow, horrorastricken at the Long nian’s dark Inslauations. “Take away his gun! do you hear, somebody ?*

Nobody, however, volunteered to obey the command; and Mr. Winkle, after Gartings roboltions glance ot Mr. Pickwick, reloaded his gun, and proceeded om. ‘warils with the rest,

‘Wo are bound, on the authority of Mr. Pickwick, to state thnt Mr, Tupman's mode of proceeding evinced far more of prudence and deliberation than that adopted by Ar. Winkle...

Wh the quickness and penetration of a man of gonlus, he had at once observed Ahat the two great points to be attained, were first to discharge his plece without Injury to himself, and, secondly, to do so without danger to the by-standers. ‘Obviously the best thing to do, after surmounting the dimoulty of fring at all, was to shut bis eyes demly, and fire iuto the ar.

On one occasion, after performing this feat, Mr. Tupman, on opening his eyes, beheld « plump partridge In the very act of falling wounded to the ground. He was Just on the potnt of congratulating Wardle on his invariable success, when that geutteman advanced towards him, and grosped him warmly by the hand.

**Tupman,” sald the old gentleman, “you alngled out that particular bird >”

“No, eaid Mr. Tupman, —"' no.”

You did,” sald Wardle. “J saw you do It; T observed you plck him out; 1 notlood you as you raised your pleco to take alm: and I will eay this, that the best shot in existence could not have done it more beautifully, You are an older hand at this than I thought you, Tapman; you have been out before.”

Tt was In vain for Mr. Tupman to protest, with a smile of self-denial, that he nover tad. ‘Tho very «milo was taken as evidence to the contrary; and, from that time forth, his reputation was established. It is not the only reputation that has boon acquired as easily; nor are much fortunate elreumstances confined to partridge- shooting.

‘Moanwhile, Mr. Winklo flashed and blazed and smoked sway without produ. lng any material results worthy of being noted down; sometimes expending his ge in mid-air, and at others sending it ekimming along so noar the aurfice of 1@ ground as to place the lives of the two dogs on n rather uncertain and preca- Hous tenure. Ax a display of fancy-shooting. it wasextremely varied and eurlous; # an exhibition of firing with any precise object, it was, upon the whole, porhsps efailure. . 4.

“Well,” ead Wardle, walking up to the side of the barrow, and wiping the streains of perspiration from his jolly red fuoe; * emoking day, is n't it?”

“Ils, tmiced,” replied Mr. Pickwick. “The sun is tremendously hot, even te sme, T don’t know how you must fool ft"

“ Why," sald the old gentleman, “ pretty hot. It's past twelve, thongh. Yow ‘bee that green hill (hero ?””

“Certatnly

“That % the pilace whgre we are tolanch ; and, by Jove! theres the Doy with the basket, punctual as tlock-work.”

Ede Pickwick Papers. iid

“Sohe ls,” said Mr. Pickwick. brightening up. “Good boy, that. Ill give hi ‘fs shilling presently. Now, then, Sam, wheel away.”

‘Hold on, sir?” exid Mr. Weller, invigorated with the prospect of refreshments, “Out of the vay, young leathers! If you walley my precious life don’t upsot me, & the geo'l'man sald to the driver when they was a-carryin’ him to Tybarn.” And, quickening his pace to w sharp run, Mr. Weller wheeled his master to the Freon hill, shot him dexterously out by the very aide of the basket, and proceeded lars tt aa

“© A wery good notion of a lunch It ts, take It altogether," anid Mr. Weller, #ur- ‘veylag tile of the repast with great satisfnotion. “Now, gen'l'mex, ‘fall on,’ as the English eald to the French when they fixed bagginets.”

At needed no #eoond Suvitation to induce the party to yield full Justice to the seal and as Little pressing did it require to induce Mr. Weller, the long gumckeoper, ‘aad the two bors, to station themselves on the grass at a little distance, and to do Pod execution upon m decent proportion of the visnds, An old onk-tres afforded ‘& pleasant shelter to the group; aud a rich prospect of arable aud meadow land, fotersected with luxuriant hedges, and richly ornamented with wood, lay spread ‘eut before them.

“This &4 delightful, thoroughly delightful!” said Mr. Pickwick, the skin of whore expressive countenance was rapidly peeling off with exporure to the ean.

“Ro ft ix, 0 It Is, old fellow 1" replied Wardl

“Come, a glass of punch.”

Good” said Mr, Pickwick, smacking his lips,—" very good! I'l take another. Cool, very evol. Come, gentlemen,” continued Mr. Pickwick, still retaining tle ‘bold mpon the Jar, “+m tonst; ‘Our friends at Dingley Dell.)"

‘The toast was drunk with loud acclamutions,

“211 toll you what I hall do to get up my shooting again,” eald Mr. Winkle,

who was eating bread and ham with apocket-knife. “Ill put a stuffed jartridgo ‘on the top of a post, and practise at It, beginning mt m short distance, amt length. ening it by degrees. T understand it “s a capital practice.”

“Tknow s gen’l’man, sir,” «nid Mr, Weller, ‘aa did that, and bogun at two yards: but be never tried it on ngin; for he blowed the bird right clean away at ‘the firvt fire, and nobody ever seed a feather on him arterwards.”

“ Sam" eald Mr, Viokwick.

Sir," replied Mr. Weller.

™ Have the goodness to reserre your anecdotes till they are called for.”

Cert aly, ale.”

‘More Mr. Weller winked the eye which was not concealed by the beer-ean be was raising to his Hips, with such exquisite fucetionsess, that the two boys went spontaneous convulsions; and eren the long man condescended to srnile.

4 Well, that certalaly ix most capital eold punch,” said Mr. Pickwick, looking earnestly at the stone bottle; “nnd the day is extremely warm, and—Tupman, my dear friena, a glass of punch ?”

“With the grentest delight,” replied Mr. Tupman:; and, having drunk that glas Mr. Pickwick took another, just to see whether thero was any orange-peel in the aneh, because orangepecl always disagreed with him; and, finding st there ‘was not, Mr. Piokwick took another glass to the health of thelr absent friend, and shee felt Bimself inperatively called upon to propose ayother in honor of the panch-compounder,

; unknown.

. 66 The Dickens Dictionary.

‘This constant succession of glasses produced considerabie effect upon Mr. Pickwick; lis countenance beamed with the most sunny amis; laughter played ‘around hile lip; and good-humorod merriment twinkled in his eye. Yielding ‘by degroce to the influence of the exciting liquid, rendered more so by the heat, ‘Mr. Pickwick expressed a strong desire to recollect a song which he had heard in ‘his Infancy, and, the attempt proving abortive, songlt to stimnlate his memory ‘with more glasses of punch, which appeared to hare w quite contrary effect; for, ‘fom forgetting the words of the song, he began to forget how to articulate any ‘words ut aif; and finally, after rising to his legs to addross the company in an sloquent speech, be fell into the barrow, nnd fast asleep simultaneously.

‘Tho basket having been repacked, and St being found perfectly impossible to awaken Mr. Piekwiek from his torpor, some discussion took place whether It ‘would be Better for Mr. Weller to wheel his master back again, or to leave him where be was antil they should be nll ready to return. ‘The latter couren was at Jength decided oa; and as thelr further expedition was not to exeeed mn hour's daration, and as Mr. Weller begged very bard to be one of the party, it was do- termined to leave Mr. Pickwick asleep in the barrow, and to eall for him on thelr return, So away they went, leaving Mr. Pickwick snoring most comfortably in the shade.

‘That Mr, Pickwick would have continue! to anore in the shade until his friends came tack, or, tn Gefhult thereof, until the shades of evening had fallen om the tandscape, there appears no reasonable cause to doubt; always eupposing that be bad been waifered to remain there in peace. But he was not suffered to resoain there In peace. And this Is what prevented him,

Captain Boldwig was a litte fierce man ina stiff black neckerchief and blue surtout, who, when he did condescend to walk about his property, did it in com- pany with a Udek rattan stick with a brass ferule, and a gardener and sub-garden- ‘ee With meek ficos, to whom (the gardeners, not the stick) Captain Doldwig gave his orders with all due grandeur and ferocity; for Captaln Boldwig's wife's sister bad warried a marquis, and the captain's house was a villa, snd his land grounds; and it was all very high and mighty and great.

Mr. Pickwiek nd not been aaleep half an hour, when little Captain Roldwig, folk dowed by the turo gardeners, came striding along 28 fast aa his alze and importance would let him; and, when he came near the cak-tree, Captain Boldwig paused, ‘and drew long breath, and looked at the prospect, as if he thought the prospeot waght to be highly gratified wt having him to take notice of it; and then he struck Lye growed omphationlly with his stick, and summoued the head-gardener,

* Yoo, #ify" sald the gardener.

# 2holl this place tomorrow moraing. Do you hear, Hunt?”

Yew, abr.”

“And take cure that you keep me this place in good order. Do you heat,

” nos aap

Ami remind me to have = board done about trespassers and spring-guna, ued all that wort of thing, 10 keep the common people out. Do you hear, Hunt; te yon hear?

1M mo Gorge Un, ar

% 1 beg suut parton, slr,” sald the other man, advancing, with bis hand te

‘6 Well, Witkin, what the matter with pou? * sald Captain Boldwig. ‘A beg your parton, st; dat I Oink there have been trespassers here to-day *

| # Hal” said the captain, scowling around him. “Yes, slr. ‘They have been dining here, I thisk, str.”

“Why, damn thelr audacity! eo thoy hare," said Captain Bohterlg, we the cx wmbs Eos an chen sheen the grass met his eye. “They have beea Sooo gl nin oretvapse Twish had the vagabonds here!” said the

the thick stick,

“I wih T had the vagabond here! said the captain wrathfull. ty wie ald Wilkins; «but "—

‘Bot wat? Eh?” ronred tow coptate; and, following the thald glance of ‘Wilktas, lis eyes encountered the wheelbarrow and Mr. Pickwick, “Whore you, you rascal?” auld the captaln, adwministering several pokes to ‘Mr. Pieckwick’s body with tho thick stick. “* What's your namo?"

“Cold punch,” murmured Mr. Pickwick as he sunk to sleep again.

“+ Whist ? demanded Captain Boldwig.

‘No reply.

“What did be say his mame was?” asked the captain,

“Punch, I think, sir,” replied Wilkins.

“Thats his tmpudence : that's hls confounded Impadenoo!” wld Captaln Bold wig. “Hes only feigning to be asleep now," aald the captain in w high passion. “Mo% arunk; lio’ & drunken plebeian. Wheel him away, Wilkins; wheel him sway directly.”

“Where shall I whee! him to, sir?” inquired Wiikins with great timidgy.

“Wrheel him to the Devil," replied Captain Boldwig.

‘accordingly.

“Wheel him!” said the captain,—‘* wheel him to the pound; and let us see ‘whether he calls himself Punch when he comes to himself. He shall not bully sat: he shall not bully me! Wheel him away!”

Awny Mr, Pickwick was wheeled in compliance with this tmpertous mandate; ‘and the great Captain Boldwig, swelling with indignation, proceeded on his walk.

-was the astonishment of the little party when they returned, to ‘find that Mr. Pickwick had disappeared, and taken the wheelbarrow with his, ‘Tr was the most mysterious and unaccountable thing that was ever heard of. Fora Jamie man to have got wpon bis legs without any previous notice, and walked off, ‘would have been most extraordinary; but when it came to his wheeling a beavy ‘barrow before him, by way of amusement, It grew positively miraculous. ‘They searched every nook and corner round, togvther and separately: they shouted. ‘whistled, taughed, called, and all with the cane result. Mr. Pickwick was not to be found; and, after some hours of fruitiess search, they arrived at the unwel ‘come conclusion, that they muat go home without him.

“Meanwhile Mr. Pickwick tiad been wheeled to the pound, and saftly deposited therein. fast asleep in the wheelbarrow, to the immeasurable delight and satisfac tion, not oniy of all ya iv the village, but three-fourths of the whole popula- tion, who had gathered round in expectation of hix waking. If their moat In tenes grutifeation tad been awakened by secing him wheeled tn, how many ‘aundred-fold was thelr joy Increased. when, after a few indistinet cries of “Sam! Std barrow, and gazed with indescribable astonishment on the faces

‘before film |

“A general shout was, of course, the signal of his having woke up; and his te voluntary loguiry of “What's the matter?" oocasloned another, louder than the

deat, If powsible,

“Heros a game!” roared the populace.

“Where ain 12" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick,

“In the pound,” replied the mob.

“How came I here? What was Tdolng? Where was T brought from?”

“ Boldwig —Cap'ain Boldwig,” was the oaly reply.

“Let me oct!" cried Mr, Pickwick, “Where's my servant? Where ars my friends ?"*

“You aut got no friends, Hurrah!” And then there came turnip, and thes & potato, and then an egg, with » few other little tokens of the playful disposition of the many-headed.

‘How long this scene might have lasted, or how much Mr. Pickwick might have suffered, no one can tell, hind not » earriage, which was driving swiftly by, sudden fy pulled up, from whence there descended old Wardle and Sam Weller, the for- mer of whom, in fir less time than {¢ takes to write {t, If not to read it, had made ils way to Mr, Pickwick’s side, and placed him In the vehicle, Just a tbe lat ter had concluded the third and Ist round of w single combat with the town deadle.

* Run to the Justice's,” cried s dozen of roloes.

“Ab, run nvay!” said Mr. Weller, Jumping up on the box. “Give my com. pliments— Sr. Veller's compliments —to the Justice, and tell him I?ve spoiled bis beadio, and that, if boil evear in ® new ‘an, (il come back agin to-morrow ‘and spoil him, Drive on, old feller:

“Dll give directions for the commencement of an action for false imprison ment against this Captain Boldwig directly I get to London," ¢aid Mr. Pickwick, ‘8s 4000 as the carriage turned out of the town.

«We were trespassing, it seems,” said Wardle.

“I don't care,” sald Mr. Pickwick: ~41/M bring the action."

“No, you won't,” sald Wardle,

“Lwillby”— But, as there was a humorous expression in Wardle’s face, Mr. Pickwick checked himself, and said,“ Why not?”

"Because," sald old Wardle, half bursting with laughter, because they might tarn round on some of us, and aay we had taken too much cold punch.”

Do what he would, « «mile would come into Mr. Pickwick’s fuoe; the smile ex- tended {nto # laugh, tho laugh into w roar, and the roar became geueral. So, to keep up thelr good-humor, they stopped at the first roadside tavern they came to, and ordered a glase of brandy and water all round, with m magnum of extra strength for Mr, Samuel Weller.

A serious trouble, however, is in store for Mr. Pickwick. One morning, his servant hands him a letter in a strange hand.

“Tdon't know this hand," sald Mr, Pickwick, opening the letter, “Merey on ua} what's this? It must be njest: it—it—ean't be true”

“What's the matter?” was the general inquiry,

“Nobody dead, ts there?” said Wardle, alarmed at the horror in Mr. Pick wicks countenance.

‘Mr. Pickwick made no reply, but puthing the letter acroes the table, and desin {ng Mr. Tupman to read tt aloud, fell back in his chalr with = look of vacant a» Jonlshment quite wlarming to behold.

‘Mr. Tupman, with a trembling voles, read the letter, of which the following ts aoopyi—

Ele Pcki'ck Papers 59

Parecax's Corr, Commerit, Aug: 2 1500 BARDELL. AGAXET PICKWICK.

Sim, —Haying been fnstracted by Mrs. Martha Bardell to commence wn nection ‘against you for a breach of promise of marriage, for which the plaintlf lays hee damages at fifteen hundred pounds, we beg to Inform you that writ has been it sued against you in this suit, in the Court of Common Mens; nud request to know, by return of post, the name of your attorney in London who will accept service tucreof,

We are, sir, ‘Your obedient servants, Dopson awn Fooo, Me. Samuel Phobvwick,

‘Mr, Pickwick is for some time inclined to think the letter a joke merely; but he is reminded of the fact, that, on one occasion. he was seen with Mrs. Bardell in his arms, endeavoring to soothe her an- guish. Finding himself the * victim of circumstances,” and soeing that the case is likely to be a serious one, he secks his solicitor in London, who engages to retain Serjeant Snubbin, an advocate whois “at the very top of his profession,” and “leads the court by the nose.” ‘The case comes on in due time; and, on the morning of the trial, Mr. Pickwick, being escorted into court, stands up in agitation, and takes a glance around him.

There were already a pretty large sprinkling of spectators in the gallery, and m numerous muster of gentlemen In wigs in the barristers? seats, who presented, as ‘a body, ail that pleasing and extensive variety of nose and whiskers for which tho bar of England is 0 Justly celebrated. Sach of the gentlemen as had got a brief to carry carried it iu a8 conspicuous ® manner ax postible, and occasionally scratched thelr noses therewith, to impress the fact more strongly on the observay ‘tom of the epectators. Other gentlemen, who had no briefs to show, carried under thelr arms goodly octavos, with red Inbel behind, and that under-dane-ple- emust-colored cover, which Is technically known as*law calf." Others, who had neither briefs nor books, thrust their hands Into thelr pockets, and looked as wiee ‘as they could. The whole, to tho great wonderment of Mr. Pickwick, were divided foto little groups, who were chatting, and discussing the news of the day in the ‘most unfeeling manner possible, Just as if no trial at all were coming on.

A loud ery of “Silence!” announced the entrance of the Judge, who was most

short, and so fut, that he seemed all face and walstcout. He rolled in pon two little turned legs; and having bobbed to the bar, who bobbed to him, put his little legs underneath his table, and his little three-cornered hat upon its Keensation was then perceptible iu the body of the court; and immediately after- ‘wards Mrs, Uardell, the plalutli. mpported by Mrs. Cluppins, her bosom-frlend number one, was led in ina drooping state. An extrasized umbrella wax then ‘banded in by Mr. Dodson, and a pat- of pattens by Mr, Fogg (Dodson and Fogg teing the plalntii™ attorneys), each of whom had prepared @ aympathizing and uelancholy face for the occasion, Mrs. Sanders. bosom-frlend number two, then uppenred, leading In Master Bardell, whom she placed on the floor of the court In front of his hysterical mother, commanding position, in which he could not ‘fall to awaken the aympathy of both Judge and jury. This was not done without

0 She Michens ict

ht

sonsiderable opposition on the part of the young gentleman himself, who had

“Lum for the plaluthf, my lord,” sald Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. Counr.—* Who is with you, Brother Buxfuz?” Mr. Skimpin bowed, to intimate that he was. “T appear for the defendant, my lord,” sald Mr. Serjeant Snubbin. Courr.—“ Anybody with you, Brother Saubbin?” “Mr, Phunks, my Jord.” : Covnr.—“Go on.” Mr, Skimpln proceeded to “open the caso; and the caso mppeared to have ‘very little inside it when he had opened {t, for he kept such particulars as he knew to himself.

Serjeant Buxfox thon rose with all the majesty and dignity which the grave na ture of the proceedings demanded, and having whispered to Dodson, and conferred: briefly with Fogg, pulled his gown over his shoulders, settled bis wig, and ad> dressed the Jury,

‘Serjoant Buszfue began by saying, that never, in the whole course of his profes- slonal experience, —nerer, from the very first moment of his mppllying himself to the study and practice of the law, had he approached # ease with such a heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon him,—a responsibility he could never have supported, were he not buoyed up and sustained by # conviction, so strong that itamounted to positive certainty. that the eause of truth and Justice, or, in other words, the cause of his much-inured and most-oppreseed cllent, must pre- vail with the high-minded and intelligent dozen of men whom he now saw in that box before him.

‘Counsel always begin In this way, because it puts the juryon the best terms with themeetres, and makes them think what sharp fellows thry must be. A visi- ble effect was produced immodiately; veveral Jurymen beginning to take volurnle nous noten.

“You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen,” contluned Serjeant Buxtuz, well knowing, that, from the learned friend alluded to, the gentlemen of the jury had heard nothing at all,—“ yon have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen, that this isan action for m breach of promise of marriage, in which the damages are laid at one thousand five hundred pounds. But you hare not heart from my learned friend, inustnuch w¥ it ald not come withia my learned friend's province to tell you, what are the facts and cireamsances of this case. ‘Those frets and circumstances, gentlemen, you shall hear detailed by me, and proved by the unimpeachable female whom I will place In that box before you.

“The plaintlif it a widow; yes, gentlemen, m widow, ‘The late Mr. Mardell, afer enjoying for many years the esteem and confidence of his sovereign, as one of the qusrdians of his roynl revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the World to seek elsewhere for that repove and peace which e oustom-house ean never afford."

‘This was a pathetic description of the decease of Mf. Bardell, who nd been knocked on the head with a quart-pot In a publie-house cellar.

“Some time before Mr. Bardell’s death he had stamped his Hkeness upon a It Heboy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mra. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Gos ‘well Street; nnd here she placed fa her front-parlor window a written placard cenring this inseription; ‘Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within!” Here Serjesnt Buzfuz paused, while several gentlemen of the Jury took a note of the docement.

Ebe Pchwick Papers. 61

“There is no date to that, is thero, sir?” inquired a juror.

“There ia no date, geatlemen ; but Fam instructed to xay that It was put in the Pinintiit's parior-window just this time three years. Now E entreat the attention Df the jury to the wording of this document: ‘Apartments furnished for a single gentleman’! ‘Mr, Bardell,’ raid the widow, —*Mr, Bardelt was a man of houor; Mr. Bardell was «man of his wont; Mr. Bardell was no deceiver; Mr, Bardell was once a aingle gentleman himself; a single gentlemen I shall perpetually eee something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was when he first won my young and untried affections; to a single gentleman shall my lodgings be let? Actuated by this Beautiful and touching impale (amoug the best Impulses of our Imperfect mature, gentlemen), the desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her firet tloor, ‘taught her iunocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up In her parlor» ‘window, Did it remain therelong? No. Before the bili had been ia the parlor ‘winds w three days, —three days, gentlemen,—a being erect upon two legs, and ‘bearing all the ontward semblance of m man, and not of m monster, knocked mt Mrs, Bardell’s door. He inquired within; he took the lodgings; and on the tery ‘ext day he entered into possession of thera, ‘This man was Mekwlck,—Pick- wiekthe defendant.”

Serjeant Buzfux here paused for breath, ‘The silence awoke Mr. Justioe Stare Jeigh, who immediately wrote down something with a pen without any fnk in tt, ‘und looked unusually profound, to fmpress the Jury with the belief that he always ‘thought mont deeply with hls eyes shut.

“Of this man Pickwick I will say little: the subject presents but few attrac tions; aud T, gentlemen, am notthe man, nor are you, guntlemen, the men, to de- light in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness and of systematic villany.”

‘Here Mr. Pickwick, who had been writhing in silence, gave a violent start,as if tome vague ides of assaulting Serjeunt Buxfuz, in the august presence of Justios and law, suggested itself to his mind.

“Tsay systematic villany, gentlemen,” sald Serjeant Buzfaz, looking through Mr. Pickwick, and talking af him; “and, when I say systematic villany, let me tell the defendant, Pickwiek.—if he be in court, as Iam informed he ts,—that it ‘would have been more decent in him, more becoming, in better Judgment, and in ‘Detter torte, if he hnd stopped away.

“«T shiall show you, gentlemen, that, fortwo years, Pickwick continued to reside, without interruption or intermission, nt Mrs. Bardell’s house. I shall ehow you, that on many occasions ho gave halfpence, and on some occasions even sixpences, toher little boy; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony it ‘Will be imposalble for my learned friend to weaken or controvert, that, on one oo tasion, be patted the boy on the head, and, after inyuiring whether he had wou any alley fors ox commoneye lately (both of which I understand (o be @ particular species of marbles much prized by the youth of this town), made use of this re- markable expression: * How should you like to have another father?? I shall prove to you, gentlemen, on the testhmony of throe of his own friends, — mot Snwilling witnesses, gentlemen, moxt unwilling witnesses, —that on that marn- ‘Ing he was discovered by them holding the plaintlif in his arms, and soothing her agitation by hls earesses and endearments.

* And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two lotters hare paased between these parties, —letters which ars admitted to be in the handwriting of the defend- ‘ant, Let mo read the firet;—* Garraway’s, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B.—Chops and tomato-suuce. Yours, Pickwick. Gentlemen, what does this mean? (Chops! Gracious hearens! and tomato-aauce! Gentlemen, és the happiness of a wns'tirs and confiding female to be trifled away by vuch shallow artillews as these t

6

mm

62 Ede Dickens Wictlonary.

‘The next has no date whatever, which ls In iteelf suspicious. * Dear Mrs. B., 1 shall not be st home till to-morrow. Slow cosch.’ And then follows this very re

#0 earnestly entreated not to agitate herself sbout this warming-pan, unless It is, i otelnay sc ears ok Bresreckes: Sooke penned some @n- dearing word or promise, ngreeably to a proconcerted system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Plokwick with a view to lis contemplated desertion, and ‘which Tam not in a condition to explain?

“Enough of thts, My clivat's hopes and prospects are ruined. But Pickwick,

— Vickwiok, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis inthe desert

‘of Goswell Strvet, — Pickwick, who has choked up the woll, and thrown aahes om

the award, — Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with hls heartless tomato

sauce and warming-pans,— Pickwick still rears his head with unblashing effrons

tory, aud gazes without a sigh on the rufa he has made, Damages, gentlemen,

heavy damages, aro the only punishment with which you ean ylait him, the only

Tecompense you cau award to my client. And for those damages she now appeals

toan enlightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, a conscieatious, adispassionate, ‘eaympathizing, a contemplative Jury of her elrillzed countrymen.”

‘With this beantiful peroration, Mr. Serjesnt Buzfus eat down, and Mr, Justios Starcleigh woke np.

+ Call Milzabeth Cluppins," sald Serjeant Buzfus, rising « minute afterwards, with renewed vigor.

“Do you recollect, Mr¥. Clapplas,—do you recollect betng in Mrs. Bardeli's Yack one pair of stairs on one particular morning 1a July last, when she was dust- Ang Vickwick’s npartment ?”

“Yes, my lord and Jury, To.”

Sr, Plokwlok’s sitting-room was the first-floor front, T believe? ™

“ Yes, it were, sir.”

Counr.—" What were you dolng In the backroom, ma’am ?””

“My Jord and Jury, I will not deosive you,"

Count, —* You had better not, mavam.”

“Twas there anbeknown to Mra. Bardell. Thad been out with» little basket, fentlemen, to buy three pound of red kidney purtaties, which was three pound tuppense ha'penny, when Taco Mrs. Bardell’s street door on the Jar.”

‘Courr. —* On the what?”

“Partly open, my lord."

Counr.—* She said on the Jar”

* It's all the same, my lord."

‘The little judge looked doubtful, and «aid he ‘d make » note of {t,

“Twalked in, gentlemen, just to say good-mnornin’, and went In m permiscuows manner up ateirs, and Into the backroom. Gentlemen, there wae the sound of rolces In the front-room, and” —

And you listened, I believe, Mre. Cluppins ?”

“ Heggin’ your pardon, sir, 1 would scorn the baction, ‘The voloes was very food, sir, and foreed themselves upon my ear”

Mrs. Cluppins. you were not listening, But you heard the voles, Waa vroloee Pickwiok’s?™

And Mrs. Clappins, after distinctly stating that Mr. Pickwick addressed himsei? fo Mrs, Bardell, repented by slow degrees, and by dint of many questions, the woreraation she had heard. Which, like many other conversations repeated am

She Pickwick B,

rs. 63

er vach clroumstances, or, Indeed, like many other converastions repeated under Se ae possible importance in itself, ‘Mrs. Clappins,

‘way proceeded to inform the court that she was the mother of eight children at ‘that present speaking, and that she entertained confident expectations of

tng Mr. Clapping with a ninth somewhere about that day alx months. At this _ literesting potnt, the little Judge interpoeed most irascibly; and the worthy lady "was taken out of court.

“Nathaniel Winkle! sald Mr. Skimpin,

“Here!” Mr, Winkle entered the witnese-box, and, haring been duly swarm, bowed to tho judge, who acknowledged the compliment by saying, —

‘Counr, —" Don’t look at me, sir; look at the Jury."

Me. Winkle obeyed the mandate, and looked at the place where he thought the dary might be.

‘Mr. Winkle was then examined by Mr. Skimpin.

“Now, str, have the goodness to let bis lordship and the jury know what your ‘nani 4s; will you?” Mr. Skimpin fnelined his head on one aide, and lstened with rear sharpness for the nnswer, as if to imply that he rather thought Mr. Win le’s natural taste for perjury would induce him to give some name which did not

belong to him, Winkle." Covrr.—“Have you any Christian name, sir?” “Nathaniel, sir” Courr.—“ Daniel,—any other name?”

Nathaniel, sir, my lord, I moan." Covnr.—:"' Nathaniel Daniel, of Dante! “No, my lord, only Nathaniel; not Daniel at all.” Covnr.—* What did you tell me it was Daniel for, theny alr?” “Tid w°t, my ford.”

Cownr.—“You did, str. How could I have got Daniel on my notes unless you told me so, sir?”

“Mr. Winkle has rather a short memory, my lord: we shall find means to re frosh it before we have quite done with him, daresay. Now, Mr. Winkle, attend tome, if you please, alr; and let me recommend you to be careful. I believe you ‘are a particular friend of Pickwick the defendant; are you not?

“TL have known Mr. Pickwick now, as well as T recollect at this moment, carly” —

“Pray, Mr, Winkle, de not evade the question. Are you, orare you not, a par Healar friend of tho defendant's?”

was Junt about to any that” —

Will you, or will you not, answer my question, sir?”

Coven.—“If you dow’t answer the question, you ‘ll be committed to prison, an

“Yeu: Tam”

“Yes; youre. And could n't you say that st once, slr? Perhaps you know the Walnsifl too? Eh, Mr. Winkle?”

*Kdon't know her; but I've xen her.”

“Ot you don’t know her; bur you *ve seen he: Now hare the goodness to tell the gestiemen of the Jury what you mean by that, Mr. Winkle”

“A imean that fem not intimate with ber, but that I have seen her when J went \o call om Mr. Pickwick in Goswell Street.”

64 Ebe Dickens Dictlonacy.

“How often have you seen her, ale?” “How often?” “Yea, Mr. Winkle, how often? I‘ repeat the question for you & doven

air ay eee ee ee

‘aked whether be hed n't seen her a hundred times; whether he could n't sweag that he had seen her more than fifty times; whether he did n°t kuow that he bad ween her at least sereuty-fve times; and so forth.

“ Pray, Mr. Winkle, #9 you remember calling on the defendant Pickwick, at these apartments im the plalatiff’s house in Goswell Street, on one particular morning i the month of July last?”

“Yes; No"

“Were you accompanied on that occasion by a friend of the name of Tupman, und another of the name of Snodgrass?”

“Yes; Twas?

Ave they bere?”

Yeu; they sre," tooking rery earnestly towards the spot where his friends were atiead. © Pray atbend tome, Mr. Winkle, and never mind your friends,” wit an ex- pressive look at the Jury, ‘They must tell their stories without any previons eon- ‘sakation with yoa, nome has yet taken place" (another lookat the jury). “Now, tir, tell the gentlowen of the Jury what you saw on entering the defendant's room ca this partiewlar moruing. Come, out with It, oir: we must have it sooner ecbter”

The defeedtant, Mr, Pickwick, was holding the plaintiff (m bis arms, with his ams clasping leer walat; and the plaintiff appeared to have falnted away.”

deard him call Mes. Barvell a good creature; and I heard him ask her to sumpose herself, foe what a situation it was if anybody should come, —or words to that eset.”

=Now, Mr, Winkle, [ hare only one more question toask you. Will you under. take to swenr that Pickwiek the defendant did not say,on the occasion In ques om, “My dear Mrs. Bantoll, you "re a good creature; compose yourself to this alt- cation, foe Wo this situation you must come,’ —or words to thad effect ?””

“T= Ldbd Wt understand him eo certainly. Iwas on tho stairease, and could aN hear dintinetly : the linpressice om my mind is” —

“The gentlemen of the Jury want Bowe of the impressions on your mind, Mr. Whnkde, whied I fear, would be of hittle service to howest, straightforward men. ‘Con were om th Htalrease, and lid n't distinetly hear; bat you will not swoar that SPkwhok did mot make we of the expressions I hare quoted? So I understand

aah

Nios Kw mot?

++ You way ivare the box, sir.

‘Tyee Tupmenn and Augurtes Soedgracs were severally called Into the cox: WHR cueredorated tbe tostimemy of their unhappy friend; sod each was driven te ee Wenge of deaporathin by excessive badgering.

‘Sweawnah Sanders war then called, and examined by Sexjeant Buzfuz, and Aeosrennmitund hy Secjomet Suubbin, Had aluays said and believed that Pick- ‘plea woeld warty Mrs. Bardell, Knew that Mrv. Bardetl’s being ongaged to Picts

She Pickinick Papers.

wick was the current tople of conressation In the neighborhood after tho fainting InJoly. Hd heard Pickwick ask the little boy how he should like to have anoth ‘er father. Did pot know that Mrs. Bardell was at that time keeping company ‘with the baker, but did know that the baker was then s ingle man, and is now married. Thought Mrs. Bardell fainted away on the morning in July, because Plekwick asked her to name the day; knew that she (witness) falnted away atone dead when Mr. Sanders asked Aer to name the day, and belleved that anybody as called herself s indy would do the same under similar ciroumstances. During the yerlod of her keeping company with Mr. Sanders, she had received love-letters, Uke other ladies. In the courve of thelr correspondence Mr. Sanders had often ‘alled hers “duck;" but he had never called her “chops,” nor yet “tomato: anon

‘Serjeant Buzfux now rose with more importance than he had yet exhibited, 1f that were possible, and aafd, “Call Samuel Weller.”

‘Ie was quite unnecessary to call Samuel Weller; for Samuel Weller stepped into the box the instant his name was pronounced; and placing hie hat or the floor, and his arms on the rail, took a bird's-eye view of the bar and a compreben- alve survey of the bench, with a remarkably cheerful and lively aspect.

Cover. —“ What 's your name, air?"

“Sam Weller, my lord.”

Cover. —“ Do you spell {t with a ‘'V,’ or with aw?”

“That depends upon the taste and fancy of the speller, my lord. I never had ‘occasion to spell it more than once or twice in my life; but I spells it with a¢V/"

‘Mere a voice in the gallery exclaimed, “Quite right too, Samivel; quite right. ny daciamaprin he ge Saher Seep tad

‘Courr.—“ Who is that who dares to address the court? Usher.”

“Yes, my lord."

‘Covnr.—“ Bring that person here instantly.”

“Yea, my lont”

Bot, as the usher did n't find the person, he did n't bring him; and, after a great ‘commotion, all the people who had got up tolook for the culprit sat down again, ‘The little Judge turned to the wituess as soon as his Indignation would allow him to speak, and said,—

Cover. —“ Do you know who that was, air?™

* Trayther suspect it war my father, my lord”

Courr.—" Do you sce him here now?”

‘Sam stared up Into the Inntern tn the roof of the court, and sald, “Wy, no, my lord, I can’t eay that I do eee him at the present moment.”

‘Courr. —“«If you could have pointed him out, I would have sent him to Jail

”

Sam bowed his acknowledgments.

“Now, Mr. Weller,” said Serjeant Buzfuz.

“Now, alr”

‘** [believe you are tn the service of Mr. Pickwick, the defendant in this case. Speak up, if you please, Mtr. Weller.”

“Tmean fo «peak up, slr. I am tn the service ° that ‘ere gen'i'man, and = ery good service It Is”

“Little to do, and plenty to got, I suppose?”

“Ohi quite enough to get, «ir, a4 the soldier sa'd ven they ordered him three ‘wundred and fifty lashes.”

‘Court.—“You must not tell ux what the soldier sald, unless the soldier it ‘wcourt, and ts examined in the usual way it 's not evidence.”

Lod

eS) Sy a ee =e > See a Sle eR ae Ge Tiel, eb, =

Ne en ea ee”

ee SE pe Wek Ser me SG praise of the hon- oe ee Re, See ant Tgp Se ater Sor the plalatldf, Aid —

~ So ee TE oe ig I Tas o/ them te Rave taken up the —— eh RY ania as all Se eves unless they got ‘em out of > o—_—

<2 eee eee, sae eek, acteempting tm get af any evidence through the ete ee Sa wren. I will mat trouble the court by eaking him eee ce, Semen i Tet my cae, sy lord”

Sent eka Seer ie Jury um bedalf of tho defendant, and ald eee eee >. Deteweek; all the best, as everybody knows, could do

——_ . Dect Seewteigh momen ap fs the old-entablished form. He read as

ee eS mee Wen Jury an Sew coma deviphes om 20 short a notice; he did a je cond BY make oat ; and be made running comments ov

=e ee ee ee eg Bandell were rig't, it was perfectly c'eet

Sde Pichwiek Papers.

Mr. Pickwick was wrong, and, If they thought the evidence of Mrs. Cluppins wor: thy of credence, they would believe it; and if they didn’t, why, they would n't.

‘The jary then retired to thelr private room to talk the matter over, wad the Judge retired to Ais private room to refresh himself with a mutton-chop and a glass of sherey.

‘An anxious quarter of an hour elapsed; the Jury came back; and the Judge was ‘Stched in. Mr, Pickwick put on his spectacles, and gazed at the foroman,

“Gentlemen, are you all agreed upon your verdict ?”

Stoo ros tal fa is petit, ntlemen oe Sa Uafdend?™”

‘fifty pounds.

Mr. Pickwick took aif his spectacles, carefully wiped the glasses, folded them Into tho caso, aud pat thom in bis pocket; then having drawn on his gloves with ‘great nicety, aud atared at the foreman all the while, he mechanically followed Mr. Porker and the blue bag out of court,

‘Thoy stopped in a side-room while Perker paid the court-focs; and here Mr. Pickwick was Joined by his friends. Here, too, he encountered Messrs. Dodson wod Fogg, rabbing their hands with every token of outward satisfaction,

“ Well, gentlemen,” sald Mr. Pickwick.

“Well, sir,” sald Dodson, for self and partner.

“You imagine you 'll gut your costs; don’t you, gentlemen?” sald Mr. Plckwiek.

‘Fogg said they thought it rather probable; and Dodson smiled, and sald they"

“You may try and try, and try agnin, Messrs, Dodson and Fogg,” eald Me. Pickwick vehemently; ~bat not one farthing of costs or damages do you ever get from me, if EL xpund the rext of my existence in a debtor's prison,”

“Ha, ha!” said Dodson, “ you ‘ll think botter of that before next term, Br. Pickwick”

“Ike, ut, hot we ‘il xoon soe about that, Mr. Pickwick,” grinned Fomg- ‘Speechless with indignation, Mr, Pickwick allowed himscif to bo led by his soll- ‘hiur and friends to the door, and there assisted into a huckney-coach, which had ‘been fetched for the purpose by the evor-watchful Sam Weller. ‘Sam had put up the steps, and was preparing to Jump on the box, when he felt ‘gently touched on the shoulder; and his father stood before him.

4 Samirel, the gov'nor ought to have boon got olf with aalleybl. Ve got Tom ‘Vildspark off o that ‘ere manslaughter (that come of hard driving), vith a alleybl, ‘ven all the big vigs to a man sald as nothing could n't save him. I know'd whas ‘ud come 0” this here way 0’ doin’ bisniss, © Sammy, Sammy! ry worn’t there a siteybe?

‘Mr. Pickwick sticks to his determination, and goes to prison. Sam Weller, desperate at being separated from his master, borrows twenty- five pounds of his father, whom he gets to arrest him for debt, and 40 follows Mr. Pickwick,

‘Moesrs. Dodson and Fogg, having got a cognovit from Mrs. Bardell, after the trial, for the amount of costs, by representing that it was a mere matter of form, take her in execution for them, and send her also to the Flect. Hore she meets Mr. Pickwick, who, finding that

6B She Mickeus Mictlonarg.

noboily can release her from that den of wretchedness but himself, and that he can only do so by paying the entire costs of the suit (both of plaintiff and defendant), and being also moved to the same course by divers other good reasons, pays them, and sets both him- self and Mrs. Bardell at liberty; whereupon Sam Weller procures from his attorney a formal discharge, which his pradent papa has had the foresight to leave in the hands of that gentleman to be used in any case of emergency,

Mr. Pickwick having, not long afterwards, withdrawn from the club bearing his name (which circumstance, coupled with others, occasions its dissolution), determines to settle down at Dulwich. He sees all his young friends happily married, including the devoted Sam Weller, who takes to himself a wife, who is installed as Mr. Pickwick’s housekeeper. And thus Mr. Pickwick’s biography ter- minates while the “sunshine of the world is blazing full upon him.”

Pipkin, Nathaniel. The “Parish Clerk” in Mr. Pickwick’s tale of that name. He is a harmless, good-natured little being, of a very nervous temperament, and with a cast in his eye and a halt in his gait. He fulls in love with the beautiful Maria Lobbs, but sees her married to another. (Ch. xvii.)

Podder, Mr, A member of the All-Muggleton Cricket Club. (Ch. vii.)

Pott, Mr. Editor of “The Eatanswill Gazette.” (Ch. xiii, xv, xviil.)

Pott, Mrs. Wife of the editor of “The Eatanswill Gazette.” (Ch. xiii, xv, xvill, li.)

Price, Mr. A coarse, vulgar young man, with a sallow face and a harsh voice; a prisoner for debt, whom Mr. Pickwick encounters in the “offee-room” of the sponging-house in Coleman Street. (Ch. x1.)

Pruffle, A servant to a scientific gentleman at Bath. (Ch. xxix.)

Raddle, Mr. Husband to Mrs, Raddle. (Ch. xxxii, xlvi.)

Raddle, Mrs. Mary Ann. Mr. Bob Sawyer's landlady; sister to Mos. Clapping, and a thorough shrew. (Ch. xxxii, xlvi.)

Rogers, Mrs. A lodger at Mrs. Bardell’s. (Ch. xlvi-)

Roker, Mr. Tom, A turnkey at the Flect prison. (Ch. xl-xlv.)

Bam. Acabdriver. (Ch. ii.)

Sanders, Mrs. Susannah. A bosom-friend of Mrs, Bardell’s (Ch. xvi, xxxiv,)

She Pickwleh Papers, oo

Bawyer, Bob. A medical student whom Mr. Pickwick meets at Mr. Warile’s, He afterwards hangs out his sign (Sawyer, late Nockemorf) as a medical practitioner, in Bristol, where Mr, Win- kle meets him. Ho has a very nice place; but “half the draws have got nothing in ’em, and the other half don’t open." Indeed, hardly any thing real in the shop but the leeches; and they aro second-hand.” Mr. Sawyer keeps a boy, whose duties are thus deseribed : —

++ He goes up to house, rings the area-bell, pokes a packet of medicine with ‘out « dircetion into the servant's hand, and walks off. Serrant takes |t into the Micing-parlor; master opens It, and reads the label: ‘Draught to be taken at ‘bed-time ; pills as before; lotion ax usual; the powder, From Sawyer’s, late Nockemorf's. Physicians? prescriptions carefully prepared? and all the rest ‘of ft. Shows it tohis wife; she reads the label. It goes down to the servants; they read the tabel. Next day tho boy calls: “Very sorry—his mistake— {immense business — great many parcels to deliver —~ Mr. Sawyer’e compliments Inte Nockemorf" ‘The name gets known; and that’s the thing, my doy, in ‘the medical way. Bless your heart, old fellow, it's better than all the advertising inthe world! We have got one fourouncs bottle that's been to half the houses tu Bristol, and has m't done yet”. . .

“The lamp-lighter has elghteon pevoo & week to pull the nlght-bell for ten minutes every time he comes round; and my boy always rushes into church just ‘before the pralms, when the people hare got nothing to do but look about Yen, ‘und calls me out, with horror and dismay depicted on his countenance, * Bless my soul! everybody says, ‘somebody taken suddenly itl. Suwyer, late Nockem- ‘orf, sent for, What u buriness that young man hast?"

(Ch. xxx, xxii, xxxviil, xlviii, l-lii.) See Horknss, Jack. Shepherd, The. See Sriccixs, Tux Revanexy Mn. Simmery, Frank, Esq. A smart young stock-broker. (Ch. lv.) Simpson, Mr. A prisoner in the Flect. (Ch. xlii.)

Skimpin, Mr. Junior counsel with Serjeant Buzfuz for Mrs. Bar- dell, in her suit against Mr. Pickwick. (Ch. xxiv.) See Pick- wick, Samos.

Blammer, Doctor. Surgeon of the Ninety-seventh Regiment, present at a charity ball at the Bull Inn, Rochester. The slim ‘Mr, Jingle and the stout Mr. Tupman desire to attend the same ball; but Mr. Jingle happens not tohave a change of clothing. He therefore induces Mr. Tupman (although they are comparative strangers) to borrow a suit belonging to Mr, Winkle, who haa been indalging too freely in wine at tho table, and has fallen fast asleep. “Mr. Jingle, being a very wide-awake and piausible person, makes a Mlecided impression on an elderly and wealthy widow-lady, who is the object of Doctor Slammer’s unremitting attention,

—

mM She Dickens Mictlonary.

‘Upon the doctor and the widow the eyes both of Mr. Tupman and his com panion hae been fixed for some time, when the stranger broke silence, Me girl — pompous doctor — not a bad idea — good fun.* sentences which issued from bis lips, Mr. Tupinan looked Tngoaevely tu hie tess

1 dance with the widow,” sald the stranger.

“Who is she?” inquired Mr. Tupman, ;

“Dow't know—never saw her in all my’ iffo—cut out the doctor —here oon.” And the stranger forthwith crossed the room; and, leaning against @ mantle-plece, commenced gazing with an alr of respectful and melancholy a> wiration on the fat countenance of the little old lady. Mr. Tupman locked on fm mute astonishment. The stranger progressed rupidly, ‘The little doctor danced with another Indy—the widow dropped her fan; the stranger picked It up, and presented {t,—m smile, a bow, a courtesy, a few words of conversation. The stranger walked boldly up to, and returned with, the master of the ceremonies, a little introductory pantomime, and the stranger and Mrs. Budger took thelr places in a quadzille,

‘The surprise of Mr, Tupman at this summary proceeding, great ax tt was, was immeasurably excoeded by the astonishment of the doctor. The stranger ‘was young, and the widow was flattered. The doctor’s attentions were unheed- ed by the widow; nnd the doctor’s indiguation was wholly Jost on bis Imper- turbable rival. Doctor Slammer was paralysed. He, Doctor Slammer of the Ninoty-seventh, to be extinguished In a moment by a man whom nobody had ever seen before, and whom nobody knew even now. Doctor Slammer,—Doo- tor Slammer of the Ninety-seventh rajected! Impossible! It could not bet ‘Yes, {t was: there they were, What! Introducing his friend! Could he bellere his eyes! He tooked again, and was under the painful neceselty of ndmitting the yoracity of his optics. Mra. Budger was dancing with Mr. Tracy Tupman: there was no mistaking the fact, ‘There wns the widow before him, bouncing bodily here and there with unwonted vigor; and Mr. Tracy Tupman hopping about with a face expressive of the most Intense solemnity, dancing (as a good ‘many people do) us {fa quadrille were not a thing to be laughed at, but = severe ‘lal to the feolings, which lt requires inflexible resolution to encounter.

Silently and patiently did the doctor bear all this, andall the handings of nogus, ‘and watching for glasses, and darting for biscuits, and coquetting, that ensued but, a fow seconds after the stranger had disappeared to lead Mrs. Budger to her carriage, ho darted swiftly from the room, with every particle of his hitherto-bot- tled-up indignation effervescing from all parts of Lis countenance, in w perepira- tion of passion.

‘The stranger was returning, snd Mr. Tupman was beside him, We spoke ins Jow tone, and laughed. ‘The little doctor thirsted for his life. He wns exulting, We had triumphed

“Sir!” said the doctor In nn ayful voice, producing « card, and retiring Intoar angle of the passage, “my namo is Slammer, Doctor Slammer, slr Ninety seventh regiment —Chatham Barracks—my card, lr, my card.” He would have added more; but hie indignation choked him,

“Ah!” replied the stranger coolly, “ Slammer—much obliged —polite atten Hon —not Ill now, Slasimer—but when I am—knock you up."

You—you ‘re a shulllor, sir,” gasped the furious doctor, "a poltroon, » cow: wd, a liar, a will nothing Induce you to give me your card, alr?”

“oni id the stranger, hnif aside, “negus too strong here—lberm ‘andiord — very foolish —very —lemonade much better—hot rooms elderly get»

The Pickwick Papers Tl

Meman—suiler for it In the morning—cruel ~cruel;* and he moved on a step or two.

‘+ Yeu are stopping In this house, alr,” sald the indignant little man: you are lotoxteated now, sir; you snall bear from me tn the morning, sir. I shall Gud you ou”

“Rather you found me out than found mo at home,” replied the unmoved

Doctor Slammer looked unutterable ferocity as he Axed his hat on his head ‘whch an, tndignant knock; and the stranger and Mr. Tupman ascenied to the ‘bedroom of the latter to restore the borrowed plumage to the unconscious Wo ae.

‘That gentleman was fast asleep: the restoration was soon made, ‘The stranger ‘was extremely Jocose; and Mr. Tracy Tupman, being quite bewildered with wine, opnorees ladies, thought the whole affair an exquisite joke. His new

friend departed; and after experiencing some slight difficulty in finding the orl-

Colonie ses aurea originally intended for the reception of his head, und finally

his candlestick in his struggles to put it on, Mr. Tracy Tupman man-

aged to got into bed by s series of complicated evolutions, and shortly afterwards sank tuto repose.

Early on the following morning, inquiry is made at the inn for a gentleman wearing a bright blue dress-coat with a gilt button with *P.C.’0n it; and as Mr. Winkle answers to the description, he is awakened out of a sound sleep, dresses himself hastily, and goes down stairs to the coffee-room.

Ax officer in undress uniform was looking out of the window. He turned round as Mr. Winkle entered, and made a stiff inclination of the head. Having ordered the attendants to retire, and closed the door very carefully, be said, “Mr. Winkle, I presume?”

“My name ds Winkle, air."

You will not be surprised, slr, whon I inform you that I hare called here this morning on behalf of my friend, Doctor Slammer of the Nincty-seventh.”

“Doctor Slammer!" anid Mr. Winkle.

“Doctor Slammer, He begged me to express his opinion, that your conduct of ast evening wns of a description which no gentieman could enduie, and (he ‘sdided) which no one gentleman would puraue towards another.”

‘Mr, Winkle’s mstonlshment was too real and too evident toescape the observa tion of Doctor Slammor’s friend: he therefore proceeded. “My friend, Doctor ‘Blammer, ‘me to add, that he is firmly persuaded you were Intoxicated ‘during @ portion of the evening, and possibly unconsclous of the extent of the ‘fneult you were guilty of. fe commissioned me to say, that, should this be pleaded ‘a4 an excuse for your behavior, he will consent to accept a written apology, to be penned by you from my dictation.”

“A written mpology!” repeated Mr, Winkle in the most emphatle tone of smazement possible.

Of sears yoa know the alternative,” replied the risitor ooolly,

“Were you infrusted with this message to me by name?” inquired Mr. Wine Rie, whose Intellects were hopelessly confused by this extraordinary converam don.

“Twas not present myself," repliod the visiter; “and, n consequence of your ‘tr refusal to give your card to Doctor Slamime., © was desired by that gentiemca,

of

to identify the wearer of a very uncommon coat, —m bright blandresy-coat, with «

{chens D(ctlonarg.

the head of the party; and he at once referred me to you.”

If the principal tower of Rochester Custie had suddenly walked from its founds fou, and stationed itself opposite the coffee-room-window, Mr. Winkle’s surpris¢ ‘would have been as nothing, compared with the profound astonishment with

stolen. “ WHl you allow me to detain you one moment?” said he,

“Certainly,” replied the unweleome visitor.

Mr. Winkle ran hastily up stairs, and with a trembling hand opened the bag. ‘There was the cont in its usual place, but exhibiting, on ® close inspeetion, evident tokens of having been worn on the preceding night.

“Tt must be #0," sald Mr. Wink! too much wine after dinner, and hav

‘Mr. Winkle retraced lis steps in the direction of the coffee-room, with the gloomy j ‘and dreadful resolve of acoepting the challeage of the warlike Dootor ame, and abiding by the worst consequences thut might ensue,

"To this determination Mr. Wiakle was urged by avarlety of considerations; the first of which was his repatation with the club, He had always been looked up to as & high anthority on oll matters of amuremont and dexterity, whether offensive, defensive, or inoffensive; and if, on this very first oceaslon of being put to the teat, ie shrunk back from the trial, beneath his leader's eye, his name and stand> a Ing wore lost forever, Besides, bo remembered to hare heard it frequently

surmised by the uninitiated ia such matters, that, by an understood

‘between the sceonds, the platolx were seldom loaded with ball; and, furthermore, * ‘he reflected, that if he applied to Mr. Snodgrass to act as his second, and depicted

the danger in glowing terms, that gentleman might possibly communicate the

{ntelligence to Mr. Pickwick, who would certainly lose no timo in transmitting

it to the local aathorities, and thus prevent the killing or maiming of lis fol-

lower.

Such were his thoughts when he returned to the coffee-room, and intimated kis intention of accepting the doctor’s challenge. .. .

‘That morning's breakfast parsed heavily off. Mr, Tupinan was not in a condi- tion to rise after the unwouted dissipation of the previous night; Mr, Snodgrass ‘Appeared to labor under poetical depression of spirits; and even Mr. Pickwick trinced an unusual attachment to sllenos and aodu-water, Mr. Winkle eagerly Watched his opportunity. It was not long wanting. Mr. Snodgrass propored « fisit to the castle; and, as Mr. Winkle was the only other member of the party dix soved to walk, they went ont together,

“Snodgrass,” said Mr. Winkle when they had tarned out of the public street, — * Snodgrass, my dear fellow, can I rely upon your pecreey?” As he sald this, be most devoutly and earnestly hoped he could not.

™ You can,” repilied Mr. Snodgrass. Hear me swear” —

+ No, not” Intorrupted Winklo, territied at the idea of his companton’s uncom ‘selonsly pledging himself not to give information, “Ton’t swear, dou’ swear, Ws quite unnecessary,”

She Pickwick Papers 3

‘Mr. Snodgrass dropped the hand which he had; Iu the spirit of poesy, raised ‘towards the clouds as he made the above appeal, and assumed an attitude of at- tention.

“1 want your assistance, my dear follow, in au affair of honor,” sald Mtr, Win-

“You shall bare it," replied Mr, Snodgrass, clasping his friend's hand.

* With a doctor, — Doctor Slammer of the Ninety-reventh,"" —aaid Mr. Winkle, wishing to make the mattor appear as solemn as possible: “an affair with sn off cer, seconded by another officer, at sunset this evening, in a lonely eld beyoad Fort Pitt."

“Twill attend you," sald Mr. Soodgrass.

‘He was astontahed, but by no moans dismayed. It 1s extraordinary how cool ssny party but the principal eam bein such cases. Mr. Winkle had forgotten thia, He had judged of his friend’s feelings by his own.

“The consequences may be dreadful,’ sald Mr. Winkle.

“ Lhope not," «ald Mr. Snodgrass.

“The doctor, I believe, is a very good shot,” said Mr. Winkle.

“Most of these military men are," wre you; ant you?”

‘Mr. Winkle replied in the affirmative; and, percelving that he had not alarmed ‘is companion mficiently, changed bla ground.

“Snodgrass” he eald ina volce tremulous with emotion, * if X fall, you will find in n packet which I shall place in your hands # note for my— for my father."

‘This attack was afallurealso. Mr. Snodgrass was affected; but ho undertook the delivery of the note as readily as if he had been # two-penny postman.

“fT fall,” said Mr. Winkle, ‘or, if the doctor falls, you, my dear frlend, wilt be tried asansccosory before the fact. Shall I involve my friend in transpor tation, — possibly for life!”

‘Mr. Snodgrass winced a little at this; but his herolsm was invincible. “In the cause of friendship,” he fervently exclaimed, * I would brave all dangers.”

How Mr. Winkle cursed his companion's devoted frlondahip Iuternally, as they ‘walked stlently along. sido by side, for some minutes, each immersed Ia his own meditations! ‘The morning was wearing away! ho grew desperate,

“Suodgrass?” he sald, stopping suddenly, “do not let me be balked in this mat» ter; do not give information to the local wuthorities; do not obtain the asset Bunce of rereral peace-officers to take either me, or Doctor Slammer of the Nine ty-serenth Regiment, at present quartered in Chatham Barracks, into custody, and thus prevent this duel,— I say, do not.’

‘Mr. Snodgraxs soized his friend’s hand warmly, as he enthusiastically replied, Not for worlds!"

A thrill passed over Mr. Winklo’s frame, ws the conviction that he had nothing to hope from his friend's fears, and that Le was destined to become an animated target, rushed forelbly upon him. .. .

‘It wasa dal! and heavy evening when they again rallied forth on thelr awk- Ward errand. Mr. Winklo was mulfled up in a huge cloak to escape observation; snd Mr. Snodgrass bore under his the instruments of destruetion. . . .

* Weare in excellent time.” ¢ald Mr. Snodgrass as they climbed the fence of ‘2ve first eld: “the suns Just going down.” Mr. Winkle looked up at the declin« sg orbs nuit painfully thought of the probability of his “golng down” himself, fore long.

“There's the officer,” excinimed Mr. Winkle, after afew minutes’ walking.

“Where?” anid Mr. Snodgrass.

“there, — the genticapau in the blog slowk.” Mr. Sncdgrass looked in the d>

uM Ede Dickens Dictionarg.

qwetian (ntiowtedt by the forefinger of his friend, amd observed a Sgure muffled 1p ‘rhe had deseribed, ‘The officer evinced his consciousness of thelr presence by ightty beckoning with his hand; and the two friends followed him at a little dir Hhnwe a8 be walked away. . .. [Ho] turned suddenly from the path; and after ettabing & paling, and toaling a hedge, entered a secluded field. Two gentle tee were waiting In It: one was a Little fat man with black helr; and the olher —® portly personage in « braided surtout — was sitting with perfect equa ‘uluilty ona eampsttool.

“The other party, and = surgeon, I suppose,” sald Mr. Soodgrass: “take « trop of brandy." Mr. Winklo seized the wicker bottle whlch his friend proffered, ‘and took # lengthened pull st the exbilarating liquid.

“My friend, alr, Mr. Snodgrass,” sald Mr. Winkle, as the officer approached, ‘Dootor Slammer's friend bowed, and produced a case synilur to that which Mr. ‘Snodgrass carried,

We have nothing further to say, air, I think,” he coldly remarked, as ke opened tho ease: “an apology has been resolutely declined.”

" Nothing, thr," eald Mr, Snodgrass, who began to feel rather uncomfortable

“ Wo may place our men, then, I think,” observed the offloer, with #s much tne itforence na If the principals were chess-men, and the seconds players.

“1 tidak we may," replied Mr. Snodgrass, who would have assented to any Proposition, because he knew nothing about the matter. ‘The oflloer crossed to Dootor Slammer, and Mr. Snodgrass went upto Mr, Winkle.

“Ths all ready,” he sald, offering the platol. “Give me your cloak.”

You have got the packet, my dear fellow ?” sald poor Winkle.

All right,” said Mr. Snodgrass. “He steady, and wing him.” ..

‘Mr. Winkle was always remarkable for extreme humanity. It ts conjectured Unt his unwillingness to hurt a follow-creature intentionally was the cause of his shutting his eyes when he arrived af the fatal spot; and that the clreumstance of his eyes being closed prevented his observing the very extraordinary and unace countable demeanor of Doctor Saimmer. ‘That gentleman started, etared, re- treated, rubbed his eyes, stared again, and finally shouted, “ Stop, stop 1?”

“What "s all this?” said Doctor Slammer, as his friend and Mr. Suodgrass came running up. That's not the mai Not the man!” said Doctor Slammer’s second.

Not the man!” said Mr. Snodgrass.

“Not the mant” sald the gontloman with the earp-stoot in hie hand.

“ Cortainly not," replied the little doctor, ‘That "snot the person who insulted ne last night.” .

Now, Mr. Winkle had opened his eyes, and hia ears too, when he heard his ad- vervary call out for a cossation of hostilities; and perceiving, by what he had afters ‘wurds said, that there was, beyond all question, some mistake in the matter, he at ‘nce foresaw the Increase of reputation he should ineritably acquire by couceal- Ing tho real motive for bis comlug out: he therefore stepped boldly forward, and

Tam not the person, I kaow it.”

“Then, that,’ raid the man with the camp-stool, “ts an affront to Doctor Flammer, and a sudicient reason for proceeding immediately."

Pray, be quiet, Payne!” said the doctor’a second, “ Why did you not com sounioate this fact tome this morning, sir?”

“To be sure, to be sure!” said the man with the camp-stool {ndiguantly.

“T entreat you to be quiet, Payne,” sald the other, “May I repeat my ques ace, str?”

She Plekwiek Papers. Th

“Because, slr,” replied Mr. Winkle, who had thme to deliberate upon hte

because, sir, you described an intoxicated ant ungentlemanly per-

‘on as wearing ® coat whiich Ihave the hoor, not only to wear, but to have

Anyented,—the proposed uniform, slr, of the Pickwick Club In London. The

honor of that uniform T feel bound to maintain; and £ therefore, without tur

quiry, accepted the challenge which you offered me.”

“My dear str,” said the good-humored little doctor, advancing with extended hand, “I honor your gallautry. Permit me to ray, sir, that T highly admire our conduct, and extremely regret having caused you the inconvenience of thls meeting, tno parpone

you won" mention {t, air," sald Mr. Winkle.

“Tana el proud of your acquaintance, alr,” sald the Uttle doctor.

“+t will asford mo the grentest pleasure to know you, sir,” replied Mr. Wine le. Thereupon, the doctor and Mr. Winkle shook hands; and then Mfr. Winkle ‘nnd Lieutenant Tappleton the doctor's second); and then Mr. Winkle and the

and, finally, Mr. Winkle and Mr, Snodgrass, — the last-

Seno pontiomas in an exsns of edmtraion at the noble conduc of his herele

“Tthink we may adjourn,” sald Lieutenant Tappleton, 7 mdded the doctor, .. - ested ata ati tarot ar aces; sod the whole party nO the sromad ta ‘much more lively manner than they had proceeded to it, (Ch. Ui, ti)

Blumkey, The Honorable Samuel. Candidate for parliament from the borough of Eatanswill. He is successful in the contest, beating his opponent, Horatio Fizkin, Esq. (Ch. xifi.)

Slurk, Mr. Editor of “Tho Eatanswill Independent.” (Ch. li.) See Porr, Mr.

Smangle. A fellow-prisoner with Mr. Pickwick in the Fleet. (Ch. xii, xlii, xliv.)

Smart, Tom. Heroof “The Bagman’s Story.” (Ch. xiv.) See Jexxuys, Mr.

Smauker, John, Footman in the service of Angelo Cyrus Ban- tam, Esq. (Ch. xxxv, xxvii.)

Smiggers, Joseph. Perpetual Vice-President of tho Pickwick Club. (Ch. i.)

Smithers, Miss, A young lady-boarder at Westgate House, Bury St. Edmunds. (Ch. xvi.)

Smithie, Mr. A gentleman present at the charity ball at the Bull Inn, Rochester. (Ch. il.)

Smithie, Mrs. His wife. (Ch. IL)

Smithie, The Misses. His dasghters. (Ch. ii.)

Smorltork. Count. A famous forcizner whom Mr. Pickwick mee= at Mrs. Leo Hunter's fancy-dress breakfast. (Ch. xv.)

Smouch, Mr. A shoriff’s assistant, whe takes Mr. Pickwick to

the Fleet Prison, (Ch. x1)

16 She Olckens Wietlonacy.

Snipe, The Honorable Wilmot. Ensign of the Ninety-sev enth; one of the company ut the ball in Rochester attended by Mr. Tupman. (Ch. ii.)

Snodgrass, Augustus, A poetic member of the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club, (Ch. i-vi, viii, xi-xv, xviii, xxiv

, xxvi, xxviii, xxx-xxxii, xxxiv-xxxvi, xliv, xlvii, liv, Ivil) See ¢_ Pickwicx, Samuk.. | Bnubbin, Serjeant. Senior counsel for Mr. Pickwick in his suit } with Mrs. Bardell. (Ch. xxxi, xxiv.) See Proxwick, Samuxe. ‘Mr. Serjeant Snubbin was « lanternfuced, sallowcomplexioned man, of about five and forty. .,. [le had that dull-looking, boiled eye, which fa a0 often to be seon In the heads of people who have applled themselves during many ‘years to a weary and laborious course of study, and which would have been suf ficient, without the additional eye-glass which dangled from a broad Ulack rite bon round his neck, to warn s stranger that he was very nearsighted, His hair was thin and weak, which was partly attributable to his having never de- ‘voted much time to Its arrangement, and partly to his harini worn for five and twenty years the forenslo wig which hung on a block beside him. The tmarks of halr-powder on his coat-collar, and the ill-washed und worse-tied white neckerchief round his thront, showed that he iad not found leleare since he left the court to make any alteration tn his dross; while the slovenly style of the remainder of his costume warranted the inference that hls personal ap- ‘pearance would not have been very much improved if he had.

Snuphanuph, Lady. A fashionable lady whom Mr, Pickwick meets at a party at Bath. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi.)

Staple, Mr. A little cricket-player who makes a big speech at

i the dinner which succeeds the match-game at Dingley Dell. (Ch. vii.)

Btareleigh, Mr. Justice. The judge who presides, in the ab- sence of the chief justice, at the trial of Bardell es. Pickwick; said to be intended as a caricature of Sir Stephen Guselee, a jun- Sor judge of the Courtof Common Pleas, (Ch. xxxiv.) See Pick- wer, SAMUEL.

Stiggins, The Reverend Mr., called Tue Sneruenp, An intemperate, canting, and hypocritical parson, who ministers to a fanatical flock, composed largely of women, at Emanuel Cliapel. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiii, xlv, lii.)

© Tartaffe and Joseph Sarface, Stiggins and Chidband, who are always preaching fir ‘sentiments, and are no more virtuons than hundreds of those whom they denownes wd heat, aro fair objects of mistrast and satire; but thelr hypocrisy, the homage, accord (ar to the old saying, which vice pays to virtue, has this ofgood In it, ~that itefruiteare Seed. A man may preach goed morals, though he may be himeelf but atax practitioners ‘& Pharisce may put plooes of gold nto the charity-plate out of mere hypoorisy and o» tenvation : but the bad man's gold feeds the widow and the fatherless as well ax thin 400d

man's. The buteher and baker must needs look, not to motives, but to money, Ia Fe. tam for thelr wares." Thackeray.

_

She Plchwiek Papers. 7

Btruggles, Mr. Acricketer of Dingley Dell. (Ch. vil.)

» Brother, A member of the Brick Lane Brarch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. (Che xxxili.)

Tappleton, Lieutenant, Doctor Slammer’s second. (Ch. ii, iit) See Stamsen, Doctor,

called Westgate House, at Bury St. Edmunds. (Ch. xvi.) Mrs. Postmistress at Rochester, and one of the com pany at the charity ball at the Bull Inn there. (Cb. ii.)

Tommy. <A waterman. (Ch. ii.)

Wrotter, Job. The confidential servant of Mr. Alfred Jingle, and the only man who proves too sharp for Sam Weller. (Ch. xvi, xx, xxiii, xxv, xlii, xlv—xh Iwi.)

Trundle, Mr. A young man who marries Isabella Wardle. Heis

repeatedly brought upon the scene as an actor, but not once as an

interlocutor. (Ch. iv, vi, viil, xvi, xvii, xix, xxviii, lvii.)

Tuckle, A footman at Bath. (Ch. xx:

Tracy. One of the Corresponding Society of the Pick-

i di ition, that he falls in love

girl he { Ri-xv, xvili, xix, xxiv—

xxvi, xxvill, xxx, x<xii, aly, xlviiylyii.) See Picxwick, Sustors.

Richard. A green-grocer; ono of the jurymen nin the case of Bardell ve, Pickwick. (Ch. xxxiv.) = Wardle, Mr. (of Manor Farm, Dingloy Dell). A friend of Mr Pickwick and his companions; a stout, hearty, honest old gentle map, who is most happy when he is making others to. (Ch. iv,

yiexl, xvi-xis, xxvili, xxx, liv, lvl.)

Wardle, Miss Emily. One of his daughters. (Ch. fv, viexi, xxviii, xxx, liv, lvii.)

Wardle, Miss Isabella, Another daughter. (Ch. iv, vi-viii, xxviii, lvii.)

Wardle, Miss Rachael. His sister; « spinster of doubtful age,

with « peculiar dignity in her air, majesty in her eye, and touch.

mo-not-ishness in her walk. The “too susceptible Mr. Tupmar.

falls in love with her, only to be circumvented by the adroit Mr.

ingle, who steals her heart away fron: him, and elopes with ber,

‘but is pursued, overtaken, and induced to relinquish hia prize in

consideration of a check for a hundred and twenty pounds. (Ch

iy, vi-ix.)

Tomking, Miss... Principal of a boanting-school for young Indies,

a

738 She Wickens Mietlenarp.

Wardle, Mrs. Mother of Mr. Wardic and Miss Rachael; vory old and very deaf. (Ch. vi-ix, xxviii, Ivit)

Watty, Mr. A bankrupt client of Mr. Perker, whom he keeps pestering about his affairs, although they have not been in chan- cery four years. (Ch. xxxi.)

Weller, Samuel. Mr. Pickwick’s valet; an inimitable compound ‘of wit, simplicity, quaint humor, and fidelity, who may be regarded as an embodiment of London low life in its most agreeable and entertaining form, Master and servant first meet at a public-honse, whither Mr, Pickwick goes with Mr. Wardle in search of that gen- tleman’s sister, who has eloped with Mr. Alfred Jingle. Mr. Wel- ler first appears on the scene busily employed in brushing a pair of. boots, and “ habited in a coarse striped waistcoat, with black calico slooves and blue glass buttons; drab breeches and leggings, A bright red handkerchief was wound in a very loose and unstudied style round his neck, and an old white hat was thrown carelessly on ‘one side of his head. There were two rows of boots before him; ‘one cleaned, and the other dirty; and, at every addition he made to the clean row, he stopped in his work, and contemplated its re- sults with evident satisfaction.” Sam carries Mr, Jingle’s boots to him, and, being asked where Doctors’ Commons is, at once divines that he wants to procure a marriage-license.

- “My father," sald Sam fn reply to # question, “vos a coachman. A vidower

he vos, and fat enough for any thing,—unoommon fat, to be sure! His missus

faze dies, and leaves him four hundred pound. Down he goes to the Commons, ta sce the lawyer and draw the blunt,—wery smszt, top-boots on, novegay fo hiv

a Dutton-bole, broad-brimmed tile, green shawl—quite the gen'lm’n. Goes

through the archvay, thinking how he should inwest the money ; up comes the touter, touches his bat,—<License, alr, license ?!—* What "* that?! says my father. ‘License, sir,’ says he, *What Iconse?? says my father. *Murriage- Ucense,’ anys the touter, ‘Dash my veskit!? saya my futher, ‘Imever thought oth ink you Wanta one, sir,’ says the touter, My futher palls up. and thinks a bit. No,’ says he, *damme, I'm too old; b’sides, I"m a many alzes too large,’ saya he. ‘Nota bit on it, sir!” says the touter. ‘Think not?? says my father. *I’m sure not,'says be. ‘We married a gen'lm'n twice your size last Monday?—*Did you, though ?? saya my father. ‘To be sure ve did! says the touter: ‘you "re babby to him. This vay, sir,—this vay!? And. sure enough, my father walks arter him, like & tame monkey Delind a horgan, iuto a litle backoflice rere a feller sut among dirty papers and tin boxes, making beliere ho was busy. ‘Dray take a seat vile I makes out the atidevit, sir,’ says the

. “Thankee, slr!” says my father; and down he sat, and stared vith all ils eyes, nnd his mouth vide open, at the names on the boxes. *Whmt% yoar name, sir?? says the lawyer. ‘Tony Weller,’ says my father. ‘Parish ?? snye ‘the lawyer. ‘Belle Savage? says my father; for he stopped there ven he drove ‘ep; aud he know 'd nothing about parishes, he did n%. “Aud whut "s the lady’s

She Pickwick Papers. 79

fame?? anys the lawyor. My futher was struck all of w heap. * Bless if t know !? ‘ways he. “Not know!? says the lawyer. ‘No more nor you do,’ says my father. * Can't I put that in arterwants?’—* Impossible!” says the lawyer, ‘Wery well! ‘says ay father, after he "d thought a moment, ‘put down Mrs, Clarke’ —* What ‘Clarke? says the lawyer, dipping his pen tn the Ink. ‘Susan Clarke, Markie ‘AU have mo, 1 Task her, I detay. 1 jaye me, I know.’ The license was made out, and she did have him; and, what’s more, she’s got him now; and J never hind any of the four hundred pound, worve luck! Beg your pardon, air,” anid Sam _ when he had concluded, “ but, vhen I gets on this here grievance, I runs on like ‘new barrow vith the vicel greased.”

After this, Mr. Pickwick meets Sam, and, liking his appearance, resolves to engage him. He sends for him, therefore, and proposes to give him twelve pounds a year, and two suits of clothes, to attend upon him, and travel about with him and the other Pickwickians,— terms which are highly satisfhetory to Sam.

When Mr. Pickwick goes to consult Mr. Perker in relation to the action which Mrs. Bardell has brought against him for breach of promise, Sam accompanies him,

‘They had walked some distance, — Mr. Pickwick trotting on before plunged in profound meditation, and Sam following behind, with @ countenanes expressive of the most euyiable and easy defiance of everybody and every thing; when the Intter, who was always expecially anxious to impart to his master any exclusive Information lie possessed, quickened his pace until he was close at Mr. Pickwick's ‘heels, and, polnting up at a house they were passing, said, —

“Wery nice thas Mere, abr”

Yes; it seems so,” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Celebrated sassage-fuctory,” said Sam.

4 Toit?" anid Mr. Pickwick,

“Is it” reiterated Sam with rome (ndignation: “I should rayther think # was. Why, sir, bless your innocent eycbrows, that’s where the mysterious dle appoaraxes of a 'ypectable tradesman took place four years ago.”

‘You don’t mean to say he was burked, Sam?" sald Mr. Pickwick, looking

round.

* No; K don't indeed, sir," replied Mr. Weller. “I wish I did! Far worse them that. He was the master 0” that ‘ere shop, sir, and the inwenter 0” that patent neyer-leavin’-oif sassage steam-{njine as "ud swaller up a pavin"-stone if you put tt, ‘too nesr, and erind it Into sassages ax easy as if It was » tender young babby. ‘Wery proud.o” that machine he was, as it was nav'ral he shoul be; and he'd stand down fn the cellar a-lookin’ at it wen it was in full play, till he got quite melancholy with joy. A wery happy man ho’d ha’ been, sir, In the procession o* that ‘ore ingine and two more lovely infants bosldes, if ft hadnt been for his

who was nmost ow-dacious wixin. She was always a-follerin’ hin about, ‘nd dinnis’ in hls ears, till at Inst he could n't stand it no longer. ‘Il tell you ‘what it fe, my dear,’ he anys one day: ‘if you persewere In this here sort of aimusoment,’ he rays, ‘I'm blessed if « don’t go away to "Mereiker; and thar’s al? About it’ —' You're a idle willis,” says sho; * and Twish the 'Merrikina Joy of thelr eargin’ Arter wich she keeps on abusin’ of him for balf an hour and then runs Into the litle partor behind the shop; sets to wacreamin", says he ll be the death

80. Sbe Mickens Dctfonars.

om her; and falls in a Gt, which lasts for three good hours, —one 6* them Sts wien: ‘all screamin’ sed Kickin’. Well, next mornin’ the husband was missia’. He

ever a body tarned up, Ht was carried right straight off to the rassage-shop. Howe ever,noneom ‘em anewered: so they gave out that he "d run avay, and she kept on the bis bent. Owe Saterday ulght, a little thin old gen''m'n comes into the shop to a gross pansion, and says, ‘ Aro you the mix of this here shop??—*Yes, f am,’ says che. * Well, ma'am,’ says be, ‘then Ire just looked in to say that me and my familly als't a-goin’ to be eboked for nothin’; and more than that, ma'am,’ he sass, ‘you'll allow me to obserre, that, as you don't uso the primest parts of the seat fa the mamatscter of sassager, I think you'd find beef come nearly as cheap ss bettons,'—<As buttons, sir!’ says she. * Buttons, ma'am,’ said the little old gentleman, enfolding a bit of paper, and showin’ twenty or thirty halves 0 but- teas. “Nice seasonin’ for xaaages is trousers’ buttons, ma’am!?—* They're my busband's bettoma!” says the widder, beginaln’ to faint, * What? screams the tittle ‘bd gea'Tew'a, taraie! weey pale. ‘I see it all!? says the widder: ‘in u fit of tem- porary Insanity be rashly comverted Bisself into sassages!” And so he had, sir,” abd Mr. Weller, looking steadily into Mr. Pickwick’s horror-stricken countenance, “or else be Mi Dees drawl lato the ingine; but, however that might ha’ been, the Untke olf genes, whe had been remarkably partial to saseages all his life rushed ‘eat o the abop fa a wild state, and was pover heerd on artervards.”

‘Sam, fo is travels with Mr. Pickwick, falls in with a comely sery- ant-girl by the name of Mary, and is smitten with her charms, He determines to write her a letter, and, whilo engaged in the task, is in- tecrupted by bis father.

To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit of devoting themselves prac tlonlty to the seience of penmanship, writing a letter la no very ensy task, ft being always coneldered wecestary in euch cases for the writer to recline his head on his teh ar, pons to place lils eyes as nearly as possible on a level with the paper, and. while glancing shleways at the letters he ls constructing. to form with his tongue Imaginary characters to correspond. There motions, although unquestionably of the

nsslstamee £0 original composition, retard, In some degree, the progres of

he writer; aud Sam hind unconsefously been a frll hour and a half writing words tn Joxt, emearing out wroug letters with hia little finger, and putting In new whieh required golng orer very often to render them visible through the

wb hots, mien he was roused by the openiag of the door and the entrance of his

wren,

“1 Ne done vow,” esid Sam, with slight embarrassment. “I ve been » ertiiw."" Ho I yee," replied Mr, Weller. Not to any young Yooman, X hope, Sararmy.” 4 Way, Ibe mm eee aosnyin' It ain't,” replied Sam,“ It%s a walentine”

A what!” exelnimed Mtr. Weller, apparently horror-stricken by the word,

A Waleniine,” replied Sam,

* Hamivel, Samtvel,”* vald Mr, Weller ta reproachfiil nosents, “I did n't thia®

She Pickwick Papers.

‘dia done it. Arter the warnin’ you "ve had o' your father's wielous

5 arter nil L've wald to vos upon this here wery subject; arter notiwally seein’ nud bein” tn the company v? your own mother-in-law (rich T should ha? thoug! ‘wos a moral lesson ax no man could ever ha’ forgestn to hls dyin'-day),—F did n't think you "d ha? done It, Sammy, I did n't think you'd ha* done It.” ‘These rofles- tions were too much fur tite good old man. He raised Sam's ¥:rabler to his lips, ‘tod drank off the contents.

Wot % the matter now?” sald Sam,

“Nev'r mind, Sammy," replied Mr, Weller, “It tl bea wery agonizin’ trial to mp .at my time of life; but I’m pretty tovgh, thats yun consolation, as the wery old turkey remarked ven the farmer sald he wos afeered he should be obliged ts ‘ail! him for the Loodon market.”

“Wot 'll be a trial?” inquired Sam.

“To see you married, Sammy; to seo you a deluded wictim, and thinkin? in ‘your innooenen that t's all wery eapltal,” replied Mr. Weller, “It 'e.a dreadful Win! to a father's feclin’s — that "ere, Sammy.

“Nonsense! "sald Sam. “Taint a-goin’ to get married, don’t you fret your srif mbout that: I know you ‘re ajodge of these things. Order in your pipe, and 4/1 read you the letter — there!"

‘We cannot distinctly say whether it was the prospect of the pipe, or the consol- Atory reflection that a fatal disposition to got married ran fn the fumily, and could n't be helped, which calmed Mr. Weller’s feelings, and caused bis grief to subside. We should be rather disposed to say that the result was attained by combining the two sources of coutolation; for ho repeated the second iu m low tone very frequently, ringing the bell, meanwhile, to order in the frst. He thon divested Limself of his upper coat; and lighting the pipe, and placing himself in front of the fire with his back towards {t, +0 that he could feel {ts full heat, and re cline against the mantle-ploce nt the same time, turned towards Sam, and, with « countenance greatly modified by the softening influence of tobacco, requested hima to“ fire away."

‘Sam dipped hie pen into the Ink to be ready for any corrections, and begun with uyery thoatrical alr, —

Lovely? —

x Bley ad Mr, Weller, ringing the bell. “A double glass of the inwarinble, ‘my dear.”

“Very well, ste,” replied the girl, who with great quickness appeared, vanished, ‘returned, and disappeared.

‘They seem to know your ways here,” observed Sam.

4 Yeas" replied his father, “I've been here before in my thme. Go on, Sammy.”

"Lovely croetur,’" repeated Sam,

“* Tain’t in poetry, is it? interposed the father.

“No, no,” replied Sam.

“ Wery glad to hear {t," sald Mr. Weller. “Pootry 's unnat'ral: no man ever talked in poetry ‘cept m beadic on boxin’day, or Warren's blackin’, or Rowland’s oll, or some of them low fellows. Never you let yourself down to talk poetry, my ‘boy. Bogin again, Sammy.”

Mr, Weller resumed his pipe with critical solemnity; and Sam once more com- ‘menced, ond read as follows: —

«Lovely creetur { foc! myself x dammed!” —

“ Thag sin't proper,” rad Mr, Weller, taking, his pipe from his mouth.

“No, it ain't “dammed,” observed Sam. holding the letter up to the light; it’s ‘shamed:? there a blot thore, ‘I foet myself ashamed.’ *

82 Ede Mickens Wictlonarg.

aes a ae: “Goon”

coped mie aman and completely cir?— I forget wot this here word ts,” anid Sam. scratehing his head with the pen, tn vain attempts to remember.

“ Why don’t you look at it, then?” inquired Mr. Weller.

“SoTamo-lookin’ att,” replied Sam; " but thero *s another blot, Here%s « ‘a, ngs and aia

ited, p'rhaps,"" suggeated Mr. Weller. ‘coy trains tat” call Baan cheomsarbed ‘that ‘sith “That alot ax good a word as clreumwented, Sammy,” sald Mr. Welle

wavely-

“Think not?" sald Sam,

“ Nothin’ Like it!” replied his father.

But don’t you think it means more?" inquired Sam.

“Vell, p'rhaps itis. more tenderer word," sald Mr, Weller after a few mo- ‘ments’ redection. Go on, Sammy.”

“<< Foe! myself ashamed and completely elrcumseribed ia a dressla? of you, for you ar¢ a nice gal, and nothin’ but ft"

“That ’s a wery pretty sentiment,” said the elder Mr, Weller, removing his pipe to make way for the remark.

™ Yew, [think It la rayther good,” observed Sam, highly flattered.

“Wot I like in that ‘ere style of writin',” sald the elder Mr, Weller, “ts, that {here afu't no callin’ names in it, —no Wenuses, nor nothin’ o? that kind. Wot" the good o” callin’ a young ‘ooman a Wenus or a angel, Sammy?”

“Ah I what, indeed?" replied Sam,

“You might jist as yell call her a griffin, or a unicorn, or a king's arms at noe, which la wery well known to bes col-lection o fubulous animale,” added Mr, Weller.

“Just as well?” replied Sam.

“Drive on, Sammy," sald Mr. Weller, *

Sam complied with the request, and proceeded as follows; his futher continu- Ing to «moke with m mixed expression of wisdom and complacency which was particularly edifying.

“+ Afore I seo you. I thought all women was alike.’ "

“So they mre,” observed the elder Mr. Weller parenthetically.

“<But now,’ continued Sam, — ‘now T dud what a reg'lar soft-headed, fn- kred'lous turnip I must ha’ beea ; for there aln’t nobody like you, though I like sou better than nothin’ at all.” I thought it best to make that raytber strong," said Gam, looking up.

‘Mr, Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam reramed:—

+0 T take the privilidge of the day, Mary, my dear,—as the gen'tem*a fn diff aulties did, vee he valked out of a Sunday,—to tell you that the first mad only timo I x00 yon your Ikeness was took on my hart in much quicker time and bright er colors than ever a likenoss was taken by the profeel machen (wich p’r'aps you may have heerd on Mary my dear) altho it does Anish a portrait and put the frame ‘sod glass on complete with @ hook wt the end to hang {t up by and all in two mine utes and a quarter?”

“T am afcored that werges on the poetical, Sammy,” sald Mr, Weller dubl-

eusly. “No, it don’t replio# Sam, reading on very quickly to avoid coutesting the potnt. “* Except of me Mary my dear as your walentine and think over what I‘ sald. My dear Mary I will now conclade? That all," sald Sasa,

he Plckwick Papecs 83

“That ruyther a sudden poll up; nln’ {t, Sammy?" inquired Mr. Weller. ‘Not « bit on ft," sald Sam. “She'll viel there wos tnore, and that ‘s the great

art 0° letterswritin’.”

“Well,” sald Mr. Weller, there *s somethin in that; and I wish your mothers te-law od only conduct her conwersation oo the samo gun-teel principle. An you a-goin’ to sign it?”

“That %s the diffiealty/" anid Sam. “I don’t kuow what fo sign tt.”

Sign it * Veller,’* sald tho oldest surriving proprietor of that name, “Woo do,” said Sam. “Never siga s walcntine with your own name.” “Sign it ‘Pickvick,? then,” sald Mr. Weller: “it " a wery good name, and a

eary one to spell."

“The wery thing!” sald Sam. ‘I cout end with awerse: what do you think?*

Tdon't tike tt, Sam," rejoined Mr. Weller. “T never know'd a respectable emachiman as wrote pootry, ‘cept ono, as made an affectin’ copy o” werses the night ‘afore ho wos huug for s highway robbery; and he wos only a Cambervell man: s0 ‘even that ’s no rule.”

‘But Sam was not to bo dissuaded from the poetical Ides that had occurred to ‘him, #0 he signed the lotter, —

* Your loye-atok Pickwick."

And, having folded it In a very intricate manner, aqueczed down-bill direction

tn one corner,—“To Mary, House-maid, at Mr. Nopkina's Mayors, Ipswich, Sut

folk,” — and put It into his pocket, wafered, and ready for the general post,

To the last, Sam remains devotedly attached to his master; and when Mr. Pickwick gives up his rambles, retires from active life and settles down at Dalwich, he goes with him, determined to remain sin- gle, and to stick by him and make him comfortable, “ ages or no ‘vages, notice or no notice, board or no board, lodgin’ or no lodgin*."

Sam Weller kept his word, and rematned unmarried for two years, ‘The old housekeeper dying at the end of that time, Mr. Pickwick promoted Mary to the sitaation, on condition of her marrying Mr. Weller at once, whieh she did with- ‘gut amurmur. From the clramstanco of two sturdy little boys having been re- peatedly seen ut the gute of the back-garden, we have reason to suppose that Sam bas some furnily.

(Ch. x, xil, xiii, xv, xvi, xvili-xx, xxil-xxvill, xxx-xxxv, xxxvi- alviil, I-lii, Iv-tvii.) See Jon (the fat boy), Prenwicx (Samut), Wetter (oxy).

“Bara Is the most Tight-hearto? horo, perbaps, thot has ever bee | put upon esavas, ae ibe very tmopersonation of easy conscious skill and cleverness. He has ‘sey ting In his career that he could not give a good account of Lifo is all tard Wills fhim, straightforward, jorial,on the eurfuce. . . ‘This hostler from tne city, this groom picked up from tho pavement, 1, without doubt or controversy, everybody's tanster Im the story of which he Is the centre, When the whole little community In the book Is puizaled, Sam's cleverness cuts the knot. It is be who always seos whut to do, who Keepa sverybody lta in ordar. Ho evon combines with hie rBte of all-accomplished sorvingynan the other role of jeune premier, and retains his superiority all through the book, at ance 40 phlloswphy and practical insight, 1a love and war." —Blackwood's Magarine, Vol. CLX, 2D GTA,

4 The Wickens Wictlonary.

Weller, Tony. Father to Samuel Weller; one of theold plothor ic, mottled-faced, greatcoated, many-waisteoated stage-coachmer that flourished in England before the advent of railways, Beinga widower, and therefore feeling rather lonely at times, he is invei- gled by a buxom widow, who keeps a public-houso, into marrying again. Father and son, who have not seen each other for some time, accidentally meet one day at an inn where Sam is staying with his master, Mr. Pickwick.

A hoarse voice, like some strange effort of rentriloquism, emerged from ‘beneath the capacious shawls which muffled . . . throat and chest, and slowly ‘uttered there sounds,—* Wy, Saromy!”

“Who's that, Sam?” inquired Mfr. Plokwlek.

“ Why, I wouldn't ha’ believed It, str!" replied Mr. Weller with astonished eyes, Tk? the old ’un”

“Old one?” sald Mr. Pickwick, —* whnt ol one?”

“My father, sir,” replied Mr. Wellor. “How are you, my anclent?” And, ‘with this beautifal cbullition of filial affection, Mtr. Weller unde room ou the scat beside him for the stout man, who advanced, pipe in mouth and pot in hand, to greet hit,

+ Wy, Sammy!” sald the father: “ han't seen you for two yeare and bet-

“No more you have, old codger," replied the von, “ Mow 's mother-ine Inw

Wy, Ill tel you what, Sarusmy,” sald Mr, Weller, senor, with much solem- nity in his manner, ‘there never was a nicer Woman as a widder than that Jero xecond weutaro’ mine. A sweet croctur she was, Saminy ; aud all T can say ‘on her now fe, that, ax she was such an uncommon plewnnt wider, 1t% w great pity she ever changed her condition, She don't actas a vif, Sammy.”

+ Don't she, though ?” inquired Mr. Weller, junlor.

‘The elder Mr. Weller shook his head, ax ho replied with a sigh, “I?ve done Itonee too often, Sammy,—T Wve done It ones too often. Take example by your futher, my boy, and be wery careful o* widders all your life, #pecally If they tre kepta publichoure, Sammy.” And, having delivered this parental advice with great pathos, Mr. Wellor, senior, refilled his pipe from a tin box he carried ta his pocket, and, lighting his fresh pipe from the ashes of the old one, come menoed smoking at a gront rate,

Shortly after this, Mr. Weller mects his son again, when a more extended conversation ensues.

“ That ‘ere your governor's luggage, Sammy?" inquired Mr. Weller, ventor of iis affectionate son, ms he entered the yard of the Bull Eun, Whitechapel with a travelling-bag anda xmnall portmantest,

You might ha’ mado mworser guess than that, old feller," replied Mr ‘Weller, the younger, setting down his trarden in the yard, and sitting himself down upon it afterwards, © governor his-self "ll be down here presently.”

“Me ‘s acabbiu’ it, I suppose?” said the father.

Yeu, he '* sharin’ two mile o! danger wt ¢ightpence,” responded the son, How 's mothor-In-lsw this morntu’?””

Queer, Sammy, queer,” replied the elder Mr. Weller with kmpressive grav

OLD WELLER AND THR COACHMEN

The Plckwoick Papers. 86

ity. “She % been gettin’ rayther tn the Methodistical order Intely, Sammy; 424 she’s uncommonly pious, to be sure. She's too good s crectur for me, Saumy; I feel I don't deserve ber.”

Ant” said Mr. Samuel: “ that "s wery eelfdenyis! of you."

“ Wery," replied his parent with = sigh. ™ She"s got hold o” some Invention thr grown-up people being bors again, Sammy,—the new birth, I thinks they calls it. I shoald wery much like to we that system tm hactloo, Sammy. I sbecld wery much Ike to see your motherinlaw born egal. Wouldo’t I pus ber out to nuree!

What do you think them women docs tlother day," continue’ Mr. Weller, after a short pause, during which he had significantly streck the side of his ove with his foretinger some half-dozen times, —“ what do yeu think they does other day, Sammy?”

“ Doa't know,” replied Sam: “ what?”

“Gore and gets up & grand tea-drinkin’ for @ feller they calls thelr shep- herd,” said Mr. Weller. “I was a-ttanding starin’ in at the pictershop down at our place, when T sees m little bill about it: * Tickets half a crown. All applica- tons to be mate to the committee, Secretary, Mrs, Weller! And when I got home, there was the committee a-sittin’ in our back-parlor,— fourteen women, I wish you could ha’ heard ’em, Sammy! There they was, a-passin’ resolutions, ‘and wotfn’ supplies, and all sorts o? games. Well, what wilh your motherin law worrying me to go, cnd what with my looking for'ard to seein’ some queer starts if I did, I put my name down for a ticket. At six o'elock on the Friday evenin’ F dresses myself out wery smart, and off I goes vith the od ‘oman; and up we walka into a fust floor where there was tea-things for thirty, tnd & whole tot of women as begins whisperin’ to ane another, aod lookin’ at me as if they “d mever seen rayther # stout gen'im’n of eight and fifty afore. By aed by, there comes a great bustle down stairs; and a lanky chap with a red nose and white neckcloth rushes up, and sings out, ‘Here ' the shepherd « coming to wisit his faithful flock 1? und in comes = fat chep in black, vith » greet white face, a-amilin’ avay like clockwork. Such goin’s-on, Sammy! ‘The kiss of peace,’ anys the shepherd; and thea he kissed the women all round, and, ven he"ddone, the max rith the red nose began, Iwas Just athinkin’ whother I had't better beg'a too, — "specially as there was a wery nice lady a-stttin! next tue, —ven in comes the tea, and your mother-ie-law, as had been makla’ the kettle boil down stairs, At it they went, tooth snd nall, Such # precious Joud hymn, Sammy, while the tea was a-brewing! such a grace! such eatin’ and Grinkin’! I wish you could ha’ seen the shepherd walkin’ {nto the ham and wwuffins. I never seo such a chap to eat and drink—never! The red-aosed yuan warn’t by no meaus the sort of person you ’d like to grub by contract ; but he was nothia’ to the shepherd. Well, arter the tea was aver, they tang muy other hymn, and then the shepherd began to preach; and wery well he did it, sousiderio” how heavy them muffins must have lied on bis chest. Presently ue 1 2le sp all of a audden, and hollers out.‘ Where i+ the sinner? where As the matic sinner? upow which wil the women looked at me, and Regus to roam as if they wne dyin’. I thought it was rather sing’lar; but, hows'ever, I says nothing, Presently be pulls up again, and, lookin’ wery hard at me, says, “Where i the sinner? where fs the mis'rable sinner?’ and all the women groans agai, ten times Jouder than afore. I got rather wild at this: so I ‘akos a #tep or two for'sml, and sayy, «My frlend/ says I, “did you appiy that ‘ere obserwation to me?! "Stead of beggi my pardon, as any gea'l'm'n would ‘Ee’ done, be got morg abusive than ever, called me a wessel, Sammy,—a wow

.

a

36 he Dickens Mietfonacy.

vel of wrath, —and all sorts 0’ names. So my blood being reg’larty op, I fret gave hin two or three for himself, and thea two or three more to lund over to ‘the man with tho red nose, and walked of, Iwish you could ba’ heard how the women screamed, Sauminy, vea they pleked up Use shepherd from ander the

(Oh xx, xxii, xxiii, xxvii, xxiii, xxxiv, xliti, xiv, Iii, ly, vi) See Pickwick (Samurt) and Wetter (SAMvEt).

Weller, Mrs. Susan. His wife, formerly Mrs. Clarke. (Ch. xxvii, xlv.) See Weiter (Sacer) and Wr1.er (Tory).

‘Whiffers. A footman at Bath. (Ch. xxxvii.)

‘Wicks, Mr. Clerk in office of Dodson and Fogg. (Ch. xx.)

‘Wilkins, Gardener to Captain Boldwig. (Ch. xix.)

‘Winkle, Mr., senior. Father of Nathaniel Winkle; an old wharfinger at Birmingham, and a thorough man of business, having the most methodical habits, and never committing himself hastily in any affair, He is greatly displeased at his son's marriage to Miss Arabella Allen, but finally forgives him, and admits that the lady is “a very charming little daughter-in-law, after all.” (Ch. 1, lv.)

‘Winkle, Nathaniel. A member of the Correspanding Society of the Pickwick Club, and a cockney pretender to sporting skill. (Ch, i-y, vii, ix, xi-xiii, xv, xvili, xix, xxiv-xxvi, xxviii, xxx- xxxii, xxxiv-xxxvi, xxviii, xxxix, xliv, xlvii, liv, lvi, lvii.)

‘Witherfield, Miss. A middlo-aged lady, affianced to Mr. Mag- nus. (Ch. xxii, xxiv.) See Macxus, Peter.

Wugsby, Mrs. Colonel, A fashionable lady whom Mr. Pick- wick mects at Bath. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi.)

Zephyr, The, See Mivixe, Mr.

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

‘Cuarran T, Meoting of the Pickwick Cluby Mr. Motton calls Mr. Pickwick = “ume tug" ina” Pickwickian sense." —IL The Pickwleklans get into trouble with the eusch- thon at the Golden Cross Inny they moet Mr. Alfred Jing 10 journey to Rochestory after supper at tho Ball Yon, Mr. Tapman and Mr, Jingle attend tho ball, Sr. Jingle cites the Jealousy of Dr, Slammer, who cbal- duel, whileh ts Luterrupted by De. Slammer discover sua) Jemmy relates * The Stroller'e Tate {* ? iMtary review al Hochenter; meet lng With ‘Tho drive to Dingley Delly Mr, Winkle, dismounting, te amableto remount; and, Mr. Pickwick polng to lis avalstadco, his horse runsaway, leaving he Pickwickians to walk tho re9t of the way.—VI, Tho card-party at Mr. Wardio'ey the

Ede Ble!

ick Papers, 87

Slergyman recltes* The Try Groon,”* and relates The Convict's Return." — VIE. Mr, Wine ie attemps to shoot the rocks and wounds Mr. Tupman; the ericket-match at Musyie ton, and the dinner which followed, — VIII. Mr. Tupman propcass to Miss Rachacl, and is discovered by the fut boy ; Joc, relating the discovery to old Mra, Wardle, Is overheard by Mr. Jingle, who determines to supersede Mr. Tupman in tho splnster’s affections. IX, Pioilins his arta aucetnaful, he elopes with her: Mr. Wardle and Mr. Pickwick follow, and ‘are Just on the point of overtaking the fugitives, when thalr carriage breaks down, —X. Bam Weller's frat appearance as" boots" at the White Hart Inn; his account of his fi ‘ther's marringos Mtr, Wardle questions Sam, and finds that Jingle and Miss Rachael wre at the White Hart; Mr. Jingle te bought off, and the Indy returns with her brotner.— Xt ‘Tho disappearance of Mr. Tapman, and the journey of Pickwick, Snodgrass, and Winkle fm search of him; Mr. Piskwick discovers the stone with the famous antique invcription ¢ ‘the madunan's manuscript; the discussion oecastoned among the loarned avcleticr by Mi Pickwiek’s discovery. —XUL Mr. Pickwick, informing Mrs. Bardell of hia determinatio toomploy a valot, finds himself tn an awkward situation, In which ho ks discovered by bi felends; Mr. Pickwick engages Sam Weller as his valet,— XIII. Someaccountof Katan- ‘ewill, ond therival factions of tho Tufts snd Blues: Mr, Perker explains how an election ts managed, and introduces tho Pickwicklans to Mr. Pott, editor of the Gazotte, who invites ‘Mr, Piekwick and Mr. Winkle to his house: 8am Weller relates to his master some tricks of ‘the election; apeeches of the rival eandidates, and success of tho Hon, Samuel Slumkey.— ‘XIV. "The Ragman'sStory."'— XV. Mr, Leo Hunter waits upon Mz. Pickwick, and tavites ‘hima and his friends to a,fite champétre, to be given by Mrs Leo Hunter; dispute and recone eiilation of Me. Pickwick and Mz. Tupman: the fancy ball at Mrs. Hunter's, and re-appear ‘8200 of Alfred Jinglo as Mr. Charles Fitz-Marshall; recognizing Mr. Pickwick, hesudJenly Aeparts, and ts followed by Mr. Pickwick and Sam to the Angel, at Bary 8. amanda, — XVI- Sam gives Mr. Plokwick some account of his bringing up: Sam discovers Mr. Job ‘Trotter, who reveals the plans of Mr. Charles Pitz-Marshall for eloping with # young Indy ‘from the boardlag-school; Mr. Pickwick"s adventure in the boarding-school ; bets relieved ‘fromm his unpleasant altuation by the appearance of Mr. Wardle and Mr, Trundle, ~XVII- ‘AM. Pickwick reads to Mr, Wantle the Story of the Parish Clerk."*— XVII. Me. Pott, ‘having his Joalouxy of Mr. Winkle excited by wn artiole In * The Independent,” denounces that gentleman, whereupon a scene ensues, ending tn the departure of Mr. Winkle; Mostra. ‘Winklo, Snodgrass, and Tupman Join Mr. Pickwick at tho Angel, st Bury St. Edmunds; Mr. Pickwick receives a letter from Messrs, Dodson and Fogg, inforuning him of Afr. Bordeli's wait for breach of promise. — XIX. Account of the shooting-party and the ex- ‘traontinary skill of Menara. Tupman and Winklo; Sam Weller explains the mysteries of ‘weal ples" Mz, Plekwick, having imbibed punch very freely, falls aaleop {a a wheel- barrow, and (s left alone while the party continuo their sport; he Is discovered by Capt. Boldwig, who orders him to be wheeled off to the pound, from which ho ta rescued by Mr. ‘Yardjoand Sam Weller, —XX. Mr. Pickwick and Sam visit tho office of Dodson and Fogg, diet which, they call at a tavern, whore Sain unexpectedly encounters hin fathar; from som th 7 Hearn thot Jinglo and Job Trotter azo at Ipswich, and Mr. Pickwick decides to ‘week them thero nt once; Mr. Pickwick finds Sr. Lowten at the head of a convivial party ‘85 fh Mazplo snd Stamp, and Is Invited to Jon them. — XXL. Jack Bamber relates some stories about Gray's Ian, and also "A Talo of a Queer Client." — XXII. Mr. Pickwick, ing to Ipswich, meets Mr. Peter Magnus, gotng to the same place, and Learns from that enleman dix object in viklting that citys Mr, Pickwick, retiring for the nlsht, leaves his -vacch upon the table, and, returning to seek tt. loves his way, and gets into the wrong ‘Foot, which proves to bo the chumber of a middle-aged lady. —XXIiI, Sam Wellor une ‘wpectedly encounters Mr, Job Trotter, and beeins his roturn-mateh, — XXLV. Mr. Magnus mizottuces Mr. Mick wick to bie lady, ished at thotr behavior, Miss Witherfleld ‘waite upon George Nupkins, Esq., and enters a complaint aptinst Mr. Pickwick, in con- sequenes of which that gentloman and Mr. Tupman aro arrested, and, In attempting ® resoue, Sam Weller‘and the other Picewickians aharo the same frto.—XXV. The trial Defure George Supking Ieeq,, which is brought to wn uncxpected termination by Mr. Mieke wick exposing Mz, Aled Jingle and lus designs; Mr. Weller also exposes Job Trotters Sho frat passage ov afr, Wollet's tvt love.— XXVI. Sam viaits Sirs, Bardoll, and wantsts Wa ceaveration which Uirows some Light on the action of Bardell ws. Mokwick.

She Dickens DWictlonarg.

83 XXVIZ. Sam goes to Dorking, and makes the acquaintance of hie mothertn-Iaw and the Rev. Mr, Stigetns, and alto has au interview wih Mr. Weller, senior.— XXVIIL The Tiekwicksans and Sam Weller go t» Dingley Doll, and attend the wedding of Mr. Trandie wh uialatballa Wardle; Se. Pickwick weeks at tho wedling-breai fast, and dancee ld Sirs. Wardle in the evening: Mr. Wendie ainge a“ Christmas Carvl"—=XX1X. Wantie relates" Tho Story of the Gobline whe stole a Sexiou."'—XKX. The Pick Tiaiiaas sake te acquaintance of Mz. Bon ABen and Mr. Bob Sawyer: Mr. Winkle SER Me skll| tn the sccompaishment of skating: Me. Pekwick's fal throagh the foe, ‘rescuos breaking up of the party.—XXXI. Mr. Jacksou, of the house € Dedion ang Sanh cetmnas the @iends and servant of Mz. Mekwick; Air. Pickwick and Sam go 10 Perkee's, Sam relating on tho way the mysterious disappearance of a respectable Femme 3. Perear informs 24, Fickwick that ho his reiainod Serjeant Snubbio ae easpeate, and is amazed ot Mr, Pickwiek's determination to se ‘thal eminent perow: set; Mr. Plekwick's luterriow with Serjesut Snabhin, ta whicd they are joloed by Mr fare Mr. Bob Sawyer, proporing to give a bachelor party, has soma trouble landlady: the party, getting nolay, are eedered out by Mrs. Rade, —XXXII1 Dir. Saxe Weller, gutng to meee Bis father at the Biue Hoar, has his attention attracted by a Levers ar tons ; And, parobaxing paper and pens, ho indives # wasentine te ‘Mary. whlob Mr, Weller, senior, criticlees and approves; Mz. Weller and Sain attend the meeting of the Brick Lane Branch of the Cnited Grand Junction Ebesever Total Absti- nenoe Association; Mr. tiggins also attends te a state which astonlshes the members, and ‘causes the dlapersiog of the saeeting. — XXXIV. Commencement of the memeeable trial, Dantell es Pickwick; dramatic eBpot of Mrs Bandell's appearance; addres of Serjeant Busfuz, followed hy the examination of the witnomes, and the important testimony of Sam ‘Wollers verdict for tho plaintift’ ~XXXY. The Pickwicklans, going te Bath, make the scqualntance of Capt. Dowlor, also of Angulo Orrux Dantarn, Bsq., M.C.; Sam goes on ‘an errand to Qoven Square, and meets the resplendent footman: the tallealghe in the assembly-Toom at Mash, whore Mr, Pickwick dors himvolf no credit at canis. — XXXVI. Mr, Mickwick takes lodgings for himself and frlends in the Rayad Crescent: be tluds the ‘Teve Legend of Pringe Wadndy" Mx, Dewler. altting up for ils wife, who lias gune tom party, falls asleep; on her return in asolanchalr, Mr. Winkie Is the frst person wroused, ‘and he proceeds, in dresaing-gown and slippers, to open the door, when 1¢ ts blown to bo= ‘hind Lim, and he rushes tnto theseduo-chalr; exciting ease of Mr, Winklo by Mtr. Bowler. -—XXXVUL_ Mam Weller eeortvesan invitation to a teiendly awarry "by the Bath foatinen, ‘whied he attends andor the patronage of Mtr. John Smauker; Me. Pickwick relases to Sam tho story of Me. Winklo's fight, and oommisions him to tind and bring im back. — XXXVIIL Mr. Winklo, having fled 10 Bristol, unexpectedly finds himself fo the presence WE, Bob Sawyerand Mr. Bon Alien: Mr. Allen explaing to Mfr, Winklo his intentions in pegnri to his sister Arabella; Mr. Winkle, returning to his Rotel, ts greatly astoalshed to find Mr. Dowler; mutual explanation and reconedilation, —XXXIX. Sam Weller appears ‘and undertakes to flod Miss Arabella Allens his unexpected meeting with the pretty Dotwsemald, through whom be dnds and has an invereiew with Miss Aen: Afr. Mokwick arranges and assists at & meeting betworn Mr, Winkle and Miss Arabella. and casts now Light on the studios of a selentide gentleman, — XL. Dr, Pickwick isarronteds Mr. Porkor “hits hilt, but is unable te induce him to pay thedamnnges adjudged, and Mr. Piekwhek ha sartied to the Fleot—XE. Sam relates the story ef the chanoery privoners Mr. Wick wick makes the acquaintance of Meare Mivine and Smsngle.—XLUL Mx. Sinangto'e Attempt Yo get possemion of Mr. Fickwick's linew is frustrated boy Sain Weller Mr. Pick wick is" chummed"* apou No. #7 t the third, and takes possession of his quarters, tat Voting bis presence Gluagreenble to hia chums, and tearing that be eww live elsewhere, Ie hires # roo in the coffeehouse Bight: he vaste the Toor xlde of the prison, and we tounlers Me. Alfred Jingle and Mr. Job Trotters Mr. Pickwick @iniseee Sam, ~ XLATE ‘aun arrungios with his father a ttslo plan, by whieh he gots himself arrested and sent te the Floet as © peisoner, In which charicter he axtonishes Mr. Pickwiek.—XLEV. San felates ty bile niastor the atory of the man as Killed hiself on principtey'* he makee the aoqualatance of his cham, the cobbler Mr, Pickwick is vieited by Messrs. Tupman Solerans, aivt Winkle; death of the chancery prisoner. — XLV. Sam Weller ix vieltod by ‘As father, bis mother-in-law, and the slepherd; he ls overwhelmed wit aatonistunent my

Ede Pickwick Papers.

‘countering Mz. Job Trotter; Mr. Trotter Introduces Mr. Pickwick aod Sam to a" while Wingshop."—XLVT. Mrs, Bardelt Is visited by some friends, with whom: wad her Indger she ross to the Bpaniant Tea Gardens; thelr toa-party Ix interrupted by Mfr. Jackacn, of Dodson and Foos’s Sy whom Mrs. Bandell is carried to tho Fleet, tn execution for costs 19 the case of Bardell ox Fickwick.—XLVIL Mr. Ferker, having recelvést notice of this from Sam, visits Mr, Piokwiok, Mr, and Mrs. Winkle appear, to confess thelr marriage: Mr. Snodgrass and Me. Tapman alag arrive; and Mr. Mokwick finally yleldato their united ‘appeals; and coments to release himself from prison. —XLVILL. Mr. Eob Sawyer ond Mr Wen Allen, discissaing the prospects, business and matrimonial, of the former, ero visited by An sunt of the later, also ty Mr. Pickwick and Sam; Mr, Pickwick's explanation Feconcitet all parti¢e to the marriageaf Mia Allen with Mr. Winklo; Mr. Plokwick again weeets the onowyed Dagan XLIX. Ho relates “Tho Story of his Uncle."—L. Me. Fickwick having arranged with Mr Hen Allon to accompany bim to Tirmingbam, to ‘¢xplain matters to the elder Mz. Winkle, is surprised at Mr. Sawyer's determination to £9 ‘sith thems bumorous conduct of that gentleinan on the Journey; the three visit Mr Winkie, senior; unfuvorable result of the interview. — LI. The party, returning to London, stop at the Sarscen's Head, Towcestor, whoro they find Mr, Potts arcival of Mr. Slurk, ‘and desperate encounter of the rival editors. — LIl. Sam recelves nows of the death of his motherhiiaw, and goes to Dorking to seb bis fathor; Mr. Stiggios pays & visit of sym ‘pathy to the widower, by whom he Is kicked out of doors, and ducked tn the horse-troah. LITT. Mr, Plokwick calls to consult Mr, Perkor on Me, Winkle's atfulrs, and tects Me ‘Tingle and Job Trotter, who ually take their leave of him and of the readory Dr. Pick= ‘wick gives Mesars. Dodson and Fogg bis opinion of their character. —LIV. ‘The fat boy smnounces the arrival of bis master; Mr. Wardle astoniahes Mr. Pickwick with the story ‘of the attachment of Mr. Snodgrass, and Miss Emily Wardle; Mr. Snodgrass, visiting Mist ‘Emily, is discovered by theft boy, who is bribed to keep tha soorets Mr. Wardle and fils party Tetursing earlier than expected, Mr. Saodgrass conceals himself in an Inner room, ‘from which ho is unable to escape; unaccountable behavior of Joe, which ts explained by the appearance of Mr. Suograss, and his story.—LY. Me, Weller, advised by Sam, bas bls late witw's will probated, and selts his share In the finds, through tho aid of Wilkins Flasher, Eaq.—LVI. Mr. Weller, senior, consigns hls property into the hands of Ste. ‘Plakwick Mr, Pokwick advises Sain, with lis father's consent, to marry, but Samstoutly refuses to leave his master; Mr. Winkle, senior, calla on his daughter-in-law, and becomes reconciled to hus ton's mazriage.— LVI, Mr, Pickwick announces the dlasolution of the ‘sub; marriage of Snodgrass and Emily Wardic, and subsequent Bistory of the principal

The Adventures of Oliver Twist.

‘Then greater part of this tale was originally published during the years 1837 and 1538, tn“ Bentley's Magazine,” of which Mr. Dickens was at that time the editor, Te wax Bogen fe tho second number (for February, 1831), and was illustrated by George Craftshank. On {ts completion, tt was bssued in three volumes, by Mr. ‘Bentley-

Te "Oliver Twist” Dickens assailed the abuses of the poorlaw and workhouse gqstem, Of hie more general object fa writing the work, be has himaclf given ‘Bale accounts —

share yet tolearn that a lewon of the purest good may not be drawn from the ‘West er Ihave always belleved this to be a recognized and established truth, Jaki down ‘ty the greatest men the world has ever seen, constantly sated upon by tho erentext and ‘wireak matures, and confirmed by the reason and experience of every thinking mind. Isaw ereason. wren I wrote thie book, why the dregs of life, #0 long wa thelr speech did not ‘eden the ea, should not serve the purpose of a moral, at Leask ms well as its froth and coum, Nor (i Goubt that thoro tay featering in Satnt Giles's ws good materials towarle ‘dhe trait as any to de found in Saint Jammos'e,

‘im hie wpitit, when I wished to ahow in litle Oliver the principle of good survivitg

smrengh every adverse circumstance, and triumphing at last; and when T considered seeeene hat companions I could try him best.haring regard to that kind of men into whose pasts be would moat vaturally fall, ~ bethougbs myself of those who figure in these vol- emen When I camo to discuss tho wubjoct more maturely with myselGT saw many stroog ross for purvuing the course to which 1 was tnciined. I had read of thieves by seatee, Spibeeilve Peilows (aimiable for the most part), fhaltiess In dress, plump tn pecket, chores an hetreta, Dold In bevnng, fortanate in gallantzy, great ata song.@ bortle, pack af “gaia, o¢ dlow-box, and tt companions for tho bravest; but T had never met (except tm Wosbee, With: the miserable reality. Le appeared tome that to draw a Rnot of such am ‘Petbie It tslmo we really do exist; vo pant theen In all thelr deformity, tm atl thelr prvishestnow, in all the equalld poverty of thelr tivess to show them ax they really are Sy Hyer hulliing uneasily throughs the dirtiest paths of lifo, with the great, black, ghast- “Wp palhirws elntag up thete prompect, tuen therm where thes may, —It appeared to me ti

Pen berrive tewoclety, And thorvfore 1id tt ant best coud.” ee page 43.

Oliver Twist. om

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED,

Anny. A pauper. (Ch. xxiv, IL.)

Artful Dodger, The. See Dawkrys, Jonx,

Barney. A villanous young Jew, with a chronic catarrh, employed at The Three Cripples Inn, Little Saffron Hill. (Ch. xv, xxii xbi, xlv,)

Bates, Charley. A thief; ore of Fagin's “apprentices.” (Ch. ix, x, xii, xiii, xvi, xviii, xxv.) See Dawxus, Jou.

Bayton. Onc of the poor of the parish. (Ch. v.)

Becky, Barmaid at the Red Lion Inn.

Bedwin, Mrs, Mr, Brownlow’s housekeeper. (Ch. xii, xiv, xvii xii, Li

Bet, or Betsy. A thief in Fagin’s service, and « companion of Nancy. (Ch. ix, xiii, xvi, xviii.) See Suces, Brow.

Bill. A grave-digger. (Ch. v.)

Blathers and Duff. Bow-street officers. (Ch. xxi.)

Bolter, Morris. See Crayrore, Noag.

Brittles. A servant at Mrs, Maylic's (Ch. xxviii, xxx, xxxi, Mili.) See Grrxs, Mr.

Brownlow, Mr. A benevolent old gentleman, who takes Oliver into bis house, and treats him kindly. (Ch. x-xii, xvi, xli, xlvi, xlix, B-lii.) See Fax (Mx.), Pacix, Monxs.

Bull's-eye, Bill Sikes’s dog. (Ch. xiii, xv, xvi, xix, xxxix, xlviii, 1) See Sixes, Brew.

Bumble, Mr. A beadle puifed up with the insolence of office,

iy Mrs Mann, the matron, small parlor with brick floor, placed

“ You 've had s long walk, you know, or Now, will you take a little drop of something, Mr. Bum

2 Ehe Dickens Dietlo

oe

‘Mr. Bumble coughed. ow Jon alte drop” aad ar, Mann porsunstvely, <

“What is it? inquired the beadle,

“Why, it’ what I'm obliged to keep alittle of in the house, to put In the Diessed Infunte? daffy when thoy aln't well, Mr. Kumble,” replied Mrs. Mans ‘as she opened a corner cupboard, and took down a bottle and glass. “It's gin.”

“Do you give the children day, Mrs, Mann?” inquired Bumble, following with lils eyes the interesting process of mixing,

“Ah, bless ’emt that I do, dear as it ts,*replied the nurse. “I eould 1” wee jum euitor before my ayes, you know, ste.”

No,” sald Bir, Bumble wpprovingly; “no, you could not, You are « hu mane woman, Mrs. Manu.” (Here she set down the glass.) “I shall take ax early opportunity of mentioning It to the Board, Mre. Mann.” (Ie drow it towards hits.) ‘You feel ae a mother, Mfrs. Maun.” (Ho stirred the gin snd water.) “IT drink your health with cheerfulness, Mrs, Mannj” and he swallowed half of it.

“And now about business," sald the beadle, taking out a leathern pocket- Dook. “The child that was half-baptizod, Oliver Twist, f4 eight years old to-

”

“Bless him1” interposed Mre. Mann, inflaming her left eye with the corner of her apron.

‘And notwithstanding an offered rewant of ten pound, which was after: wards Increased to twenty pound; notwithstanding the most superlative, and, I may say, supernat’ral exertions on the part of this parish,” ead Bumble, ‘wo have never been able to discover who ts his futher, or what is his mother's settlement, name, or condition.”

Mrs. Mann ralved her hands In astonishment, but added, after a moment's reflection, * How comes he to have any vame at all, then?”

‘The bendie drew himself up with great pride, and sald, “I inwented (t."

“You, Mr. Bumble?"

“1, Mee. Mann. Woe name our foundiin’s In alphnbetieal order. The last was a 8,—Swubble: I named him. This was a T,—Twist: F named Kim, The next one ax comes will bo Unwin, and the next Viking. ¥ hare got names

ready made to the end of the alphabet, and all the way through it again, whem weeome to Z"

Why, yon "re quite a literary character, sir,” sald Mre, Mann.

“Well, well” wale, the bendle, evidently gratified with the compliment; “pers hapt T may be, perhaps F may be, Mrs. Mann.” He finished the gin aud wa- ter, and added, “Oliver being now tro olf to remain here, the Board hare ditermined to have him back into the bouse; and I here come out myvelf to take lim there: so let me see bim at once

Mrs. Corney being matron of the workbouse, and the death of Mr. Slout, the master of the establishment, being daily expected, Mr, Bum- ble, who stands next in the order of succession, thinks it might be a ood opportunity for “a joining of hearts and héusekeepings.” Wirh this idea in his mind, he pays the lady a visit, and, while sho is out of the room fora few moments, counts the spoons, welgis the sugartongs, ~losely inspects the silver milk-pot, takes a mental inventory of the furniture, and makes himself acquainted with the contents of a chest

~

Ol(ver Swist 98

ive

of drawers. Upon her return, after some billing and cooing, she says “the one little, little, little word” he begs to hear, and bash- fully consents to become Mrs. Bumbie a8 soon as ever he pleases. But the course of Mr. Bumble's love doos not ran smooth after marriage; for his wife turas out tobea thorough shrew. When the first tiff occurs, Mrs. Bumble bursts into tears, but they do not serve to soften the heart of Mr. Bumble; for he smilingly bids her keep =~ on. “It opens the lungs," be tells ber, “washes the countenance, exercises the eyes, and softens the temper: so ery away." When, | however, she changes her tactics, boldly flies at him, and gives him a sound and well-merited drubbing, he yields incontinently, and Indalges in sad and solitary reflections. “I sold myself,” he says, “for six tea-spoons, a pair of sugartongs, and a milk-pot, with a smail quantity of second-hand furniter, and twenty pound in money. 1 went very reasonable, cheap, —dirt cheap.”

‘This procious pair are afterwands guilty, — first, of sclling certain articles which were left in the workhouse by the mother of Oliver ‘Twist, and which are necessary to his identification; and, secondly, of witnessing what they suppose to be the destruction of these articles. Brought before Mr. Brownlow, they are confronted with proofs and witnesses of their rascality; but Bumble excuses himeef by saying, “It was all Mrs. Bumble, She would do it.”

“That is no excuse,” replied Mr. Brownlow, You were prosmnt on the oc ‘easion of tho destruction of these trinkets, and, indeed, are the more guilty of the two, In the eye of the law; for the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction.”

* If the law supposes that,” said Mr, Bumble, squeezing tis hat emphatioally Indoth hands, “the law if aes, a ldlot. If that 's the eye af the law, the law*s bachelor; and the worst I wish the law ts, that his eye may bo opened by ex- perience, —by experience.”

Notwithstanding this disclaimer of any personal responsibility in the matter, Mr. Bumble loses his situation, and retires with his wife to private life, (Ch. iin, vil xel, xxi xxxvil, xexiil IL), See Dicx (Lirrun), Twrer (Oriven). rt in heer

Servant to Mra, Sowerberry; afterwards married to Noah Claypole. (Ch. ivvi, xxvii, xlii, Hii. Uhitling, Tom, An “apprentios” of Fagin’s; a “half-witted dupe,” who makes a rather unsuccessful thief. (Ch, xviii, xxvy xxxix, 1.) Claypole, Noah. A chuckle-headed charity-boy, apprenticed te Mr. Sowerberry the undertaker. Ho afterwards goes to Lon

oo The Wickens Mictlonary. doo, and becomes © thie (Ch. y, vi, xvi alli, abi, ale

axlvis litt.) , Mra. Matron of s workhouse; afterwards married to Mr.

Bamble. (Ch. xxili, xxiv, xxvii, can IL) See Bue

Bie, Me. 3

Crackit, Toby. A housebreaker“(Ch. xxiii, xaxix, |.)

John,

pocket in the service of Fagin the Jow. When Oliver Twist runs away from his master, and sets out for Lomion, he mects the Art- fal Dodger on the road, who gives him something to est, and after.

Sotto oe * Don's fret your eyelids SLegrhenl beg ypaurreed “Te got to be lodgings for nothink, and sak for the change; that Is, eter ik nn oa Ob, nol ‘Not In the least! By mo means! Certataly not!” *

Although the Dodger is an adept in thieving and knavery, he is detected at last in attempting to pick a gentleman's pocket, and is sentenced to transportation for life. While in court, he maintains his accustomed coolness, impudently chaffa the police-ollicers, asking tho jailer to communicate “the names of them two files as was on tho bench,” and generally “doing full justice to his bringing-up, ani establishing for himself a glorious reputation.” When brought into court, ho requests to know what he is “placed in that ‘ere dis- graceful sitivation for.”

** Hold your tongue; will you?" said the Jailer.

“Tm an Englishman, ain't £?” rejoined the Dodger. “Where are my privileges?”

You 'it get your privileges soon enough,” retorted the jailer, “ and pepper with tom."

“ Well see wot tho Secretary of State for the’ Home Affairs hax got to say to the beaks, if I don’t,” replied Mr. Dawkins. “ Now, then, wot is this here Yusiness? Tahall thank the madg’strates to dispose of this here Uttle affair and uot to keep me while they read the paper; for I've got ®n appointment with m gentleman in the city : and as J’m a man of my word, and wery punctual In business-matters, ho ll go away if I ain’t there to my time, and then, p'r’aps, there won't be wn action for damage against those as kept me mway. Oh, no; cortainly not!”

‘The evidence against him is direct and conclusive ; but the Dodgy er continues unabashed; and, when the magistrate asks him if he has any thing to say, he affects not to hear the question.

* Do you bear his worship ask you if you "ve any thing to say?” inquired the -alllr, nudging the ailent Dodger with his elbow.

Ollver Twist. on

“ Theg your pardon,” sald the Dodger, looking up with an alrof abstraction. ‘+ Did you redress yourself to me, my man?”

“ Lnover pee such ma out-and-out young wagabond, your worship," obserred the officer with a grin. “Do you mean to say any thing, you young shaver?”

* No," replied the Dodger, “not here; for this ain't the shop for Juations ‘Desides which, my mttorney Is a-breakfnsting thls morning with the wlee-prea- Gent of the house of commons. But I shall have something to say elewhera, ‘k0d #0 will ho, and xo will awery numerous and ‘¢pectable clrele of nequalnt- ‘ance, a4 "Il make them beaks wish they'd nerer been born, or that they" ‘got their footmen to hang 'em up to thelr own hiat-pegs afore they let ’em come ‘out this morning to try it on upon me, "1" —

+ There! hes fully committed,” interposed the clerk. “ Take him away.”

“ Cume on,” said the jailer.

“Oty, ah! I'l come on," replied the Dodger, brashing his bat with the palm of his hand. “ Ah” (tothe bench) it's no use your looking frightened: I won"t show you no mercy, —not aha’porth of it. You tl pay for thls, my fine fellers, 1 wouldn't be you for something! I wouldn't go free, now, If you ‘was to fall down on your knees and ask me. Here, carry me off to prison! ‘Take me away!”

‘With these last words the Dodger suffered himself to be Tod off by the ool Jar, threatening, till he got Into the yard, tomake s parliamentary *asiness of If, and then grinning tn the officer's face with great glee and self-approval.

xvi, xviii, xix, xxv, xxxix, xl

Dick, Little. Companion of Oliver Twist at a branch workhouse where infant paupers are tended with parochial care. (Ch. vik xvii.) ONT ay

Dodger, The Artful. See Dawxtxs, Jonx.

Duff. A Bow-street officer. See Buatiuens and Dorr.

Fagin, A crafty old Jew, a receiver of stolen goods, with a num- ber of confederates of both sexes, He also employs several boys (styled “ apprentices”) to carry on « systematic trade of pilfering. After 3 long career of villany, he ia sentenced to death for complie city ins murder. Having been taken to prison, he is placed in one of the “condemned cells,” and left there alone.

‘He sat down on a stone bench opposite the door, which served for seat and ‘bedatead, and, carting his bloodshot eyes upon the ground, tried to collect his thoughts. After n while, le began to remember a fow disjointed fragments of ‘what the Judge had said. thought it had seemed to him at the time that he could hot hear a word. ‘These gradually fell into thelr proper places, and, by degrees, suggested more; so that in a little time he had the whole almost me It was deliv ered. ‘To be hanged by the neck till hewas dead: that was theend,—to be hanged by the neck tilt he was dead,

Asit came on yery dark, he began to think of all the men be had known who hiad died upon the seaifuld,—some of them through his means. They rose up tamuch quick succession, that he could hardly count them. He had seen some

of them die, and joked, too, because they died with prayers upon thelr lps. With what a raitling nolve the drop went down! and how suddenly they

hanged from strong and vigorous men to dangling heaps of clothes!

96 The Dickens Mictionacs.

Some of them mizht have Inhabited that very cell, —sat upon that very epot. Se was very dark: why did wt they bring @ light? The cell had been ballt for many years, Scores of men must have psssed thelr last hours there. It was like sisting In m vault strewn with dead bodies, — the cap, the noose, the plnioned ‘arms, the fices that he knew even beneath that hideous veil. — Light, light!

At Jength, when bis hands were raw with beating ogninst the heavy door and ‘walls, two men appeared, one bearing a candle, which he thrust Esto an trom candlestick fixed against the wall, and the other dragging in a mattress op Which to pass the night; for the prisoner was to be left alone no more.

‘Then came night,— dark, dismal, sient night. Other wretches are glad to Rear the chureh-clocks strike; for they tell of life and coming day: to the Jew they brought despair, The boom of every iron bell came laden with the one teep, hollow sound,—death. What availed the noise and bustle of cheerful morning, which penetrated even there, to him? It was another form of knell, with mockery added to the warning,

‘The day passed off, Day!—there was no day: it was gone as soon as come; and night came on again,—night #0 long, and yet a0 ahort; long in ite dreadful silence, and short in tts fleeting hours. At one time he rared and blasphemed; and at nnother howled, und tore his hair, Venerable men of kis own perscasion had come to pray beside him; bat he had driven them away with curses. They renewed their charitable efforts, and he bent them off,

Saturday night. He had only one night more to live; and, as he thought of this, the day broke, —Sunday.

‘Tt wns not antil the night of this Inst avwfil day, that a withering sense of his Lelpless, desperate state came fn its fill Intensity upon his blighted soul; not that ho had erer held any defined or positive hope of merey,but that he had never been able to consider more than the dim probability of dylog #oa00n, He had xpoken little to either of the two men who relieved each other in thelr attendance upon iim; and they, for thelr parts, made no effort to rouse his attention. He had sat there, awake, but dreaming. Now he started up erery minute, and, with gasping mouth and burning skin, hurried to and fro, in such @ paroxysm of fear and wrath, that even they —used to such sights—Trecolled from lima with horror. He grew »0 terrible, at Inst, in nll the tortures of his evil conscience, that one man could not bbenr to sit there eying him alone; and so the two kept wateh together.

He cowered down upon his stone bed, and thought of the past. Ie had been wounded with some missiles from the crowd on the day of his capture, und his head was bandaged with a linen cloth. His red halr hung down upon his bloodless face; hia beard was torn, nnd twisted Into knots; his eyes shone with a terrible Hght; bis unwashed desh crackled with the fever that burnt himup, Elght—nine ten. If it was nota trick to frighten him, and those were the real hours treading ‘on each other's heels, where wou'd he be when they came roand again! Kleven! Another struck before the voice of the prerious hour had cessed to vibrate, At tight he would be the only mourner In his own funeral-train: at eleven —

‘Those droadtul walls of Newgate, which havo hidden +o much mixery and uch ‘snspeaksblo anguish, not only from the eyes, but, too often and too long, from the thoughts, of men, never held so dread a apectacle as that. ‘The few who lingered as thicy passed, and wondered what the man was doing who was to be hung to-mor row, Would have slept but fll that night if they could have soen hit.

Late at night, Mr. Brownlow appears with Oliver Twist at the wicket of the prison, and, presenting an order from one of the sheriffs bs immediately admitted, and conducted to Fagin’s cell.

Oliver Tw st.

| ‘The condemned criminal was seated on his bed, rocking himself from sido to Hie, with countenance moro like that of « snared boaxt than the fice of m man, Wis miod was evidently wandering to his old iifo; for he continued to mutter, without appearing conscious of their presence otherwise than as a part of ir tision.

“Good boy, Charl+y,—well done!” he mumbled. “Oliver too, ha, ha, ha Oliver too,—quite the gentleman now, quite the— Take that boy away to bed!*

‘The Jailer took the disengaged hand of Oliver, and, whispering him not to be alarmed, looked on without speaking.

“Take bic: away to bed!” eried the Jew. “Do you hear me, some cf you? Ho hax been tha—the—somohow the cauro of all this, Tk forth the monty to bring him up to tt. olter’s throat, Bill, —nover mind the girl, —Bolter's throat,

omy

“That emo” cried the Jow, falling instantly into the attitude of listening he had assumed upon his trial. “An old man, my lord,—a very old, old man!”

“Here,” said the turnkey, laying his hand upon hix breast to keep him down, — “her ’s somebody wants to see you, to ask you some questions, I suppose. Fas gin, Pagin! Are youa man?”

“1 ahan't bo ono long,” replied the Jove, looking up with a face retaining no ‘human expression but rago and terror. ~ Strike them all dead! What right haye they to butcher me?”

As ho spoke, he caught sight of Ollver nud Mr. Brownlow, Shrinking to the farthest corner of the scat. he demanded to know what they wanted there.

“Stealy,""aald the turnkey, sull holding him dows. “Now, sir, tell him what ‘You want,—quick, If you please; for he grows worse ws the timo gets ou,"

hands, for better security, by a man called Monks

“Jt "4 all a lle together," reptiod tho Jew. *T havo n°t one, —not one.”

“For the love of God,” sald Mr. Brownlow solemnly, “do not say that now, ‘spon the very verge of death, but tell me whore they are. You know that Sikes Ig.dead; that Monks has oonfesed; that thore is no hope of any further gain, ‘Whore aro those papers?”

“Oliver, cried the Jew, beckoning to him. “Here, here! Let me whisper to

you.” = “Tam not afraid,” said Oliver in « loud voloe, as he relinguished Mr. Brown hand,

“The papers,” sald the Jew, drawing him toward him, “are ina canvas bag, ta ‘whole alittle way up the chimney in the top frout-room. I want to talk to you, tay dear, want to talk to you."

“Yes, yes” returned Oliver. “Lot me saya prayer. Do! Say only one, upow jour knees, with me, and we will talk till morning.”

Qutaide, outside,” replied the Jew, pushing the boy before him toward th door, and looking vacantly over lilshead. “Say I?ve gone tosleep: they 7 belleve you. You can get me out, If yoo take me 40, Now then, now then 1"

“© God, forgive this wretched man!” cried the boy with o burst of tears.

That's right, that's right.” sald the Jew. “That'll help us on. ‘This doct rst. If Tshake and tremble as we pass the gallows, don't you mind, but hurry 99. Now, now, now!”

“Hare you nothing else to ask alm, alr?” inquired the turnkey.

‘No othier question,” replied Mr. Brownlow “LX hopod we could recall him P & ponse of his position” — ’

Fi Mk ee et es et ei; inetd ee ot ae S Ses a ee eer ef Etc (ee Dade Rog Se ee * iver Dee ens im come of ee ee ee ee Sb es ed ee set en twee oes ee al ee wi ame before Gee Se ree a i es et Lomi dite Biel, the home eer St sempelid ermerw Mo Jestce Laing thom dice

Ulbee Dest ctmesed it dealing a bumiiercited fom Mr. Gewniow @ be em quenly wading ot a erst, & broezht: Qetde Mi, Bae tie cmd: Mb Smeniiw appearing as witness. \

‘a Pag enone, wi a ge gen hd, aad what Dank grog ae mek ale A Dek Sle Mee was cera, ad alee taiaend HE ee ame nak at ee al of ining rather mere than wee Ree EO A re age ae a agmiuet Bis cusnie i el

Chm ak gpeneitenie Aewenk Meraibnelh. anh mivamng tw the magistrates ek ah, ting toeennatn im nen ~ Ca oy Raawe and address, sir.” Le ae Th A eH Mi A aN polite and genthemanly ell

Yom a Shemenen ite MD Ag ae a hake momeet perealng a tating

SMR eae en oa My Hag ancienoman euch some spre to la ead. “caput sai ME Eakiny Comming the card comempluousty away with the wererngrey ite ie nie fellow 2”

Ollver =

rt. 99

“ My name, str,” sald the old gentleman, speaking Lite a gentleman, and conse-

f ‘quently in strong contrast to Mr. Fang,—* my name, str, fs Brownlow. Permit

te to {nquire the name of the magistrate who offers a gratuitous and unprovoked

fosult to « respeotable man, under the protection of the bench.” Saying thls, Mr.

Brownlow looked round the office as if In search of some pereon who could afford bblm the reyutrod information,

“Oficer,” sald Mr. Fang, throwing the paper on ono side, “what °¢ this fellow charged with?”

“He %s not charged nt all, your worshfp,” replied the officer. “Ie appears ‘against the boy, your worship.”

Mis worship know this perfectly well; but It was a good annoyance, amd n safe one.

“Appears against the boy, does he?” sald Fang, surveying Mr, Brownlow eon- temptaously from bead to foot,“ Swear him."

“Before Tam sworn, I must beg to aay one word,” said Mr. Brownlow; “and that is, that I never, without actual experience, could have believed ” —

“Wold your tongue, sir!” sald Mr, Fung peremptorily.

“Twill not, sir!” replied the spirited old gentleman.

“Hold your tongue this inatant, or Il hnre you turned ont of the offic!” sald Mr. Fang. “You're an insolent, impertinent fellow. How dare you bully wmagistrate?”

“What?” exclalmed the old gentleman, reddening,

“Swear this person!" sald Fung to the clerk. “Il not hear another word, Swear him!”

Mr. Brownlow's indignation was greatly roused; but, reflecting that he might i Injure the boy by giving vent to it, he suppressed Lis feelings, aud submitted to fr be morn at once.

“Now,” sald Fang, “what % the charge against this boy? What have you got to say, oir?”

“Twas standing at a book-stall,” Mr, Brownlow began,

“ Hold your tongue, air!” said Mr. Fang. © Policeman! — Where 's the pollee- man? Here, swear this man. Now, polleeman, what la tla?”

The policeman, with becoming humility, related how he had taken the charge; how he had rearched Oliver, and found nothing on his person; and how that was all he knew about it,

“Are there any witnosses ?” inquired Mr. Fang.

‘None, your worship,” replied the policeman.

“Mr. Bung sat allent for some minutes, aud then, turnlog round to the prose eutor, sald Inn towering passton,—

Do you mean to state what your complaint against this boy fs, fellow, oF do you not? You have been sworn. Now, if you stand there, refuslng to glre evi dene, £1 punish you for disrespect to the bench : I will, by”—

By what or by whom nobody knows; for the clerk and jailer coughed very toud Just at the right moment, and the former dropped « heavy book on the floors

* thus preventing the word from betng heard, — accidentally, of course,

With many interruptions and repeated insults, Mr. Brownlow contrivad to state his case; observing, that, {a tho surprise of the moment, be bad run after the toy becanse he saw him running away; and expressing his hope, that if the magis {rate should believe hia, although not actually the thlef, to be connected with Aldieves, he would deal as leniently with him ws justice would allow.

“He bas been hurt already,” said the old gentleman fn conelusion, “And 1 Rar,” be added with great energy, looking towards the bar, ~ ‘I really fear thas ‘he fn very iil.”

100 Che Bickens Mictlonarp.

Oh, yest I dare say,” said Mr. Fang with a sneer, “Come, none of yous tricks here, you young vagabond: they won't do. What "s your name!

Oliver tried to reply; but his tongue failed him. Ho was deadly pale; and the whole pince seemed turning round and round.

“What "s yourname. you hardened scoundrel ?™ thnndered Mr. Fang. “ O6 flcer, what's hile namo?”

This was nddreaged to m bluff old fellow In m striped walstocat, who was standing by the bar. He bent over Oliver, and repeated the inguiry; bat Gind- ing him really incapable of understanding the question, and knowing that his not replying would only infurriate the magistrate the more, and add to the severity of his sentence, he hazarded « guess.

“He says his name "s Tom White, your worth{p,” sald this kind-hearted thlef-inkor.

“ How do you propose to deal with the case, sir?” inquired the clerk in a Jow voice.

wy Bammatly,” replied Mr. Fang. “fe stands committed for three months, band labor, of course, Clear tho office,"

‘The keeper of the book-stall, however, who saw the affair, and knows that Oliver is not guilty, just at this moment hastily enters the room, demands to be heard, and testifies that it was not Oliver, but his companion (the “Artful Dodger”), who picked Mr. Brown- low’s pocket ; and that Oliver, apparently much terrified and aston- ished by the. proceeding, ran off, was pursued, knocked down, arrested, and taken away by a police-oflicer. This evidence, though unwillingly received by the magistrate, acquits the boy, who is come passionately taken by Mr, Brownlow to his own house, where he is lnid up with fever, and is carefully nursed till he recovers. (Ch. xi.)

\ Fleming, Agnes. Mother of Oliver Twist. (Ch. i, lili.)

Fleming, Rose, See Martie, Roar.

Gamfield. A chimney-sweep. (Ch. iii.)

Giles, Mr. Mrs. Maylie’s butler and steward. Two burglars, Sikes and Crackit, attempt to break into Mrs. Maylie’s house, one night, but, being alarmed, retreat in haste, and are followed in a most val- iant manner by Giles and his fellow-servants, When a short dis tance from the house, however, they stop very suddenly, under in- structions from Giles.

“My advice, or, leastways, I should say, my orders, Is,” sald the fattest man of theparty, “that we mediately go home again

“Tam agreeable to any thing which Is agrecablo to Mr. Giles," sald n shorter ‘Man, who was by no means of a lim figure, and who was very pale in the fac, ana very polite, a9 frightened men frequently are.

“Tehould n’t wish to appear Gimannered, gentlemen,” said the third, whe had called the dogs back. ‘ Mr. Giles ought to know.”

“Certainly,” revlied the shorter man; “and, whatever Mr, Giles says, It lem’ Gut plsce to contradict hin. No, no, E know my sitiwation,— thank my stare, 1 know my sitiwation.” To tell the truth, the little man did seem to know bis

Oliver Twist. 101

‘tuation, n1dto know perfectly well that it was Seen ee one, for his teeth chattered in his head as he evoke.

“You are afraid, Brittles,” said Mr. Ques. %

“ Tatn’t," said Brittlos, ie *

“You are,” said Giles. ’

You ‘re = faleeliood, Mr, Giles," sald Brittles,

“ You ’re a lie, Brittles,” said Mr. Glles.

Now, these four retorts arove from Dir, Gilews taunt; and Mr, Giles's turn ‘had arisen from his indignation ot having the responsibility of going homme ngaim {imposed upon himself under cover of n compliment. ‘The third man brought the dispute to » clove most philosophically.

“Til tell you what it ts, gentlemen,” raid ho, wo ’re all afrald.”

“Speak for yourself, sir,” vald Mr. Giles, who was the palest of the party.

“80 I do," replied the man. “It’s natural and proper to be afrald under auch circumstances: Z am.

“So am 1,” aald Briteles ably"

‘These frank atmissions softened Mr. Giles, who at once owned that he was ‘afraid; upon which they all three faced about, and ran back again with the eom- pletest unanimity, till Mr. Giles (who had tho shortest wind of the party, und ‘was encumbered with a pitchfork) most handsomely tnsisted upon stopping to make an apology for ilk hastinesa of speech.

‘But it's wonderful,” sald Mr. Glos, when he hind explalned, “what a man will do when his blood ts up. I should have committed murder, I kuow I should, If we'd canght one of the rascals.”

As the other two were impressed with @ similar presentiment, and their ‘blood, like lis, had all gone down again, some speculation eusued upon the cause of this sudden change in their temperament.

“T know what it was,” said Mr. Giles: *{t was the gate!”

#T should n't wonder if It was!” exslaimed Brittles, catehing at the idea.

You may depend mpon it,” sald Giles, + that that gate atopped the low of the exeitement, I feltall mine suddenly going away as I was cllmblug over tt."

By wremarkable coincidence the other two bad been visited with the same ‘wopleasint xensation at that precio moment: so that It was quite conclusive that it wns the gate, especially as there was no doubt regarding the time ut which the change had taken place, because all thece remembered that they had come tu sight of the robbers at tho very instant of its occurrence.

(Ch. xxviii-xxxi, xxxiv, xxxy, lili.)

Grimwig, Mr. An irascible but warm-hearted friend of Mr, Brownlow’s. He is thus introduced :—

At.this moment there walked tnto the room, supporting himsel€ by a thtck atick, a stout old gentleman, rather lame in one leg, who was dressed in w blue cont, striped walatcoat, nankeen breeches and galters, aufl a broad-brimmed white Dat with the sides turned up with green, A very small-plaited whirbfrill stuck at from lls waistcoat, and a very lovg steel watch-chaln, with nothing but « kop at tho end, dangled Joos-ly below it. ‘The ends of hia white neckerehiot ‘were twisted into n ball about the size of au orange: the variety of shapes into ‘which his countenance was twisted defy desersption. He had « munver of serew~ fog his head round on one aide when he spoke, and looking out of the corncrs of bis eyes at the same time, which irresistibly remindea the beholder of «

-

‘only there’s no call to tell a man be fs, #0 bounce-

102 (chens Dictfonary.

parrot, fu thisqititude he fixed himself the moment he made hie appearanien*

nnd, bok{fng’out a email ploce of orange-peel mt arm'elength, exclaimed fn «

growllyg.qitcontented voice, —

*-* Look here! do you see thie? Is n’t tt = most wonderful and extraordinary

«tile that ¥ can’t call at a man's house, but 1 find n piece of this cursed poor:

“quegton’efriend on the stalresse? I Ye been lamed with orange-peel once ; nnd “know orange-peel will be my death at last, It will, sir: orangepect will be my death, or k "l be content to eat my own head, wir!” This was the handsome

with which Mr. Grimwig backed and confirmed nearly every assertion that he made; aud [t was tho more singular in hls ease, because, even aduitting, for the ake of argument, the possibilit / of scientific Improvements being ever brought to that pass which will enablos gontteman to eat his own head, In the event of his being #0 disposed, Mr. Grimwig's bead was such particularly Jnrge one, that the most snngulue man alive could hardly entertain w hope of

\_ being able to get through It at # eltting, to put entirely out of the question a ‘very thiek coating of powder,

(Ch. xiv, xvii, xii, 1, Uh)

Kags, A returned transport. (Ch. 1)

Leeford, Edward. See Moxxs.

Limbkins, Chairman of the workhouse Board. (Ch, ii, iii) See Twist, Onrver.

Lively, Mr. A salesman in Ficld Lane, and a dealer in stolen goods. (Ch. xxvi.)

Losberne, Mr., called “Tux Docror.” A friend of the Maylic fimily; a surgeon, fat rather from good humor than good living, and an eccentric bachelor, but kind and large-hearted withal. (Ch. xxix-xxxvi, xli, xlix, li, 1)

Mann, Mrs, Matron of the branch workhouse where Oliver Twist is“firmed.” (Ch. i, xvii.) See Busate, Mr.

Martha. A pauper. (Ch. xxiii, xxiv, li.)

Maylie, Harry. Son of Mrs Meylie; afterwards married to his fostor-sister, Rose. (Ch. xxxly-xxxvi, li, lili.)

Maylie, Mrs, A lady who befrionds Oliver Twist. (Ch. xxix- xxxi, xxxiii, xxxiv, xli, li, lilt.)

Maylie, Rose, Her adopted daughter; an orphan, whose true pane is Rose Fleming, and who turns out to bo Oliver Twist's aunt. (Ch. xxviii, xxix, xxx-xxxili, xxxyv, xxxvi, xl, xli, xlvi, li, Hil) See Sixes, Bin. *

Monks. A half-brother of Oliver Twist, His real name is Rdward Leeford. His fathor, while living apart from hia wife, from whom he has long ben eoparated, scos and loves Agnes Fleming, daugh ter of a rotired naval officer. Tho result of their intimacy is » ebild (Oliver), who is born while Mr. Lecford is in Rome, where he

Oliver Swlst. 108

4s enddenly taken ill, and dies. His wife and her son join bim at soon us they hear of his illness, that they may look after his large property, which they take possession of immediately upon his death, destroying a will, which leaves the great bulk of it to Agnes Flem: ing and her unborn child. Believing that this child will yet appear to claim hie rights, young Leeford, under the assumed name of Monks, endeavors to find him out, and, after a long search, diseaw- era that he was Lorn in a workhouse, but has left there. He pnt muex the boy, and finds him at last in Londan, in the den of Fagin the Jew, whom he makes his accomplice and confidant, giving him a large reward for keeping the boy insnared. The proofs of Monke’s villany are discovered by Mr, Brownlow ; and he is compelled to give up one-half (three thousand pounds) of the wreck of the prop- erty remaining in his hands, after which he leaves the country, and ultimately dies in prison. (Ch. xxvi, xxiii, xxiv, xxxvil-xxxix, xlix, li, 1iii?

Nancy. A thief in Fagin’s service, und mistress to Sikes, to whom, brutal as he is, she is always faithful and devoted. The author says of her in his Prefuce, —

Tt ls useless to disoues whether the conduct and character of the girl seems atural or unnatural, probable or improbable, right or wrong. IT us TRUE. ‘Eyery man who has watched these melancholy shades of life knows It to be #0, Suggested to my mind long ago, by what I often saw and read of In actual tifte around mo, I have tracked it through many profligate and nolsome ways, and found it still the same. From the firvt Introduction of that poor wretch, to her Inying her bloody head upon the robber’s breast, there fs not one word oxagger- ‘ated or over-wrought. It {s emphatically God’s truth; for it {s the truth he Weares in such depraved and miserable breasts; the hope yet lingering behind; the Inst fair drop of water at the bottom of the dried-up, weed-choked well. It Snyolves the best and worst shades of our common nature, much of its ugliest ‘hues, and something of Its most beautiful; 4t {# «contradiction, an anomaly,am

‘apparent impossibility; but it is a truth, Iam glad to have had it doubted; fer {in that eireumstance I find a sufficient assurance that it needed to be told.

(Ch. ix, xiii, xv, xvi, xix, xx, xvi, xxix, xl, xliv-xlvil) See

Sikes, Bina.

Bally, Old, An inmate of the workhouse, who robs Agnes Flem- ing (Oliver's mother) when on her death-bed. (Ch. xxiv.)

Sikes, Bill. A brutal thief and house-breaker, with no gleam of Light In all the blackness of his character. He first appears on the ‘scene during a squabble between Fagin and the Artful Dodger, in which Fagin throws a pot of beer at Charley Bates. The pot misses ita mark; and the contents are sprinkled over the face of Sikss, who just then opens the door.

Ma.

104 Ede Dickens Blctlonacp.

“Why! what the blazes ts in the wind now?” growled a deep roloe. “Whe pitched that "ere at mo? Tt "s well It 's the boer, and not the pot, as hit me, or 10 have settled somebody, . . Wot’s itall about, Fagin? D—me, if my neckanke ther ain’t lined with beer! = Come in, you aneaking warmiut ; wot are you stopping. outside for, as if you was ashamed of your master? Como ini”

‘The man who growled out these words was a stoutly-built fellow of about five ‘and forty, in.a black velveteen coat, very solled drab breeches, Inco-up haf ‘and gray cotion stockings, which enclosed m very butky pair of legs, with large awolling calves, the kind of fogs which in such costume always look in an wafine Ished and Incomplete stute without a set of folters to garalsh them, He had « brown hat on his head, and » dirty beichor handkerehfef round his neck, with the Jong frayed ends of which he smeared the beer from his fuce as he spoke, disclos- Ing, when he had done 40, a broad heavy countenance with a beard of three diay? growth, and two scowling eyes, one of which displayed various party-colored symp toms of having been recently damaged by a blow.

“Come in, a ye har?" growled this engaging-looking ruflian. A white shaggy dog, with his fico scratched nnd torn tn twenty different places, skulked into the room.

“Why did n't you come fn afore?! sald the man. “You're getting too proud to own mo afore company; are you? Iie down!”

‘This command was accompanied with a kick which sent the animal to the other end of the room, Ite appeared well used to It, however; for he colled himeelf up tn a corner Fery quietly, without uttering # sound, and, winking his very {hJooking eyes about twenty tines in # minute, appeared to occupy himself In taking a surrey of the apartment.

“What are you upto? Tl-treating the boys, you covetons, avarictous, Inesa-ti- able old fence?” sald the man, seating himself deliberately. “I wonder they don’t murder you: Zwould if Iwas them. If Ed been your ‘prentice, I'd hare done It long ago; and —no, I could n/t have sold you arterwards, though; for ydu're fit for nothing but keeping as acuriosity of ugliness in a glass bottle; and T suppose they don’t blow them large enough.”

“Hush, hush! Mr. Sikes," aaid the Jew, trembling. ‘Don’t speak so loud.”

“Nono of your mistering," reptled the ruffian; you always mean miachlef when you come that. You know my namo: out with ft. X shmo’t disgrace it when the thine comes.”

Well, well, then, MII Sikes," sald the Jow with abject humility, “You seem out of humor, Bill.”

“Perhaps Tam,” replied Sikes. “T should think you were rather out of sorte too, unless you mean as little harm when you throw pewter pots about, as you da ‘when yoo blab and —

“Aro you mad?” sald the Jew, catehing the man by the aleere, and potnting towards the boys.

Mr. Sikes coutented himself with tying an tmaginary knot under his left er, and Jerking bis bead over on the right shoulder; » piece of dumb show which the Jew spponred to understand perfectly. He then in cant terms, with which his whole conversation was plentifully besprinkled, but which would be quite unintelligible Uf they were recorded here, demanded a glass of Mquor.

“And mind you don’t poison it,” «aid Mr. Sikes, laying his hat upon the table.

‘Thik was sald in Jest; but, if the speaker could have seen the evil leer with which she Jew bit his pate lip ox he turned round to the cupboard, be might have thougta

\\ re caution not wholly unnecessary, or the wish, at ail events, to tmprove upon the ‘iptiller’s tngenuity, not very far from the old gentleman’s merry heart.

Ollver Swlst 105

After swallowing two or three glassfuls of spirits, Mr, Sikes eondesornded to lake some uotive of the young gentlemen ; which gracious net led tow conversation, In which the cause and manner of Oliver's eapture were eireumstantlally detalled, with fuck alterations, and improvements ow the truth, x4 to the Dodger appeared ‘most advisable under the olreumstances,

“Tm afraid," sald the Jew, “that he may say somethiag which will get us into trouble."

“That %s very likely," returned Sikes with w muliotous grin. “You're blowed

.

‘upon, Fagin.

And I''m afraid, you eo,” added tho Jow, speaking as If he had not noticed the interruption, and regarding the other closely as he did #0, —" I hmafruld, that, If the game was up with us, ft might be up with a good many more; and that te ‘would come out rather worve for you than it would for me, my dear.”

‘The man started, and turned fiercely round upon the Jew; bat the old gentle- ‘mau’s shoulders were shrugged up to his ears, und his eyes were yacantly staring ‘on the opposite wall.

‘There was a long panes. Every member of the respectable coterie appeared

in his own reflections, not excepting the dog, who, by a certain malicious licking of his lips, seemed to be moditating an attack upon the legs of the first gens tleman or Indy he might encounter in the street when he went out.

“Somebody must find out what % been done ut the office,” said Mr. Sikes fn a much lower tone than he had takon since hy came in,

‘The Jew nodded assent.

“If he has n't peached, and 1s committed, there 's no foar till he comex out again,” sald Mr, Sikes; “and then he must be taken care on. You murt get hold of him sormchow."

Agaln the Jew nodded.

‘The prudence of this line of action, indeed, was obvious: but, unfortunately, there was one very strong objection to its being adopted; and this was, that the Doigerand Charley Bates and Fagin and Mr. William Sikes happened one and all toentertaln » most violent mud deep-rooted antipathy to going near @ polloe- office oa uny ground oF pretext whatever.

‘How long they might have sat aud looked at each other, In a state of uncertalnty not the movt plensant of Its kind, tt fs difficult to aay. It Is not necessary to make ny guesses on the subject, however; for the sudden entraues of the two young ladies whom Oliver had seen on « former occasion caused the conversation to ow afiostr.

“The very thing!” said the Jew. ‘Bet will gos won't you, my dear?”

“Wheres ?" inquired the young Indy.

“Only Just up to tho office, my doar,” eald the Jew coaxingly,

itis due to the young Indy to say thot she did not positively affirm that she ‘would not, but that she merely expressed an emphatic and earnest dealre to be ‘Jiggerod” if elie would,—a polite and delicate evasion of the request, which shows the young Indy to have been possossed of that natural good-breeding that ‘tannot bear to inflict upon a fellow-creature the pain of a direct and potated vefunad,

‘The Jews countenance fell; and he turned to the other young Indy, who waa ‘aarly, not to say gorgeously attired, in a red gown, green boots, and yellow earl

Nancy, my dear,” sald the Jew (n soothing manner, " what do you say?” “That it won’ do: so it’s no us> a-trylog it on, Fagin,” replied Naney. “What do you mean by that?” sald Mr, Sikes. looking up in a surly manner,

106 The Dickens Wletlonarg.

“What I ear, Bill,” reptied the lady collectediy. “Why, you ‘re just the very persom for it,” reasoned Mr. Sikes: nobody abost. ‘bere knows any thing of you.” “And as I doa’ waut "em to, neither," replied Miss Nancy in the same composed manner, “it’s rayther moro po than yes with me, Bill” ‘Sikes.

agreeable friend; for, having very recently removed into the neighborhood of Fie laze from tho remote but gentoel suburb of Ratcliqe, she was not under the xame apprehension of belg recognized by any of her numerous acquaintance.

, With @ clean white apron tied over the red gown, and the yellow curl-papers tacked up under a straw bounet, — both articles of dress being prorided from the Jew's inexhazstible stock, — Mss Nancy prepared to Issue forth ou her errh

“Stop a sluute, my dear,” said the Jew, producing a little covered basket. “Curry that in ome hand: It locks more respectable, my dear.”

* You, yon. may dear! soit does,” sald the Jew, hanging the large street-door-key om the foreiinger of the young lady's right hand. “There; very good,—very go0d Knsoest, may vtear,” said the Jew, rabbing his hands.

“Ob, my brother! my poor, dear, sweet, Innocent little brother!” exclaimed ‘Miss Nancy, burvting tnto tears, snd wringing the little basket aud the street-door- key ta an agoay of distress. “ What has become of him? Where have they taken him to? Oh! do bare pity, and tet! me what 's been done with the dear boy, gen- Heuten: do, gonttemen; If you please, gentlemen.”

Maving eitered these words iu @ most lamentable and beart-broken tone, to the Immeamurable delight of her hearers, Miss Nauey paused, winked to the company, rochbed smidingly roam, and disappeared,

‘Sho Gnally discovers Oliver on the street, bent upon executing commission with which Mr. Brownlow has intrusted him,

Ho was walking aloug, thinking how happy and contented he ought to feel, and how mach be woabl give for only ese look mt poor little Dick, who, starved and bewton, might be tying dead at that very moment, when ho was startled by w young Wotan screaming oat very load. “Oh, my dear brother!” aud he had hard- ly hoked up to eee whit tho matter was, when he was stopped by having a pair ot Armas dhrown tight round bis ncek.

‘Tht Only reply to thts was a great sumber of loud lamentations from the young Woman who had embcaced him, aot who had got a little basket and & street-door ‘Nee Sn hor Dawe,

Od, my gracions |" sald the young woman, “I’ve found hit! © Oliver, (liver! Oh, you minghty boy, to make me suffer such distros on your account Dome hone, dear, como, Ob, I've Sand him! Thank gracious goodaess hear ‘wh F'xe found bisa!" With these Incoherent exclamations the young womas Wursk Lote mnotiver Ut of crying, ed got wo dreadfully hysterical, that © couple of

Olver Swlst 107

women who came up at tho moment asked a butcher's boy, with « abiny head of bair anointed with suet, who was also looking on, whether he didn't think he had better run for the doctor. ‘To which the butcher's boy, who appeared of a Joum Ging, not to say Indolent disposition, replied that he thought not.

“Qh, no, not never mind,” sald the young woman, grasping Oliver's hand: “I'm better now. Come home directly, you cruel boy, come!”

“What " the matter, ma'am ?” inquired one of the women.

“0 maam!” replied the young woman, “he ran away near » month ago from ls parents, who are hard-working and respectable people. and Joined a set of hleves and bad charactors, and almost broke his mother’s heart.”

Young wretch!” said one woman.

“Go home, do, you little brute!” sald the other.

“I'm not,” replied Oliver, greatly alarmed. “Tdon’t know her, T haven't wot any sister, or futherand mother,either. I’m an orphan: I live wt Penton ville”

“Oh, only hear kim! how be braves it out!” orled the young woman,

“Why, tt? Nancy 1” exclaimed Oliver, who now saw her faes for the first time, ‘snd xtartod back in irrepressible astoniahment. *

“You see he knows mo,” cried Nancy, appealing to the bystanders. “te ean’ help himself. Make him come home, there "s good people, or he'lkill his dear mother and father, and break my heart!"

“ What the devil's this?” sald a man barsting out of a beer-shop, with a white dog at his heels. “Young Oliver! Come home to your poor mother, you young dog! come home directly»

“I don't belong to them; T don't know them. Help, help! erled Oliver, ‘straggling tn the man’s powerful grasp.

“Help!” repeated the man. “Yes; I'll help you, you young rascal! What books are these? You've boos a-stealing "om; have you? Give "em here!” With these words the man tore the volumes from his grasp, and struck him violently om the head.

“That's right!” cried alooker-on from a garret-window. “That's the only ‘way of brioging him to his senses!”

To be sure!” cried a sleepy-faced carpenter, casting ax approving look at the

“ It'll do him good!” sald the two women.

And he aball have it too!” rejoined the man, administering another blow, nd seizing Oliver by the collar. “ Comeon, youyoungvillain! Here, Bull’soye, mind him, boy! mind him!”

Weak witli recent IN}nos, stupefied by the blows and the suddenness of the at- taok, terrified by the flerce growling of the dog and the brutality of the man, and overpowered by the conviction of the by-standers that he was really the hardened Hittle seroteh he was described to be, what could one poor child do? Darkness had tet in; It was a low neighborhood; no help was near; resistance was useless, In another moment he was dragged into @ labyrinth of dark, narrow courts, and forosd along them at a pace which rendered the few cries he dared give utterance {, wholly unturelligible. It was of Jittle moment, indeed, whether they were in telligible or not; for there was nobody to care for them had they been ever #0 plain.

‘After taking -he boy back to the Jew’s den, Nancy, struck with his pale face and great grief, tries to shield him from violence. Oliver, determined to escape, watches for ar opportunity, and, when the door

108 Tbe Bickers Wictlonarp.

Is opened for a mom nt, he darts through it, followed by the Jew and his two pupils. Sikes's dog is also about to dash after him, when Nancy springs to the door, and closes it, erying, “Keep back the dog, Bill, keep back the doz! Ho ‘ll tear the ehild to pieces”

“Serve him right!" cried Sikes, straggling to disengage himself from the girl's grasp, "Stand off from me, or 1'Il eplit your ekull against the wall!”

“T don't care for that, Bill; I don't care for that!” screamed tho girl, stragy ling violently with the man. “The child shan’t be torn dowa by the dog undeaa you Rill mo first."

‘“Shan’t hot" eid Sikes, setting his teeth flercely. “ll soon do that, If you don’t keep off.” =

‘Tho housnbreaker flung tne gtr] from him to the further end of the room, Jost as the Jew and the two boys returned, dragging Oliver among them,

“What's the matter here?” sald the Jew, looking round,

“Tho girh's gone mad, I think," replied Sikes aavagely.

“No, ahe has n't!” sald-Nancy, pale and breathless from the souffle: “ no, abe has n't, Pugin? don’t think it.”

“Then keep quiet, will you?" sald the Jew with a throatening look.

“No: F wont do that, either,” replied Nancy, speaking rery loud, “Come, ‘what do you think of that?”

‘Mr. Fagin was sufficiently well acquainted with tho manners and customs of that particular species of humanity to which Mies Nangy belonged to feel tolera- bly certain that {t would be rather unsafe to prolong any conversation with her at present. With the view of diverting the attention of the company, be tarned to Oliver,

"So you wanted to get away, my dear, did you?” sald the Jew, taking up « Sngged and knotted ¢lud which Jay In w corner of the fireplace; “eh?”

‘Oliver made no reply; but he watched the Jow’s motions, and breathed quickly

“Wanted to got assistance; called for the police, did you?” sneered the Few, catching the boy by the arm. * Well cure you of that, my dear!”

‘The Jew inflicted @ smart blow on Oliver's shoulders with the club, and was when the girl, rushing forward, wrested {t from his

fire with # {oree that brought of the’ gion whirling out into the room, won't ifand by and

faud by and sce tt done, Fagin!” cried the girl. “You %re got the doy; and what more would yon hnve? Let him be, let him be, or Eshall put the mark on eome of you that will bring me to the gallows before my time t””

‘The girl stamped her foot violently on the floor aa she rented this threat; snd with her lps compressed, and her hands clinched, looked alternately at the Jew ‘and the other robber, her face quite colorless from the passion of rage into which she had gradually worked herself.

Why ney!” eaid the Jow tn a soothing tone, after # pause, daring which oeand Mr. Sikes had stared at one another in a disconcerted manner, ** sou — you 'ro ore clover than ever to-night. Ha, bal my dear, you are acting beautl

“Am 1?” said the girl, “Take care I don't overdo it; you will be the worse Gor it, Fagin, if T do: and #0 1 telt you In good time to keep clear of me.”

‘There Is something about a roused woman, especially if sho wad to all Ler other strong passions the fleroe impulses of recklessness mnd despatr, whieh fow gen like to provoke, ‘The Jew saw that it would be hopeless to affect any furtbet

Oliver Twist. 109

mistake regarding the reality of Mise Nancy’s rage; and, shrinking involuntarily back & fow paces, cast a glanoe, halfimploring and half-cowardly, at Sikes, ms if ‘to hint that he was the fittest person to pursue the dialogue.

Mr. Sikms, thus tutely appealed to, and posalbly feeling bis perrount pride and influence mterested in the (mmediate reduction of Miss Nancy to reason, gave ut> terance to about a couple of score of curses and threats, the rapid delivery of whleb reflected great credit on tho fertility of hls invention. As they produced ‘no visible effect on the object against whom they were discharged, however, be esorted to more tangible arguments.

“What do you mean by this?” said Sikes, backing the inquiry with avery ‘common imprecation concerning the most beautiful of human features, vhich, if Ut sere heard above only once out of every fifty thouxand times Jt 4s mttered below, would render blindness as common a disorder as meastes,—* what do you mean ‘by it? Burn my body! Do you know who you aro, and what you are?"

“Oh, yes! L know all about it,” replied the girl, Inughing hysterically, and shaking her head from side to side with a poor assumption of indifference.

+ Well, then, keep quiet,” rejolned Sikes with a grow! like that he was soca tomed to use when addressing his dog, “or I'll quiet you for a good long time to come."

‘The girl Inaghed aguin. even leas compovedly than before, and, darting @ hasty Jook at Sikes, turned her face side, and bit her lip till the blood came.

“You *re a nico one,” added Sikes, as he surveyed her with a contemptuous lr, “to take up the humaue and genteel side! A pretty subject for the child, as ‘youcall him, to make a friend of! ®

“God Almighty help mo, Kam! "cried tho girl passionately; “and I wish 1 hud been struck dead in the street, or changed places with them we passed 80 near to-night, before I had lent a hand in bringing him here. He's a thief, a Mar, a devil, all that’s bad, from thie night forth: lan’t that enough for the old ‘wretch without blows?"

“Come, come, Sikes,” said'the Jew, appealing to him in a remonstratory tone, and motioning towards the boys. who were eagerly attentive to all that passed: “4we must huave civil words, civil words, Bilt!"

“Civil words!” eried the girl, whose passion wns frightful to «ce,—<“elvil ‘words, yon villain? Yes, you deserve "em from mo! I thieved for you when I wos gehild not half ax old ns this (pointing to Oliver). Ihave been in the samo traé and the aame service for twelve years alnce; don't you know It? Speak ‘ont, don’t you know it?!"

“Well, well |” replied the Jew with an attempt at pacificatio bare, tt’ your living.”

“Ah, it ist returned the girl, not «peaking, bat pouring out the words in one sontinuous and vehement scream. “It is my living; and the cold, wet, dirty Mreeta are my home; and you're the wretch that drove me to them long ago, aud that'll keep me there day and might, day and night, til Idler’

“T shall do you a mischief!” interposed the Jew, gouded by these reproachey “a mischief worve than that, If you ray much more."

‘The girl said nothing moro; but, tearing her hatr wnd dress in m transport of Tenzy, made such a rush wt the Jew as would probably have left signal marks of her rerenge upon kins, had not her wrists been selzed by Sikes at tho right mo- went; upon which she made a fow ineffectual straggler, anil falvted,

Disrcverng a dark plot against Oliver, and hearing the name

of Miss Maylie connected with that of the boy, Nancy determines te »

and, if you

we

0 Fhe Wickens Mictlonarp

sek out the lady, and warn her. She docs so, and, disclosing what a life she leads, ix entreated by Rose to quit it,

“Why will you go back to compantous you paint fn such terrible colors?” . . .

“wish to go back,” said the girl,—“1 wish to go back, because —how can I tell such things to an Innocent lady like you ?—becanse, among the men Ihave told you of, there Is one, the most desperate of them all, that I can’t leave; Boy not oven to be saved from the life T am leading wow."

“Your barlng Enterfered in thle dear boy's behalf before,” sald Rowe; “your coming here, at so grent @ risk, totell me what you have heard; your manner, which convinces ine of the truth of what you say; your evident contrition aod sense of shame,—all lead me to believe that you might yot be reclaimed. 01 tald the earnest girl, folding her hands as the tears coursed down ber face, “do ‘ot turn a deaf ear to the entreaties of ous of your own sex; the flrat—the first, T do beliove — who ever appealed to you fn the volce of pity and compassion. Do hear my words, and let me save you yet for better things."

“Lady!” eried the girl, sinking on ber knees, “dear, aweet, angel Indy, you sre the first that ever blessed me with much words as theso; and, if C had heard them

ago, they might hare turned me from a life of sin and sorrow; but it 1s too late: it is too later"

* It is never too late,” sald Roe, * for penitence and atonement.”

‘Tt is," eried the girl, writhing iu the agony of her mind. “T cannot leave him now: I could not be his death.”

‘hy should you be?" naked Rove.

“Nothing could save him," erted the girl. “IfT told others what T hare told you, and led to thelr belng taken, he would be aure to die. Mes the boldest, aad uns been a0 cruel

“Ts it possible,” eried Rose, that, for euch s man as this, you can resign every future hope and the certaluty of immediate rescue? It { madnoss1”

“Tdon’t know whaé it is,” answered the girls “I only kuow that It iso; and not with me alone, but with hundreds of others as bed and as wretched as myxelt, ‘T must go back. Whether it is God’s wrath for the wrong I hare done I do not know; but I am drawn back to bln through every suffering and tbusage, and ‘should be, I believe, if 1 know that I was to die by his hand at last.”

fe a AL LN ecg) A

Wiching to impart further information aa she obtains it, Nancy makes an appointment to walk on London Bridge every Sunday aight from eleven till twelve o'clock, where Miss Maylie agrees to meet her, accompanied only by Mr. Brownlow. Discovering some thing strange in the girl's appearance, Fagin causes her to be watchod;-andthe disclosures she makes are overheard and conveyed _to"Kim by the spy; he employs. Furious with rage, the Jew imparts to Sikes the fact of Nancy's informing upon them. Flinging the old man from him, Sikes rushes furiously from the room, and dashes inta the silent street,

Without one pause or moment's consideration, without once turning hls head to the rigt or lof, or raleing his eyes to the sky, of lowering them to the ground.

but looking straight before lim with sarage resolution, lils teeth so tightly eon pressed, that the strained jaw scemed starting through hie #kin, the robber hold

Oliver Swist. mM

‘m bis headlong course, nor muttered a word, nor relaxed # muscle, until be renched his own door. He opened it softly with a key, strode lightly up the mairs, and, entering his own room, double-locked the door, and, lifting a heavy table against it, drew back the curtain of the bed.

‘The girl was lying halfdressed upon it. He had roused her from her sleep; for she raised herself with » hurried aud startled look.

“Get up!” said the man.

“It is you, BULL!” erled the gitl, with an expression of pleasure at bis retcra.

* Tt fay? was the reply. “Get up1”

‘There was # candle burning; but the man hastily drew It from the eandlestlelk, ‘aod hurled it under the grate. Seeing the faint light of early day without, the gtel rove to undraw the curtain.

Lot It bet” sald Sikes, thrusting his hand before her. “Theres light enough for what I?ve got to do!”

“BIN,” ald the lel tothe low voton of alarm, “why do you Joo ike tat at mer"

‘The robber sat regarding her for a few seconds with dilated nostrils aud beav> fog Lreast, and then, grasping her by the head and throat, dragged her into the middle of the room, and, looking once towards the door, placed his heavy hand upon her mouth,

Bill, Bill! gasped the girl, wrestling with the strength of mortal fear, “1 — won't scream or ery,—not ones, Hear me, speak to me, tell me what I have done!”

+ You know, you she-devil,” returned the robber, suppressing his breath. "You were watched to-night; aud every word you said was heard.”

“Then spare my life, for the love of Heaven, as T spared yours,” rejolned the girl, clinging to him. “Dill, dear Ill, yon cannot hure the heart to kill me. Oh! think of all £ have given up this one night for you. You shall have time to think, and save yourself this crime. I will not looxe my hold: you cannot throw: me off. Bill, Bill} for dear God's sake, for your own, for mine, stop before you spill my Blood! Ihave been true to you; upon my guilty soul. F have.”

‘The man Atruggled violently to release his arms; but those of tho girl were clasped round his, and, tear her ax he would, he could not tear them away.

“Bill,” erfed the girl, striving to lay her head upon his Breast, “ the gentleman and that dear lady told mo to-night of a home in some forelgn country, where T eould end my days in solitude and peace. Lat mo see them agnin, and beg thom ‘on my knees to show the same meroy and goodness to you, and let us doth leave thin dreadful place, and, far apart, lead better lives, and forget how we have lived, except in prayers, and never see each other more, It {s never too late to repent. ‘They told me #0: I feel it mow. But we must have time, little, Hetle time!”

‘The hourebreaker freed one arm, and grasped his pistol. ‘The eertaluty of im mediate detection, if he fired, flashed across bis mind even in the midst of his fury, ‘snd he beat it twice, with all the force he could summon, upon the upturned 1908 ‘that almost touched his own.

‘She staggered and fell, nearly blinded with the blood that ralned down from cep gash In her forehead, but, ralsing herself with diificulty on her knees, drew frow her bosom a white handkerchief,— Rose Maslie’s own,—ana, holding it uo Woher folded hands as high towards heaven as her feeble strength would let her, sreathad one prayer for meror to her Maker,

It wus aghastly gure co 200k upon, ‘The murderer, staggering backward 18 the wall, and shutting out the sight with his hand, seized s heavy club, and struck ‘er uown.

—as

i2 Ede Dickras Dictivzacze

‘The murder done, Sikes flees into the commzy; bet ae = dering for cies ned miles in mooestary fear of exptoe, be Sealy emaires to retars to Leadon, thinking be can “ing br? ir awl, od thes cerape to Fracce. He seeks wea in on ol Gs i Jacct/s Island,—the fithiest, strangest, and mut orerieey of the many localities that are hidden in the great coy,—tat be ld cmpecions shrink fom him; and ume exis slend for belp to the Geer mod othess below, who have tracked the reffian tw bis remmean, ‘The crowd ewarm about the building, sad exdesver, with thick and Ieary strokes, to break down the strong dours and windoesiemern ‘Sikes excapes to the roof and attempts, by memxs of a rope, t Gop Sto 2 ditch at the back of the boase

Roweed lato mew etreng:s and energy, and cumciaont by the mabe wathin th feweae, Wl anumeteed thet ef cctrene tint really Been qiiemnd, be eet bis flow egsinet tue etara of imorTt tarot coe eat of Se mye tyne and Sealy reset Hi, and wich the other made a svong romsingaoom, by the aid of Air hennds aud teeth. aimext ts g second. He could bt hime dees by Ge ond te withts & lene Gitar af the ground than bis oes bright and bed Mis Eat punty ty hele hand to cnt lt then end drop

A! thee very intent thet be tooaght the loop over bis bead gestions ts stip feng Mf twmrach Lis arm qite end whes the old peotbeman befere somone (whe eno chang #0 tight to the railings of the beige ae te coeiet the fore of She Seed. ead rece Mts poetics) carumetty warsed those about Lime thet the mam wee mbes to lower Limert! dows, — gi thet very beetast, the scurdierer, Umting Inti ise os thee root, threw bis arms above his teed, apt sthered a ye of —

~ Thee eyes agsix!” he cried te am mmearth’y screech. Staggering an if stratk bby Lightning. te ict hip Raden end tombied ever the parapet. The moe eas & bie neck ram wp with Mis wright tight = = Lowecring, end out we Gee arrow it speeds. He teil Sor Sve and thirty feet. Thee was a eniiies jot, © terre conraiiios of the lmbe; and there be beng, with the epen Kafe Giucted to ble ecifewing haat

‘The ohd chimney qubvered with the chock; but & stood H Bearaty. The mer ever wwang Diriess ageinet the wail...

A deg. which baad lets comccaird Uli now, res backwards and forwards oo the Serepes WH o Graal bow! ent qoUrcting himeetf fora rpring. Jemqedl for the deed comn's choshiers. Mivaing bie aim, be fell tate the Gch, txaing come perenty over as be went, and striking bis bead against « stone, Gucbed out bis

Of this powerfully-deawn character, Dickens says in bis Pref-

1: ne bows ctpected to Sikes... ,— with some tacousicteney. as Iventare 05 (Qtek. — thet be ts cxrety overdrawn; Becacse {= him there would eqpear te be some of thst rederming traits which are objected to as cstamural be Sis mle wee OF the lacter objection I will merely any, that I Sear tere are te the Sort some hnermsihe end callous materes, the: @> tecoant of last, etterty OBe Feedeematty bed Bet whether this be eo, or mx. of cor Ging I am ortaln—

Oliver Twist. 118

that there are rch men as Sikes, who, belng clovely followed through tLe vame space of time, snd through the eame current of elreumstances, would not give, by one look or action of a mement, the faintest indication of a better nature. Whether every gentler human feeling is dead within such bosoms, or the proper ‘chord to strike has rusted, nnd fs hard to find, Ido not know; but, that the fot fsao. Tam aure.

(Ch. xiii, xv, xvi, xix-xxii, xxviii, xxxix, xliv, xlvii, xlviii, 1.)

Bowerberry, Mr. A parochial undertaker, to whom Oliver Twist is apprenticed. (Ch. iv, y, vil.) See Bunter, Mr.

Sowerberry, Mra. His wife, “a short, thin, squeezed-up woman, with a vixenish countenance” and disposition. (Ch. iv-vii) See Boonie, Mr.

Thingummy, Mrs, An old nurse at the workhouse, who assists Oliver Twist into the world. (Ch. i.)

Twist, Oliver, A poor, nameless orphan-boy, born in the work- howe of an English village, whither his young mother, an outeast and a stranger, had come to lic down and die. He is “brought up by band,” and “farmed out” at « branch establishment, where twenty or thirty other juvenile offenders against the poor-laws are starved, beaten, and abused by an elderly woman named Mrs. Mann. On his ninth birthday, Mr. Bumble, the beadle, visits the branch, and removes him to the workhouse, to be taught a useful trades

‘The room (In the workhouse] In which the boys were fed was a large stone hall, with a copper at one ond, ont of which the master, dressed in an apron for ‘the parpose, and nesisted by one or two women, Indied the grucl at meal-times; of which composition each boy had one porringer. and no more,—except on festive oceasions, —and then he hind two ounces and a quarter of bread besides. ‘The bowls never wanted washing: the boys polished them with thelr spoons ullthey shone again ; and, when they had performed this operation (which never 00k very long, the spoons boing neurly as large ns the bowls), they would sit star- ‘ng at the copper with such eager eyes, as If they could devour the very bricks Of whieh it was composed; employing themselves meanwhile fn sucking thelr fingers most assiduously, with the view of catching up any stray splashes of gruel that might have been cast thereon. Soys have generally excellent appe- titer, Oliver Twist and his compantons muttered the tortures of slow starvation for three months; at last they got so voracious and wild with hanger, that one oy, who was tall for his age, and had n’t been used to that sort of thing (for Me futher had kept & small cook’s shop), hinted darkly to ils companions, that, unless he had snother basin of gruel per diem, he was afraid he should some ‘ight eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender age. He had a wild, hungry eyo; and they implicitly believed him. A ‘council was held. Lots were cast who should walk up to the masterafter supper ‘that evening. and ask for more; and "* fell to Oliver Twist.

‘The evening arrived. The boys took thelr places; the master, In his cook's eolferm, stationed himself at the copper; his panper ussistants ranged them, sclves behind him: the grucl was served out, aad along grace was said over the ‘short commons. The grus! disappeared; and the boys whispered to each other,

”

m4 She Michens Mietlonary.

‘and winked at Ottver, while his next neighbors nudged tim. Child as he was, ‘he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with mlsnry, He rose from the table, and edrancing, basin and spoon in band, to the master, said, somewhat slarmed st hos own temerity, — .

‘The waster was a ft, healthy man; bat he turned rery pale. He gazed in stupeficd astonishment om the email rebel for seme seconds; and then clupg for yet Became, ‘The asslstants were paralyzed with wonder, und the boys

What!” sald the master at leagth in a falnt rolce,

“ Please, ale," replied Oliver “I want some more.”

‘The master aimed a biow at Ollver's ead with the ladle, pinioned him tn hie ‘arms, and shrieked aload for the beadle.

‘The Board were sitting fn solemn onaclare, when Mr, Bumble rushed Into the room im great excitement, and, addressing the gentieman tn the high chair, anld,—

“Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sic! Oliver Twist has asked for more.”

‘countenance. “For more!” said Mr. Limbkins. “ Compose yourrelf, Bumble, and answer

rapper allocted by the dietary?”

ext morning pasted ox the outside of the gate, offtcing a reward of five poonds to aaybodty who would take Ottver Twist off the hands of the parish: in other ‘words. dve pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man of woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, oF calling.

After serving a short apprenticeship to Mr. Sowerberry, parish undertaker, and being cruelly abused, he runs off, and makes his way, under the guidance of Mr. John Dawkins (alias the “ Artful Deiger™) to Loadoa, where be is decoyed into the den of Fagin, ‘an old Jow, and a receiver of stolen goods, who employs a number of young persons of both sexes to carry on a systematic trade of thet, From this haunt of vice, where he is cautiously and grad wally instrwoted in the art of larceny, he is temporarily rescued (see Pasa), but is recaptured, and watched more closely than before to provent his escape. His assistance, however, being very necessary to the execution of a contemplated barglary, be is forced to accompany two confederates of the Jew (Sikes and flash Toby Crackit) on Ahole ewecbreaklne expedition, But the plan fails, as the family ‘aro alarmed; aud the robbers flee, taking with them Oliver, who tee boom shot, and severely wounded, Being closely pursued, they inup the boy inte @ ditch, and dart off at fall speed. On recoves tug bis snees, Oliver wanilers about till he comes to the very hous

Olver Twist 15

he had entered. Or. being admitted, he is kindly cared for by the lady of the house, Mrs. Maylie, and her niece Rose, who, on hearing his story, save him from arrest, and educate him and love him. The ‘detection and punishment of the Jew and his accomplices, and the Mentification of Oliver through the zealous efforts of his new friends (among whom he finds an aunt in Rose Maylie), bring the tale to a happy conclusion. (Ch. i-xii, xiv-xvi, xviii, xx-xxii, xxvili-xxxvi, ali, li-liii.) See Bowes (Ma), Fagrs, Monxs, Sixes (Brut).

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

‘CUAFrea I, Oliver Twist is born; ‘his mother dlex.—11. Me in “ termed” with Mx, ‘Mann; Mr. Bumble vints Mrs Mani, expiains how Oliver received his name, and takes Bim 10 the workhouse; Oliver is brought before the" Board,"" and assigned to picking ‘oakum appointed by lot among the starved buys, he asks for more,” and is daly pune tshedt for his temerity. —I1I1. Mr. Gamseld's negotiations for Oliver. —1¥, Str, Sowerberry eouveres with Sr, Bumble on pariah undertiking and Juries; takes Oliver, who—V. Becomen acquainted with Noah Claypote; on account of his interesting expression ot

n* Oliver ix promoted to be m “mute,""and attonds his frst funeral. —VI- ‘Ho knocks down Noah Claypole; the excitement caused by this exhibition of spirit. — ‘VIL. His punishment; he rans away. — VILL. Experlonces divers hardships wad {ll-treat> ment; moets Jack Dawkins the Artful Dodger; pees with him to London. — IX. Heart Faxin’s soliloquy over a box of stolon watches and Jewelry. The” Artful Dodger" and ‘Charley Tates report thelr success in pocket-picking at an execution. —X, Oliver goes ‘Sut to operate with them; is arrested, — XI. His trial. —XIL His elckuess at Mr. Browne ‘4i Mr. Brownlow visits im, and 1s surprised by hin familiar look reception of the Dodger and Chariey Bates by Fagin, after Oliver's arrest. —XIIL Bill Sitves, with hla dog, ‘enters Fagin's room thetr altercation; Nancy goes to the police-office to learn where Oliver is. —XIV. Mr. Brownlow's kindness to Oliver; hls converaation with him, with Me. Grimwig: Oliver is sont with a parcel to w bookseller, XV. He Is caught by Nancy. ‘'=X¥L Impression produced on Fagin's thieves by hie roturn and good clothes; Oliver's

frie at having Mr. Brownlow's money an the parvel of books taken tempts to run away: Nancy protects hint When relaken; herrage ‘£agiu. —XVIL, Mr. Bumble visits the“ porochial" nursory; Dick astounds him by de- ring to ave some one write a note expreaing his love for Oliver, and bis wish to die; ‘Mz, Bumble sees Mr. Brownl2w's advertisoment for Ollver, and calls on hitn; tells @ very ofevorable tory of Oliver's parentage and character.—XVILL. Tho * Dodgor™ advises Oliver to become a *prig,"* to make friends with Fagin, and to steal, because, fhe did n't, aciuebety €lse would; Oliver becomes acquainted with Tom Chiting, Just out of the ‘house of cc=vetion,—XIX. Sikes and Fagin plan barglary in which Oliver must masiet. XX. Pag: tolls Oliver tio must go with Sikes, and gives him a Dok of mandors to read “All vent for; Sancy takes him to Sikes, who gives him his tustructlons.—XX1. Thetz Journey. XXII, Preparations for the burglary by Sikes and Toby Crackit: Oliver's gelet And terror st learning thelr plan and that Be must ald m executing It; he enters the house ‘#0Mre Maglio, 18 shot, and earned off iy Sikes and Crackit.—XXIIL Mrs, Corney makes

‘cp of tea, and bis some refloctions over it; Mr. Jumble calle, nnd discusses tho obsth ‘easy of paupers, and the great porochial safecuurd,—to give them exactly what they tua't want; takes « cup of ton with Aire. Core, and becomes tender. — XXIV. An old

116 The Dickens Dictfonarg.

pauper woman on her death-bed gives hints of a revelation concerning Oliver's motives — XV. A gamo of whist at Fagin’s; Toby Crckit reports to Fagin the fil-micces of che burplary.—XXVI. Fagin seeks intelligence of Sikes among the traders in stolen goods at the Throe Cripplesy at Sikes's own room ni:nost hotrays his own guilt to Nancy : bat s eonference with Monks, —XXVIL. Mints of ereat things that might be xald concerning doadies: Str. Humble, baving wolghed and counted Mrs. Corncy's silver plato while she was ot Old Bally's death-bed, on her return concludes his courtahip: on iy way home Interrupts Noah Claypole eating oyytors from Charlottes hand. XXVIIL. Abandonment Of Oliver by Sikes and Crackit after the burglary; conversation between Giles aud Beit ‘es while pursuing them; Oliver recovers cousciousmess, and wanders to rhe house be had ‘entered tho previous night; Giles’s report to the other serrants of the incklents of the hurglary: tn the midst of bis narrative Oliver knocks, end, after consdernble strategy, is Admitted. —XX1X. Mose Maylie; tho doctor comes to drem Oliver's wood. — XXX. Mra. Dlaylie and Rose look ot Oliver slocping, and Rove pleads for merey toward hisn; be tells is story; the doceor challenges Gles and Urittles to Mentify Olver ny the hoy who had broken nto Mra Maylie's house. XXXL Blathers and Duff examine the premises, and report thelr opinion of the burglary after taking some apirits they become loquacious, and tell how Conkey Chickweol robbed himself: they look at Oliver, and contemn Giles and Brittles for thelr contradictory testimony. —XXXU. Oliver expromes his graxitade to ‘Rove; the doctor takes him to ste Mr. Brownlow, and at Chertsey Bridge rushes tnto ‘the house Oliver poluts out as the one fram which Sikes and Crackit had gone to commit ho burglary; Oliver's disappointment at finding that Mr. Brownlow had gone to the West Indies; his duties and-delights in tho country-houee to which Mrs. Maylio moved in the spring. ~XXXIIT. Mov Ix taben sick; Oliver goes to the market-town with « lotter for the doctor: encounters Monks: Rose comes out of the eriais of her fevertolive. = XXXIV. Oliver, overjoyed, walks out, and Lethe renin ‘Marry tells bis mother Dis Tove for Rose: Glles’s gallantry t of the burglary rewarded; Oliver sleeps, sd dreams that Fagin and Mogks re eataing ny wakes and dpa it ragl. = XXX¥. ‘The fruitienasoarch for them; Marry talls Tose Tix love; aho «xplaina why sbe wiuat not bocomo bis wif—XXXVI, The doctor and Harry Muylie lesvo Mrs Maylic's — XXXVIL. Mr. Humble as master of the workhouo; discussion of prerogative butween him and Mes. (Comey) Dumler Foto decisively in bee favor; Mr. Bumble, golug into a public-howe to rogain his composure, mects Monks, and makes memerous inqniriex con cerning Oliver's mother and sho woman who nussed her. —XXXVIIL Mr, and Mrs. Basni- thle go to Monks's hiding-place; Mra. Humble, after demanding and recelving twenty pounds, relates what Old Sally told her about Oliver's mother: hands Monks a locket con- tatning two locks of hair and a gold wedding-ing, which be drops throagh # trapdoor, ‘and then dismisses Mr, and Mra Bumble. —XXXIX. Sikes recovers from a fever: Fagin AuG his boys bring eefreshments; Nancy goo with Fagin for some money for Sikes! +e overhears 4 conversation berween Fagin and Monks; gives an uplate to Sikes; oes te find Mim Maylie.— XL. Sho repeats what rbe heard Monks telf Fagin about Oliver Rose Vleads with ber to abandon her wretched course of life. —XLL. Oliver acckdentally dts covers Sir. Hrownlow; Rose goes to his house with Olivers Mr. Criarwig's excitement a Dearing her account of Oliver; Joyful surprise of Mr. Brownlow and Mes Bedwin at see- ing Oliver; discumion of the bent mode of clearing up the mystery of bis parentage, and seouring Monks. XLII. Now Claypole end Charlotte, having robbed Mx. Sowerberry, ko to London; they #top at the Throe Crippless Fagin overhears thelr conversation? shows that he knows of thelr theft, and proposes that they Jola his gangt Noah enters ‘Yeartily snto his plan, and agrees to undertake stealing money from ebildren vent on studs. — XLII. Fagin explains how Noah cannot tako earo of himeelf without having ‘special rogand to Paglia’ ‘Artful Dodger" is arrested; Fagin expatiates t0 ‘ls other boys on tho unusual glory of attaining to the Gignlty of transportation fur life wt Mie" Dodger’s'" tender age: Nosh (now Morris Bolter) goes to the policooitice to learn he “Dedger’a”" futo; he examination and committal —XLAV. Nancy ties to keep het appolotment with Rose, Sunday night, bat 4s prevented by Sikes; Fagin observes bet efforts, and resolves to loarn ber pecret, and #0 strengthen his infuenos over her.— XLV He seods Noah tofollow her the next Sunday night.—XLVI. Noals dogs her stepstoRondew ridge, where Mz. Brownlow and Rose Maylie moethor; sho tells thom why abe filled t

Oliver Swist, 117

moet them beforo; describes Monkay fs urged to forsake her vile cempantons, bat declares the cannot. —XLVII. Fagin tolls Sikes of her disclomires; Sikes, ina frenzy of rage, goes to ‘his room, taljs Nancy sho was watched and ovecheard at Tandon Bridge, and hills her. — ‘XLVITE. His light; at an inn a peddler offers to take a blood-atain out of hishat, he boars the murder talked of at the mailooach, tries to sleep, bat the murdered girl's eyes and figure haant him; helps at a fre; goes back to London, —XLAX. Mr. Itrownlow causes ‘Monks to be selzody tolls him the story of his father, mother, and Oliver: convinces him that his vilany, and the proofs of i, are well known; makes him promise a complete state ment of faota in regard to Oliver, and full restitation of money of which he had defravdon ‘him. —L. Jacob's Island, where Pugin's gang took reflyps after hie arrest; Chicling’s wo- count of Pagin’s captures Sikes's dog. which he had valuly tried to drown, reaches the Jeland; Sikes himself comes foarfully haggard; Charley Hates 60 horrified as to attack Dbiimy bis hiding-place Is discovered, and a force crowd try tocapture him; ble frantle efforts to escape; accidentally hangs himself; and his dog—apringing at him —falls, and asties out his brains, — LT. Oliver's sensations as he goes to his native town; Lets ahocked ‘atialghit of Monks; aided by Mr. Brownlow, Monks relates to Olivor's benefactors the ‘circumstances of the death of his and Oliver's father, and describes the will and letter he eft; the destruction of the will tyr Monks’s mother: fils provalse to hunt down Olivers his bribing of Fagin to insnare Oliver, and his own expewuro; Mr. and Mra Kumble are summoned; Mrs Bumble denies xi knowledge of Monks and the locket, but two old auper-women, who overheard Old Sally's corfesalon, refresh her metnory; Mr. umblov opinion of the law, which supposes tho wife acts undor her husband's direction; Rose's parentage made known; Harry, having reduced his clroumstances to match her and become a clergyman, wine hor hand.—LIL. Yagin on trials bis eentencos his last days Mid nights; Mt. Brownlow and Oliver visit him he tells Oliver where he put the papert Even him by Monks. —LIIL Last look at the principal surviving charsctees.

.

FULL REPOR? OF THE FIRST CAND SECOND] MEETING

Mudfog Association

FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF EVERY THING.

‘Tues broadly humorous reports appeared in ‘Bentley's Miscellany,” in 1837 ‘and 1898, while Mr. Dickens was tho editor of that periodical. ‘They were de- Algned to vatirize the proceedings of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, which had then been recently established. The first meeting is “ holden In the town of Mudfog;” some of the séctions sitting at the Original Pig, and ‘others at the Pig and Tindor-box: the second meeting is at Oldcastle; and the various sections obtain scoommodation at the two rival inns,— the Black Boy and ‘Stomach-ache, and the Boot-Jack and Countenance,

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Bell, Mr. Knight (M. R. C.8.). A member of the association, who exhibits a wax preparation of the interior of a man, who, in early life, had swallowed a door-key. At a post mortem examination, it is found that an exact model of the key is distinctly impressed on the coating of the stomach. This coating a dissipated medical student steals, and hastens with it to a locksmith of doubtful charac ter, who makes a new key from the novel pattern. With this key the student enters the house of the deceased gentleman, and com- mits a burglary to a large amount, for which crime he is tried and executed. ‘The deceased gentleman had always been much ac customed to punch, and it is supposed that the original key must bavebeer destroyed by the acid. After the unlucky accident, he was troubled with nightmare, under the influence of which he always imagined himself a wine-cellar door.

18

She Mudlog Assoclatfon. 119

Blank, Mr. A member who exhibits a model of a fashionable annual, composod of copperplates, gold-leaf, and silk boards, and worked entirely by milk and water.

Blubb, Mr. A member who lectures learnedly upon a cranium which proves to be a carved cocoanutehell. See Keron, Pao- FEss0R JOnN.

Blunderum, Mr. Contributor of a paper, “On the Last Mo- ‘ments of the Learned Pig.”

Brown, Mr. (of Edenburg). A member.

Buffer, Doctor. Another member.

Carter, Mr. President of Section D (Mechanical Science), at the first meeting of the association.

Coppernose, Mr. Author of a proposition of great magnitude and interest, submitted, at the first meeting of the association, to Section B (Display of Models and Mechanical Science), illus: trated by a vast number of models, and explained in a treatise entitled “Practical Suggestions on the Necessity of Providing some Harmless and Wholesome Relaxation for the young Noble- men of England.”

Crinkles, Mr, Inventor and exhibitor of a beautiful pocket picking machine.

Doze, Professor. Vice-president of Section A (Zotlogy and Botany), at the first meeting of the association.

Drawley, Mr. Vice-president of Section A, at the second meeting.

Dull, Mr. Vice-president of Supplementary Section E (Umbug-

* ology and Ditchwateristies).

Dummy, Mr. Another vice-president of the same section.

Fee, Doctor W.R. A member of the association.

Flummery, Mr. Another member.

Grime, Professor. Another member.

Grub, Mr. President of Supplementary Section E (Umbugology and Ditchwateristics).

Grummidge, Doctor. A physician, who gives an account of bia curing a case of monomania by the heroic method of treatment, Jobba, Mr. Exhibitor of « forcing-machine on a novel plan, for

bringing foint-stock railway-shares prematurely to a premium.

Joltered, Sir William. President of Section A (Zoilogy and Botany), at the second meeting of the association.

Professor John. A member, who. is called upon to

120 Ede Wickens Mictlonarp.

exbibit the skull of the late Mr. Greenacre, which he produces with the remark, “that he'd pound it as that ‘ere ’spectable section [the section of Umbugology and Ditchwateristies] had never seed amore gamerer cove nor he vos." The “ professor" finds, how+ ever, that he has made a slight mistake, and has displayed a carved cocoanut instead of the skull which he intended to show.

Kutankumagen, Doctor (of Moscow). A physician, who sueceeds in curing an alarmingly healthy man by a persevering use of powerful medicine, low diet, and bleeding, which method of treatment so fir restores him as to enable him to walk about with the slight assistance of a cratch and a boy.

Ewakley, Mr. A member who submits the result of somo ingenious statistical inquiries relative to the difference between the value of the qualification of several members of parliament, as published to the world, and its real nature and amount,

Leaver, Mr. Vice-president of Section B (Display of Models and Mechanical Science), at the Oldcastle meeting.

Ledbrain, Mr. X. Vice-president of Section C (Statistics), at the Mudfog meeting. He reads a very ingenious paper, showing that the total number of legs belonging to one great town in Yorkshire is,in round numbers, forty thousand; while the total number of chair and stool legs is only thirty thousand. Allowing the very favorable average of three legs to a seat, he deduces the conclusion that ten thousand individuals (or one-half the whole population) are either destitute of any seats at all, or pass the whole of their leisure time in sitting upon boxes.

Long Hars, The Honorable and Reverend Mr, A mem- ber of the association,

Mallet, Mr. President of Section B (Display of Models and Mechanical Science), at the second meeting.

Misty, Mr. X. A member.

Misty, Mr. X. X. Author of a communication on the dis appearance of dancing bears from the streets of London, with observations on the exhibition of monkeys as connected with bar rel-organs.

Mortuir, Mr. Vice-president of Section C (Anatomy and Modi- cine), at the Oldcastle meeting.

Muddlebrains, Mr. Vice-president of Section A (Zotilogy ang Botany), at the Oldcastle meeting.

Muff, Professor. A member of the association, remarkable for

—

Sbe ‘fMuvtog Assoclatton. 121

‘tho urbanity of his manners and the ease with which he adapte himself to the forms and ceremonies of ordinary life. At the first meeting, at Mudfog, he tries some private experiments, in conjunc- tion with Professor Nogo, with prussic acid, upon a dog. Tho animal proves to have been stolen from an unmarried lady in the town, who is rendered nearly distracted by the loss of her pet (named Augustus, in affectionate remembrance of a former lover), and avenges his death by a violent attack on the two scientific gentlemen, in which the expressive features of Professor Muff are much scratched and lucerated, while Professor Nogo, besides sus- taining soveral severe bites, loses some handfuls of hair. Pro- fessor Muff subsequently relates to the association an extraor~ dinary and convincing proof of the wonderful efficacy of the system of infinitesimal doses. He had diffused three drops of rum through a bucketful of water, and given the whole to a patient who was ahard drinker, Before the man had drunk a quart, he was in a state of beastly intoxication; and five other men were made dead drank with the remainder.

Mull, Professor. A member of the association, who criticises some of the ideas advanced by Mr. X. X. Misty iu his paper on dancing bears and barrel-organ monkeys.

Neeshawts, Doctor. A medical member.

Noakes, Mr. Vice-president of Section D (Statistics), at the mesting held at Oldcastle.

Nogo, Professor. Exhibitor of « model of a wonderful safety fire-escape, See Morr, Prorrssor.

Pessell, Mr. Vice-president of Section C (Anatomy and Medi- cine), at the meeting at Oldcastle.

Pipkin, Mr. (M.R.C.S.), Author of a paper which socks to prove the complete belief of Sir William Courtenay (otherwise Thom), recently shot at Canterbury, in homeopathy; and which argues that he might have been restored to life if an infinitesimal dose of Jead and gunpowder had been administered to him imme- diately after he fell.

Prosee, Mr. A member.

Pumpkinskull, Professor. An influentia, member of the council of the association.

Porblind, Mr. A member of the association. a

Queerspeck, Professor. Exhibitor of a model of a portable railway, neatly mounte’ {n s green case, for the waistcoat pocket. By attaching this instrument °o his boots, any bank or public-office

a

| =

Ede Wickens Wiletlonary.

122

clerk could transport himself from his place of residence to his place of business at the easy rate of sixty-five miles an hour, The

Soroo, Mr. Vice-president of Section B (Display of Models and Mechanical Seienes), at the second meeting of the association. Blug, Mr. A celebrated statistician. “ His complexion is a dark purple, and he has a habit of sighing constantly.” He presents to Section C the result of some investigations he has made regarding the state of infant education and nursery literature among the

the meat, could be collected and warchoused, they would, in ten years’ time, afford a mass of timber more than sufficient for the construction of a first-rate vessel of war, to be called “The Royal Skewer,” and to become, under that name, the terror of all the enemies of Great Britain.

Smith, Mr. (of London). A member of the association.

Snivey, Sir Hookham, A member who combats the opinion of Mr. Blubb.

Snore, Professor. President of Section A (Zotilogy and Botany), at the mecting at Madfog.

Snuffletoffle, Mr. O. J. A member present ut the seoond mest- ing of the association.

Soemup, Doctor. President of Section C (Anatomy and Medi- cine) at the second meeting.

Sowster. Beadle of Oldcastle; a fat man with an immense double-chin and a very red nose, which he attributes to a habit of early rising.

Styles, Mr. Vice-president of Section D (Statistics), at the second meeting of the association.

Tickle, Mr. Exhibitor of a newly-invented kind of spectacles, which enable the wearer to discern in very bright colors objects ‘at a great distance (as the horrors of the West India plantations) and renders him wholly blind to those immediately before him (as the abuses connected with the Manchester cotton-mills).

Timbered, Mr. Vice-president of Section C (Statistics), at the meeting held at Mudfog.

Ede Muvtog Assoctatfon. 123 Toorell, Doctor. President of Section B (Anatomy and Medi-

cine), at the same meeting.

Truck, Mr. One of the vice-presidents of Seotion D (Mechanical Science), at the same meeting.

‘Waghorn, Mr. Acother of the vice-presidents of the same section, at the same meeting,

‘Wheezy, Professor. One of the vice-presidents of Section A (Zodlogy and Botany), at the same meeting:

Wigsby, Mr. Exhibitor of a cauliflower somewhat larger than a chaise-umbrella, raised by the simple application of highly-car- bonated eoda-water as manure. He explains, that, by scooping out the head (which would aiford a new and delicious epectes of nourishment for the poor), a parachute could at once be cbtained; the stalk, of course, being kept downwards.

Woodensconce, Mr. President of Section © (Statistics), at the meeting held at Mudfog.

The Life and Adventures of Nicho- las Nickleby.

‘Turss story wad begun within a few months after the completion of the “Pick wick Papers * (September, 1337); “ Oliver Twist," which followed thet work, having been commenced In February, 117, and carried on simultaneously with it for #everal months. “Nicholas Nickloby” was issued fu monthly shilling num ders, and was fllastrated by “Phiz” (Hablot K. Browne), On its completion, ‘In 1899, [t was brought out in volume form, with a prefixed portralt of Dickens, engraved by Finden from a patoting by Muclive, representing him os a remark ably spruce young man, with ® smooth fice, and long wavy balr. It was dedi cated to W, C, Macready.

‘Tho main object of the work was to expose “the monstrous neglect of edu- cation In England, and the disregard of it by tho State, a# @ means of form- Ing good or bad citizens, and miserable or happy men,” by showing up, as notable example, the cheap Yorkshire schools, which were in existence at that time, ‘Tho author's purpose was answered. In the Preface to later edition of “ Nicholas Nickleby," he was able to speak of the race of Yorkshire echoolmasters “in the past tense,” and to say, “Though It has not yet disap peared, it is dwindling dally.”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Adams, Captain. One of the seconds in the duc! between Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Verisopht. (Ch. 1.)

African Knife-Swallower, Tho. Amember 2f Mr. Crummles's theatrical company. (Ch. xlviii.)

Alice. See Yor, Tae Five Sisrens or.

Alphonse, Mrs. Wititterly’s page; so diminutive, “that his body would not hold, in ordinary array, the number of small buttons

iat

Nicholas Nichledp. 125

which are indispensable to a page’s costume; and they were con- sequently obliged to be stuck on four abreast.” (Ch. xxi, xxviii, xxxii.)

Belling, Master. One of Mr. Squeers’s pupils at Dotheboys Hall. (Ch. iv.)

Belvawney, Miss. A lady in Mr. Vincent Crummles’s theatrical company. (Ch. xxili-xxy, xxix.)

mm, Mrs, A-char-woman employed by Miss Knag. (Ch. xviii.)

Bobster, Mr. A ferocious old fellow into whose house Nicholas Nickleby is introduced one evening by Newman Noggs, whom he has commissioned to find out where Madeline Bray lives, and who makes the Indicrous mistake of discovering the wrong party. (Ch. x)

Bobster, Miss Cecilia. His daughter; mistaken by Newman Nogys for Miss Madeline Bray, and persuaded by him to see Nicho- las, and to hear him speak for himself, (Ch. xl.)

Bolder. A pupil at Mr. Squecrs’s educational establishment, called Dotheboys Hall. (Ch. viii.)

Bonney, Mr. A friend of Ralph Nickleby’s, and the prime or- ganizer of the * United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company.” (Ch. ii.)

Mr, A gentleman at whose house Nicholas Nickleby and ‘Miss Snevellicci call (accompanied by Miss Ninetta Crammles, the “Tnfant Phenomenon”) to induce him to put his name to Miss Snevellicci’s * bespeak.” (Ch. xxiv.)

Borum, Mrs. His wife; mother of six interesting children. (Ch xxiv.)

Borum, Augustus. Their son; a young gentleman who pinches the “Phenomenon” behind, to ascertain whether she is real. (Ch. xxiv.)

Borum, Charlotte. One -of their daughters, who filches the * Phenomenon's” parasol, and carries it off. (Ch. xxiv.)

Borum, Hmma. Another daughter. (Ch. xxiv.)

Bravassa, Miss. One of the members of Mr, Crummles’s theat- rieal company. (Ch. xxili-xxv, xxix.)

Bray, Madeline. Daughter of a gentleman who married a very particular friend of the Cheeryble Brothers. Her mother dies while she is a mere child; and her selfish and profligate father, at 4 somewhat later date, is reduced, between sickness and poverty, te

ue .

126 Ede Wickens Wictlonacg.

the verge of desth. Although the braves pr-vation, degradation and affliction, for the sake of supporting him, he is on the point of forcing ber to marry a rich old miser named Gride, when destk suddenly carries off the unnatural parent, and Madeline is re moved to Mrs. Nickleby’s house. She afterwards marries Nicholas, (Ch. xvi, xl, xlvi, xlvii, li, lii, liv-lvi, Ixiii, Lx.)

Bray, Mr. Walter. Father to Madeline, a broken-down, irritable, and selfish debauchee. (Ch. xlvi, xlvii, lii-liv.)

Brooker, A felon and an outeast; a former clerk to Ralph Nickleby. Being ill-treated by his master, and hating him, he takes advantage of favoring circumstances to make him think his only eon has died and been buried during his temporary absence from home; though, in reality, the boy has been left at a Yorkshire school, with the design of one day making the secret a means of getting money from the father. But the plan fails; and Mr, Nickle- by, in the hot pursuit of bad ends, persecutes and bunts down his own child to death. (Oh. xliv, Ix, xv.) See Surke, Sqvemns.

Browdie, John. A stout, kind-hearted Yorkshire man, drawn from life. He is betrothed to Miss Matilda Price, whom he after. wards marries, At bis first meeting with Nicholas Nickleby, ho becomes furiously jealous of him. Finding, however, that Nicholas has no intention of making trouble between him and his intended, he conceives a more favorable opinion of the young gentleman, and they become good friends. (Ch. ix, xiii, xxix, xiii, xlil, xlv, Ixiv.)

Bulph, Mr, A pilot, who keeps a lodging-house at which M:. Crummles lives. (Ch. xxiii.)

Cheeryble Brothers, The (Charles and Hdwin). Twin- brothers, partners in business, and the benefactors und employers of Nicholas Nickleby. Mr. Dickens says of them in his Profaee, that they are “drawn ftom life;” and that “their liberal charity, their tingloness of heart, their noble nature, and their unbounded benevo- lence, are no creations of the author’s brain, but are prompting every day (and oftenest by stealth) some munificent and generous deed in that towa of which they are the pride and honor.” ‘The originals ‘of these characters were William Grant and Brothers (Daniel, John, and Charles), cotton-spinners and calico-printers, neat Manchester, Mr. Dickens, howover, never saw these gentlemen, or interchanged any communication with them during his lif, Having boon encouraged to tell his story to one of the brothers

EURYULE UROTHERS AND TIM LINKINWATER.

Nicholas Nichledp. vw whom he has accidentally met on the stroet, Nicholas is hurried into an omnibus, and taken straight to the warchouse, where he is introduced to the other brother, and, after some inquiries and private conference, is taken into their counting-room. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvil, xl, xllii, xlvi, xlix, Iv, lix, Lx, Ixt, Ixifi, Lx.)

Frank. Nephew of the Cheeryble Brothers. He finally marries Kate Nickleby. (Ch. xliii, xlix, ty, Ivii, lix, txi, Ixiii, xv.)

Chowser, Colonel. One of the guests at a dinner-party given by Ralph Nickleby, (Ch. xix, 1.)

Cobbey. A pupil at Squeers’s school. (Ch. vill.)

Crowl, Mr. A fellow-lodger of Newman Noggr’s. (Ch. xiv, xv, xxxii.)

Crurmiles, Mr, Vincent, The manager of an itinerant theatrical company. Meeting Nicholas Nickleby and Smike at an inn not far from Portsmouth, he advises them to adopt the stage for a profession, and offers to bring them out. “There ’s genteel comedy,” he tells Nicholas, “in your walk and manner, juvenile tragedy in your eye, and touch-and-go farce in your laugh.” Of Smike he says, —

“Without a pad upon his body, and hardly a touch of paint upon his fuce, he'd make auch an actor for tho starved business as was never seen in this Only lot him be tolerably well up in the apothecary in * Romeo and Fuliot,’ with the slightest possible dab of red on the tip of his nose, and hod be certain of three rounds the moment he put his head out of the practicable door dn the front groores 0. P." ‘The result is, that Nicholas, after a little deliberation, doclares it a jin; and he and Smike become a part of Mr. Crummles’s com- pany. He treats them very kindly,and pays them well; and when he finally separates from them, —on the occasion of his departure ‘with his family for America,—he puts out his hand, with “not a jot of Bis theatrical manner "remaining, and says with great warmth, “ We were a very bappy little company. Youand I never had a word. Tahail be very glad to-morrow morning to think that 1 saw you again; but now I almost wish you had n't come.” (Ch. xxii-xxy, xxix, xxx, xlviii.)

Crummies, Mrs. Wife of Mr. Vincent Crammles. (Ch. xxili-~ xxv, xxix, xxx, xlviii.)

Crummies, Master. One of their sons, and a member of the

theatrical company. (Ch. xxii, xxiii, xxx, xlvili.)

Master Percy. Another son. (Ch. xxil, xxiii, xxx. alvill.)

Les Ede Dickens Mietlonarp.

Crummles, Miss Ninetta. Their daughter, known and ad vertised as the “Infant Phenomenon.” This character was drawn from life; and the original is now the wife of a distinguished American general. (Ch. xxiii, xxiv, xxv, xxix, xlviii.)

Curdle, Mr. A Portsmouth gentleman, whom Miss Snevellicci calls upon to request that he would put his name to her “ bespeak;” he being a great critic, and having quite the London taste in matters relating to literature and the drama. He is the aathor of a pamphlet of sixty-four pages, post octavo, on the char- acter of the nurse's deceased husband, in “Romeo and Juliet.” (Ch. xxiv.)

Curdle, Mrs, His wife. (Ch. xxiv.)

Cutler, Mr. and Mrs, Friends of the Kenwigses. (Ch. xiv.)

David. Butler to the Cheeryble Brothers. (Ch. xxxvii, Lxiii.)

Digby. Smike’s theatrical name, See Smrxe,

Folair, Mr. A dancer and pantomimic actor belonging to Mr. Crammles’s company. (Ch. xxili-xxv, xxix, xxx.)

Gazingi, Miss. An actress in the theatrical company of Mr. Vincent Crummles. (Ch. xxili.)

Gentleman, The, in small-clothes. Sce Nicstesy, Mus.

George, A friend of the Kenwigses. He is a young man who had known Mr, Kenwigs when he was a bachelor, and is much es teemed by the ladies, as bearing the reputation of a rake. (Ch.xit.)

Graymarsh. pupil at Dotheboys Hall, Squeers’s school. (Ch. viii.)

Green, Miss, A friend of the Kenwigses. (Ch. xiv.)

Gregsbury, Mr. A member of parliament, to whom Nicholas Nickleby applies for a situation as private secretary, ‘he require- ments, however, are so many, and eo difficult to meet, that the sita- ation is declined. Says Mr. Grogsbury, —

“ My secretary wotld have to make bimself master of the foreign polley of tho world, as {t ix mirrored in the newspapers; to run his eyo over ail accounts of pubilc meetings, all leading articles, and accounts of the proceedings of pub- Vic bodies ; and to make notes of any thing which it appearnd to him might be maie a polnt of in any little speech upon the question of some petition lying ou tho table, or any thing of that kind. Do yon understand?”

“ Ethink I do, wir,” replied Nicholas.

“Then,” said Mr. Gregsbury, “it would be necessary for him to make himaclf acquainted from day to day with newspaper paragraphs on passing events, such as * Mysterious disappearance, and supposed suicide of a pot-boy.’ or any thing of that aort, upon which I might found a question to tho Secretary of State for the Home Department, Then he would have to copy the question

Nicbolas Nickteby. 129

‘and ay much as T rememBered of the answer (Inclading a Utele eompilment about my independence and good sense), and to xend the manuscript in a frank to the local paper, with perhaps half'a dozen lines of leader, to the effect that 1 ‘was always to be found in my place In parliament, and aever #runk from the

‘discharge of my responsible and arduous duties, and so forth. You see?" ‘Nicholas bowed.

“Besides whieh," continned Mr. Gregsbury, “I abould expect him now and then to go through s few figures in the printed tables, and to pick out a few re- ‘sults, so that T might come out pretty well on tmber-duty questions, and foance questions, and x0 on; and Eshould like him to gnt up a fow Little arguments about the disastrous effects of m return to cash-pay-nents and a metalliccur reney, with a touch now and then about the exportation of bullion, and the Emperor of Russla, and Yank-notes, and all that kind of thing, which it" onlyy hecewary to talk fluently about, because nobody understsnds it, Do you take me?’

“T Qhluk T understand,” sald Nicholas.

“With regard touch questions as are not political,” continued Mr. Grege Yury, warming, “and which oue can’t be expected to care adamn about, beyoud the natural care of not allowing inferior people to be as well olf as ourselves, (elve where are our privileges?) I should wish my searetary to get together a few little flourishing speeches of a patrioticcast. , . . This Is ahasty outline of the eblef things you 'd have to do, except waiting In the lobby every wight (in ease I forgot any thing, aud ehould want fresh cramming), and now and then, during great debates. sitting In the front row of the gallery, and saying to the

about, ‘You see that gentleman with hils hand to his fice, and his arm twisted round the pillar? That 's Mr. Gregsbury, the celebrated Mr. Gregsbury,? —with any other little oulogium that might atrike yoa at the moment.” (Cb, xvl)

Gride, Arthur. An old miser. (Ch. xlvii, li, lili, liv, Ivi, lix, Ixy.) See Bray (Mapecrse), Nrcxceny (Raven).

Grogzwig, Baron of. See Koxepweruovur Banox Voy.

Grudden, Mrs, An actress attached to Mr. Crummles's theatri- cal company, and an assistant to Mrs. Crummles in her domestic affairs, (Ch, xxiii, xxiv, xxix, xxx, xlix.)

Hannah. Servant to Miss La Creevy. (Ch. iii.)

Hawk, Sir Mulberry. A fishionable gambler, rove, and knave, remarkable for his tact in ruining young gentlemen of fortune. He ‘endeavors to lead Kate Nickleby astray, but fails, and is punished by her brother. He afterwards fights a duel with his pupil and tape, Lord Frederick Verisopht, in which the latter is killed. (Ch. xix, xvi-xxviii, xxii, xxxviil, 1, Lev.)

Johnson, Mr, The stage name given 2y Mr. Crummles to Nicho- las Nickleby.

Mr. A tumerin ivory, and a lodger in the same house ~ with Newman Noggs; “looked upon as a person of some considera- tion on the premises, inasmuch as he occupied the wholo of the

130 The Bickens Mictlonarp.

first, floor, comprising a suite of two roonis.” (Ch. xiv-xvi, xxxvi, tid)

Kenwigs, Mrs. His wife; “quite » Indy in her manners, and of @ very genteel family, having an unele [Mr. Lillyvick] who colleet- ed a water-rate; besides which distinction, the two eldest of her little girls went twice a week to a dancing-school in the neighbore hood, and had flaxen hair tied with blue ribbons hanging in luxuriant pigtails down thelr backs, and wore little white trousers with frills round the ankles, — for all of which reasona, and many more, equal- ly valid, but too numerous to mention, she was considered u very desirable person to know.” (Ch. xivexvi, xxxvi, lii.)

Kenwigs, Morleena, Her eldest daughter, “regarding whose uncommon Christian name it may be stated, that it was invented and composed by Mrs, Kenwigs previous to her first lying-in, for the special distinction of her eldest child, in case it should prove = daughter.” (Ch. xiv-xvi, xxxvi, li.)

Knag, Miss. Forewoman in Madame Mantalini’s millinery estab- lishment, and her successor in the business. (Ch. xvii, xviii, xx, xxi, xliv.) :

Knag, Mr. Mortimer. Her brother; a young man whom un- requited affection has made miserable. (Ch. xviii.)

Koéldwethout, Baron von. Hero of one of the tales told at roadside inn when Nicholas Nickleby and Squeets, with other passengers, were detained there by an accident to the stage-coach in which they were travelling. ‘Tho baron {s described as dwelling, “once upon a time,” with numerous retainers, in an old castle at Grogawig in Germany. Ho is a young, jolly, roystering blade, and a perfect Nimrod of a hunter. Becoming tired of his monoto- nous bachelor-life, he marries a daughter of the Baron yon Swillen- hausen, by whom he is soon well snubbed, and effectually subdued. As the baronesmakes it a point that the family pedigree shall receive an addition yearly, and as the Grogzwig coffers are not as inexhaustible as her relatives suppose them to be, Ko#ldwetaout at last. loses heart, and resolves to make away with himself. But, before doing so, he smokes one last pipe, and tosses off one Inst measure of wine, the effect of which is to conjure up an apparition, — the “Genius of Suicide and Despair,” — with which he has a conference that ends in his deciding to put a good fuco on the whole matter, and try the world a little longer. This he does; and dies. wany years after, a happy man, if nota rich one. (Ch. vi.)

ae

.

Nicholas Nickletp. 181

Koéldwethout, Baroness von. His wift. (Ch. vi.)

La Creevy, Miss. A mincing young lady of fifty; a miniature painter, who becomes a fast friend of the Nickelbys, and finally marries Tim Linkinwater, the od clerk of the Cheeryble Brothers. (Ch. iti, v, x, xi, xx, xxi, xxxili, xxv, xxxviii, xlix, [xi, lxiii, Ixv.)

Lane, Miss, Governess in Mr. Borum’s family. (Ch. xxiv.)

Ledrook, Miss. A member of Mr. Crummles’s dramatic company. (Ch. xxiii, xxv, xxx.)

Lenville, Thomas. A tragic actor in Mr. Crommles's theatre. (Ch. xxiii, xxiv, xxix.)

Lenville, Mrs. His wife; a member of the same profession. (Ch. xxiii, xxix.)

Lillyvick,Mr. A collector of water-rates; uncle to Mrs. Kenwigs, at one of whose anniversary wedding-parties he meets Miss Henri- etta Petowker, an amateur actress, and is smitten with her charms. He finally follows her to Portsmouth, —where she has engaged to appear in Mr. Crummles’s theatre, — and marries her, much to the disgust of the Kenwigses, who have considered themselves his heirs. But Miss Petowker soon proves false, and runs away with another man, leaving the collector disconsolate. He returns to London, where he meets Newman Noggs, and is prevailed upon to go te the house of his relatives, where a Indicrously affecting scene ensucs. ‘A boy has been born to them during his absence. Mr. Lillyvick informs them that he never shall expect them to receive his wife, as she has deserted him,

“Eloped with s half-pay captain,” repeated Mr. Lillyvick,—“basely and falsely eloped with a half-pay captain, with a bottle-nosed captain that any man might hare considered himself safo from, It was in this room," Vick, looking sternly round, “that I frst see Henrietta Petowker: room that I turn her off for ever.”

‘This declaration completely changed the whole postare of affairs, Mrs, Kens wigs throw herseif upou the old gentleman’s neck, bitterly reproaching herself for her late harstineas, and exclaiming, If sho had suifured, what must his suffers Ings hore been} Mr. Kenwigs grasped his hand, and vowed eternal friendship and remorse... . And Mr.and Mrs. Kenwigs both sald, with strong feeling and ware of eympathy, that every thing happenod for the best, and conjured the

g00d collector not to give way to unavailing grief, but to seek consolation In the sccloty of those affectionate relations whose arms and hearts were ever open to bins.

“Out of alfeotion and regard for you, Suxan and Kenwlge,” anld Mr. Lilly ‘vick, “and not out of rerenge and spito against her (for ahe is below it), J hall to-morrow morning settle upon your children, and make payable to the survivors of them, when they come of age or marry, that money that I once meant to ‘eave ‘em tn my will. ‘Thr decd shail be executed to-morrow, and Mr. Nogge

132 The Wickens Wietlonary.

ahal, be one of the witnesses. Ho hears me promise this, and he ehall ave it done”

(Ch. xiv-xvi, xxv, xxx, xxxvi, xlviii.)

Linkinwater, Tim. Chief clerk of the Cheeryble Brothers.

Linkinwater, Miss, Sister to Tim Linkinwater, (Ch. xxvii, Ix

) Linkinwater, Tim. Chief clerk of the Cheeryble Brothers.

“1's forty-four year," sald ‘Tim, making caloulation tn the air with hie ‘pen, and drawing an tmaginary line before he cast it up,—“forty-four your ‘next May, slice I first kept the books of Choeryble Brothers. I've opened the safy every morning all that tme (andays excepted), ax the clock #truck nine, ‘apd gone over the house every night at half-past ten (except on Foreign Yost nights, and then twenty minutes before twelve) to see the Goors fustened, and ‘the fires out. I''vo never slept out of the back attlc one xingle night, ‘There's ‘the maine mignonette-box In the middie of the window, and the «ame four flowers ‘pots, two on each side, that I brought with mo when I first came. ‘There fn", Ivo sald it again and agai, and Ill maintain §t,— there ala't uch a aquare ‘as this in the world. I know thore ain’" sald ‘Tim with snddon energy, and Joking sternly about him,—‘not one. For business or plessure, tn summer time or wiater, —I don’t care which, —thore '# nothing like it. ‘There "* not euch 8 spring in England os the pump under the archway, There's not such w view 4) England as tho view out of'my window. T've son It every morning before T shaved, and J ought to know something about i, I have alopt fn that roam," add ‘e Tim, sinking bis volce a tittle,“ for four and forsy year; and if tt was n't incon ‘venient, and did n’s intorforo with busines, I ehould request leave to die there.”

(Ch. xxxv, xxxvii, x1, xlili, xlix, lv, lix—Ixi, Ixiii, Ixy.)

Lumbey, Doctor. A physician who attends on Mrs. Kenwigs in her last confinement, (Ch. xxxv.)

Mantalini, Madame. A fashionable milliner and dressmaker. (Ch. x, xvii, xviii, xxi, xxxiy, xliv.)

Mantalini, Mr. Alfred. Her husband.

His name was originally Muntle; but tt had been converted, by an easy transition, {nto Mantalinl, the Indy rightly considering that nn Engiléh lntion would be of sorious infury to the business. He hnd married on his whie= ers, upon which property he had previously sobslsted, In a genteel manner, for some years; and which he had recently Improved, after patient caltivation, by the addition of « mustache, which promised to seoure him an easy Independ- ‘ence; his share in the labors of the business being . . . confined to spending the money.

When madame refuses to supply his demands, he at first resorts to flattery and honeyed words, then declares, that, being a burden, Le will put an end to his existence; which generally has the effect of softening her heart, and bringing herto terms. She is at last, howe ever, driven into bankruptey by his reckless extravagance, and, the suicide dodge having been tried once too often, insists on a separa tion, and declares her firm determination to have nothing more te do with such a man. The elegant and dashing fop’s butterfly-life is soon ended, and he goes “ to the demnition bow-wows.” He geta

.

Nicholas Nickleby. 133

Into prison, and is taken out by a vixenish washerwoman, who is at

first captivated by his handsome person and graceful manners, but,

becoming disenchanted, keeps his constantly turning a mangle in

the cellar in which sho lives, “like a demd old horso in a dem-

nition mill;” making his life, as he says, “one demd horrid grind.” (Ch. x, xvii, xxii, xxxiv, xliv, xiv.)

Mobbs. A pupil ut Squecrs's school. (Ch. vill.)

Nickleby, Mr. Godfroy, Father of Ralph and the elder Nich- olas, to the former of whom he left three thousand pounds in eash, ‘and to the latter “ one thousand and the farm, which was as small a landed estate as one would desire to see." (Ch. i.)

Nickleby, Nicholas, the elder. Son of Mr. Godfrey Nickleby, brother of Ralph, and father of Nicholas and Kate. By his wile’s ailvice he undertook to speculate with what little capital he had, and, losing it all, lost heart too, took to his bed, and died. (Ch. i.) See Nickieny, Racrn.

Nickleby, Nicholas, te younger. The character from whom the story takes its name; a young man who finds himself, at the age of nineteen, reduced to poverty by the unfortunate speculations and death of his fathor, but possessed, notwithstanding, of a good edu- cation, and with abounding energy, honesty, aud industry. His mother being determined to make an appeal for assistance to her deceased husband's brother, Mr. Ralph Nickleby, he accompanies her, with his sister,to London. On their first interview their rela- tive receives them very roughly, and takes a dislike to his nephew, amounting to positive hatred; but he procures him a situation as assistant tutor at Dothchoys Hall,—a school kept by Mr. Wack- thrd Squeers, in Yorkshire. Nicholas proceeds thither to. assume his new duties; but such is the meanness, rapacity, and brutality of Mr. Squeers, that he soon forvibly interferes on behalf of the “pupils;” gives the master a sound drabbing; and tien turns his back upon the place, taking with him a poor, half-starved, and rhamefully-abused lad, named Smike. He returns to London only to find that the story of his adventure, highly maguified and dis torted, has preceded him. Learning that his sister will lose a situation she has obtained, if he remains at home, he quits London again, and goes to Portsmouth, where ha joing a theatrical company, gad becomes a “star” actor. He is, however, suddenly summoned back to London to protect bis s:sterfoom the insults and persecue tions of two aristocratic roués, one of whom he chastises severel,

br

134 Ehe Wickens Wietls

eR

under circumstances of great provocation. He thea takes his mother and sister under his own protection, and soon after makes the acquaintance of two benevolent merchants, —the Cheeryble Brothers,—gains their respect and confidence; Is, after a while, admitted into the firm; and finally marries a friend and protéyde of his benefactors, Mr. Dickens says of this character, in his Preface, —

If Nichols bo not always found to be blameless or agreeable, he tf wot always intended to appear so. He is # young man of an impetuous temper,

and of little or bo experience; and I sew no resson why such a hero should be lifted out of nature.

(Ch, ili-ix, xii, xlii, xv, xvi, xx, xxii-xxy, xxix, xxxii, xxxill, xxxv, xxvii, xl, xiii, xlili, xly, xlvi, xlvill, xlix, l-lv, Ivili, bx, Ixili-Ixv.)

Nickloby, Ralph. A miser and usurer; uncle to the younger, and brother to the elder, Nicholas Nickleby.

‘These two brothers had been brought up together in a school nt Exeter, and, being accustomed to go home ouce a week, had often heard from thele mother's Ups long accounts of thelr futhor’ sufferings in his days of poverty, and of thelr deceased uncle's importance in his days of nftlusnce, — which reeltals prov duced a very different Impression oa the two; fur while the younger, who way of a timid and retiring diaposition, gleaned from thence nothing but forewarn- ings to «tun the great world, und attach himself to the quiet routing of scountry life, Htalph the elder deduced from the often-repeated tale the two great morale,— that riches are the only true source of happiness and power, and that itis lawful and Just to compass their acquisition by all means short of felony. “And,” reasoned Ralph with limself, ‘If no good came of my wuele’s money when he was alive, a great deal of good camo of tt after he war dead; inasmuch ax my fathor has got it now, and is saving it up for me, which is » highly virtuous purpose. And, going back to the old gentleman, good did come of it to him too; for he had the pleasure of thinking of it all hls life long, and of belng envied and courted by all his famfly besides.” And Ralph always wound up these ‘mental soliloquics by arriving at the conclusion, that there was nothing Like money.

‘Not confining himeelf to theory, or permitting his fheulties to rust, even et that early age, in mere abstract speculations, this promising ad commenced unurer on a Limited scale at school, putting out at good Interest m xmall capital of slate-pencll and marbles, and gradually extending bis operations unti! they aspired to the copper colaage of this realm, in which he speculated to consider able advantage. Nor did he trouble his borrowers with abstract calculations of figures, or references to ready-reckone simple rule of interest belng all comprised in the one golden sentence, “ twopence for every halfpenty,” whieh greatty aiuplified the accounts, and which, ax # fasuiliar precept, —more easily acquired, and retained in the memory, then any knowa rule of arithmetic,—enn not be too strongly recommended to the notice of enpitalists, both large an€ amall and more expecially of snoney-brokers and billliscounters. Indeed, te do these gentlemen Sustice, many of them are to this day in the frequent habit of adopting it with eminent success.

Nicholas Nickleby. 138

Or the desth of his father, he is placed in a mercantile house in London; applies himself passionately to his old pursuit of money- getting; soon has a spacious house of his own in Golden Squaro; and enjoys the reputation of being immensely rich. When hia brother’s widow presents herself in London, with her two children, seeking his assistance, he gives her to understand that he is not to be looked to “ns the support of a great hearty woman and a grown boy and girl.” He makes them work, therefore, for their bread, and, taking an intense dislike to his nephew, tries in every way tohumble and rain him; but his machinations are all defeated, his illegal ope rations detected, bis evil deeds discovered ; and he finally hangs him- sclf in a fit of mingled frenzy, hatred, and despair. See Sarxx, Squenns.

“fn the characters of Ralph Nickleby and Arthur Gride, Mr. Dickens drew # finer Gutinetion than was his Wont. ‘They are both nctuated by an identical pasalon, — the Jove of money, But Ralph Nickleby ts more than a mlser: bo ts a oan who loves the power @hich money gives, and who expends money in securing the gratification alike of avarice and revenge. Arthur Gride Is a mere sordid misor, a wrotched hoarder of ‘colns, a starveling fool, who bas not sense to feed his watchdog." — Dublin Review, rol Ix,

(Ch. i-iv, x, xix, xx, xxviii, xxxi, xxiii, xxxv, xliv, aly, xlvii, li, Tiy, Ivi, lix, Ix, Ixii.)

Nickleby, Kate. Sisterof Nicholas. She marries Frank Cheery- ble (Ch. iii, ¥, x, xi, xvii-xxi, xxvii, xxviii, xxxili, xxxv, xxviii, xii, xliii, xlv, xlix, lv, 1xi, Ixili-lxv.)

Nickleby, Mrs. Widow of the elder, and mother of the younger, Nicholas Nickleby; a well-meaning woman, but weak withal; very fond and proud of ber children; very loquacious ; very desirous of being considered genteel; and remarkable for the inaccuracy of her memory, the irrelevancy of her remarks, and the general discursives ness ard inconsequence of her conversation, — traits which are eaid to have been characteristic, to some extent, of Mr. Dickens's mother. When sheleaves her quartura in London, and goes with Nicholas to live at Bow, her attention is attracted by the singular deportment of an elderly gentleman who lives in the next house. Heis eo plainly strack with Mrs. Nickleby's appearance, and becomes so very demonstrative, that, although she feels fattered by his homage, she determines, nevertheless, to acquaint her son with the fiets,

There can bono doubt,” sald Mrs. Nicklobr, “that he da gentleman, and has the manners of a gentleman, aud the appearance of a gentleman; although

he does wear smalls ana gras worsted siockings. That may be eccentricity, or he may be proud of bis legs. 1 don’t see why bo shouldn't be, ‘The prince

_—

186 Tbe Dickens Wietlonary.

‘Tegent was proud of his legs, and so was Daniel Lambert, who was alto # fat foan; he was proud of his logs: so was Miss Diffins she was—no,” added Mrs ‘Niokleby, correcting herself, “I think she had only toes; but the principle fa the tame."

‘Nicholas looked on quite amazed at the introduction of this mew theme, which seemed just what Mrs. Nickleby had expected him to be.

“You may well be surprised, Nicholas, my dear,” she sald: “Tam sure 7 was. Jt came upon me like a tlash of fire, and almost froze my blood. The bottom of is garden joins the bottom of ours. and, of courso, I had several times seen hime sitting among the searlot-beans in his little arbor, or working st hls little hot-beda, Tused to think he stared rather; but I did n’t take nny particular notice of that, ax ‘we were newcomers, and he might be curious to see what wo were like. Bal ‘when he began to throw his eucumbers aver our wall" —

“To throw his cucumbers over our wall!” repeated Nicholas in great astonish- ment. *

“You, Nicholas, my dear,” replied Mrs. Nickleby tn a very werlous tone, “his ‘cucumbers over our wall, wd vegetable-marrows likewise.”

“Confound his impudence!” said Nicholas, firing immediately. “ What docs he mean by that?” f

“Tdon’t think he menns it tmpertinently wt all," replted Mira. Nickleby.

What!" said Nicholas, —* cucumbers and vegetable-marrows flying at the heads of the family ws they walk In thelr own garden, and not meant impertl- nently! Why, mother” —

Nicholas stopped short; for there was an indescribable expression of placid triumph, mingled with a modest confusion, lingering between the borders of Mrs. Nickleby's night-cap, which arrested his attention suddenly.

“ He mast be avery weak and foollah and loconsiderate man," sald Mrs. Nic. kleby, —* blamable, indeed ; at least, I suppose other people would consider him #0 > of course, I can’t be expected to express any opinion on that polnt, especially after always defending your poor dear papa, when other people blamed tim, for making proposals to me, And, to be sure, there can be no doubt that be hns taken ‘avery singular way of showing it; still, at the same thmo, his attentions are— that” ts, ox fras tt goes, and to w certain extent, of course—s flattering sort of thing; and although 1 should neyor dream of marrying again, with a dear girl Uko Kate #till unsottled in lift” —

“ Surely, mother, such an idea never entered your brain for an Instant 1! enld Nicholas... “You know there is no language of vegetables which converts a sucumber into a formal declaration of attachment.”

“My dear,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head, and looking at the ashes ta the grate, “he has dono and said all sorta of things.

“Mistake! cried Mrs. Nickleby. “Lord, Nicholas, my dear! do you suppose I don’t know whoa a man "s In earnest?” ell, well,” muttered Nicholas,

“Every time I go to the window,” enld Mrs, Nickleby, “he kisses one hand, ‘and lays the other upon his heart : of coarse, it’s very foolish of him to do so, and I dare eny you ll say t's very wrong; but ho does it very respectfully, —very respeetfilly indeed, and very tenderly, —extremely tenderly, So far he deserves the grentest credit: there can be no doubt about that. Thea there are the pres ants, which come pouring over the wall every day ; and very fine they certainly are =very fine: we had one of the cucumbers at dinner yesterday, and think of plo lng the rest for next winter. And last evening,” added Mrs. Nickleby witk

Nicholas Nickleby 137

fuereased confusion, “he called gently over the wall, as Twas walking Iu the garden, and proposed marriage and an elopement. Ils voice i# as clear as & Dell or a musical glass,—very like a musical glass indeed, — but, of course, didn't listen to It. ‘Then the question t+, Nicholas, my dear, what am T todo?”

“ Does Rate know of this?” asked Nicholas,

FT have not aaid a word about it yet,” anawered hls mother.

“Then for Heaven’s sake!" rejoined Nicholas, rising, “do not; for tt would make her tery unhappy. And wii regard to what you should do, my dear mother, do what your better sense and feeling, and respect for my father's memory, would prompt. There aro n thousand ways in which you can show your dislike of these preposterous and doting attentions. If you not as decid- edly as you onght, and they are still continued, and to your annoyance, I cat speedily puta stop to them.” ...

80 paying, Nicholas kisned his mother, and bade her good-night; and they retired to their respective chambers.

Mrs. Nickleby is finally convinced that her admirer is insane, which nobody else is slow to perceive; but she will not admit ir until the old gentleman has transferred his admiration to another lady, when she suddenly becomes satisfied that such is the ease 5 though she persists in thinking that her rejection of his addresses is the unhappy cause of his madness. (Ch ili, v, x, xi, xviit-xx, xxi, xxvi-exxviii, xxxiii, xxxv, xxxviii, xli, xliii, xly, ly, xi, Leiii, Lxv.)

Noggs, Newman, Mr. Ralph Nickloby’s slerk and drudge.

Ho was s tall man, of middle age, with two goggle-cyos,—of which one was ‘a fixtare,—a rubieund nose, a cadaverous face, and a auit of clothes —if the term be allowable when they suited him not at all—much the worse for wear, ‘Very much too «mall, and placed upon such ashort allowance of buttons, that it ‘was quite marvellous how he contrived to keep them on. .. . He rarely spoke to anybody, unless somebody spoke to him, . . . and [was tn the habit of rub- Bing] his hands slowly over each other, cracking the Joints of his Gngers, and squeezing them into all possible distortions. ‘The inceasant performance of this routine on every occasion, and the communication of a fixed and rigid look to ‘his unaffected oye, #0 us to make it uniform with the other, and render It im- ousible for anybody to determine where or at what he was looking. were two among tho numerous peculiarities of Mr. Nogga, which struck an inexperienced observer at first sight.

This man was once a gentleman; but, being of an open and ansuspicious nature, he falls into the hands of Ralph Nickleby and other knaves, who ruin him. Reduced to pove:ty, he enters Nickloby’s service as clerk and fag, both because he is proud and there are no other drudges there to see his degradation, and be- cause he is resolved to find Nickleby out, and hunt him down. He befriends and assists Nicholas, aids in unravelling his master’s wicked plots, and at last has the satisfaction of telling him what he has done, “face to face, man to man, and like a man.” (Ch.

P

138 She Michens Mictlonarp.

Ji-vi, xi, xiv-xvi, xxii, xxviii, xxxi, xxiii, xxiv, xl, ally, xlvii, li, il, Lil, lix, Ixifi, Ixv-)

Petowker, Miss Henrietta. An actress whe marries Mn Lillyvick, and then elopes with a *halftpay captain.” (Ch, xiv, X¥, XXY, Xxx, xxxvi, xlviil.) See Kenwios, Lin:yvicx.

Phobe, or Phib. Miss Squeers’s maid. (Ch. xii.)

Pluck, Mr. A creatare of Sir Mulberry Hawk's. (Ch. xix, xxvii, xxvili, xxxvili, 1.) See Hawn, Sm Mocornry.

Price, Matilda. A friend of Miss Fanny Squeers’s, engaged ta John Browdie, whom she afterwards murries. (Ch. ix, xii, xxix, xiii, xliii, xlv, Ixiv.)

Pugstyles, Mr. One of Mr. Gregsbury’s constituents, and the spokesman of 9 delegation that wait on that gentleman, to request him to resign his seat in parliament. (Ch. xvi.)

Pupker, Sir Matthew. A member of parliament, and chair man of a meeting called to organize “The United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crampet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company.” (Ch. ii.)

Pyke, Mr. Tond-cater in ordinary to Sir Mulberry Hawk. (Ch, nix, xxvii, xxviii, xxxvili, 1.) See Hawk, Sim Munpenry.

Scaley, Mr. A sheriff officer. (Ch, xxi)

Simmonds, Miss. A workwoman of Madame Mantalini’s. (Ch. xvii.)

Bliderskew, Peg. Arthur Gride’s housckeeper; a short, thin, weazen, bleareyed old woman, palsy-stricken, hideously ugly, and very deaf. (Ch. li, lit, liv, Iii, lxv.)

Bmike, An inmate of Squeers's house. Left with Mr. Squeers at an early age, and no one appearing, after the first year, to claim him, or to pay for his board and tuition, he is made use of asa drudge for the whole family. Starved and beaten, he becomes broken-spirited, and nearly half-witted. When Nicholas Nickleby arrives at Dotheboys Hall as Squcers’s assistant, his heart !s filled with pity for the poor lad, and he treats him with great gentleness and kindness; and when Squeers undertakes to flog the boy within ‘an inch of his life, for attempting to run away, Nicholas interferes, compels the rufflan to desist, and gives him as severe a beating as Smike himself was to have had. The two then leave the school and the village together, and, after various wanderings, fall in with Mr. Crammles, who is much strack with Smike's haggard coun- fwnance, and secures him for his theatrical company as “an actor

Nicholas Nickleby. 139

for tha starved business,” bringing him out as the apothecary in “Romeo and Juliet,” under the stage-name of Dighy. Smike ix subsequently captured by Squeers, who meets him on the street ir London, and takes him to Snawley'’s house; but he is alded te eseape by John Browdie, and suecceds in finding his way back to Nicholas, who refuses to give him up. Introdaced to Mrs. Nickleby and Kate and Miss La Creevy, and surrounded by all the comforts and pleasures of a home, Smike gradually becomes accustomed to the new life upon which he has entered, and recovers much of his natural intelligenco; but it is not long before he begins to droop, and, though he rallies once or ‘twice, grows weaker and weaker till he dies. It is afterwards ascertained that he was the on of Ralph Nickleby. (Ch. vii, viii, xii, xiii, xv, xx, xxii, xxiii, xxv, xxix, xxx, xxxil, xxxv, xxxvii-xl, xlv, xlix, ly, Iviii) See Brooker, Squrens.

Bnawley, Mr. A souctimonious, hypocritical rascal, who places ‘His two little step-sons in the care of Squeers, at Dotheboys Hall, with the tacit understanding that they are to have no ¥acations, and are to “rough it a little.” Acting as the tool of Ralph Nic- kleby, he afterwards claims Smike as his son, for the purpose of separating him from Nicholas, and restoring him to the custody of Squeers; but his villany is discovered, and, to secure his own safety, he divulges the whole scheme, naming Ralph Nickleby as is employer, and implicating Squeers as a confederate. (Ch. iy, xxxvill, xly, lix.)

Snawley, Mrs. His wife. (Ch. xxxvili, lix.)

Snevellicci, Miss, A member of Mr. Crammles’s dramatic company. (Ch. xxiii-xxv, xxix, xxx, xlvili.)

Snevellicci, Mr. Her father; an actor belonging to the same company. (Ch, xxx.)

Snevellicol, Mrs. Her mother. (Ch. xxx.)

Snewkes, Mr. A friend of the Kenwigses. (Ch. xiv.)

Snobb, The Honorable Mr. A guest at the dinner-party given by Ralph Nickleby. (Ch. xix.)

Bqueers, Wackford. A bruta, rapacious, and ignorant York- shire schoolmaster. To this person Nicholas Nickleby engages himself as a scholastic assistant on the faith of the following advertisement in the Londor papers: —

*Epvcarion.—At Mr. Wackford Bqueer’s Academy, Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village of Dothetoys, near Greta Bridgo, ia Yorkshire, youth are

vel or bina, aod hile trewnens & great deal tov short, be appeared El at ease in ae aaa one ae 1 & perpetual state of astonishment wt fading

‘The peitleman Lad befure Mim a mall measure of coffee, a plate of hot Hemet, ad eel round of beets livt he wae wt thet moment Intent on preparing eerily lamebtnnt fr thw Ilithe boye,

(TLE be trrumnntorth of willley le ity walter?” ead Mr, Squeers, looking down Hits w barge Whew

That "* twopann'orth, lf," replied the walter,

What a rere article wll te, to be eure, in London! Just ai that mag op with Libewewrin wanton, WHLIIMin | will you!”

‘ty the wary day whet! Inquired the walter, “Why, the silk will be Aver niead

‘Herre IL right fur Welug 90 done, You ordaved that thick bread and butter for Voreas did yout

H Covnlag dineotly, aint

You (eed harey yourself ahd Bqueoray * there" plenty of time. Con- Her YON javelin, bore, mid don't be eager wfer vittles.” As he uttered this Auinl frwempt, Abr. Ayers ook w largo bite out of the cold beef, and recognized Nlehutas,

AMA dwey Mt Niokleby," eld Squonrs, * Flere wore abreakfasting, you see.”

lolita dhl Wok #08 Hint Any buvly Was renkfanting exeepe Mr. Squeees.

a) tak % Vive Wall win waler) Le Uh, Willlaws ? Mere" richneis! Think of a Fiat brgmmwre uid orphans In (he ptreets that woald be glad of thts, little beure, Wire L nay eveatorr one, the boy om the Jeff hand mearest the whmbow may wae avietuk

Ah ate

1 How ronty WiLL tell you te begla, Sebthve your appetites, amd you've com ered ian Galan TWle Le the way we Dnewloste strength of mled, Str Ntehbvka.*

Nivivlne tuarmauced wawething tn reply; and the Bisle boys rematsed ts tor eval i wRpectatton

Dak Cd Pore geet Dewakfnat | Nomiee ome may & —

Naber one eetred Une wag rerewomety, aad Bad jest dresk caveg’ to make Wm a fon minen, adem Me. Sqeeers gue tte sigual for mamber fea whe gare Ap 48 Wr He TeteeMing Reorne tO wamber Uheve; amd the process wat Fe POPE hd Oe Ha wd caer Neca WEA weer Bre

Ncpotas Nrekleby. ML

“ And now,"#aid the ¢choolmaster, diriding the bread-and-Lutter for thres into Sve portions,“ you lina better 100k eharp with your breakfast; for the horn will dlow in a minute oF two, and then every boy eaves off.”

‘The boys begau to eat voraciously, while the schoolmaster (who was fn high Food humor nfter his ment) picked his teeth with a fork, snd looked on. In w Very short time the harn was acard.

“1 thought ft would n't be long.! ald Squeers, jamping up, and producing « Uitle basket. “Tut what you have n't bad time to eat, iu here, boys! You tt want it on the road”

‘They certainly did want it on the road, and very much too; for the Journey ‘was long, the weathor was intensely cold, a groat deal of snow fell from time to time, and the wind was intolerably keen. My. Squeers got down at almost every stage, —to stretch his legs, he said,—and as he always came back with a ery red nose, and composed himself to sleep directly, the atretching seemed to ‘suswer. It wasa long Journey: but the longest lane has «turning at Inst: and fate in the night the coach put them down at a lonely roadside ina, where they found in waiting two laboring men, a rusty pony-chalae, and a cart.

(at the boys and the boxes tnto the cart; and this young man and mo wilt go in the chaise, — Get in, Nickleby”

Nicholas obeyed. Mr. Squeera with some difficulty Inducing the pony to obey

~too, thoy #tarted off, learing the cart-load of infant misery to follow at leisure,

“Are you cold, Nlekleby?”

“Rather, sir, Tiust say.”

Well, T don’t find fault with that. It’s w long Journey this weather.”

«Ts it much farther to Dotheboys Fall, ale?”

“ About throe mile. But you need n't call it ball down here.”

Nicholas coughed, as if he would like to know why, © The fhot is, te aln'ta hall.”

“Indeed |"

“No, Wo call {t's hall up in London, booanse it sounds better; but they don’t know it by that name In these parts. A man may call his house an taland Ihe likes: there's uo act of parliament against that, I believe?"

queers eyed him at tho conclusion of this little dialogue, and, finding that ne lied grown thoughtful, contented himself with Inehing the pony until ther reached their Journey's end.

“Jumpout! Come int"

Nicholas had tne to obserre tliat the school was a long, oold-locking house, ove story high, with a few straggling out-bulldings. Mr. Squecrs, having bolted the house-door to keep It shut, ushered him {nto a emall parlor scantily furnished, where they bad not been a couple of minutes when a female bounced Into the room, and, selzing Mr. Squecrs by the throat, gave him two loud Klases, one close after the other, like a postman’s knock, This lady was of a large, raw-boned figure, about a head taller than Mr. Squeers, and was dressed in a Mimity night-jacket, with her halr in papers and a dirty nighteap. (She was socustomed to boast that she was no grammarian, thank God! and also that she bad tamed a high spirit or two in her day, ‘Truly, in conjunction with hee worthy husband, she had broken many aud many a one.)

* Mow ts my Squeery?”

“Quite well, my love. How's the cows?”

“The cows is all right,—every one x "om."

* And the pigs?”

tapis:

2 Ede Dickens Micttomacy. *

“Come! That’sa blessing! ‘The boys are all as they were, T sappose?” ‘Oh, yea! The boys is well enough. Only that young Piteber '« had a fever.”

“Nol Dymo that chap, He's always at: of that sort.” Pending these ). Nicholas had the middle of the room, tit very well knowing whether he was o: to retire

Into the passage. Ho was now relleved from tls porpléxit by, Me,

“This iy the now young man, my dear.”

fern a young servant-girl brought In a Yorkshire ple and some eold beef; amd, {thls being set upon the table, n boy, addressed by tho name of Smike, with a jug of ale. VW

Mr. Squeors was emptying his great-cont pockets of letters to diferent ‘and other small documents which he had brought dows tn them. Ta bey elenoet ‘with an anxioas and timid expression at the in AE eS a ‘ono among thom might relate to him. The to Nioholus’s heart at onoo; focit tod along aS ‘very and history.

Tabata Klos bs Soman: fa eioiaaca begga Rete observe the extraordiaary rabstare of gia Ite doae. “ikithougts ‘ho-could not have been lees than «lghteen or mlaeteon, and was ope at, he wore a skeleton suit such as was thon usually put 0} Nollie order that the lower partof his logs might be in perfect Keeping with this bt dross, he had a very large palr of boots, originally mado for tops. which might have been once worn by some stout farmer, bat were 1 pce ih for a beggar. God knows how long he had heen there! but he still wore atattered child's frill, only half concealed by a coarse nectar Te was lame; and, ‘as he folned to be busy in arranging the table, \gldncod at lotters With ® look 40 Koen. and yet #0 dispirited and hopeloss,that Nicholas could hardy bear to watob him,

~ What are you bothering about there, Smike?” erled Mrs. Squeers. * Lat the things alone; can’t you.”

‘= WehI™ «ald Squeers, looking up. “Oh! ik yous ta it?”

* Yer, air, Is thoro"—

“Well! what are you stammering at?”

“Have you—did anybody —has nothing been heard —aboat me?”

“Devil a bit, not a word; and nover will be. Now, this en pretty sort of thing; {s.n't It,—that you should hare been left here all these years, and no money paid after the first six, nor no notice taken, nor no clew to be got who you belong to? It "sm pretty sort of thing that I should havo to feed m great fellow like you. and never hope to get one ponny for it; is w't it?”

‘The boy pat his hand to his head as if he were making an effort to recollect something, and then, looking vacantly at his quostioner, gradually broke Into a amile, and limped away.

“Til tell you what, Squecrs,” remarked his wife as the door closed, that young chap % turning ally?"

“1 hope not; for he sa handy fellow out of doors, and worth his meat and ‘Arink any way. Hows'eyer, should think he'd have wit enough for uw if he wea Willy, Buteome! Lets hare aupper; for I'm hungry and tired, and want to get wo bed.”

‘This reminder brought In an exclusive ateak for Mr. Squeers; and Nicholss had s tough bit of cot beef, Mr, Squeers then took = bumper of hot brandy and water of a sti natures and Mrs. Squecrs made the ew young man the ghost of ‘unal! 4,assful of that compound.

‘Thea Mr. Squecrs ynwnod again, and opined that ftwas time to gotobed; upce

“T think

. Meban ! ‘Nicholas Nlcklebp. 143

‘Which signal Mré. Squeers and the girl dragged In a straw mattress and s coupe of blankets, aud arranged them into a couch for Nicholas.

“We Nl pat you into your regular bedroom to-morrow, Nickleby, Let m0 een, Who sleeps in Brooks's bed, my dear?"

“Tu Brooks’ theres Jennings, little Bolder, Graymarsh, and What's-his na

“So there er Yes: Brooks Ia full.

There "+ a place xomowhoro I know; but I can't at this moment call to mind where, However, wo 'll have that all settled tomorrow. Good-night, Nickleby Seren o'slock in the morning. mind.”

_™ Behallhe ready, Good-night!”

I don’t know, by the by, whose towel to put you on; but, If you "ll make abift wilh something tomorrow morning, Mrs. Squeers will arrange that Ia the course of the day. My deat, loo’t forget"

Mr. Sqoee thed nodged Més. Squeore to bring wway the brandy bottle, lest Nicholas should help himself ia the night; wud, the tady having seized xt with Feat prectpitation, they retired together.

The next morning, Nicholas is awakened very early by Squeers, who tells him, that it is time to get up; and also that the pump is frozen, so that he will have to give himself a “dry polish,” till the ice is bgoken in-the well. Mrs. Sao now appears on the scene, looking busily for « spoon which is missing,

“Dent the things!"”’said the lady, opening the cupboard. “I can’t find the school spoon anywhere.”

™ Never vaind \t, my dear,” observed Squeers in w soothing manner: “It% of ‘ho consequence.”

* Noconsequenes! Why, how you talk!” retorted Mrs. Squeers sharply. m't it brimstone morning?”

“T forgot, my dear,” rejoined Squeers: “yes, It certainly Ia. We purify the boys’ Bloods now and then, Nickleby.”

* Purlfy flddlesticks? ends!” said his indy. “Don’t think, young man, that we £0 to the expense of flower of brimstone and molasses just to purify them; be- tause, if you think we carry on the bualness fn that way, you ‘ll find yourself mie taken, and so £ tell you plainly."

‘My dear, said Squeers, frowning. “ Hem!”

‘Oh, nonsense!” rejoined Mrs. Squeers. “ If the young man comes to be « ‘teachor here, let him understand at once that we don’t want aay foolery about the boys. ‘They have the brimstono and treacle,— partly because, if they had n't something or other In the way of medicine, they 'd be always ailing, and giving @ world of trouble; nnd partly because 1t polls thelr appetites, and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner, So it does them good and us good at the same time; and that ’s file enough. I'm sure.”

Nicholas is shortly afterwards introduced into the echoolroom.

“There! This Is our shop, Nickleby!”

A bare and dirty room, with a couple of windows of which a tenth part might 1) of glass, the remainder being stopped up with old copy-books and paper; a tuple of old dorks, cut and notched and inked and damaged In every possible ‘ny; two or three forms; a detached desk for Squeers, another for his asslst- Ant; walla #0 discolored, that {¢ was Impoasible to tell whether they had ever Seen touched with paint or whitewash,

_

4 The Dickens Mictlonarz. gpllt the pops = pale and haggard fae, lank and bony Sure, chiren ith the

their frail parents had descended, weeping even for the nurses they had kuown, ‘and lonesome even ia thelr loneliness. With erery aympathy and affection insted in ft» birth, with every healthy feeling flogged and starred down, with every revengeful passion that ean feater in hearts eating ita evil way to thelr ‘ore, what su inelplent hellt

It wns Mr, Squeers's custom to esil the boys together, and moke m ert of report, after evry halfyenrly visit to the metropolis: so, fu the afternoon, the boys were reca led from house-window, garden, stable, and cow-yard; and the eclool were assembled in full conclave.

“Lot any boy speak a word without leave,” sald Mr. Squeers mildly, “ and 2 take the skin off bis back.””

‘Doath-liko silence immediately prevailed,

“Boys, I've been to London, und have returned to my family and you as strong and as well as ever.”

‘Tho boys gave three feeble cheers mt this refreshing intelligence. Such cheers!

“Thave scen the parents of some boys,” continued Squcers, turning over bis papers; “and they Ire ao glad to hear how thelr sons are gutting on, that there " ‘no prospect ut all of their son? going away, which, of course, Is a very pleavant thing to redlect upon for all parties.”

‘Two or three hands went to two or three eyes; but the greater part of the youtig gentlemen having no particular parents to speak of—were wholly un- Anterested in the thing, one way or other.

“L lrwre bad dlaappolntments to contend against, Bolder's father was two Pound ten short. Where is Bolder? Come here, Bolder!”

An unhealthy-looking boy, with warts all over his hands, stepped from Iie pinoe to the master’s desk, and raised his eyes to the face; bis own quite white frow the rapid beating of his heart,

+ Holder," aald Squeers, speaking very slowly; for he was considering, as the sasing goes, whero to have him, —* Bolder, if your father thinks, tht, because — ‘Why! whats this, sir?”

Ile caught up the boy’s hand by the euif of his Jacket.

“1 ean't help the warts, indeed, sir, ‘They will come. It the dirty work, I think, sir,-—at least, Tdow’t know what it fs, sie; but it's not my fault.”

Bolder, you re an incorrigible young #coundrel ; aud, as the lact thrashing did you no good, we must see what another will do towards beating {t out of you.”

Mr, Squeers fell upon the boy, and caned him soundly.

“There, rob sway aa hard as you like: you won"t rub that off tn a barry. Now let ay aee, A letter for Cobbey. Stand up, Cobbey!”

“Avothor boy #tood up, and eyed the letter very hard, while Squeers made = mental abstract of the eame,

“Obit Copbey"s grandmother fs dead, and his Uncle John has took to drinking, which Is all the news his sister seads, except elghteen-pence, which will pay for dat broker square of glass. Mrs. Squeers, my dear, will you take the mouey 2”

“Graymarsh,—be 's the next. Stand up, Graymarsh |”

Nicholas Nickles;

Another boy stood up.

“Graymarsh’s maternal aunt Ia very glad to hear he"s so well and happy, and vende her respectful compliments to Mrs. Squeers, and thinks sho must be aa angel. She likewise thinks Mr. Squeers is too good for this world, but hopes he may long be spared to carry on the business. Would have sent the two pair of stocking, as desired, but fs short of money, #0 forwards a tract instead. Hopesy bore all things, thas Graymarsh will study to please Mr. and Mre. Squeers, and Jook upou them as his only friends; and that he will lore Muster Squeers; and

not olject to sleeping five In a bed, which no Christian should. Ad, a delightful lettor; Fery affecting, indeed." Tt was affecting in one sense; for Graymarsh’s maternal aunt was strongly supe

posed by her more intimate friends to be his maternal parent,

“ Sobbe’s mothersttiIaw took to her bed on bearing that he would n't eat fat, und has been very ill ever since. She wishes to know by an early post where he ex+ pecta to go to, if he quarrels with his vittles; and with what feelings he could turn up his nose nt the cow'eliver broth, nfter his good master hud asked a blessing on it. This was told her in the London newspapers, — not by Mr. Squeers; for he is too kitd and too good to set anybody against anybody. Mobbe’s mother-in- 4s sorry to find Mobbs s discontented (which Is sinful and horrid), and hopes Mr. Squecrs will flog him {nto a happier state of mind; with this view she has also stopped his halfpenny a week pocket-money, and given a double-bladed knife, with @ corkscrew in it, which she had bought on purpose for him, to the missions aries. A sulky state of feeling won't do. Cheerfuluess and contentinent must bo kept up, —Mobbs, come to me!”

‘The unhappy Mobbs moved slowly towards the desk, rubbing his eyes in antl- eipation of good cause for doing x0; and soon afterwards retired by the alde- door, with ws good cauye as a boy need have,

Mr. Squeers then proceeded to open a miscellaneous collection of letters,—some ‘enclosing money, which Mra, Squecra ‘took care of;" and others referring to ‘small articles of apparel, nx caps, und so forth, all of which the same Indy atated to be too large or too small for everybody but young Squeers, who would appear to have had most accommodating limbs; «ince every thing thst came into the eehool fitted him.

In course of tine, Squeers retired to his fireside, leaving Nicholas to take tare of the boys In the schoolroom, which was very cold, and where ® meal of bread and cheese was served out shortly after dark.

‘There was a amall stove at that corner of the room which was nearest to the tmaster's desk; and by it Nicholas sat down, depressed and selfdegraded. As he was absorbed in meditation, he encountered the upturned fuce of Swike, on bis knees before the stove, picking a few cinders from the hearth, and planting them oa the fire. When he saw that ho was observed, ho shrank back, expecting a blow. * You need not fear me, Are you cold?”

Nano”

“You are shivering”

“Tam not cold. Lam used to it.”

“ Poor, broken-spirited creature!”

Whe had struck the wretched object, he would have slunk away without a word, But now he burat into teare,

“Oh, dear! oh, dear! My heart will creak! Te will, st will!”

“Hush! Beaman; you sro nearly one by years. God help you!"

“By years} Oh, dear, desr! how many of them! How many of them stnon Fired o tiie ohlld, younger than any the, are here now! Where aro they all?”

146 * Ebe Mickens Mictfonarg.

“Whom do you speek of?”

My frlends, myself, my— Oh! what aufferings mine have deen!”

‘There bs always hope.”

“No, no; none for me. Do you remember the boy that died here?”

“ Ewas with him at night; and, when {t was all silent, he cried no more for frfends he wished to come and sit with him, but began to see faces round hla bed, that came from home; he sald they smiled and talked to him; and he died at last, Ufting his head to kiss thom, What fuoes will smile on me when I die? Who will talk to me in those long, long nights? They cannot come from home: they would frighten me, If they did; for T don't know what home is. Pain and fear, pain and fear, for mo, alive or dead. No hope, no hope! ”

‘The bell rang to ded, and the boy crept away. With a heayy heart Nicholas soon afterwards retired —no, not retired; there was no retirement there—fol- lowed to the dirty wad crowded dormitory,

A day or two after this, the poor creature Smike, in the hope of somehow bettering his condition, rans away. As Squeers cannot af ford to lose #0 valuable a drudge, he is pursued, overtaken, and brought back, with his legs tied under the apron, and made fast to the chaise, to prevent his escaping on the road.

‘With hands trembling with delight, Squeers unloosened the cord; and Smike, more dead than alive, was brought In, and locked up in mcellar until such time ‘ut Mr. Squeers should deem It expedient to operate upon him.

The news that the fugitive had been canght and brought back ran Uke wildfire through the hungry community; und expectation was on tiptoe all the morning. On tiptoe it remained antil the afternoon; when Squeers, having refreshed him- self with bie dinner and an extra lbatlon, or #0, made his appearance (nocompa- nicd by his aminble partner) with w fearful instrument of flagellation, strong, supple, wax-ended, and new.

“Is-every boy hero?"

Every boy was there; but every boy wus afraid to speak: so Squeers glared along the lines to assure himself.

‘There was a curious expression in the usher's faco; but he took his seat with: out opening his lips in reply. Squeers Jeft the room, and shortly afterwards re- turned, dragging Smike by the collar, or, rather, by that fragment of his Jacket which was nearest the place where his collar ought to have been.

“Now, what have you got to aay for yourvelf?—Stand a little out of the way, Mre, Squeers, my dear: 1*ve hardly got room enough.”

“Spare me, sir!”

“Oh! that" all you "ve got to say; ie it? Yes, Ill fog you within am inch ef your life, and spare you that.”

One cruel blow had fallen on him, when Nicholas Nickleby erted, “ Stop!”

“ Who cried stop?”

“Tdid. This must not go on.”

Must not go out”

“Nol Must not! Shall not! Iwill prevent it! You have disregarded all my niet interference In this miserable lad’s behalf; you have returned no anawer te the letter In which I begged forgiveness for him, and offered to be responsibly that he would remain quietly here, Don't blame me for this public interference You have trought it upon yourself, not 1.”

j Nicbolas Nicbledp. 147

“Sit down, beggar!”

“ Wretch, touch him again at your peril! 1 will not stand by and seo tt done, ‘My blood Is up, and f havo the e:rength of ten such men as you. By Heaven! ¥ will not spare you ff you drive me on, Ihave a series of pereonal insults to avenge; and my indignation Is aggravated by the cruelties practised tn this foal den, Haven care; for, if you raise the devil In me, the consequences will full heavily upoa your head”

‘Squeers epat at him. and strack him ® blow across the face, Nicaolns im stantly eprang upon him, wrested his weapon from his hand, and, pinning him by the throat, beat the ruffian till he roared for mercy.

He flung him away with all the force he could muster; and the riolence of his ‘fall precipitated Mrs. Squeers over un adjacent form; Squeers, striking his head ‘against the same form {a his descent, lay at his full length on the ground, stunned and motionless.

‘Having brought affairs to this happy termination, and having ascertained, to his satisfaction, that Squeers was onty stunned, and not dead (upon which polnt ho had had some unplessant doubts at first), Nichols packed up « few clothes in ‘small valise, and, finding that nobody offered to oppose his progress, marched boldly out by the front-door, aud struck into the road. Then auch a cheer arose as the walls of Dotheboys fall had nerer echoed before, and would never re spond toagain, When the sound had died away, the school was empty; and of the crowd of boys not one remained,

Mr. Squeers meets his just deserts at last, being sentenced to transportation for seven years for being in the unlawful possession of a stolen will ; the result of which is, that Dotheboys Hall is broken

| up forever. (Ch. iv-ix, xiii, xxxiv, xxxvill, xxxix, xllj, xlv, lvi, Ivii, lix, Lx, Ixv.) = =

} Bqueers, Mrs, Wife of Mr. Wackford Squeers. (Ch. vill, ix, xiii, Ixiv.) See Squaxns, Wackrorp.

Squeers, Miss Fanny. Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Wackford Squeers; a young lady in her three-and-twentieth year, resembling her mother in the harshness of her voice and the shrewishness of her disposition, and her father in the remarkable expression of her right eye, something akin to having none at all. (Ch. ix, xii, xili, xy, xxix, xi, Ixiv.)

queers, Master Wackford, junior. Son of Mr. and Mrs, Wackford Squeers. (Ch. viii, ix, xiii, xxix, xxxiv, xxxviii, xlii, Ixiv.) See Squeens, Wacxronv.

Swillenhausen, Baron von. Neighbor and fathertin-law to the Baron of Grogzwig. (Ch. vi.)

Swillenhausen, Baroness von. His wife. (Ch. vi.)

Timberry, Mr. Snittle. An actor belonging to Mr. Crummles’s theatre. (Ch. xxi.)

Tix, Mr. Tom. A broke whe makes an inventory of the stock

148 She Dickens Dictfonary.

in Madame Mantalini’s millinery establishment on the occasion of her sudden failures. (Ch. xlviii.)

Tom. Clerk at the General Agency office. (Ch. xvi, xliil.)

Tomking. One of Squecre’s pupils. (Ch. xiii.)

Trimmers, Mr. A friend of the Cheeryble Brothers. (Ch. xxxv.)

Verisopht, Lord Frederick. A silly young nobleman, the tool of Sir Mulberry Hawk. He becomes enamoured of Kate Nickleby, and has an angry altereation concerning her with Sir Mulberry. ‘The quarrel leads to « duel, in which Lord Frederick is killed. (Ch. xix, xxvi-xxvili, xxxvill, 1.) See Hawx, Sm Muzoxrey.

‘Westwood, Mr. One of the seconds in the duel between Sir Mulberry Hawk und Lord Verisopht. (Ch. L)

William, A waiter at the Suracen'’s Head Inn. (Ch. y.)

‘Wititterly, Mrs. Julia, A lady of the middle class, who apes the airs and style of the aristocracy, and with whom Kate Nickleby lives for a while as companion. (Ch. xxl, xxvii, xxvili.)

Wititterly, Mr. Henry. Husband to Mrs. Wititterly. Being informed that Kate has applied for a situation as companion to his wife, he discusses the matter for some time with Mrs. Wititterly in whispers. At length he notices Kate,

“Oht” he said, turninground, “yes, ‘This is most important matter. Mrs. ‘Wititterly is of a vory excitable nature, very delicate, very fragile, a hot-house plant, an exotic.”

+0 Henry! my dear,” interposed Mrs. Wititterty.

“You are, my love; you know you are. One breath” —said Mr. W., blowing an imaginary feather away. “Pho! you 'ro gone.”

‘The Indy aighod.

“ Your soul Is too large for your body,” sald Mr. Wititterly. “Your intellect wears you out: all the medical men aay #0, You kuow that there fs nots phyal dan who it not proud of being catled in to you. What {s thelr unanimous deo laration? ‘My dear doctor? said I to Sir Tumley Snufim, in this very room, the very last time he eame,—* my dear doctor, what 1s my wife's complaint? ‘Tell mé all. Tecan bear ft, Is {t nerves??—* My dear fellow,! he enld, *be proud of that woman; make much of her: she is an ornament to the Mahionable world, and to you. Her complaint {s soul: it swells, expands, dilates — the blood fires, the pulse quickens, the excitement Increases hew!'” Here Mr, Wititterly, who, in the ardor of his description, had flourished his right hand to within somathiag less than an inch of Mrs. Nickleby's bonnet, drew it hastily bua again, and blew his nose as flercely as if it had been done by some violent machinery.

“You make me out worse than Iam, Henry,” sald Mrs. Wititterly with « faint mile.

“I donot, Julia; Ido not," sald Mr. W. "The soelety In which you more-— necesiarily move, from your station, connection, and endowments — is one vor tex esd whirlpool of the most frightful excitement. .. . And for that very

Nicholas Nickleby. 149

‘reason you must have a companion in whom there fs great gx atlenens, gromt wrertness, excessive sympathy. and perfect repove.”

‘Here both Mr, and Mrs, Wititterly, who tiad talked ther at the Nicklebys ‘than to each other, left off speaking, and looked at thelr two hearers with an ‘expression of countenance which seemed to say, “What do you think of all thot?”

“ Mrs. Wititterly,” said her husband, addressing himself to Mrs, Nickleby, + te sought after and courted by glittering crowds and brilliant elreles, She lt ‘excited by the opers, the drama, the fine arts, the— the— the” —

“The nobility, my love,” interposed Mre. Wititterly.

“The nobility, of course," said Mr. Wititterly, “and the military. She forms and expresses an immense variety of opinions, on an immense variety of subjects. If some people in public life were ncqusinted with Mrs. Wititterly's real opinion of them, they would not hold their heads perhaps quite as high ax they do.”

(Ch. xxi, xxvii, xxviii, xxiii.)

York, The Five Sisters of. Tho title of a story told bya gray-baired gentleman at a roadside inn between Grantham and Newark, for the amusement of his fellow-passengers, who have been detained there by tno broaking-down of a stagecoach. The five sisters are reprosented as living in York in the early part of the sixteenth century, in an old house belonging to the black monks of St. Benedict. While engaged in embroidering a complicated and intricate pattern, they are visited by one of the monks, who urges them to take the veil; but, under the influence of the youngest sister (named Alice), they refuse to do so, believing that peace and virtue can be found beyond as well as within a convent's walls. Years pass by, bringing change and separation and sor row; but at last the four elder sis‘“rs meet again in the old home: and again the same black monk unses them by all the ¢ad memories of the past to sock consolation and peace within the sheltering arms of the Church. Remembering how the young heart of thelr Ist sister had sickened at the thought of cloistered walls, they agais refuse. As work of piety, however, as well as a memorial of affee tion, they cause to be executed in five compartments of stained glass fitted into a large window in York Cathedral (which is still showe there under the name of the Five Sisters), « faithful copy of theis old embroidery-work, through which the sun may shine brightly ox

| @ flat stone in the nave, which bears the name of @ilice. (Ch. vi-)

10 Ede Dickens Mictlonary.

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

Cnarrex 1 —Sketeh of the history of the Nickleby family previous to the time of our story, and death of Sz. Nlekieby, father of its hero. — 11. Description of Mr. Ralph Nickiety, ‘and of bis business; formation of the Crumpet Company. —IIl. Ralph Nickleby reeetves the news of his brother's death, and the arrfral of the widsw and ber ebiléren ta Loodoot hhe finds them ts lodgings at Miss La Creevy's, atxl proceeds to provide for them by promie Ing to seeurs Nicholas a situation as asatant In the academy of Mr. Wackford Squeees tn Torkshim. TY. Interview betwoen Mr. Squecrs and Mr. Sonwiey: Rolph and tie Rephew cal! upon Mr. Squoers, and Nicholas secures the situation; Nicholas fnformas New- man Nogys of his uncle's intentions in regard to bito.—¥. Nicholas bids ndlew to Mise La Creery, and leaves the house without disturbing tila mother and slater; how 3Mr. queer and his boys broakfusted; Ralph, Mra. Nickleby, und Kate come to see Siebetas off, also Newmen Noxge, who necrotly gives him a letter,—VL. On the journey to York- shire the coach is overtumed; while walling for another, one gentleman entertains tie follow-pamengurs with tho story of the Five Sisters of York nd another ope relates the sory of the Baron of Grogewig; they leave the stage at Greta Bridge, and Mr. Saucers “stretches this legs" ae bo bas frequently done on the Journey. — VII. They reach Dotheboys Hall, with which Sicholus ts not favorably impressed; he tw tatroduced to Mex. queers notices the md appearance of Binlka, and gets an idea of the internal eeonemy of Squeers’s extablishinents he reads Newman Nowgs's letter.— VIII. Mra. Squcers lin proves the boys" appetites by dosing them with brimstone and rreacle: Mr, Squeers ehiows ls practical mode of teaching, makes & report to the school of his Journey to London, ‘and ndds « tiberal discipline with the cane; Nicholas shows his sympathy for Smike.—IX. Mra Squeer expresses ber opinion of Nicholas: Miss Fanny Squcers makes aa errand Into the schoolroom, in her futher" abeence, for the pirpose of inspecting Nichole; his ¢ once falls in love wieh bim,snd hastens to inform ber attachmont and ita return; Miss Squeera makes m little purty for the purpose of Introducing Nicholas ty her friends he exeltes the Joaloury e€ Mr Jobin Bromiie; and Mim Frice does the same sorrice for Fanny Bquoera —X. Siae La Croevy paints Kato Sickleby's portealt: discussing the charsoterof Ralph Sickleby, thay are laterrupted by the appearance of that guntloman; Walph informa Kate and her mother of the situation he has obtained for her ia the establishment of Madame Mantalinl: Kate hse an interviow with Mr, and Madame Mantalinl,— XI. Newman Nogga moves Mra. Slokleby and Kate tnto the bonse of which ftalph Nickleby has given them possesalon, — X11. Miss Price informs Mies Squeers that her wedding-day tx fixed; Nicholas tn tay wolt tary walk [met by Mist Bqueers and her friend, and a scene follows In whieh he declaree Iie sontianents for the schootmaster's daughter: Nicholas has & cor-vereation with Smike, XIII. Smike runs away, is pursaed in ane direction by Squeers, and in another by Tie wife, and is overtaken and brought back by Mrs. Sqneerss Mr. Squeers te about to flog Nmulke, when be is atopped by Nicholas, who beats the brute severely. and leaves the house: meeting John Browdle, that worthy individual Is greatly delighted to hear of Nicholas exploit, and aealats him on tus ways Nicholas ta Joined by Smike. —XIV. Newman Noges {tends tho party of tho Kenwigwos an thoir wedding-day, and tx called away ty the arrival of Nicholas and Smike.—XV. Newman reads to Nicholas the eopy of Fanny Squeens's letter to Raloh Siokleby ; Nicholas resoaes the Infant Kenwigs from a dangerous position, end ninkes favorable improslon en the company.—XVI. Nicbolas, visting axl sntells eence-vAice In sesrwh of employment. Is struck with the appearance of s young ay whore the meets there; being roferred to Me. Grogsbury, M.D. he viaite that gentleman Just ae hho 1s waited upon hy his constituents: he finds the altastion riot adapted to his wants, nd he accepts, as Mr. Johnean, the position of private tutor to the Keawigs children. ‘toters upon tho duties of chat position rndar the Inspection of Mr, TAlly-vick-—XVLE. Kabe Miokleby commences her labors at Madame Mantalin!'s, and ia tatroduced to Miss Kung. —~ XVIUL. Mist Knag conceives a warm affoction for Kato, and mskes the acquaintance ot Mrs, Stekisby, Kate and hor mother go home with Miss Knng to her brother's, and tearm

Nicholas Nickleby. Wi

moaething of the bistory of that gentleman; Kate, being preferred by some Ladies to Mine Knag, loose the forewoman's good opinion. — XIX. Ralph Nickleby invites Kate to dine ‘with himn; she ie astonished to find his house richly furnished ; Ralph introduces her to hie guests, Land Frederick Verlsopht and Sir Mulberry Hawk; Kate bears vkelr Insulting ‘Manner as fong as aho can, and then burries from the room; Slr Mulberry finds her alone, ‘sud, pursaing bls atsontions, is ingerruptod by Ralph Nioklebys Ralph and Sir Mulberry ‘understand each other.—XX. Mies La Creery hasan interview with Miles Kuag: Diss La Greary is aatoniahed at tho return of Nicholas, and undertakes to prepare his mother ant Kate for hiscoulug; Ralpt visits the widow to lnform her of her son's mindemeanors, and Je confronted by Sicholas himself, who repels his charges, but who, for the sake of bie mother and Kate, leaves them to the care of bis unclo, and departs, — XXI. Madaine Mane ‘tallnt’y establishment falls tnto the hands of the sheritf, Mr, Mantalin} threatens suicide; ‘and Kave dds herself without a situation; Sry. Nickleby urgea Kato to answer an adver ‘Usement for a companion, and she applies for nud secures a situation in that capacity 4m the Gamlly of Mzx, Wiultterly.—XXIL Nicholas and Amiko leave London for Poruaouth, Snsearch of fortane; Sicholas attempts to revive Suulks's recollections of hs childhoods ‘they tall la. with Mr. Fincont Crammies, witness tho rehearsal of « atazecombat by the ‘Masters Cruguplos, and Nicholas embraces the offer of Mr. Crumales, and Joins the thoat- sical prtasion. —XX1U. They proceed to Portamouth, Mr. Crummles giving an account of bie wonderful pony by the way, and Nicholas 1s Introduced to the company Mr Crummles announces 8 now play, of which Nicholas is to be the author, and abows bln how to make us of the French origianl; Nicholas dines with Mr. and Mrs. Crummles, ‘and then fads lodgings for himself and Smiko,—XXIV, Mr, Folair and Mr, Lenville give Wicholas some hints of value in hile task of composition; Nicholas accompanies Miss ‘Snevellicct in her calls on the oveasion of ber “bespeak;"* Nicholas appears tn. his new Piece, and moets with dociged success.—XXV. Mr. Crammieys company Is Jolned by ‘Miss Henrietta Petowker from Loudon, and Mr. Lillyvick follows her; Mr, Liliyriok ‘makes known to Nicholas his intentions in regard to Miss Potowkers Mr, billyrick and Miss Potowker aro married, and have tholr wedding-broakfast; Nicholas Instructs Sunike In the pare of tho Apotheoury.—XX¥L. Lord Verlsopht and Sir Mulberry Hawk determine to Gnd out Kate Xicklety,and Lord Frederick loarns hor address from Walph; they en counter Mra Siekleby, and show her particular attention, which sets that good Indy ‘castlo-ballding. ~ XXVI. Messrs, Pyke and Pluck call upon Mr. Slokloby aa the frlends of Bir Mulberry Hawk, and invite her to makeone of thelr party at the play; atthe play sho Ands herveif in tie next box to Kate, who is In company with the Wititserlys; Sit ‘Materry inakes 4 division of the party, so 48 to secure Kate's soeloty to himself, and bee ‘comes more insulting in his attentions. — XXVILL Sir Mulberry and Lant Fredariok, backed by Fykoand Muck, follow up their advantage, and call at the Wititterlya': Kate, harassed beyond endurance, secks her uncle, and claims his protection, but he Cealines to Antertore, —XXIX. Mr. Lenvitie, Jealous of Nicholas’s Increasing popularity, treatene ‘in with panishinent; aivempting to execute his threat Ia the presence of the company, ‘he finds himself diesppolnted; Nicholas recolvoa warning from Nowman Nogge that bla presence tn London may be necessary for Kate's protection. — XXX. Mr. Craimmten mt anges three "last appearances" for Mr, Johnson; Nicholas, at Miss Snevellicc!'s earnest Invitation, accompanies that young lady home, where he becomes the hero of the dite feast, and Miss Snoveliiccl gives way to her feelings: the appearance of # London manager tp the audience creates an unusual excitement bebind the curtain; Nicholas receres ‘xoother letter from Newman, and hurries his departure for London, XXXJ, Ralph Nickle- bydotects Newman watching him; Newman consults with dine La Croevy in regand to Kate and the return of Nicholas. — XXXII. Slobolas retama *o London, and, nwt Badin ‘Newnan or Miss 1a Creevy, ntrolla into a hotel, where he overhears Sir Mulberry and lle party licentiously Jeating about Kate, and demands satisfuction: recelving only iusuit fn Wwply, he assaults Sir Malborry ax he ls entering bis carriage to leave, the horve takes fright, and Hie Dulberry receives serious injury. — XXXILL. Newman relates to Nicholas the position of aiiatre in regard to Kate, and Nicholas lowe no time In removing her from Mre Wittitterly's; Le also removes his mother and Kate back to the lodgings at Miss La ‘Greery's. wnd returns she key of Ralpt. Nickleby's house to the owner, — XXXIV. Mem and Mr Mptalin! transact little busicos with Ralph Nickleby; Me. Mantalin! {aforme

152 Ebe Wickens Bictlonary,

Raiph of the alteration between Nicholas and Str Mulberry Hawt ; Str. RqCeers surprises ‘alpb hy calling apon him; they plan to retaliate upon Nicholas through his affeotion foe Hmike. —XXXV. Smike is introduced to Mre Nickletyy and Kate; Nicholas trles the Megte ter Office again for employment, and meets Mr. Charles Cheezyble, who takes im to hie warehouse, where ho mets Str. Ned Cheeryblo and Tim Linkinwater; he enters the em ploy of Cheeryble Brothers, and removes his mother and Kate to a cottage which his employers tot hita at Gow,—XXXVT. The Kenwigaes, rejolcing over an addition to thele funily, have thelr Joy tamed to geief by the news Nicholas brings of the marriage of Mtr, Ullyvick.—XXXVIL- Nicholas’s labors meet the entire approval of Tia Linkinwaters ‘Cheery bie Brothers give Tim Linklawater n dinner om his birthday: Mrs. Stekleby tnorca ‘Nicholas of the singular procentige of thelr next neluhbor.—XXXVI1L. Miss La Creery Rotices & sorrowful change In Stalke; Ralph Nickleby walts apon Sir Malberry Haws. ‘and they Gixcuss his injury from the attack of Nicholas: Lord Frederick refasee to bes party to any aault upon Nicholas; Smike ia arrested In the street by Mr. Squeers, aot ‘carried to Snawley's house XXXIX, John Browile and bis wife, with Miss Squeers, arrive ‘a Landon, and stop at the Sarucen’s Head; Mr. Squcers reports to Ohean the eaptare ‘of Simike; accepting the sehoulwaster's invitacion to tes ak Mr, Sonwley's, Joba Deowtie felgns sicknems, and amists Smike to eacape. — XL. Henlke finds hia way to Newman Noges, ‘tai is restored to Nicholas; Nicholas encounters a young lady in the room of Mr. Charles ‘Cheerybie, whom he recognizes ax the ono he met at the lntelligence-offce, aid falls fm Jove with her at sight: Nicholas employs Newman to follow her servant, and find out who sho Ist Newman faithfully performs his trust, and appoints n meating, on Keeping which icholua finds that his mediator tias made a mistake ta the lady, —XLL Mra Nickleby ‘and Kato conversing In thelr ganten, are taterrapted by the gentloman next door, who pro ‘ceeds 10 declare his passion for Mra. Nickleby, when he ts arrested hy his Keeper, — XLII. Nicholas takes sapper with Mr. and Mire. John rowdie wt she Sarscen’s Mead, 0d hears from John the particulars of Smike"s escape trom Squeers; sudden appearance of Miss Squeers, with hor futher and brother; her indignation, and her departure with her rele tives. —XLIE, Nicholas test meets Mr. Frank Cheerybley Mx, Charles Cheeryble and his nephew take tea with the Nickiebys.—XLLV. Ikalph Niekleby learna with contempt that Sir Mulberry Hawk has left the councrys Ralph is aesosted by ® begaar who claims an old acquaintance with him; he refuses to assist him, and threatens him with arrest: Ralph witnesses a falting-out between Mr. and Madame Mantalinit returning home, Ralph finds Squcera and Snawiey, and gost away with them; Newman Noges, following, encounters 2 stranger, ln whom lie becomes greatly lnterested.—XLV. Mr. and Mrs Jobm Beowdie ‘spond a merry evening at the Nicklebys"; thetr pleasure ls Interrupted by the entrance of Ralph Nickleby and Squeers, who claim Smike tn the name of his father, whom they produce In the person of Snawlay ; Nicholas refuses to give up Sintka; and Squcers gets some rough treatment from John Browdle.—XLVI. Nicholas, relating the clroumstances to Mr ‘Chutles Cheeryble, dds that Ralph has been before filmy Mr, Charles relates to Xleholas the history of the young lady whom he has met, and employs tim as his confidential mem senger In communicating with her, and Niebolws makes his first call upon Sis Bray. — XLVI, Newman Nope, coucealing bimacif in cloact 1a his room, becomes witness 2e ‘an Interview between Ralph Nickleby and Arthar Grido, In which the latter details 3e plans for scouring Madeline Mray ax his bride, and compounds with Ralph (or his aesheeanees they visit Bray, and urge Gride's suit for his daughter's hand,— XLVI, Nicholas eacoan- tere Mr, Vinoent Crummles, and attends @ furewoll supper given to that entleman ang luis family provious to thelr departure for Americas Sicholas Glscwses the morality of certain olnss of playwrights, and takes hls final leave of the Crummloiea—XLLX. Mine. Niekichy appropriates to herself the attentions of Mr. Frank Cheeryblo: Frank, and Tim Linkinwater, drop in at <0 Nieklebys"s thoy are astonished by the entrance, down the shimney, of the Gentleman in Small-Clothes: an abrupt change tn hls manner towards Mire, Siokloby convinces hor of his insanity, of which she thinks herself the cause; Niobe plas becomes alarmed at Snike's melancholy. —L. Slr Mulberry Hawk threatens revenue ‘80 Nichola and Lord Frederick remonstrates; a quarrel between them ta « gambling» Brothel teads to duel, in which Lard Verlsopht ts Kilted.—L1, Arthur Gride selects te weddingegarmonts; Newman Nogps bears a letter from his master to Gride, and tmprover good opportunity to acquaint himself with Its contents; Ralph questions Newman abou

Nicbolas Nictlebp 153

Brooker, but without satlafuctory result; Newman informs Nicholas of the plot between Ralph and Gride, by whicb the latter 1s to marry Madetine Bray: In the absence of the Cheery bie Brothers, Nicholas devermines to take upon himself tho respousibllity of re ‘fmonstrating with Miss Hray.— LUI, Mr, Lillyvick retarns to the Ketrwigses, relates the Mory of his wife's elopement, and they become fends agaby.—LILL Purvaing his pur ‘pose, Nicholas counsels Miss Lray to prevent the approaching marriage; fading ahe will ‘sacrifice hecself for ber futher's ake, he goes to Gride, and tries threats upon bim, bat ‘without effect. LIV. Arthar Gride and Ralph Niokleby go to Mr, Trays to consume mate the narriage; while waiting for the appearance of Bray aud Madoline, they are sarprised by the entrance of Nicholas and Kate; sadden death of Mr, Bray; Nicholas ‘e2nses Halph aud Grido of thotr evil designs, threatens thern with discovery and puniahe ieot, and takes Madeline under his protection, —LY, Mr Nickleby surprises Nicholas by lafurming btm of her discovery that Frank Cheerybie has fillen in love with Katey Smike becomes very Hl, und Nicholas takes him to Devonshire. —LVT. Ralph Nickleby ‘and Gride return to the lattor's house, and find it closed; forcing an entrance, they And dat Peg Sliderskow has robbed him of bis papers, and abseonded; Ralph Niokleby sends for Squoere, informs him of the theft of the papers. and engages him to recover them. — LVIL Squeers having found Mra Slideevkow, and secured her confidence, proceeds to ‘examine to stolen papers; Frank Cheeryble and Newman Sopgs steal in upon them, and prevent the destruction of the will. —LVIL1. Smike has hls fears excited by the apparition Of the tan who Mist enrrledt him to Dotheboys Hall: Staike confesses to Nicholas his fove for Kae, and dion —LIX. Ralphs surprised ty the absence of Newman Noggs,and also by Aheappearance of Mr. Charles Cheeryble, to whom he refuses to listen | Ralph goer in search ‘of Squeers, but does not find him, and thon to Giride’s, who refuses hitm entrance: be then 00s to Cheeryblo Brothers’, where Newman Nogys confronts him, and tells Bim how he ‘has watched his actions, and overheard his plots: they also relate to Ralph the dlacoveriox bey have taade ia regard to the Imposture of Snawley, the occupation of Squecrs, hit ‘arrest, and the mplioation of Ralph in these villanies: lie sparns thelr counsel, and deges them to do the worst. — LX. Ralph visita Squoeraat the police-otfice, learns that the wilt {n favor of Madeline Bray has been lost to him, and that Squcers wo longer will ald his ‘schemes; Tim Linkinwater carries the announcement of & freah discovery to Ralph, and ‘conveys hla again to Cheeryble Brothers’ counting-room, where they tell him of Smike's Meath, and confront him with lrooker, who proves to hulm that Smike was his own son. — LEXI, Nicholas confesses t> Kate hs fove for Mudetine. and she toforms him that she has ‘declined sho hand of Frank Cheeryble: Nicholas also makes known tho state of bis feel Inge to Mr. Charles Choerybie; Mr. Choeryble infurms Nicholas of the occurrences of the Preceding day, and that his uncle hes fixed an sppolutment for & meoting with tim. — LXIL Maiph Nickleby, when leaving the Cheeryblo Brothers, goes home, filed with r= more on keeping his appointment, they find him dead, hanged by bis own act. —LXIU- ‘The Cheerybie Lrothers invite the Nicklobys and Mins La Creovy toa dinner, whore they ‘sro surprised to sind Frank Checryble and Made.-16 Bray Drothor Charles explains the ‘position of Madetine’s affairs, and approves her choleo of Nicholas, and also the unton of Prank with Kate; ‘Tim Linkinwater and Miss La Creevy agree to unite their foreunest ‘Sewman Nogys appears tn a now charactor.—LXIV. Nicholas and Kato discover Mz. Mantatin! in reduced clroumstances; Nicholas visits Jobo Lirow die in Yorkabires break tupap of Dotheboys Mall. —LXYV. Conclaslon, tn which the eubsequent history of the Maacuctore is briedy told.

Sketches of Doung Couples.

(Pestaswe wx 1940]

THE YOUNG COUPLE

Adams, Jane. A housemaid. Anne, A housemaid at “No, 6;” friend to Jane Adams,

Fielding, Miss Emma. A young lady about to be married to 4 Mr, Harvey, who is “an angel of a gentleman.”

Harvey, Mr. <A young gentleman engaged to Miss Fielding.

John, Mr. A servant in the house of Miss Fielding’s father.

THE LOVING COUPLE, Leaver, Augustus, } Two married persons, so tender, so affoo- Leaver, Augusta. } tionate, so given to the interchange of soft endearments, a3 to be well-nigh intolerable to everybody else. Starling, Mrs, A widow-lady enraptured with the affectionate behavior of Mr. and Mrs, Leaver, whom she considers a perfect model of wodded felicity.

THE CONTRADICTORY COUPLE.

Charlotte. ) A married pair who seem to find a positive pleasure Edward. } in contradiction, and agree in nothing else. Charlotte, Miss, Their daughter

James, Master. Their son.

THE COUPLE WHO DOTE UPON THEIR CHILOREN.

Saunders, Mr. A bachelor-friend of the Whifflers,

Whiffier, Mr. and Mrs, A married pair, whose thoughts at all times and in all places are bound up in their children, and have no aphere beyond. They relate clever things their offspring say or do, and weary every company with their prolixity and absurdity.

pay

Bheicbes of Young Couples. 155

THE COOL COUPLE. Charles, } A husband and wife, well-bred, easy, and careless, who Louisa. } rarely quarrel, but are unsympathizing, and indifferent to each other's comfort and happiness.

THE PLAUSIBLE COUPLE,

Widger, Mr. Bobtail. } People of the world, who adapt them-

Widger, Mrs. Lavinia. § sclves to all its ways, all its twist- ings and turnings; who know when to close their eyes, and when their ears; when to crawl upon their hands and knees; when to stoop; and when to stand upright.

THE NICE L:TTLE COUPLE.

Chirrup, Mr. A warm-hearted little fellow, with the smartness, and something of the brisk, quick manner, of a small bird.

Chirrup, Mrs. His wife; a sprightly little woman, with an amaz- ing quantity of goodness and usefulness, —a condensation, indeed, of all the domestic virtues,

THE EGOTISTICAL COUPLE,

Sliverstone, Mr. A clerical gentleman, who magnifies his wife ‘on every possible occasion by launching out into glowing praises of hervonduct in the production of eight young children, and the sub- sequent rearing and fostering of the same.

Sliverstone, Mrs. His wife; always engaged in praising her husband's worth and excellence.

THE COUPLE WHO CODDLE THEMSELVES. Merrywinkle, Mr. and Mrs, A married pair, who have fallen into exclusive habits of selfindulzence, and forget their natural sympathy and close connection with everybody and every thing in the world around them; thus depriving themselves of the best and truest enjoyment. Chopper, Mrs. Mother to Mrs. Merrywinkle. THE C.D COUPLE

Adams, Jane. Ar aged servaat, who has been nnrae and story: teller to two generations.

Crofts, A barber.

Master Humphrey's Clock.

‘Uncpme this title, on the 4th of April, 1940, Mr. Dickens started a miscellany ‘which was to be issued in weekly numbers (at threepence each), as well as ix ‘monthly parts, und which was to consist of short, detached papers, with occasional continuous stories, These were introduced and connected together by means of a fiction, describing an old gvatleman named Muster Humphrey, and a kind of club, which meets once a week at his house, io a quaint old room In which thare fs a tall, old-fashioned clock, from the ease of which they draw forth piles of dusty papers that they themselves have written, and placed there to be read at thelr meetings. ‘The work extended to elghty-cight parts, covering n period of ‘nearly two years. It.was brought out in the form of an Imperial octavo, was ex- cellently printed on good paper, and was fllustented with wood-engravings (in- stead of otehings on steel) by George Cattermole, “Phiz” (HI. K. Browne), George Crufkshank, and Daniel Muclise,—the two Intter artists, however, furnlate Ang but one sketch each.

‘The publio did not take Kindly to the machinery of Master Humphrey and his friends; and, to revive thelr flagging Interest, Mr. Pickwick and the two Wellers were again bronght upon the scene, us was alto a thind Weller, —a young Tony,— ‘who {s Sam's son, and & counterpart {n minfatare of his grandfather. ‘This devios ‘was successful; and the work won its way steadily to general favor; the two Jonger tales contained in It —“ The Old Curiosity Shop” and“ Barnaby Radgo"— being reckoned among the best of the author's novels, But Mr. Dickens con- sidered that the connecting fiction of Master Humphrey Interfered too much with ‘the contInuity of the principal stories, and gave the whole work a too desultory character, He therefore eventually cancelled the Introductory, Interealary, and eoneluding chapters {n which this fiction was contalned, though on the cumpletion Of the oighty-eight parts of which the work consisted, it was {ssned In three volumes, — of which the first appeared In 1810, and the last two in 1841.

In & letter to “ The Dally News,” Dootor Charles Rogers gives the following #e count of the origin of tho name“ Muster Humphrey's Clock.” “In 1804, in the

soarse of a tour, Furrivod at the town of Barnard Castle, in the county of Dur. 166

Master Mumphrep's Clock. 1st

bam, late on a winter evening, and put up at the principal hotel. ... At breale fst the following morning, I chanced to notice on the opposite aide of the street lange clock-fuce with the name ‘ Humphrey? surrounding it, most consplenously exhibited in front of a wnteh and clock maker's shop. ‘How odd!’ I exclaimed toa gentleman seated beside me: ‘here ¢ Master Humphrey" clock !*—<Of ours,’ enld the gentleman; ‘and don't you know that Dickens resldod here for tome weeks when he was collecting materials for hls Nicholas Nickleby, and that he chose his title for his next work by obserring that big elook-face from thie window?? After breakfast, T stepped across to the watchmaker, and asked Iuinr whether I had been correctly informed reepooting Mr. Dickeus and the olook, ‘The worthy horologist entered {nto particulars. ‘ My clock,’ sald he, ‘suggested to Mr. Dickens the title of his book of that name. T hare a letter from him stat: Ing this, and = copy of the work, insoribed with his own hand. ... I got ac quatnted with him by his coming across from the hotel, as you have done this morning, and asking me to inform him about the state of the nelghboring board- Ing-achools’”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Alice, Mistress, Heroine of the tale told by Magog, the Guild- hall giant, to his companion, Gog; the beautiful and only daugh- ter of a wealthy London bowyer of the sixteenth century. She elopes with a gay young cavalier, by whom she is conveyed abroad, where shame and remorse overtake her, and wring her heart. Her fathor, dying, leaves all his property and trade to a trusted 'prentlce, named Hugh Graham, charging him with his latest breath to re yenge his child upon the author of her misery, if ever he has the opportunity. ‘Twenty years afterwards, Alice suddenly returns; and Master Graham (who was formerly an aspirant for her hand, and who still loves her) gives her lodging in his house,— once hers,—taking up his own abode in a dwelling near by. Soon after, he encounters the man who wrought her ruin, The two exchange a few high, hot words, and then close in deadly contest. After a brief struggle, the noble falls, pierced through the heart with his own sword by the citizen. A riot ensues; and at last Graham is shot dead on his own doorstep. On carrying him up stairs, an unknown woman ir discovered lying lifvless veneath tha window.

u

158 The Wickens H etlonary.

Belindu. A distracted damsel, who writes a letter to Master Humphrey about her faithless lover.

Benton, Miss. Master Humphrey's housekeeper, Mr, Weller, senior, ina moment of weakness, falls in love with her: but she prefers Mr. Slithers the barber; and the old gentleman, recovering liis “native hue of resolution,” conjures his son Samivel to ‘him in a strait waistcoat until the fit is passed, in the event of his ever becoming amorous again,

Deaf Gentleman, The. An intimate friend of Master Hum phrey’s, and a cheerful, placid, happy old man, It is his humor to conceal his name, orhe has a reason and purpose for doing so. Master Humphrey and the other members of the club respect his secret, therefore; and he is known among them only as the Deaf’ Gentleman.

Gog. One of the Guildhall giants. See Toppraicu, Jor.

Graham, Hugh. A bowyer’s 'prentice, in love with his master’s daughter. See Atice, Mistress.

Jinkinson, The subject of an anecdote related by Sam Weller.

Magog. One of the Guildhall giants. See Toopymex, Jor.

Marks, Will. The hero of a tale which Mr. Pickwick submits to Master Humphrey and his friends as a * qualification ” for ad- mission to their club. Will is «wild, roving young fellow, living at Windsor in the time of James I, He volunteers to keep watch by night at a gibbet near Kingston, for the purpose of identifying some witches who have been holding hideous nocturnal revels there; but he finds, instead of witches, two gentlewomen, weeping and wailing for an executed husband and brother, He suffers himself to be conducted to Putnoy, where he is introduced to a masked cavalier, who induces him to take the body of the dead man by night for burial to St. Dunstan's Church in London, ‘This task, though a difficult and dangerous one, he performs; and on his return home, finding the whole neighborhood worked up tc a high pitch of mystery and horror over his disappearance, he adds to the excitement by telling them a most extraordinary story of his adventures, describing the witches’ dance to the minutest motion of their legs, and performing it in character on the table with the assistance of « broomstick,

Master Humphrey. A kind-hearted, deformed old gentleman, living in an ancient house in a venerable suburh of London. He is the founder of a sort of clab, which meets in his room one aight

Master Mump)rey's Clock, 159

fo every week, at the hour of ten. In this room are six chairs, four of which are filled by Master Humphrey and his frends, — Jack Redburn, Mr. Owen Miles, and the “Deaf Gentleman.” The two empty seats are reserved until they can fill them with two men to their mind; and Mr, Pickwick eventually becomes the ‘occupant of one of them, while Mr. Jack Bamber is proposed as @ candidate for the other. In a snug corner stands a quaint old clock in a huge oaken case curiously and richly carved; and in the bottom of this case the members of the club, from time to time, deposit manuscript tales of their own composition, which are taken out and read at their weekly meetings. Among these are the two well-known stories called “ The Old Curiosity Shop” (the second- ary title of which, as at first published, was * Personal Adventures of Master Humphroy”) and “Barnaby Rudge.” Master Hum- phrey thus describes himself and his friends ;—

“ We are men of secluded habits, with something of a cloud upon our early fortunes, whose enthusiasm, nevertheless, has not cooled with ago; whose spirit of romance isnot yet quenched; who are content to ramble through the world in a pleasant dream. rather than wakes again to its harsh realities, We ‘sre alchemists, who would extract the essenco of perpetual youth from dust and ‘ashes, tempt coy Truth in many light and alry forms from the bottom of her ‘will, and discover one crumb of comfort or one grain of good In the com- ‘smonest and least-regarded matter that passes through our crucible.”

Miles, Mr Owen, A wealthy retired merchant of sterling char- acter; a great friend and admirer of Jack Redburn.

Pickwick, Mr. Samuel. The hero of “The Pickwick Papers.” Reading Master Humphrey's account of himself, his clock, and his club, he is seized with a strong desire to become a candidate for ane of the two vacant chairs in the club, and accordingly furnishes a witch-story of the time of James I, as his qualification, which procures him the honor. See Marks, Wit.

Mr. Pickwick’s face, while his tale was being read, would have attracted ‘the attention of the dullest man alive. The complacent motion of his head and foretinger as he gently beat time, and corrected the air with imaginary ponctuntion; the smile that mantled on his features at every Socose passage, tana tho #ly look he stole around to obserre its effect; the calm manner in which tho shut his oyes and Listened when there was some Little plece of deseriptions the changing expression with which ho acted the dialogue to himself; his agony that the Deaf Gentleman should know what it wasall about: and his extenordl- ‘Bary anxioty to correct the reader when he hesitated at awordin tho manu script, or substituted a wrong one,—were alike worthy of remark. And when at last, endeavoring to communicate with the Deaf Gentleman by moans of the finger-alobabet, with which he constructed rach words ax are unknown tn say

160 Ebe Dieke:

BDictlonary.

clvilized or savage language, he took up a slate, and wrote tn lange text, one word in» lino, the question, Howdo-you-likeit?—when he did this, and, hnnding tt over the table, awaited the reply, with a countenance only beight- ‘ened and improved by his great excitement, even Mr. Miles relaxed, and could not forbear looking at him for the moment with Interest and favor.

Podgers, John. A character in Mr. Pickwick's tale; a stout, drowsy, fat-witted old fellow, held by his neighbors to be a man of strong sound sense; unele to Will Marka.

Redburao, Jack. One of Master Humphrey's friends, and hi factotura. Mr. Miles is his inseparable companion, and regards him with great admiration, believing not only that “no man ever lived who could do so many things as Jack, but that no man ever lived who could do any thing so woll.”

Blithers, Mr. Mr. Pickwick’s barber; a very bustling, active little man, with a red nose and a round bright face. He falls in love with Miss Benton, Master Humphrey's housekeeper, and finally marries her.

Toddyhigh, Joe, An old playmate of the lord-mayor elect of London. The two had been poor boys together at Hull; and when they separated, and went out into the world in different directions toscck their fortunes, they agreed always to remain fast friends. But time works many changes; and so it happens that the lord- mayor elect receives his old companion very coldly when he sud- denly appears in his counting-room, and claims sequaintance, at a late hour on the very night before the grand inaugaration. Ashamed and distrustful of his old friend, he gets rid of him as quickly as possible, giving him, however, a ticket to the grand dinner on the morrow. Joe takes it without a word, and instantly departs. The next day he goes to Guildhall, but, knowing nobody there, lounges about, and at last comes into an empty little music- gallery, which commands the whole ball. Sitting down, lie soon falls asleep; and when he wakes, as the clock strikes three, he is astonished to find the guests departed, and to see the statues of the great giants Gog and Magog (the guardian genil of the eity) endowed with life and motion, and to hear them speak in grave and solemn voices, agreeing to while away the dreary nights with legends of old London and with other tales; Magog making a beginning by relating the first of the “ Giant Chronicles.”

Weller, Samuel. Mr. Pickwick’s body-servant; “the same trag, faithful fellow” that he used to be in the days of the Pickwick Club, retaining all his native humor too, and all his old easy conf

fMastee Munpdeey's Clock. 161

dence, address, and knowledge of the world. See Weiter, Tory, the elider.

Weller, Tony, the elder. The old plethoric coachman of “The Pickwick Papers;" father to Sam Weller. When Mr. Pickwick, attended by Sam, visits Master Humphrey on club-nights, old Mr. Weller accompanies them as part of Mr. Pickwick’s body-gnard. While the members of Master Humphrey's Clock are holding their meeting in the study up stairs, Miss Benton the housekeeper, and her friend, Mr. Slithers the barber, entertain the two Wellers in the kitchen, “)

“7 doo’ think,” sald Sam, who was smoking with great comporure and en- Joyment, ‘that, if the Indy wos agreeable, it 'ad bo wery far out o” the vay for ‘us four to make up a club of our own, like the governors docs up stairs, and let him” — Sam pointed with the stem of his pipe towards his parent —* be the president.”

The housekeeper affubly declared that it was the very thing sho had been ‘thinking of. ‘The barbor sald the same. Mr. Weller sald nothing; Dut he laid down his pipe ax if in « fit of inspiration, and performed the following manasuvres:—

Tnbnttoning the three lower buttons of hix walsteoat, and pausing, for m mowent, to evjoy the easy flow of breath consequent upon this process, he taid violout hands upon his watch-chain, and slowly, and with extreme difficulty, drow from his fob an Immense doublooased silver watch, which brought the ining of the pooket with it, and was not to bo disentangled but by great exer- tions and an amazing redness of fuss. Having falrly got it out at last, he ‘Aetached the outer caso, and wound {t up with a key of corresponding magni- tude; then put the case on again, and, having applied the watch to his ear to ascertain that it was atill going. gave it somo half-dozea hard knocks on the table to {mprowe its performance.

“That,” sald Mr, Weller, laying It on the table, with Sts faoe upwards, the title and emblem o' this here society. Sammy, reach them two stools vay for the wacant cheers. Ladies and gen'linen, Mr. Weller’s Wateh ls vound up, and now wgoln’. Order!”

By way of enforcing this proclamation, Mr. Weller, using the wath after the manner of a president's hammer, and remarking with great pride that nothing hurt it, and that falls and concussions of all kinds matert- ally enhanced the excellence of the works, and assisted the regulator, snooked the table @ great many thes, and declared the association formally constituted,

‘The old “whip” presides with great dignity, and observes the strictest rules of parliamentary law ; thus, when Sam, in the course of some remarks, refers to n class of gentlemen as“ barbers,” and Mr. Slithers rises, and suggests that “hairdressers” would bo wore “soothing” to his feclisgs, Mr. Weller rules that “hain dressers” is the only designation proper to be used in the debato,

‘and that all others are out of order. ue

162 Che Dickens Mictlonacy.

"Well, but suppote he was nt a hair-dresser,” suggested Sam,

“Wy then, str, be parllamentary, and eal! him vun all the more," retarned hie father, “In the same vay as ev'ry gen‘iman tn another place is m Aonorable, ev'ry barber in this place is a hairdresser. Ven you read the speeches fn the papers,and see as yun gen’lman says of another, the Aonorable meniber, if be il allow me to eall him so, you vill understand, str, thet thot means ‘If be ‘vill allow me to keep up that "ere pleasant and untwersal fiction.’

Having taken a decided fancy to Miss Benton, but being afraid that she is a“ widder,” Mr, Weller gets Sam to inquire as to the fact. He is told that she is a spinster,

# A wot?” said his father with deep seorn, +A splnstor,” replied Sam.

‘Mr. Weller looked very hard at his son for s minute or two, and then said, —

“ Never mind yether she makes jokes, or not: that’s no matter. Wot I ay t4, Is that ere fomale a wider, or tx she not?"

“Wot do you mean by her making Jokes? demanded Sam, quite aghast at the obscurity of his parent’s speech.

“Never you mind, Samivel,” retarned Mr. Wellor gravely. “Puns may bo ‘wery good things, or they may be wery bud uns, anda female may be vone the better, oF she may be none the vurse, for making of em: that's got nothing to do vith widders.”

“Wy, now!” said Sam, looking round, “ would anybody believe ms aman at hls time o” life could be running bis head agin splustora and punaters being the ‘samo thing?"

“There an’t a straw's difference between ‘em,” sald Mr. Weller. “Your father did n’t drive a coach for 40 many years, not to be ekal to hia own lang: vidge, as fur as that goes, Sammy.”

Mr, Weller insists upon the two words being synonymous, but is finally assured that Miss Benton is not a widow, which gives him great satisfction.

Weller, Tony, the younger. A son of Sam Weller; named for his grandfather. He is a very small boy, about two fect six from the ground, having a very round face strongly resembling Mr. Weller’s, and a stout little body of exactly his build, firmly set upon @ couple of very sturdy legs, When Mr, Weller is first intro- duced to Master Humphrey, he immediately goes off, as he always does, into praises of his namesake,

“Samivel Weller, air,” said the old gentleman, “has conferred upon me the anclent title o” grandfather, vich had long Inid dormouse, and wos s?posed to be. nearly hex-tinct in our family. Sammy, relate a anecdote o’ yun o’ them boys, —that ’ere little anecdote about young Tony tayln' as he vould smoke a pipa unbeknown to his mother

je quiet! can’t you?” sald Sam. *Tneversce such a old magpie, —neyer!* «<That "ore Tony La the blessedest boy,” sald Mr, Weller, heedless of this ro

buff, —“‘tho blexsedost boy as ever seo in my days! Of all the charmin'est ae ever I hicerd tell ou, tncludin’ them as wos Kivered over by the robin redbremsts arter they "4 committed sooleide, with binckberries, there never wos any like that

Master Mumpprey's Clock. 163

‘ere little Tony. He's always aplayin’ with » quart pot—thnt boy i, To see him arsettin’ down on the doorstep, protending to drink out of it, and fetching w ong breath arteryards, and smoking a bit of flre-rood, and sayin’, ‘Now I'm grandfather,’ —to see him a-doln’ that at two year old 1s better than nny play as ‘wos over wrote, ‘Now i'm grandfather!” He would w't take a plat pot if you ‘wos fo make him a present on it; but he gets his quart; and then he says,*Now ‘T'm grandfather 1?”

Mr, Weller was 0 ovorpowered by this picture, that he stralghtway fell into © most alarming dt of coughing, which must certainly have been attended with ome futal result but for the dexterity and promptitude of San, who, taking a firm grasp of tho shawl just under his fhther's chin, shook him to and fro with great violence, at the same time administering some smart blows between his shoulders. By this curious modo of treatment, Mr. Weller was ftually recovered, Dut with a very crimson face, and in w rtate of great exhaastion.

The Old Curiosity Shop.

‘Tm story originally appeared tn the serial miscellany called Master Hum phrey’s Clock,*—the first chapter in thefourth number, It ia supposed to be nar rated by Master Humphrey (who figures as the Single Gentleman, the brother of Little Nell's grandfuther), and, as at first published, tt bore the sub-itle, “Per sonal Adventures of Master Humphrey."

‘The author says of this tale, “Tho many friends It won me, and the many hearts It turned to me when they were full of private sorrow, Invest It with an Interest in my mind which i not a publio one, and the rightful place of which uppears to be‘ a more removed ground.” I will merely observe, therefore, that, Inwriting the book, I had it always [a my fancy to surround the lonely figure of the child [Little Nell] with grotesque and wild, but not impossible compan- ons, and to gather about her Innocent fice and pare intentions associates as strange and uncopgenlal as the grimrobjects that are about her bed when her hl» tory is firet foreshadowed.”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Bachelor, The. A kind old gentleman at a village where Little Nell and her grandfather stay in the course of their wanderings.

None of the villagers had cared to ask his name, or, when they knew it, to storo It In thelr memorles; perhaps beeause he was unmarried he had bem called the Bachelor. The nme pleased him, or suited him ax well as any oth er; and so the Bachelor he had ever sinco remained,

(Ch lii, liv, Iv, Lei, Leviii, Lxix, Lexxiii.)

Barbara, A housemaid at Mra. Garland’s; afterwards the wife of Kit Nubbles. (Ch, xxii, xxxviii-xl, xviii, Lxix, Ixxiil.) See Now nies, Kir.

Barbara's Mother. (Ch. xxxix, xl, Lal, xviii, xix, Lexi.)

7

@lv Curlosity Shop 165

Brass, Sally. Sister and partuer of Sampson Brass. In face she bore a striking resembilance to her brother Sampson. So exact, In-

frolic, and sat down beside him, ft would have been difficult for the oldest friend of the family to determine which was Sampson, and which Sally; peelally-as the lady carried upon her upper lip certain reddish demonstrations, ‘which, if the Imagination had been asslated by her attire, right have been mis taken fora beard. ‘These were, however, in all probability, nothing more than ‘eyelashes in a wrong place, as the eyes of Miss Brass were free, quite, from ‘ny much natural impertinences. Tn complexion Misa Brass was sallow (rather ‘a dirty sallow, #0 to speak); but this hue was agroeably reliored by the healthy low which mantled In the extreme tip of her laughing nose. Her vole was exceedingly improsaive, deep and rich In quality, and, once heard, not easily . «+. In mind she was of w strong und vigorous turn, having from her earliest youth devoted herself with uncommon ardor to the atudy of the lune; not wasting her speculations upon its eagle flights, which are rare, but Tracing it attentively through all the slippery and cel-like erawlings in which i eommonly pursues ita way. ... Whether she had stecled her heart against ‘mankind, or whether those who might hare wooed and won her were deterred by fears, that, being learned in the Jaw, she might hare too near her flugers’ ends those particular statutes which regulate what are familiarly termed ao- tions for breach, certain {t is that she was still {n a state of celibacy, and still An dally occupation of her old stool, opposite to that of her brother Sampson. And equally certain it 1s, by the way, that, betwoen these two stools, a great ‘many people had come to the ground. (Ch. xxxiii-xxxviii, li, lvi, lwiii-lx, Ixiii-lxvii, Lexiii.)

Brass, Sampson, A villanous attorney of Bevis Marks, with a cringing manner and a very harsh voice; Quilp's legal adviser. He is a tall, meagre man, with a nose like a wen, « protruding fore- head, retreating eyes, and hair of a deep red. (Ch. xi-xiii, xxxiii, XXxy, xxvii, xxviii, xlix, li, lvi-Ix, Lxil-Ixiv, Ixvi, Ixvii, Lxxxiii-)

Cheggs, Mr. A market-gardener; a rival of Mr. Swiveller’s for the hand of Sophy Wackles, whom he finally marries. (Ch. viii.) See Swivercen.

Cheggs, Miss. His sister. (Ch. viii.)

Chuckster, Mr. Clerk in the office of Witherden the notary; a member of the Lodge of Glorious Apollos, and a mortal enemy of Kit Nubbles, (Ch. xiv, xx, xxxvill, xl, Ivi, Lx, Lev, Lxix, Lxxiii.)

Clergyman, The. A very kind pastor at the village where Nell and her grandfather stay for atime. (Ch. ii, Ixxili.) See'TRest, Litrex New.

Codlin, Tom. One of the Punck-andJudy showmen with whom Little Nell and her grandfather travel for a few days. (Ch. xvi- xix, xxvii, Lexi.)

166 The Dickens Mictlonary.

David, Old. -Analstand ty holt: soxton $a'she lags ling Little Nell dies. (Ch. liv.)

Bdwards, Miss. A pupil at Miss Monflather’s educational ew tablishment. (Ch. xxxi, xxxii.)

Evans, Richard. One of Mr, Marton’s pupil. (Ch. lil.)

Garland, Mr. A little, fat, placid-faced, and very kind-hearted old gentleman, with whom Kit Nubbles lives after he leaves Little Nell. (Ch. xiv, xx, xxii, xxxvili-xl, lx, Ixvii-lxx, xxii.) See p, 648.

Garland, Mrs, His wife; a little old lady, plump and placid, like ‘himself. (Ch. xiv, xx, xxii, xxxvili-xl, Lxvii-lxix, bexiil.)

Garland, Mr. Abel. Their son, articled to Mr. Witherden the notary, whose partner he afterwards becomes. (Ch. xiv, xx, xxxviii-xli, Ix, Ixv, Lxvii-lxix, Lxxiii.)

George. Driver of Mrs. Jarley’s caravan ; afterwards her husband, (Ch. xxvi, xxviii, xlvii.)

George, Mrs. A neighbor and friend of Mrs. Quilp’s. (Ch. iv.)

Grandfather, Little Nell’s. Proprietor of the Old Curiosity Shop. The history of his life before the time when the story opens is thus sketched :—

«There were once two brothers, who loved each other dearly. ‘There was a isparity in thelrages;—sometwelve yours. . . » Wide ax the Interval between them was, however, they became rivals too soon. ‘The deepest und strongest aifection of both thelr hearts settled upon one object.

“The youngest—there were reasons for his being sensitive and watchful — ‘was the first to find this out, Iwill not tell you whnt misery he underwent, ‘what agony of soul he know, how great bls mental struggle was, .. . Me left lua brother to be happy. ‘The truth never passed his lips; and he quitted the country, hoping to die abroad.

“The elder brother married her. She was in heaven before long, and left ‘him with an Infant daughter. .

“Tn thls daughter the mother lived agals, You may Judgo with what devo- tion he who lost that mother, almost in the winning, clung to this girl, her Dreathing image. She grow to womanhood, and gaye her heart to one who could not know its worth. Well! Her fund father could not see her pine and droop, He might be more dosorving than he thought him. 1 surely anight become ro with a wife like her, Ho Jolned their hands, and they were married.

“Through all the misery that followed this union, through all the cold neg- loct and undeserved reproach, through all the poverty he brought upon ber, throagh all the struggles of their daily life, too mean and pitiful to tell, bus dreadful to endure, she tofled on tn the deep devotion of her spirit, and in her better nature, as only woman Her means and substance wasted, her father nourly beggared by her husband's hand, and the hourly witness (for they Itved now under one roof} of her {ll usage and unhappiness, she never, bat for him, bewailed her fate. Putient, and upheld by strong aifection to the last, she dieg & widow of nome throo weeks? dato, leaving to her father’s care two orphans, — 200 # son of tem or twelve years old; the other u girl, such another Infant chile

Olv Eurlosity Sdop. 167

{Hhe same In helplessness, in age, in form, in feature) ae she bad Lecn herself When her young mother died.

“The elder brother, grandfather to these two children, was now » broken Man, crashed and borne down leas by the weight of years than by the hand of sorrow. With the wreck of his possessions he began to trade,—in pictures first, ‘sud then in carious ancient things. He had entertained a fondness for such ‘matters from ® boy; and the tastes he had cultivated were now to yield him an snxious and precarious subsistence.

“ Tho boy grow like his father in mind and person; the girl so Uke her mother, that when tho old man had her on his knee, and looked into her mild bine eyes, ‘he felt as if awaking from # wretched dream, and his daughter were o little child again. ‘The wayward boy soon spurned the shelter of his roof, and sought msvo- eiates more congenial to his taste, ‘The old man and the child dwelt alone to-

“Tt wns then, when the love of two dead people who had been nearest and dearest to his heart was all tronaferred to thie slight oreaturo; when her fice, constantly before him, reminded him from hour to hour of the too easly change hho bad seen in such another, of all the sufering he had watched and known, ‘and all his child had undergone; when the young man’s profligate and hardened course drained him of money, as his father’s had, and even sometimes occasioned ‘them temporary privation and distress, —it was then that there began to beset ‘him, and to be ever in his mind, a gloomy dread of poverty and want, Me had no ‘thought for himself in this. His fear was for the child. It was » spectre in his ‘house, and haunted him night and day."

Possessed by this overmastering desire to provide for his grand- daughter, he is drawn to the gaming-tablo, and tries his luck again and ‘again, until at last he becomes — for her sake —a confirmed gambler. Losing heavily and constantly, but confident that fortune will finally favor him, he borrows money from Quilp, a rich dwarf, pledging his Tittle stock as security for the debt. His resources, however, are soon all exhausted, his shop and its contents taken on execution, and he Limself is thrown upon the world, a beggar, shattered in intellect, and tottering on the verge of the grave. Little Nell leads him away from London; and théy wander together through the country. But the passion for play only slombers in him, and is ready to awake with the first opportunity that offers, But in the seclusion of a quiet village, where they at last find a home, such temptation no longer ames; and his hopes and fears, and all his thoughts, are turned to the gentle object of his love, who soon begins to sink under the effects of her past trials and sufferings. Meantime,—

“The younger brother had been a traveller in many countries, and had made his

ge through life alone. His voluntary banishment had been misconstrued, snd he had borne (not without pain) reproach and slight for doing that which hind wrung his beart, and cast « mournful ehadow on his path. Apart from this, tommunication between him and the elder was difficult and uncertain, and often failed: still It was not xo wholly broken off but that he learned —with long Wlanks 01 gaps betwaen each interval of information —all that I have told you now.

168 be Pickens Wictfonary.

“Then dreams of their young, happy life—happy to him, though laden with pain and early eare— visited his pillow yet oftencr than before; and every night, ‘boy ngnin, he was at his brother's de. With the utmost speed he eould exert he settled his affuirs; converted into money all the goods he had, snd with hon- orable wealth enougl for both, with open heart and hand, with Ibs that trem- bled ns they bore him on, with emotion such as men ca hardly bear and live, arrived one evening at his brother's door.”

When, by dint of such inquiries as the utmost vigilance and sa- gacity could set on foot, he at last discovers the place of the wander~ ers’ ietreat, it is only to find Little Nell dead, and her grandfather a mere wreck. Eyen Kit Nubbles, his old servant, who accompanics the younger brother, has no power to move him.

“Where is she?” demandod Kit, “Oh, tell me but that, but that, doarmaster !"

+ Sho is asleep— yonder —In there.”

“Thank God (*

‘Ay! ‘Thank God!” returned the old man, "I have prayed to him many ‘and many amt many a livelong night, when sho has been asleep. He knows, ‘Hark! Did she call?!"

“Theard no voice.”

“You did. You hear her now. Do you tell me that you don’t hear that?”

He started up, and listened again.

“Nor that?” he cried with a triumphant smile. “Can anybody know that voice so well maf? Hush, hush!”

Motloning to him to be silent, he stole away into another chamber. After a short absence (during which he could be heard to speak in a softened, soothing tone) he returned, bearing fn his hand a lamp,

She ie still asleep,” he whispered, “You were right. She did not call, une Joss abo did s0 in her slumber. She has called to me in her sleep before now, sir. As Thave sat by, watching, I have seen her lips move, and have known, though no sound came from them, that she spoke of me. I feared the Light might dazzle hor eyes, and wake her: x0 I brought it here,”

He spoke rather to himself than to the visitor; but, when he had put the lamp pon the table, he took it up, as if impelled by some momentary recollection oF auriosity, and held it near his face. ‘Then, aa if forgetting hie motive ia the very action, he turned away, and put it down again,

“Sho Is sleeping soundly,” he wid; “but no wonder. Angel-bands have strewn the ground deep with snow, that the lightest footatep may be lighter yet; and the very birds are dend, that they may not wake her. She used to feed them, air, Though never so cold and hungry, the timid things woald fy from us: they never flew from her!”

Again he stopped to listen, and, scarcely drawing breath, listened for a long, Jong time. ‘That fancy past, he opened an old chest, took out some clothes ax fondly as if they had been living things, and began to emooth ond brush them with his hand.

“Why dost thou le 40 idle there, dear Nell," he murmured, “when there are ‘oright red berries out of doors, waiting for thee to pluck them? Why dost thou tie 20 Idle there, when thy little frlends come creeping to the door, crying,“ Where 4s Noll, sweet Nell?’ and sob and weep because they do not eee thee, She was Always gentle with children. ‘The wildest would do her bidding: sh> had a tender way ith them; Indeed she had.”

bem

Olv Curloslty Spop. 169

‘Kit had 00 power to speak. Its eyes were filled with tears.

‘Her little homely dress, her fuvorite!” cried the old man, pressing it to his breawt, and patting it with his abrivelled hand, “She will mies it when she wnkes. ‘They have hid it here in sport. But she shall have it; she shall have itt Twould not vex my darling for the wide world’s riches, See here, those shoos— ‘how worn they are! Shé kept them to remind her of our Ist long journey. You ‘sce where the Little fect went bare upon the ground. ‘They told me afterwards that the stones had cut and bruised them, She nerer told me that. No, no, God bless hor! And f hare remembered since, she walked behind me, sir, that J might ‘hot see how lame she was; but yet she had my hand io hers, and seemed to lead ‘me still.”

By little and Uttle the old man had drawn back towards the inner chamber ue these words were spoken. He polated there, as he replied with trembling

“You plot among you to wean my heart from her. You never will do thatt never, while I hare life! I have no relative or ftlend but her: E never had: X ‘never will hare! She {s all in all to mo, It is too Inte to part us now!”

‘Waring thom off with his hand, and calling softly to her as ho went, he stole Auto the room. They who were left behind drew close together, and after a few ‘whispered words, not unbroken by emotion, or easily uttered, followed him. ‘They moved so gently, that thelr footsteps made no nolse; but there were sobs from among the group, and sounds of grief und mourning.

For she was dead. There upon ber little bed she lay at rest. The solemn silliness was no marvel now.

Sho was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, #0 fair to look upon. She seemod a creature fresh from the hand of God, and wait Ing for the breath of life; sot one who had lived, wnd #uffered death.

Her couch was drersed with here and there some winter-berries and green Jeaves, gathored in a*pot she had boen used to favor. “When T die, put near me something that has loved the light, snd bad the sky above it always.” ‘Thoee ‘wore her words.

She was ded. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead. Her little bird, « poor alight thing the pressuro of & finger would have crashed, was stirring nimuly: Jn its engo; and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute and motionless forever.

‘Where wore the traces of her early cares, her sufferings, and fatigues? All Fone, Sorrow was dead indeed in her; but peace and perfect happluess were Sorn, ieiaged in her tranquil beauty and profound repose,

Aw «till hor former self Iny there, unaltered in this change. Yes. ‘The old fireside lind smiled upon that same ewect face: it had passed, Ike a dream, tirough haunta of misery and care, At the door of the poor schoolmaster on the #uihmor evening, before the furnuce-fire upon the cold wot night, at the still bed= side of the dying-boy, there had been the same mild, lovely look. So shall we kiiow the angels fn thelr majesty after death.

‘The old man held one lunguld arm in his, and bad the small hand tight folded his Dreast for warmih. It war the hand she had stretched out to him with fast mito ; the hand that led him on through all thelr wanderings, Ever joi anon he pressed It to his lips; tuen hugged it to hia breast again, marmuring fiat It was warmer now; and as be #ald It he looked in agony to those wha }ood around, as if Iinploring them to help her.

‘She was dead, and past all help, or need of It, ‘The ancient rooms abe hed 6

170 Ede Dickens Wletlonarp.

seemed (o fill with life, even while her own was waning fast, the garden she had tended. the evox tho hind gladdened, the noiseless haunts of many m thoughtga, Sse pete a rok is wee Syst ee eae ee

vat tanoh,P aad thé edootmamees uu ‘bent down to kiss heron the cheek, and gave his tears froo vent, — "it 4s not on carth that Heaven's justice ends ‘Think what earth is compared with the world to which her young spirit has ‘winged {ts early fight; and aay, if one deliberate wish expressed In solemn terme above this bed could call her back to life, which of us would utter it?"

‘They then take the old man out while Little Nell is removed to the churchyard; but, upon his retarn, he repairs straight to her chamber.

Not finding what he had left there, he returned with distracted looks to the room in which they were assembled. From that he rushed into the school-mas- ter's cottage, calling her name, ‘They followed close upon him, and, when he had vainly searched it, brought him home.

‘With much persuasive words as pity and affection could suggest, they prevailed upon him to sit among them, and hear what they should tell him. Then endear> ‘ring by every little artifice to prepare his mind for what must come, and dwell- ing with many fervent words upon the happy lot to which she hind been removed, ‘they told him, at last, the truth, ‘The moment it had passed thelr Hips, bo fell down among them like a murdered man.

For many hours they had little hope of his qurviving; bat grief fa strong, and he recovered.

If thero be any who have never known the blank that follows death, the weary ‘void, the sense of desolation that will come upon rhe strongest mlads when something familiar and beloved is missed at every turn, rhe connection between Ananimate and sensoless things wnd the object of recollection, when every houst hold god becomes n monument, and every room a Rrave)— if there be any who have not known this, and proved it by thelr own experlenes, they can never faintly guess how, for many days, the old man ploed, and mopes away the time, and wandered here and there ns secking something, and had nO Confort,

Whatever power of thought or memory hie retained was all bowyd up tn her, He never understood, or seemed to care to understand, about his other. ‘Te every endearment and attention he continued listless. If they spoketg him of this, or any other theme, © one, — he would hear them patiently fo 9 while, thea turn away, and go on seeking as before.

‘On that one theme, which was In his and al! thelr minds, {t was Imposipie to touch. Dead! He could not hear or bear the word. The slightest hin of ig would throw lim Into a paroxysm like that he had had when it was first spken, In what hope he lived no man could tell; but that he had some hope of Citing her again —somo faint and shadowy hope, deferred from day to day, and mixing him from day to day more sick and sore at heart — was plain to all,

‘They bothought them of removal from the tome of this last sorrow, OF eye Ing whether change of place would rouse or cheer him. [is brother sought advice of those who were accounted skilful in such matters; and they came mg saw him. Some of the number stald upon the #pot, conversed with him wher yg would converse, and watched him as he wandered up and down, alone and allen Bove him where they might, they «ald, he would ever seck to get back ther, His mind would run upon that xpot, If they confined him closely, and kept a ately

@lv Curlos(ty Sdop. ivi

gvard upon him, they might hold him prisoner; but, if he could by any means escape, he would surely wander back to that place, or die upon the road... «

At longth they found, one day, that he had risen early, and with his kn speack on his back, his staif 1 hand, ber own straw hat, and lit things ax she had deen used to carry, was gone. As they puraue him far and wide, # frightened schoolboy came, who bad seen him but « ‘moment before sitting in the church, —upon her grave, be said.

‘They hastened there, and, going softly to the door, expled him In the attitade of one who waited patiently, ‘They did not distarb him then, but kept » watch upon him all that day. When it grew quite dark, he rose and returned home, ‘and went to bed, murmuring to himself, “She will come to-morrow.”

Upon the morrow he was there again from sunrise until night; and stil at night he taid iim down to rest, and murmured, “ She will come tomorrow."

Aud thenceforth, every day, and all day long, he walted at her grave for her. How many pictures of new Journeys over pleasant country, of resting-places under the free broad sky, of rambles in the fields and woods, and paths not often trodden; how many tones of that one welbremembered volee; how many glimpses of the form, the fluttering dress, the hair that waved so guyly in the wind; how many visions of what had been, and what he hoped was yet to be— rove up before tim In the old, dull, allent church] Ie nerer told them what he thought or where he went. He would sit with them at night, pondering with a necro satisfaction they could ree upon tho flight that he and she would take before night came agnin; and still they would hear him whisper in hie prayers, “Tord! let her come to-morrow.”

‘Tho Inst time was on a gonial day In-spring, Ie did not return at the usual hour, and they went to seck him. He was lying dead upon the stone.

‘They laid him by the side of her whom he had loved ao well; and, in the church whore they had often prayed and mused and lingered hand in hand, the child and the old man slept together.

(Ch. i-iii, ix, xi, xii, xv—xix, xxiv-xxxii, xlii-xlvi, lii, liv, ly, xxi, Ixxii.) See Trent, Lirree Nect.

Grinder, Mr. A showman. (Ch. xvii.)

Groves, James. Landlord of The Valiant Soldier inn. (Ch.

xxix, Ixxiii.)

Harris, Mr., alias Snort Trorrens, but commonly called cither Suorr or Trorrers. One of the showmen with whom Little Neil and her grandfather travel fora few days. (Ch. xvi-xix, xxvii, Ixxiii.)

Harry. A schoolboy; Mr. Marton’s favorite pupil. (Ch. xxiv, xxv,

ae Mrs. Proprietor of “Jarley’s Wax Work.” Little Nell is engaged by this lady to point out the figures to visitors. (Ch. xxviexxix, xxxi, xxxii, xlvii, xxiii.)

Jerry. Proprictor of a troop of dancing-dogs, (Ch. xvii, xix, xxxvii.)

Jiniwin, Mrs. The mother of Mrs. Quilp, with whom sho live, and with whose husband she wages perpetual war, though she

172 She Wickens Bietlonary,

sstands in no slight dread of him. (Ch. tv-vi, xxiii, xlix, 1, Lxxiii.) See Quit, Danrex.

Jowl, Joe, A gambler, who tempts Little Nell's grandfather'te rob Mrs. Jarley. (Ch. xxix, xiii, Lxxiii.)

List, Isaac. A gambler and knave, (Ch. xxix, xxx, xiii, Lxxiii.)

Marchioness, The, .\ name given tothe small servant at Sampson Brase’s, by Dick Swiveller, who marries her. (Ch. xxxivexxxvi. li, lvii, Iviii, Ixiv-Ixvi, Ixxiii.) See Swiverer, Dick; also. p. 543.

Marton, Mr, An old schoolmaster who befriends Little Nell and hor grandfather. (Ch, xxivxxvi, xly, xlvi, lii-liv, Lexi, Lexiti.)

Monflathers, Miss, Principal of a select boarding-school for young ladies. (Ch. xxxi.)

or Kit. A shock-headed, shambling, awkward lad, with an uncommonly wide mouth, very red cheeks, a turned-up nose, and a peculiarly comical expression of fuce. He is very much attached to Little Nell, whose grandfather employs him as an errand-boy. After a while, however, the old man takes it into his head that Kit has told of his gambling-habits, and that this is the reason why he cannot succeed in borrowing any more money. He therefore forbids his ever coming into his presence again. After the disappearance of his old master, Kit gets employ- ment in the family of a-kind old gentleman named Garland. At length he falls into trouble, being falsely accused of larceny, and is arrested, and thrown into prison; but his innocence is soon éstab- lished, and he is set at liberty. He afterwards marries Barbara, ‘Mrs. Garland's servant. (Ch. i, iii, vi, x, xi, xili, xiv, xx—xxil, xxxviii-xli, xlviii, lvi-lxi, Ixiii, Lxiv, Lxviii-Lxxii.)

“Kit Nubbles ... 4s. pertinent example, among numerous others, of this searching bomanity of Dickens, Here is boy, rough, uneducated, lif vored, the son of é washer ‘woman, tho vory opposite of a common novellat’s Idea of the Interesting, with « name which at once soggeste the ladicrous: yet, as enveloped In the loving hamor of Dickens, he becomes & person of more engrossing Interest and affection than a thousand of the stereotyped heroes of fiction.

“We not only like hilm, but the whole famfly, —~ Mit. Nobbles, Jaoob, the br yy, and all; and yet nothing Is overcharged to the description, and évery clroamatance calou- lated to make Kit an object for laughter Is freely used." —2. P. Whipple

Nubbles, Jacob. Brother to Kit. (Ch. x, xiii, xxi, xxii, xxix, xli, Ixi, Ixix, Lxxii.)

Nubbles, Mrs. Mother to Kit Nubbles; a poor but industrious widow, very pious, and very constant in her attendance at a dissent ing chapel called Little Bethel. When the Single Gentleman at last gains tidings of Little Nell and her grandfather, he desires Mra,

[am

Euvioslty Shop 173

Nubbles, as being an acquaintarce of Nell's, and a kind and moth« erly person, to accompany him for the purpose of bringing the wanderers back. There being urgent need of haste in the matter, Kit is despatched for his mother. He does not find her at home, however, and feeling sure that che must, therefore, be at chapel, he takes his way to Little Bethel.

‘It was not very easy to procure direction to the fold In question, as none of the neighbors were of the flock that resorted thither. and few knew any thing more of it than the name, At Inet, a gorsip of Mre, Nubblos’s, who had seoom- panied her to chapel on one or two occusions, when a comfortable cup of tea hind preceded her devotions, furnished the needful tnformation; which Kit had ‘no sooner obtained than he started off again,

Little Bethel might have been nearer, and might have beon In x straighter road, though, in that case, the reverend gentleman who presided over Its cougre- gation would have lost his favorite alluston to the crooked ways by which it was ‘approached, and which ennbled him to liken it to paradise {teelf, in contradia- tinction to the parish church, and the broad thoroughfare leading thereunto. ‘Kit found [t at last, after some trouble, and pausing at the door to take breath, that he might enter with becoming decency, passed into the chapel.

Te was uot badly uamed in one respect, being, in truth, » particularly little Bethel, —m Bethel of the mallest dimensions,—with w xmall number of «mall pews, and a small pulpit in which a small gentleman (by trade a shoemaker, and by calling a divine) was delivering in a Dy no means small voice m by no means ‘snail sormon, Judging of its dimensions by the condition of his audience, which, Af thelr gross amount were but smunll, comprised w still smaller number of hearers, ‘as the majority were slumbering.

Among these was Kit's mother, who, finding it matter of extreme difficulty to keep her eyes open after the fatigues of last night, and feeling thelr inclination to doze strongly backed and seconded by the arguments of the preacher, hai ylelded to the drowsiness that overpowered her, and fallen asleep; though not ao soundly but that she could from time to time utter w slight und almost Inaudible groan, as if In recognition of the orator's doctrines. The baby in, her arms was ax fast asloep na she, and lictle Jacob, whose youth prevented him from recogulzing In this prolonged spiritual nourishment any thing half as interesting as oysterr, was alternately very fast asleep and very wide awake, as his inclination to slumber, of his terror of being personally alluded to in the discourse, gained the mastery over him.

“And now I'm here,” thought Kit, gilding into the nearest pew, which wna op- ponite lila mother's, and on the other side of the little aisle, “how am I ever to get ist her, or persuade her to come out? T might as well be twenty miles off. She'll ‘never wake till it ‘* all over; and there goes the clock again! If be would bot leave off for a mlaute, or if they 'd only sing!"

But there was Ustle encouragement to believe that elther event would happen for a couple of hours to come, The preacher went on telling them what he meant Wo convince them of before he had done; and it was clear, that if he ouly kept to one half of his promises, and forgot the other, he was good for that time, at least.

In bis desperation and restlessness Kit cast his eres about the chapel, and, hap- pening to let thiem fail upon a little seat in front of the clerk's desk, could scarcely elleve them when they showed him —Quilp!

we

v4 She Wickens Wietlonary. ‘|

‘He rubbed them twice or thrice; but still they Insleted that was there: and Sees, Late, Be wae, seg ah bie nance pc kis kee bis hat between

‘help feeling, direetly, that the attention of the sly little end was fastened upow them, and upon nothing else.

‘But nstoanded us ho was by the apparition of the dwarf among the Little Bethelites, aud not free from m misgiving that it waa the forerunner of some trouble or annoyance, he was compelled to enbdue hie wonder, and to take active ‘meusures for the withdrawal of tis parent, as the evening was now creeping on, and the matter grew scrious. Therefore, the next time little Jacob woke, Kit set himself to attract his wandering attention; and, this not belng a very dificult task (ove sneeze effected It), he signed to him to rouse his mother.

Tibluck would have It, however, that, Just then, the preacher, in a forcible ax- position of one head of his discourse, leaned over upon the pulpit-desk, so that ‘very little more of him than his lege remained Inside, and while he made yohe- mont gestures with his right hand, and bold on with bis left, stared, or seemed to stare, straight Into little Jacob's eyes, threatening him by his strained look and nctitude (40 it appeared to the child), that, if he 40 much as moved 4 muscle, he, the preacher, would be literally, and not figuratively, “down upon him” that In stant, In this fearful state of things, distroted by the sudden appearance of Kit, send fascinated by the eyes of the preacher, the miserable Jacob rat bolt upright, wholly incapable of motion, strongly-disposed to ory, but afrald to do so, and re- turning his pastor's gaze until his infant eyes seemed starting from thelr sockets.

“If Tmust.do it openly, Emust,” thought Kit. With that he walled softly oat of his pew, and into ils mother’s, and, as Mr, Swiveller would have observed If he ‘hud been present, “collared” the baby without speaking o word.

“Hush, mother!" whispered Kit. “ Comoalong with mo: I?ve got something to tell you.”

“ Where am 12” sald Mev. Nubbles.

“In thiy blessed Little Bethel,” roturned her yon peoylshly.

“Blessed indeed!” oried Mrs. Nubbles, eatching at the word. “O Christo pher, how haye I been edified this night,

“You, yos, Tknow,” sald Kit hastily, “But come along, mother: everybody 'e looking at us. Don't make a nolse; bring Jacob; thnt ‘« right!”

“Stay, Satan, stay!" cried the preacher as Kit was moving off.

“The gentleman says you 'ro to satay, Christopher," whispered his mother,

* Stay, Satan, stay!” ronred the prencher again. “Tempt not the woman that doth incline her ear to thee, but hearken to the yoloe of him that calleth. He bath ‘lamb from the fold!" cried the preacher, ralsing his voice stiit higher, and pointing to the baby. * Ite beareth off a lamb, a precious lamb! He gocth about like a wolf in the night-xeason, and invelgleth the tender lambs! *

Kit was the best-tempered fellow In the world, but courld ring this strong Inngunge, and being somewhat exeited by tho cireamstances in whlch he was placed, he fuced round on the pulpit with the taby in his arms, and replied sloud,—

* No; don't, Mo ' my brother!”

“He 's my brother} cried the preacher,

“Ho in n't,” sald Kit indignantly, “How can you say such a thing? And dons ‘wil my names, if you plesvo: what harm have Idone? { should n't hare come

QUILP, MRS. QUTILT, AND MRS JINIWIN.

Olv Curlosity Shop. 176

to take "em away unless Twas obliged: you may depend upon that. Twanted to do It very quiet; but you would n't let me. Now, you have the goodness to abuse Satan and them as much as you like, air, and to let mo alone, if you pleuse.”*

So snying, Kit marched out of the chapel, followed by his mother snd little ‘Jacob, and found himself in the open alr, with au indistinet recollection of hav+ Ing eeen the people wake ap, and look surprised, and of Quilp having remained, throughout the interruption, in his old attitude, without moving his eyes from the celling, or appearing to take the smallest notice of any thing that passed.

(Ch. x, xiii, xxi, xxii, xxxix, xli, xlvii xlviii, Lxi, Lxiii, Ixix, Lxxii.) Owen, John. A:schoolboy;; one of Mr. Marton’s pupils. (Ch. lit.) Quilp, Daniel. A hideous creature, full of ferocity and cunning

He is deseribed as, —

‘An elderly man, of remarkably hard features and forbidding aspect, and 0 low In stature us to be quite a dwarf; though his head and face were large enough for the body of a giant. His black eyes were restless, sly, and oun> ning; his mouth and chin bristly with the stubble of a coarse hard beard; and his complexion was one of that kind which never looks clean or wholesome. But what added most to the grotesque expression of his face was a ghastly amile, ‘which, appearing to be the more result of habit, and to bave no conacetion with ‘any mirthful or complacent feeling, constantly revealed the fow discolored fangs that were yet seattered Lu his mouth, and gave his the aspect of a panting dog. His dress consisted of a largo high-crowned hat, a worn dark ult, a pair of capacious shoes, and a dirty white neckerchief, sufficiently limp and crumpled to Aisclose the greater portion of is wiry throat. Such hair as he had was of grizzled black, cut short and straight upon his temples, and hanging in » frowsy fringe about his cars. His hands, which were of a rough, coarse gral, were very dirty; his Gnger-nails were crooked, long, and yellow.

Mr. Quilp could tcarcely be said to bo of any particular trade or calling, though his pursuits were diversified. and his occupations numerous. He col- Jectod the rents of whole colonies of filthy stecets and alleys by the water-ide, advanced money to the seamen and petty officers of merchant-vessels, had a share In the ventures of divers mates of East-Indlamen, smoked hls smuggled elgars under the very nose of the custom-house, and made appolutments on Yohange with mon In glazed hate and round Jackets, pretty well every day.

Quilp having absented himself from home for some time, and not having been heard from, it is finally supposed that he is dead; and Mr. Sampson Brass, the attorney, is called in to write a de- seriptive advertisement in hopes of finding the body. Quilp re turns, however, just at this moment, and resolves to steal upon his wif unawares.

‘The bedroom-door on the stairea*e being unlocked, Mfr. Quilp elipped in, and planted himaolf behind the door of communteation between that chamber and the aitting-room, which, standing ayar, to render both more alry, and having & very convenient chink (of which he had often availed himself for purposes of esplal, and bad indeed enlarged with his pockot-knife), enapled him not only to ‘bear; but to see distinctly, what was passing,

176 She Dickens Bletfonary.

Applying his eye to this convenient place, he descried Mr, Brass seated at the

grant lemons, white lump-sagar, and all things fitting; from which choles mate- rials, Sampron, by no moans Insensible to their claims upon his attention, had compounded a mighty giass of punch, reeking hot, which he was at that very mo- ‘ment stirring upwith a teaspoon, and contemplating with looks In which a falnt ‘assumption of sentimental regret struggled but weakly with a bland and comforta- ble Joy. At the same table, with both her elbows upon it, was Mrs. Jinivrin, no longer sipping other people's punch feloniously with teaspoons, but taking deep draughts from & Jorum of her own; while her daughter—not exactly with ashes 00 her head, or sackeloth on her buck, but preserving a very decent and becoming Appearance of sorrow, nevertheless — was reclining in an easy-chalr, and sooth- tng her grief with » smaller allowance of the same gilts liquid. ‘There were also present o couple of waterside men, bearing between them certain machines called drags. Even these fellows were accommodated with a stlif glass aplece; and as they drank with a great relish, and were naturally of « red-nowed, pimple- facod, convivial look, their presence rather Increased than detracted from that de- cided appearance of comfort which was the great characteristic of the party. “If Teould polson that dear old Indy's rum and water," murmured Quilp, “I'd die happy.” “Ah!” sald Mr. Brass, breaking tho silence, and ralalng hla eyes to the ceiling with « sigh, “who knows but he may be looking down upon uk now! Who knows bathe may be murveylag of ux from—from somewheres or another, and contemplating us with a watchful eye! O Lor!" Here Mr, Ibrass stopped to drink half his punch, and then resumed, looking st the other half, as he spoke, with a dejected smile. “Tean almost fancy,” sald the lawyer, shaking his head, “that T see hla eye glistening down at the very bottom of my liquor, When shall we took upon his like again? Never, never! One minute we are here””—holding his tumbler be- fore his eyes, — “the next we aro there” — gulping down its contents, and striking hinslf emphatically» little below the chest—*in the silent tomb, ‘To think that T should be drinking his very rum! Tt seems like a dream.” With the view, no doubt, of testing th reality of his position, Mr. Brass paihed hile tumbler, a» be spoke, towards Mrs. Jiniwin, for the purpore of being replen- shed, nnd turned towards the attendant mariners. “The search has been quite unsuccessful, then?” “ Quite, master, But I should say, that, if be tune up anywhere, he'll come ashore somewhere about Grinidge to-morrow, at ebb tide; ch, mate?” ‘Tho other gentleman assented, observing that he was expected at the Hoxpital, ‘and that several pensioners would be ready to recetre him whenever he arrived, . “Then we have nothing for It but resignation,” sald Mr. Braxs;—“ nothing but

resignation and expectation, It would bea comfort to have his body: it would bea dreary comfort.”

“Oh, beyond a doubt!” assented Mrs. Jiniwin hastily. “If we once had that, we sould be quite sure.”

“Crooked, certainly," sald Mrs, Jiniwin,

“Do you think they were crooked?” said Brass in an iostnunting tome, 2 Ybink 1 see them now, coming up the street, very wide apart, In panto

{ty Spop. 17

Joons, w Ifttle shrunk, and without straps. Ah! what vale of tears we live Int ‘Do we way crooked?”

+ I think they wore a little 90,” observed Mrs. Quilp with a sob,

“ Logs crooked,” said Brass, writing ax he spoke. “Large head, short body, legs crooked "—

+ Very crooked," suggested Mrs, Jinkwin.

© We'll not say very crooked, ma'am,” said Brass piously. “Let us not bear hard upon the weaknesses of the deceased. He {s gone, ma'am. to where his lege ‘will never come in question. We will content ourselres with crooked, Mre, totwin”

“1 thought you wanted the truth," sald the old Indy. “That % all.”

Blox: your eyes, how I love you!” muttered Quilp. “There she goes again! ‘Yothing but punch!"

“This Is an occupation,” said the lawyer, laying down his pen, and emptying hls glass,“ which scoms to bring him before my eyes like the ghost of Hamlet's father, in the very clothos that he wore on work-a-tays. Iis cont, his walateoat, ‘ls shoes and stockings, his trousers, his hyt, his wit and humor, his pathos and his umbrella,—all come before me like vislons of my youth. His linen!” sald Mtr. Brass, smiling fondly at the wall, —“ his linen, which was always of a particular ‘color, for such was his whim and fancy, -—how plain 1 see his linen now!”

“You had better go on, sir,” sald Mfrs. Jiniwin lmpatiently.

* True, ma'am, true," cried Mr. Brass. “Our fucultion must not freeze with grief. Ili trouble you for a ttle more of that, ma'am. A question now arises

Aquiline!® erled Quilp, thrusting in hix head, and striking the feature with hia fist, —“agailine, you hag! Do you see it? Do you call this flat? Do you? En?”

“Oh, capital, capital!” shouted Brass, from the mere force of habit. “ Exeel- Tent! How very good he Is! He a most remarkable man, — so extremely whim sloal! Such an amazing power of taking people by surprise!"

‘Quilp paid no regard whatever to these compliments, nor to the dubious and frightened look into which the lawyer gradually subsided, nor to the shrieks of his swife und mother-in-tnw, nor to the latter's running from the room, nor to the fore mer's fuinting away. Keeping his eye fixed on Sampson Brass, he walked up to the table, and, beginning with hie glass, drank off the contents, and went regu- Jnrly round until he had emptied the other two; when he selzed the case-bottie, ‘nd, hugging It under his arm, surveyed him with a most extraordinary leer.

* Not yot, Sammpaon |” sald Quilp, — not Juat yet!

“ Oh, Fory good indeed!” orled Brass, recovering his spirits a little. ‘Ha, ha, fai Ohh, exceedingly good! There’s not another man alive who could carry it off like that. A most dificult position to carry off. But he has such a tlow of goods heumor, snoh an ammztng flow!"

“ Good-night |” snid the dwarf, nodding expressively.

“ Good-night, alr. good-night!” cried the lawyer, retreating backwards towards the door. "This Is a Joyful occasion, indeed; extremely Joyful, In, ha, bal Ok ery rich, very rich indeed, remarkably 80!"

Waiting until Mr. Brass’s ejnculntions died away fn the distancs (for he con- tinned to pour them out all the way down stairs), Quilp advanced towards the two men, who yet lingered Lu a kind of stapid amazement.

* Hare you beon dragging the river all day, gentlemen ?” sald the dwarf, hold. ing the door open with great pallteaces.

Ap

,)

178 Ebe Dickens Dictlonary.

“Dear me! you ’ve had a deal of trouble. fray cousiier every thing yours that you flud upon the—upon the body. Good-night!”

‘The men looked. ir eh ocr, ek bed oieoatl no Tales bo argo the polnt Just then, and shuffled out of theroom, ‘The speedy clearance eifected- Quilp locked the doors, and, still embracing the case-bottle with shrugged-np shoulders and folded arms, stood looking at his insenalble wife like a die. mounted nightmare,

Quilp comes to his end by falling into the Thames, and drowning, on a dark night, in an attempt to escape from some officers who are on the point of arresting him for various crimes. His property falle to his wife, who bears her bereavement with exemplary resignation, and marries again, choosing the exact opposite of the dear departed. (Ch. iti-vi, ix, xi-xiii, xxiii, xxvii, xxx, xli, xlviti-li, Ix, Ixii, Ixiv, Ixvii, Lxxili.) See Scorn, Togs.

Quilp, Mrs. Betsey. His wife; “a pretty little, mild-spoken, blue-cyed woman, who having allied herself in wedlock to the dwarf, in one of those strange infatuations of which examples are by no means scarce, performed a sound practical penance for her folly every day of her life.” (Ch. iv-vi, xiii, xxi, xxiii, xlix, |, lxvii, Ixxiii.) See Qorir, Daxren.

Bcott, Tom. Quilp’s boy, Although he is habitually beaten and abused by Quilp, Tom retains a queer sort of affection and admira- tion for his master. His favorite amusement is to stand on his head ; and he also adopts this attitude when he wishes to show his defiance of Mr. Quilp’s instructions, or to revenge himself upon him. Being cast upon the world by his master’s death, he deters mines to go through it upon bis head and hands, and accordingly becomes a professional “tumbler,” adopting the name of an Italian image-lad of his acquaintance, and meeting with extraordinary suc cess. (Ch. ivevi, xi, xiii, xxvii, xlix-li, Lxvii, Lxxiii.)

Sexton, The Old. An old man at the village where Little Nell and her grandfather find a home. (Ch. liii-lv, Lx, Lxxil.)

Short. See Hanns, Mr.

Simmons, Mrs. Henrietta. A neighbor 0 of Mrs. Quilp. (Ch. iv.)

Single Gentleman, The, Brother to Little Neil's grandfather He proves to be Master Humphrey, the narrator of the storyA (Ch. xxxiv-xxxviii, xl, xli, xlvii, xlviii, lv, Ivi, Levi, Lxix-Ixxili.) See Graxpraruer, Litt.r NELt’s.

Slum, Mr. A writer of poetical advertisements. (Ch. xavili,)

Sphynx, Sophronia. See Maxcionuss, Tax.

Olv Eurcloslty Shop 179

Sweet William. A silent man, who earns his living by showing wicks upon cards, and who has rather deranged the natural expres- sion of his countenance by putting small leaden lozenges into his

eyes, and bringit.g them out at his mouth. (Ch. xix.)

Swiveller, Dick. Friend to Fred ‘Trent, and clerk to Sampson Brass. He is first introduced on the ocension of a visit which young ‘Trent makes to his grandfather for the purpose of demanding to ‘see his sister,

At length there sauntered up on the opposite ide of the way, with » bad Pretenoe of paxsing by accident, ® figure consplonous for Its dirty smartness, ‘whieh, after a great many frowns and Jerks of the head, in resistance of the Invitation, ultimately crossed the road, and was brought Into the shop.

“There! It Dick Swiveller," eald the young fellow, pushing him In, “Ste down, Swiveller."

“Bat ly the old min agrecable?” aald Mr. Swiveller in an under-tone.

Sit down!” repeated his companion,

Mr. Swiveller complied, and, looking about him with a propitiatory smile, observed that last week was a fine week for the ducks, and this week was a fine ‘week forthe dust: he alto observed, that, whilst standing by tho post at the street corner, he tind observed a pig with a straw in his mouth Lasuing out of the to- Dacco-shop, from which appearance he argued that another fine week for the ducks was pprooching, and that rain would certainly ensue. He furthermore took occasion to apologize for any negligence that might be perceptible in his dress, on the ground that last night he had had “the sun very strong tn his eyes,” by wehlch expression he was understood to convey to his hearers, in the most delicate manuer possible, the information that he had been extremely drunk,

“But what,” sald Mr. Swiveller with sigh, —* what is the odds to long as the fire of soul Is kindled at the taper of conwiviality, and the wing of friendship, ‘over moults feather? What is the odds so long ax the epirit Is expanded by means of rosy wine, and the present moment {s the least happiest of our extst» ence? ...

‘Tt was, perhaps, not ery unreasonable to suspect, from what had already passed, that Mr. Swiveller was not quite recovered from the effeots of the powerful ‘sunlight to which he had madealluston; but, if no such suspicion had been awak- ened by his epeech, his wiry halr, dull ayes, and sallow face, would still have been strong witnesses against him, His attire was not, as he had himself hinted, remarkable fur the nleest arrangement, but was in a state of disorder. which atrongly induced the idea that he had goue to bed in it, It consisted of # brown ‘ody-cont with a great many brass buttons up the front, and only one behind, a Dright cheek neckerchief, a plaid walkteoat, soiled whi'# trousers, and a very Mmp hat, worn with the wrong sldo foremost, to hide @ hole in the brim. The breast of his cont was ornamented with an outside pocket, from which there peeped forth the cleanest end of a very large and very lil-favored handkerehlefs iis dirty wristbands wero pulled down ws farax possible, and ostentationsly folded ‘back over his cults; he displayed no gloves, and carried a yellow cane haring at thatop » bone hand with the semblance of a ring on Its little dager, anda black bait in its grasp, Wb nll these personal advantages (to which may be added ntroog savor of tobucco-smoke and a prevailing greasiness of appearance)

180 Che Mickens Mictlonare

Mr. Swiveller leaned back in his chair, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and, decasionally pitching his voice to the needful key, obliged the company with « few bars of wn intenselydismat alr, and then, in the middle of a note, relapsed {nto his former silence.

‘Mr, Swiveller and Fred enter into a sort of conspiracy to marry the former to Little Nell, and thus get possession of the enormous wealth which, it is supposed, the old man is hoarding up for her. After the disappearance of Little Nell and her grandfather, Dick makes a friend of Quilp, who obtains for him a situation as clerk in the law-office of Sampson Brass.

A.coach stopped near the door, and presently afterwards there was loud double- knock. As this was no business of Mr. Swirelier's, the person not ringing the office- dell, he pursued his diversion with perfect composure, notwithstanding that he rather thought there was nobody else in the house.

In this, however, he was mistaken; for, after the knock had been repeated with Increased impatience, the door was opened, and somebody with a very heavy tread ‘wont up the stairs, wnd Into the room above. Mr. Swiveller was wondering whether this might be another Miss Brass, twin-sister to the Dragon, when there ame a rapping of knuckles at the office-door.

*Come in!” sald Dick. ‘Don't stand upon ceremony. ‘The business will get rather complicated if Tye many more customers. Come to!”

“ Olu! please,” said a little voice very low down in the doorway, “ will you come ‘and show the lodgings?”

Dick leaned over the table, and descried a «mall, alipshod girl in adirty course ‘apron and bib, which left nothlag of ber vlalble but her face and fect. She might ‘us well havo beon dressed Ina violin-case,

“Why, who are you?” said Dick.

‘To which the only reply was, Oh please, wilt you come and show the lodg Ange?”

‘There never was such an old-fashioned child in her looks and manner, She must have been at work from her cradle, She seemed ax much afraid of Dick ax Dick was amazed at her.

“T have nt got any thing todo with the lodgings,” anid Dick. “Tell Yom to all again.”

“Oh! bat please, will you come and show the lodgings? retarned the girl. “It eighteen shillings a week, snd us finding plate and linen, Boots and clothes ts extra, and fires in winter-time fs eiglitpence a day.” é

“ Why don't you show ’em yourself? You seem to know all about "em," sald

ick,

“Mise Sally sald T'was n't to, becanse people would n't believe the attendance was good, If they saw how small E was first.”

“Well; but they “Il see how small you are afterwards; won't they?" sald Dick.

“Ah! Bot then they ’ll have taken em for a fortnight certain,” replicd the ehfid with a sf rewd look; “ and people don’t like moving when they 're once settled.”

“This is a queer sort of thing,” muttered Dick, rising. “ What do you mean o ray you wre; the cook ?

* Yes, 1.do plain 000! work of the house.”

“1 evgpow Brass wnd the Dragon and I do the dirtiest part of it,” thougtt

° replied the child. “I *m housemald too: Ido.ll the

SSENOLHOUVIE SILL ANY WETTHAIMS NOIG

Oly Curlosity Sop 181

Dick. And he might have thought much more, belng in a doubtful and hesitating ‘mood, but that the girl again urged her request, and certaln mysterious bumping. sounds on tho passage and staircase seemed to give note of the applicant's impar tience. Richard Swiveller, therefore, sticking a pen beliind each ear, and carrying another fo his moutt a» a token of his great importance, and devotion to business, ‘hurried out to moet and treat with tho single gentleman,

After the arrest of Kit Nubbles, in consequence of the false testi- mony of Sampson Brass, Dick, who has sided with the poor boy, !s discharged. He takes his little bundle under his arm, intending to go to Kits mother, and comfort and assist her.

But the ives of gentlemen devoted to such plessures a Iichard Swiveller are ‘extremely precarious. ‘The spiritual excitement of the Inst fortnight, working ‘upon a system afected in no slight degree by the spirituous excitement of some ‘years, proved a little too much for him, ‘That very night, Mr, Richard was eelzod ‘with an warming iiiness, and in twenty-four hours was stricken with a ruging fever.

‘Toxsing to and fro upon his hot, uneasy bed, tormented by # florea thirst which ‘Lothing could appease, unable to find in any change of posture » moment's peace ‘or ease, and rambling ever through deserts of thought where there was no rest- ing:place, no sight or sound suggestive of refreshment or repose, nothlag but a dail eternal weariness, with no change bat the restless shiftings of his miserable ‘body, and the weary wandering of his mind, constant still to one ever-present ‘anxloty, —to a senso of something left undone, of rome fearful obstacle to be sure ‘mounted, of some carking care that would not be driven away, and which haunt« ‘ei! the distempered brain, now In this form, now in (hat, always shadowy and dim, Dut recognizable for the same phantom jn every shape it took, darkening every ‘ision like an evil conscience, aud making slumber horrible, —in these slow tortures ‘of his dread disease the unfortunate Richard lay wasting and consuming iuch by such, until at last, when he seemed to fight and atruggle to rise up, and to be held down by dorils, he sank into a deep sleep, and dreamed no more.

Heawoke, With a ronsation of most blissful rest, better than sloop itself, he ‘begun gradually to remember something of these sufferings, and to think what a Jong night st had been, and whether he had not been delirious twiee or thrice. ‘Happening, in the midst of these cogitations, to ralse his hand, he wax mstonished to find how heavy it seemed, and yet how thin snd light it really was. Still he felt indifferent and happy. and, having no curiosity to pursue the sulject, remained In the same waking slumber until his wttention was attracted by w cough. ‘This made him doubt whether he had locked his door last night, and feel a tittle turprised at having a companion in the room. Still he Incked energy to follow up this train of thought, and... was rambling {n imagination . . . when he heard the cough once more. Raising himself a little in the bed, aud holding the vurtain open with one hand, ho looked out.

‘The sume room, certainty, and scitl by candlelight; but with what unbounded ‘astonishment did he see all those bottles and basins, and articles of tines airing ‘by the fire,and auch like furniture of a sick-chamber,—all very clean and neat, but sit quite diiferent from nuy thing he left there when he went to bed! The atmos there, too, filled with « cool amell of herbs aud vinegar, the floor newly sprinkled, the —the what? The Marchloness ?

‘Yes; playing eribbage with herself at the table. ‘There she sat, Intent upon sr gamma, cughing now and then in a subdued manner as if sie feared to distur

6

182 Ede Die

5 Wietlonary.

him,—shuMling the cards, catting, dealing, playing, counting, pegging, — going through all the mysteries of orlbbage as if she had been in fay practios from her eradle!

Mr. Swiveller raised the curtain again, determined to take the first favorable opportunity of addressing his companion, An occasion xoon presented Itself The Marchioness dealt, turned up a knave, and omitted to take the usual ndyan- tage; upon which Mr. Swiveller called out as loud xa he could, “Two for hiv heels! ™

‘The Marchioness Jumped up quickly, and clapped her hands... , forJoy, « «+ declaring . . . thnt she wns ‘+0 glad she did n't know whmt to do."*

“ Marchioness,” said Mr. Swiveller thoughtfully, “ be pleased to draw nearer First of all, will you have the goodness to Inform me where Isball find my voles, ‘and, secondly, what has become of my flesh?”

‘The Marchioness only ahook her head mournfully, and eried again; whereupon Mr. Swiveilor (boing vory weak) felt his own eyes affected likewise,

“Ibegin to infer from your manner and these appearances, Marchioness,” sald Richard after a pause, and amiling with a trembling lp, “that I have been i"

“ You Just have! ” replied the email servant, wiping her eyes. “And haven't you been a-talking nonsense!"

* Oht snid Dick. * Very til, Murchioness, have f been?” ‘Dead, all but,” replied the mall servant. “I never thought you'd get better. ‘Thank Heaven you hare!”

‘Mr. Swivelier was ellent for a long while, By and by he begun to talk again, Inquiring how long he had been there.

“Three weoks to-morrow," replied the small servant.

“Three what ?” said Dick.

‘The bare thought of having been in uch extremity eanved Itfchard to fall Into smother silence, and to fe lat down again at his full-length. ‘The Marehioness, having arranged the bed-clothes more comfortably, and felt that his hands and forehead were quite ool, — discovery that filled hor with delight, —orled a little more, and thon applied herself to getting tea ready, and making some thin dry tomet.

While she wns thas engaged. Mr. Swiveller looked on with m grateful heart, very sanch astonished to see how thoroughly at home she made herself, and attributing ‘this attention, {n Its origio, to Sally Brass, whom, in his owa mind, be could not thank enough. When the Marchioness had finished her toasting, she spread « ¢lean cloth on # tray, and brought him some crisp slices and a great basin of weak tea, with which (she sald) the doctor bad left word he might refresh himself when heawokn, She propped him up with pillows, if not as skilfully as if she hnd been professional nurve all her life, at least as tenderly, and looked on with anattera- ble satisfuction while the patient — stopping every now and then to shake her by the band — took his poor meal with an appetite and relish which the greatest Aainties of the earth,under any other circumstances, would have failed to pro rok», Having cleared away, and disposed every thing comfortably about him again, she snt down at the table to take her own ten.

“4 Marehioness,” sald Mr. Swiveller, “how wally 2”

‘The small vervant screwed her faoe into an expression of the very uttermoe entanglement of riyness, aod shook her head.

* What! have n’t you seen her lately ?” said Dick.

Seen her!” cried the amall servant, * Iles you, I've run away!”

@lv Curlostty Spo

‘Mr. Swivetter immediately laid himself down again quite flat, and so remained for about five minutes. By slow degroes he resumed his altting posture after that ‘Bpe of time, and Inqatred, —

“ Aud where do you live, Marchloness ? *

Lien!" eried the amalt servant. “ Here!”

“Ob!” eaid Mr. Swiveller.

And with that he fell down flat again as mddonly ws If he had been shot. Thar he remained, motionless, and bereft of speech, until she had finished her ‘meat, put every thing In ita place, and awept the hearth; when he motioned her to bring a chair to the bedside, and, being propped up again, opened » further conversation,

™ And #0,” sald Dick, “ you hare run away?”

“ Yes,” sali the Marchtonoss; “and they "ve been w-tizing of me.”

“ Been —I beg your pardon,” sald Dick,—“‘ what have they been doing? *

“Been atizing of me —tizing, you know, in the newspapers.” rejoined the ‘Marchioness.

* Ay, ay,” sald Dick, —“ advertising?”

‘The small sorvant nodded and winked. Her eyos were so red with waking and trying, that the Tragic Muse might have winked with greater conslstency. And #0 Dick felt.

“Tell me," sald he, how it was that you thought of coming here.”

“Why, you see,” returned the Marchlonoss, “when you was gone, I had n't say friend at nll, becanse the lodger he never come back, and { did n't know whore cither him or you was to be found, you know. But one morning, when I was” —

# Was near a keyhole,” anggested Mr. Swivelier, observing that she faltered.

Well, then,” said the small servant, nodding, —"* when I was near the office Keyhole, —as you see me through, you know, — I heard somebody aaying that she lived here, and was the lady whose house you lodged at; and that yon was took very bad; nnd would n't nobody come and take care of you? Mr. Bross he says, *It’« no business of mine.’ he says; and Miss Sally she anys, ‘Ho's « funny chap; ‘but tt 6 no business of mine.’ And the lady went away, and slammed the door to when she went out, Ioan tell you, So I run away that night, and come here, and told ‘em you was my brother; and they believed me; and I've been hero ever seinen”

Tn the end, Kit is released, and returned to his frionds. Dick falls into an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and, being ‘very grateful to the Marchioness, his first thought is of her. “ Please God” he says, “we ‘ll make a scholar of the poor Marchioness yet! And she shall walk in silk attire, and siller have to spare, or may

never rise from this bed again!"

After casting about for some time for a name which should be worthy of her, hedeclded in fivor of Sophronia Sphynx, as being eupbontour and genteel, and, furthermore, indicative of mystery. Under this title, the Marchloness repaired, in ‘ears, to 6 school of his selection, from which, as she soon distanced all compet sors. she was removed before the lapse of many quarters to one of a higher rade, Tt 44 but bare Justice to Mr, Swiveller to vay, that, although the expenses ‘pf her edusarion kept him In straitened elrournstances for half a dozen years, ‘bo never slackened In his zoal. and always held himvelf sufficiently repald by the ‘Acoounte he heard (with great gravity) of her advancement, on his monthly visite © the governess, who looked wyon him as a lit rary gentleman of eccentric habits, and of & most prodigious talent In quotation,

184 Ede Dickens Wietlonary.

‘Ina word, Mr. Swiveller kept the Marchioners at this establishment until ene ‘wns, at a moderate guess, full nineteen years of age, good-looking, lever, and jood-hurnored, when he began to consider seriously what was to be dono next. ‘On one of his pertodical visits, while he was revolving this question in his mind, the Marchioness came down to him alone, looking more smnillug ani more fresh ‘than ever. ‘Then it oocurred to him (but not for the first time), that, If she would ‘marry him, how comfortable they might be! So Richard asked her. Whaterer she sald. tt was n't No; and they were married In good earnest that day week ‘which gave Mr, Swiveller frequent occasion to remark at divers subsequent perk: ods that there had been a young lady saving up for him after all.

(Ch. ii, ii, vit, viii, xiii, xxi, xxiii, xxxiv—xxxviii, xlviii, |, Ivielxvi, Lxxili.

“Ono of his greatest creations. We are not anre that we do not, aaa matterof Individ- ‘ual opinion, placo Dick on pinnacle above all the rest, —a pinnacle which, perhaps, be may divide with the Micawbora, inimitable pair!) but which not even Sam Weller could. reach. Sam is asauoy fellow, whom we all know we would not tolorave in our service fon day, useful aso was to Mr. Pickwick; but Dick Swivellor we take to our bosom. ils vory dlesipatedness, his indebtedness, "tho rosy * which he passes so tach too often, the idle ways which wo cannot help soaing, — wo look upon all with Indulgent eyes. Je nover a binckgaard in his lowest days: even the people In those streets which he ‘up gradually by buying a pair of gloves in one plaoe, and a pot of pomade in another, must Ihave missed him when he no longer went by im his checked trousers, awinging his cane. + + + In the chaptera which disouss and dosoribe Diok Swiveller, there Is more true humor ‘than In all the rest of Dickens; for he, perhaps, alone of all the many personages of Bin family, has got tho love of his author, Hes treated fondly, with # gentle touch; he. is made fun of tenderly: he t¢ cunningly recommonded to our affections, na © man recom mends @ truant-boy, who is the light of his eyes, in all manner of soft pretended reproach ‘oxand fond abuse, Ho te almost tho only man disabled, and Incapable of helping Wim self of whom Dickens makes afhvorite. .... When the Marehloness comes upon the stage, tho ploture ix perfect. . . » ‘The honest fellow's goodness to the forlorn child, the perfect caso with which he adapts himself to her society, the little fiction (so qualnlly nonsen- teal, yet, after a while, so real) which he weaves about her, —to all this wo know searoely any match inthe language, and certainty nothing more humorous and captivating." — Bloetwood's Mag., vol, CIX, pp, 59-85.

Inch of Dickona's moxt exquisite and mont exuberant humor ls displayed tn rep resenting characters compounded of vanity, concelt, and axurance. ... Mr. Wchant Swiveller is probably the most splendid speotmen of tho class, and is ® fine example of the fellcity with which Dickens cun tread the dizxiext edges of character without sinking into mero caricature. Dick is a sort of ababby Sir Harry Wildair, « recklos feather-brained, good-natured vagabond, with no depth of gulls, and whoxe trregularl- Ules are the result Of dienes, vanity, egotism. and a great flow of spirits, With w-vaet ypinion of his own abilities, he is still overreached by every knave he encounterss and his life Is descent from one ‘erusher to snother, He Is so vain, that be almost Delloven his own solfexalting Nes; and ho carmot possibly ace things as they art is hoad is full of soreps of songs wnd plays, which he has a singular felic:tona Jelty tn quoting to sustain the sentiment of the momont; and hie slang, erer accompany ing hissentiment, {9 as charncteristic as the soil on hils linen, orthe marks of Time's effhe sing Angers” on his flax coat . , . Dick" Imaginative vanity absolutely deceives ie own sensea. Ho calls a fight In which tis own fuce la damaged a festive eeene; ho asks ‘Nin companion in punch to pas the rosy winoy he pays for his liquor hy solemnly advie- tng the boy at the bar never to touch spitita: and tells a stranger whom ho designs te dup¥, that the wing of friendship must not monit a feather. Sir Epicure Marmion him self hardly realizes with more fulness his gorgeous ristona of gluttony and avarios them tho lmaves yall that is unreal in dissipation auceeed enc other us fuels to poor Dick: etter aceiter brain.""— £ihein P. Whipple

lv Curtosity Shop. 185.

Trent, Frederick. Brother to Little Nell. (Ch. ii, iii, vii, viii, xxiii, |, Ixxiii.) See Graynrarnen (Lirrix Nexi’s), Swrve eter (Dick).

Trent, Little Nell, A small and delicate child of angelic purity of character, and sweetness of dixposition, who lives alone with her grandfather, an old man possessed by a mania for gambling; his object being to make her rich and happy. The account of their wanderings, after the old man loses the last of his property, and is turned into the streets a beggar and an imbecile, forms the thread of the story.

“Which way?" sald the child.

‘The off man looked {rresolutely and helplessly, first at her, then to the right and teft, then at her again, and shook his head. Tt was plain that she was ‘thenceforth hie guide and leader. ‘The child felt {t, but hind no doubts or mis- giving, and, putting her hand in his, led him gently awny.

‘Te was the beginning of a day In June, the deep blue sky unsullied by & cloud, and teeming with brilliant light. ‘The streets were as yet nearly free from: ‘passengers; the houses and shops were closed; wud the healthy air of morning fell Like breath from angels on the sleeping town.

‘Tho old man and the child passed on through the glad silence, elate with hope ‘and pleasure. They were alone together once again. Every object was bright ‘and fresh: nothing reminded them, otherwise than by contrast, of the monot- ‘ony and constraint they had left behind. Church towers and steeples, frowning ‘and dark at other times, now shone in the ean; each humble nook and corner

+ rojoleed fa ght ; and the sky, dimmed only by excesstve distance, shed ite placid ‘snflo on evory thing beneath,

Forth from the city, while it yet slumbered, went the two poor adventurers,

‘wandering they knew not whither,

Nell and her grandfather fall into the company of many strange people during their wanderings, among whom are Messrs. Codlin ‘and Short, a couple of itinerant showmen, who take it into their heads thet the old man has stolen the child, and is endeavoring to elude pursuit, and that there will surely be a reward offered for | their: apprehension; whereupon they resolve to keep them is } sheir compsny until the right time comes for surrendering then»

Mittle Nell divines the object of these men; and, fearing that hes

grandfather, in case they should be handed over to the authori-

ties, may be confine in some asylum, she escapes from the ghowmen, and shortly afterwards falls in with Mrs. Jarley, the proprietress of “Jarley's Wax Work,” who engages her to point out the figures to visitors. Whit walking, one evening, near the town where Mrs. Jarley is exhibiting her works, Nell and ber grandfather are overtaken by a severe storm, and are forced we

186. Tbe Dickens Dictlonary

to seek shelter for the night at a rondside inn called the Valiant Soldier, Behind a screen some men are playing at cards, and, with the sight of this, all the slumbering passion of the old man is aroused. Boing asked If he desires to join them, —

He . . . repliod by shaking the little parse in his eager hand, and then throw: Ing {t down upon the table, and gathering up the cards ss a molser would clutob at gold.

“Ob! ‘That indeed!” sald Teaac. “If that '* what the gentleman meant, beg the gentleman's pardon, Is this the gentleman’s little purse? A very pretty litte porse, Rather a light purse,” added Isane, throwing it Into the alr, and catehing It dexterously, “but enough to amuse a gentleman for half an hour or so"...

‘The child, In ® perfect agony, drew her grandfather aside, and implored him, ‘even then, to come away.

Come, and we may be so happy!” «ald the chitd.

‘We wiit be hoppy," replied the old man hastily. “Let me go, Nell. The ‘means of happiness are on the cards and the dice. We must rise from little win- nings to great, There’ little to be won here; but great will come in thme, I shall ‘but win buck my own; nnd it’s all for thee, my darling.”

“God help us!” cried the child. “Oh! what hard fortune brought us here?”

“ Hush 1" rejolned the old man, laying bis hand upon her mouth. “ Fortune will not bear chiding. We must not reproach her, or she shuns ua: I have found that ont."

“Now, mister,” sald the stout man. “If you're not coming yourself, give us the cards; will you

- “Sit thee down, Nell; ait thee down, wud Jook on. ie of good heart, {t "s all for thee, —all, every penny. I don’t tell them; no, not of else they wonld n’t play, dreading the chance that such a cause rust give me. Look at them. 8¢e what they are, and what thou art. Who doubts that we must win?”

“The gentleman has thought better of It, and fs n't coming,” sald Tanne, making ‘as though he would rise from the table, “I'm sorry the gentleman’s davated, Nothing venture, nothing have; but the gentleman knows best.””

“Why, Tam ready. You have all been alow but me," said the old man. * wonder who is more nnxtous to begin than 1?"

As ho spoke, he drew a chair to the table; and, the other three closing round It ‘At the same time, the game commenced,

‘The child ant by, and watched {ts progress with » troubled mind, ‘Tegardiess of the run of luck, and mindful only of the desperate passion which had its hold upon der grandfather, losses and gains were to her alike. Exulting in some brief trl- ‘umph, oF caxt down by a defeat, there ho sat #0 wild and restless, 90 foreriebly and an*onsely anxious, s0 terribly cager, #0 ravenous for the paltry stakes, that she orld have almost better borne to see him dead. And yet she was the fanocent taune of all this torture; and he, gambling with euch a savage thirst for gain aa the most insatinble gambler never fult, lind not one selfish thought,

On the contrary, the other three, — knaves and gamesters by thelr trade,—while Intent upon thelr game, were yet as cool and quiet as If every rirtue had bean eon: ‘wed in thelr breasts...

‘The storm had raged for fall three hours; the lightning had grown fainter ané Uhunder, from seeming to roll and break above thelr heads, had ‘ay into e deep, hoarse distance; and still the game went ov, ave ill Ye anxious child was quite forgotten.

Olv Cuctostty Sdop 187

‘The old man plays until their little purse is exhausted, and nothing talefe with vhs which to pay for their entertainment. In this strait, Nell, after much hesitation, and fearful that her grandfather will observe ber, takes from her dress a small gold-piece which she has kept con cealed there, in anticipation of some great emergency, and pays the reckoning, hiding the change which she receives, before rejoining her grandfather. Shortly afterwards she retires for the night.

At last, sleep gradually stole upon bor,—a broken, fitful sleep, troubled by ‘reams of fulling from high towers, and waking with a start and In great terror. A.deepor slumber followed this, and then,—what! ‘That figure {a the room!

A figure was there. Yes; she had drawn up the Ullnd to adit the light when it should be dawn, and thore, between the fovt of the bed and the dark casement, it eroushed and slunk along, groping Its way with nolscless hands, and stealing round Bares: ‘She had no voice to ery for help, no power to move, bat lay still, watch

‘On it came, on, silently and stealthily, to tho bed’s head; the breath 0 near her pitlow, that abe shrunk back into it, lest those wandering hands should light -apon her fico. ‘Back again it stole to the window, then turned Its head towards ber.

‘The dark form was a mere blot upon the lighter darkness of the room; bat she saw the turning of the hend, and felt and knew how the eyes looked, nnd the ears Ustened. ‘There it remained, motionless as she. At length, still keeping the fon towards her, it busied its hands {n something, and she heard the chink of money.

‘Then on it came again, ellent and stealthy as before, and, replacing the garmonts ‘It had taken from the bedside, dropped upon ite hands and knees, and crawled ‘away. How slowly it seemed to move now that she could hear, but uot seo ity creeping along the floor! It reached the door at Inst, and stood upon ita feet. ‘The steps crenked beneath {ts noiseless trend, and it was gone.

‘The first i:mpulee of the child was to fly from the terror of belng by herself in int room, to hare somebody by, not to bo alone; and then her power of Vege be restored. With no consciousness of having moved, she guined

ey ‘was the dreadful shadow, pausing st the bottom of the steps.

‘She could not pass it: she might have done #0, perhmps, in the darknoss, with- ‘out being seized; but her blood curdled at the thought. ‘The figure stood quite sti:i, und 40 did she; not boldly, but of necessity; for golng buck Into the roor was handly tess terrible than going on.

‘The rain beat fast and furiously without, aud ran down in plashing streams from

he thatched roof. Some summer insect, with no eecape into the air, flow blindly to

ind fro, bexting ite body against the walls and ceiling, and filing the silent place with murmurs. The figure moved again. The child involuntarily did the same, ‘Once in her grandfather's room, ste would be safe.

‘Teerept along the parsnge until it camo to the very door she Jonged +0 ardently fo tench. ‘The child. in the agony of being so near, had almost darted forward with the design of Lursting tnto the room, and closing it behind her, when the figure stopped ngain.

‘Th idea flashed suddenly upon her,— what if it entered there wnd had a design ‘upon the old man's life! She turned falot and sick. It did. It wont in. ‘There ‘was alight inside. The figure was now within the chamber, and she, still dumb, ~

dumb, and elmost senseless, -- stood looking on.

188 The Dickens M'ctlonarp.

‘The door was partly open, Not knowing wlint she meant to do, but meaning to Preserve him, or be killed hervelf, she staggernd forward and looked In.

‘What sight was that which met her view t

‘The bed had not been Iain on, but was smooth and empty; and at a table ant the old man himvelf. the only living creature there, —his white face pinched and sharpened by the greediness which made hit eyes unnaturally bright, —countine the money of which his hands had robbed hor.

Shocked beyond measure by the sight, the child returns to her room; bat, during the night, she steals again to her grandfather's side, and finds him asleep.

‘She had no fear ax she looked upon his slumbering features; but she had a deep and weighty sorrow, and It found lis relief In tears.

“God blows tit!” sald the child, #tooping oftty to kiss his placid sheck. 1 ‘ee too well now, that they would indeed part us if they found us ont, apd ¢hut him up from the light of the sun and aky. He has only me to lelp him, fiod bless vus both 1"

Lighting her candle, she retreated ns silently as whe had come, and, grining her ‘own room once more, sat up during the remaluaer of that long, long, miserable night,

‘At last the day turned her waning candle pale; and she fell asleep. She was quickly roused by the girl who had shown her up to bed, and, as soon as sho was dressed, prepared to go down to her grandfather, ut first she searched her pocket, and found that her money was all gone: not a sixpence remained.

‘The old man was ready, and in x fow aeconds they were on thelr road. The ehild thought he rather avoided her eye, and appeared to expect that #he would tell bim Of her loss. She felt she must do that, or he might suspect the truth,

Grandfather," she sald in a tremulous rolce, after they had walked about & mille in silence, ‘do you think they nre honest people nt the house youder?*

“Why?” returned the old man, trembling. “DoT think them honest yes they played honostly.”

“1 tell you why I ask,” rejoined Nell. “T lost some money last night, ontof my bedroom, Iam sure. Unless It was taken by somebody in Jest, —only in Jest, dear grandfather, which would make me laugh heartily if Teould but know it." —

“Who would take money In Jost?” returned the old man fn a hurried manner. se who take money take It to keep. Don’t talk of Jest.”

‘hen it was stolen ont of my room, dear,” sald the child, whoxo last hope was Jestroyed by the manner of this reply.

By tears and entreaties, Nell succeeds in leading her grandfather away from the old temptation, which has again beset him, and forms fresh hopes of saving him; but these are soon dissipated. Uxseon, herself, she discovers him in company with the same gamblers, and witnesses their cunning endeavors to induce him to rob Mrs. Jarley in order to obtain the means of winning back all he had lost, and perhaps, of socuring still greater gains.

‘She went back to her own room, and tried to prepare hervelf for bed, But who sould sloep—sloep! who could ie passlvely down — distracted by rush terrors? They came upon her more and more strongly yet, He)f-undressod, and with ber

Olv Curlosity Sop. 189

‘hair in wild disorder, she flew to the old man’s bedside, clasped him by the wrist,

‘and roused him from his sloop.

Pear tebe xt, starflng ep 1h Ded, nd cing bis oe Wags Ber ager fee.

“Thave had a dreadful dream.” said the child, with an energy that nothing bat ech terrors could hare inspired, —*a drendful, horrible dream? X have had tt nce before. It isa dream of gray-haired men like you, in darkened rooms, by aight, robbing sleepers of thelr gold. Up, up!” The old man shook In every Joint, and folded his hands like one who prays.

“Not to mo." eald the child,—‘‘not to me; to Hearon, to save us from auch deods! This dream 1 too real. T cannot sleep; F eannot stay here; 1 ‘tannot leave you alone under the roof where such dreams come. Up! We must ty.”

‘He looked at her as if she were a spirit.—she might have been for all the Iook ‘of earth she hind, —and trembled more and more,

“There Is no time to lose: I will not lose one minute,” sald the child. “ Up! and away with me.”

4 To-night ?!* murmured the old man,

“Yes. tonight,” replied the child. “To-morrow night will be too late. ‘The dream will have come again. Nothing but flight can save us. Up!"

‘The old man rose from hin bed, his forehead bedewod with the cold sweat of fear, and, bending before the child as If she had been nn angel messenger sent to lend him where she would, made ready to follow her. Sho took him by the hand, and led hilm on. Ax they passed the door of the room he had proposed to rob, she shuddered. and looked up nto his fice. What a white fice wns that! and with what a look did he moet hers!

Sho took him to her own chamber, and still holding him by the hand, ns if she feared to lose him for an instant, gathered together the little stock she had. and hang her basket on her arm. The old man took his wallet from her hands, and strapped It on his shoulders, — his staff, too, she had brought away,—and then she ted him forth.

‘They suffer much privation after this, and the old man complains piteously of hunger and fatigue; bat the child trudges on, with leas and less of hope and strongth, indeed, but with an undiminished reso- Tution to lead her sacred charge somewhere — anywhere, indeed — away from guilt and shame. At last they encounter Mr. Marton, a poor but kind-hearted schoolmaster, whom they had met once before. He is travelling on foot to a distant village, where he has been ap- pointed clerk and teacher; and, on learning from Little Nell the full story of her trials and sufferings and wanderings, asks her and her grandfather to accompany him, promising to use his best endeavors to find them some humble occupation by which they can subsist. aittle Nell gladly embraces his offer; and they journey on together. Arrived at the village, their kind friend exerts himself suecessfally In their behalf, procures them a pleasant home and a light employ~ ment in connection with the parish church, which brings them money mough to live on. But the quiet and happy life they begin to lead

190 The Wickens Wictlonary.

is destined to be of short duration. Long exposure and suffering have been too much for the child's delicate onganization, and her health fails. Slowly, but surely, the end draws on, and at last che dies.

‘They had read and talked to her in the earlier portion of the night; but, as the hours crept on, she unk to sleep. ‘They could tell, by what she faintly rttered in her dreams, that they wore of her Jonrneyings with the old man: they were of no painful soenes, but of people who had helped und used them kindly; for ahe often said, “God bless you!” with great fervor. Waking. she never wandered In her mind but once; and that was of beautiful music whieh ebe said wns in the rir, God knows, Tt may hare beo

Opening her eyes, at last, from avery quiet sleep, she begged that they would kiss her ono» again. ‘That dono, sho turned to the old man with a lovely smile ‘upon her face, —such. they said, ns they had never seen, and never could forget, and clung with both her arms about his neck. They did not know that she was dead at frst,

‘She had spoken very often of the two slaters, who, she snld, were Iike dear friends to her, She wished they could be told how much she thought about them, and how she had watched them as they walked together by the river-sido atnight, She would like toxee poor Kit she had often sald of Inte. She withed there was somebody to take her love to Kit. And even then she never thought or spoke about him, bat with something of her old, clear, morry Laugh.

For the rest, she had neyer murmured or complained, but with quiet mind, aud manner quite unaltered,—aave that she every day became more earnest and more grateful to thom, —faded like the light upon a summer's evening.

(Ch. i-vi, ix-xii, xvexix, xxiv-xxxii, xlii-elvi, lii-lv, lexi, Lxxii.) hee Grawpratunn, Lrrree Nev's.

“Amid the wolftch mallsnity of Qailp, the augared meanness of Tras, the Tearing eonvivlality of Swiveller, amid soones of selfstiness and shame, of passion and erime, this deticato creation moves alons, artnilied, purifed, pursuing the good tn the almmple earnesttiens of a pare hoart, gliding to the tomb as to a #weet sleep, and leaving ta ‘every place that her prosence beautifios tho marks of celestial footprints. Korrows such as hers, over Which #0 fine a sentiment sleds its consecrations, have been well ald to Dell! bartered for tho garishness of Joys "for they win ws noftly from le, and Mt us to lo mmlting." "=. P. Whipple.

Trotters. See Harnta Mr.

Vuffin. A showman; proprictor of a giant, and of a littl» lady without legs or arms. (Ch. xix.)

Wackles, Miss Jane, Youngest daughter of Mrs. Wackles, and instructor in the art of needlework, marking, and eamplery, in the “ Ladies’ Seminary” presided over by her mother. (Ch, viii.)

Wackles, Miss Melissa. Teacher of English grammar, com- position, geography, and the use of the damb-bells, in her mother’s seminary for young Indies. She is the eldest daughter, and verges on the autumoal, having seen thirty-five summers, or thereabouts, (Ch. vi

Olv Curlosity Spop. 191

Wackles, Miss Sophy. A fresh, good-humored, buxom girl of twenty; Mrs, Wackles's second danghter, and teacher of writ- ing, arithmetic, dancing, and general fascination in the “ Ladies"

." An unsuccessful attempt is made to inveigle Swiveller into a match with Miss Sophy. (Ch. viii.)

Wackles, Mrs. Proprietor of a very small day-school for young ladies, at Chelsea; an excellent but rather venomous old lady of threessore, who takes special charge of the corporal punishment fasting, and other tortures and terrors of the establishment. (Ch. viii.)

West, Dame. The grandmother of a favorite pupil of Mr. Mar ton’s, the schoolmaster. (Ch. xxv.)

Whisker. A pony belonging to Mr. Garland, obstinate, independ ‘ent, and freakish, but “a very good fellow, if you know how to ee him.” (Ch, xiv, xx, xxii, xxxviii, xl, Ivii, Ixi, Ixy, Lxviii,

Saar iartot: See Sweet WILLIAM. ‘Mr, A notary; short, chubby, fresh-colored, brisk, pela (Ch. xiv, xx, xxxviii, xl, xli, Lei, Ixiil, Ixy, Levi,

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

Cuarres f. Little Nell Inquires the way of Master Humphrey; he goes home with her to the O14 Curlosity Shop, and meets ber grandfather: retarn of Kit from his errands Humphrey, going out, is sarprised that the old man te going, leaving Little Nell slone.—I1, Returning, drawn by curionity, n few days after, Master Humphrey invernwpts anangry controversy between tho old man and his grandson; Fred Trent calls in his lend Mr, Swiveller, who gives some pacific advions Little Nell retarms,— THT. She ts silowed by Quilp; the old man keops his secret close. —IV. Mra Quilp and her mother, ‘discussing with some nelgbbors the character of Mr. aro interrupted by the entrance ‘of that gentleman Quilp's kind treatment of his wi Me. Quilp goes to his wharf, ‘where be quarrels with bis boy: Sell comes to hii there with « letter.— VI. Quilp takes ‘Noll torhis home on Tower Ill, where he forces Mra Quilp to question the child for her kewndfather's secret, while be listens behind the door, —VHL. ¥red Trent, supposing ble randfathee to be very rich, conspires with Dick Swiveller to get possession of bis property: tug the maeriage of Little Nell to the latter gentleman, involving the probable Aisappoint> ‘ment of the matrimonial expectations of Mies Sophy Wackles — VIII, Mr, Swiveller dines Lis tHlond ak the expense of eloaing another strect to his passage; Mise Sophy Wacklos TNE Gif Mr. Chogps against 3r. Swiveller, and losos Mr. Swivellee.—IX. Nelly pleads with her grandfathee to give up thete way of living, an¢ become beggary and be happy ‘Quip enters, anperoelved, and hears their conversition; Qatlp informe the old man that seas diecovered tho secret o° his gambling. and the old man denies that bo ever played he his own sake, but always for Nelly’s good; Quilp throws the old mats snsplolons npon Kit —X. Kit, after watching the house until midnight, goes home, aud Ie soon followed

192 Ede Dickens Mictlonary.

‘by Nelly, wh Lnforms tlm of the {llness of her grandfather, and that be diame Kit him Welf er the canee.—XL Quip, accompanied by Sampwon Brass, takes possession of the ‘old man’s property; Kit has s secret toterview with Little Nell.—X11. The old man re ‘torers, and is wamod by Quilp to leave the house; ho and Nell leave aceratly, not know tng whero they shell ¢o.—XILL. Mr. Qailp, operag the door to his wifo, falls tnto the hands of Mr. Richard Swiveller: Mr. Swriveller’s astonishment at what has happened; Kit Mghis with Quiip's boy for the poxsesion of Nelly'a bird, and wins. — XIV, Kit minds ‘Abe hore of Mr, and Mes. Garland, while thelr#on, Mr, Abel, is boing articled to Mr. With- ‘enilen, and gets overpald for the Job.—X¥. Nally and her grandfather eseape from London and ate Defrionded by m cottager's fhmlly.—XVL They encounter Mevare. Colin and Short, itinerant showmen, in tho graveyard. —XVII. Eittlo Xvil's interview with the aged ‘widow of a young husband; Codlin and Short lavite Nell and hor grandfather to go with ‘them to the races; thay oncounter the stflt-walkers.— XVIII. Arrived at the Jolly Sand~ Doys, they are Jolned by other showmen, and have supper.— XIX. Codlin makes warm professions of friendship. and both he and Short Keep close watch of the fugitives; Nelly ‘and her grandfather eseape from thelr companiona —XX. Kit goes to work out the old tixpence paid him ty Mr. Garland.—XXI. He jsengaged by Mr. Garland for sx pounds a year; Qallp and Mr. Swiveller pursue their inquiries for the fugitives at the house of Mrx. ‘Nubblesi the dwarf draws from Mr, Swiveller the details of the scheme he has formed ‘with Fred ‘Trent, and promites his assletance, —XXIf. Kit becomes an inmate of Abel Cottage, XXL. Mr. Richard Swiveller bemoans his orphan-state, and Ix adopted by Me, Qultps Quip and Fred Trent, for different reasons, anite in the scheme for entrapping Nelly toto o marriage with Dick Swiveller.—XXIV. Escaped from tho showmen, Nell ‘and ber grandfithor find thelr way to a qulet village, whore they aro kindly recetred by the schoolmaster. —XXV. Nell spends the morning {n the sehoolroom: the schoolmnster takes Nell to the sick-room of his favorito pupil, tittle Hinrry; Marry" death.—XX¥E. After leaving the schoolmaster, Nelly and the old man encounter Ste. Jacley taking ten In waravan she gives them some supper, and carries them on thelr way, =—XXVIT. Mts Jarles explains hor business to the child, end, nding they are berging thelr living, offers her cinployment, which she gladly aecopts; the child is terrified by the sight of Qallp, but, Juckily, oscapos being ween by him. —XXVINL, Mr, Slum recelwes an order from Mre Jar ley; Neli learns the history of Mra Jurley's wax Aqures. —XXIX. Nett and her erand- hier, wandering through the flelds, are caught nw storm, and take refuge In the Valiant Soldier; the old man becomes excited at the sight of gambling, secures tho child's purse, plays, and loses XXX. Tho old man robs Nell of the little she has teft,— XXXL. She {ells him of the robbery, tn the hope that he will confess its he bids her keep slient about It} Miss Monfiathers receives Nell with dignity’: she lecvures Miss Edwards for her impro- priety in dotng Nell a kindness, and refuses hor patronago to Mrs. Jatley’s exhibition. — XXXIL Tho old man exnbles away alt Nelly's enruings: Mrs. Farley's schemes for make Ing her exhibition more popular. —XXXIEE. Saily Tras reproves her brother for taking a clerk: he Justidies It as the request of his best client, Me. Quilp: Quilp Introduces Me, ‘Bwivotler, who fe Installed aa Sampeon Tiraxs's clork.— XXXIV. Dick defines his posltion, ‘and tells how ho came In it: he lets the lodyings to the Single Geatleman.—XXX¥. Tho ew lodgor remains singularly silent for a long timo; Sampron Hiraas refreshes Mr. Swivel Jer's nicmory in regard to the statement made by the Single Gentleman, who fs at length aroused, and oxpresers bin doslres to Mr. Richard &wivelior.—XXXVI. Mr. Swivellor Ande favor in th eyes of Bally Brass: he witnesses the feeding of the small servant. — XXXVI. The Single Gentioman shows an extraontinary Interest in Punch shows; he tertains Moma, Codlin and Short, and makes particular inquiries tn regard to Lite Nell ‘and her grandfather.-—XXXVILL. Kit's progress in hie new place; he moots the stranger entleman at Mr. Withenten's, who questions bien eloxely about the old man and the child,

and enjoins silence theroupony Dick Swivetler finds Kit can keep w secret. —XXXIK, flow Kitand his mother, and Barbara and her mother. enJoyed thelr halfbotiday. — Xe Kit receives with some surprise the Intelligence that the strange gentteman dexines te take tim Into hie service, and declines to leave Mr. Garland; the Hingle Gentlenns tnforms Rit that Nel! and the old man have been found; Kit deelines his proporal to teke bin with:

=

Olu Curlosity Sdo;

198

tose Quilp also: the Single Gentleman and Mrs. Nubbies start on thelr Journey. —XLM. ‘Uttle Noll overhears the gamblers tempting her grandfather to rob Mra Jarley, until he ‘consents; sheets th's knowledge before him us a torrible dream whe has tad, and bids tan Ay with her from place where such dreams come. — XILUT. Tho fugitives are befriended land carried on their way by some rough boatmen.—XLIV. Lost in the busy streets of a manufaesuring town, they are taken by « poor workman to foundry, whoro they remit. Uirongh the niyht, in the warmth of the furnucea — XLV. They wander on in wearch ot the open eonntey, Nell growing very weak from hunger and fatigue; she ts about to bee 0 4 traveller on the road, when she recognizes in tit thelr old friend the schoolmaster, ‘snd falls sonseloss at bis feet. — XLVI, The schoolmaster carries her to a nelghboring Ina, share abe \* restored ; he informs them of his change of fortune, and they accompany hime to his new home. — XLVIT, The Single Gentleman and Mrs Nubbies reach Mrs. Jarley's, to find that lady Just married to George, and to learn that the child and her grandpsther Gisappeared a weck before, and all attempts to Gnd them have ulled—XLVIIL Qutip's Appearance at the Inn to which the Single Gentleman goes,and how he camo to be thore.— XLLX, Qullp recurs home, aod interrupts the arrangements My. Sampson Brass and Mrs. Bolwin are making for the recovery of his body, supposing him drowned,—L- Quilp ‘estabilsbes himself as s Jolly bachelor in the counting-house on his wharf; he pays a visit to Mr. Swiveller, whom he finds discontolate at the marriage of Sophy Wacklon to bis sival, Cheggss the dwarf learns trom Dick that his friend Fred Trent and the Staxle Gentle ‘man have met, with no good result; Mrs. Quilp Importunes her harbend to retam home, Dut he drives her away.—LI. Quilp has an interview with Miss Brass's small servant; Quilp informs Sampson and Sally Trae that he wants Kit put out of the way, and they agres to do ft, = LIL. The sohoolmaster arranges that Nell and hor grandfather stilt have the care of the church, and they take possossion of thelr new homes; thelrkind reoeption iy the clergyman and the bachelor; the bachelor introduces the schoolmaster to his new pupils. LILI. Nell's talk with the old sexton. —LIV., L¥. The sexton's frapatience with ld Davids Xeliy's health falls, and her friends grow anxlous about bers—LVL Mts Bwiveller goes into mourning on the oceasion of the marriage of Misa Sophy Wacklea; Mr. Chuckstor complains to Mr. Swiveller that his merits are not appreoiated: Sampson Brass calls Kit tato his office, and bogins to put tls plot against him Into execution, —LVIT. Progress of the ploty Dick Swivollor discovers the small servant eavesdropping: he teaches her to play eribbage, and bestows upon her tho title of Marchionest. —LVIIT. He earns from ier how aio is kept by Miss Saily: Mr. Swiveller relieves his melancholy by ttle Mate-playing; Miss Sally roports to Dick that some small thetts have occurred in the ‘oftee; she suspects Kit, whom her brother stoutly defends. LIX. Consummation of the plot, and urreat of Kit for larceny. — LX. Kit begs to bo taken to Mr. Witherden's office ‘om the Way they enoounter Qailp. who bestows his blessing on the party; astontatment of the Garlands and Mr. Withenden at the charge against Kit. —LXI. Kit In prison ‘Visited by his mother and Barbara's mother; Mr. Swiveller shows his aymputhy {1 a mug of bear. —LXET, Sampuon Iirans visita Qailp in his den pleasant behavior of the facetious dwarf; he demands the discharye of Mr. Swiveller. —LXUII. ‘Trial and conviction of Kit; Mr, Swivellor gets hie dlacharge.—LXIV. Mr, Swivoller awakes from © delirious «ickness Jofind himself {n tho care of the Marchioness; she informs him how ahe came there, and ives him the particulars of his sicknoss; tho Murchioness also relates to Dick the details ‘of the plot against Kit. which she overheard through the key-hole; she gues in se-neh of Mr, Abel Garland. —LXY, Sho finds him, and brings him to Dick"s lodgings, where she ‘Sepenita the atory to him.—LXVL ‘The Garlands and thelr friends tako Mr. Swiveller and the Macehioness under thoir protection: they attempt to draw a confession fram Sally Bram, but the conference Is interrupted by Sampson, who confesses the whole conspiracy t ‘Dick Swivellor Inherite a fortune, which 1# amaller than it might have been, — LXVIL Mire. Quilp carries to hor husband a letter from Sally Bras, informing hse of the discovery ‘of thelr schemes, and warning him of his danger; ho drivos his wife away, and groping An the darkness to eacape the officers, who are already on hls track, he falls Into the river, ‘snd ls drowned. —LXVIIL, Kits released, wnd weloomed home by hls friends} Mr. Garland ‘otiles him to prepare for joarnoy to moet Nell and her grandfather; Kit hax am undore ding with Barbara: the Single Gentleman, Mr. Garland, and Kit start on thetr Journey ; (Slugle Gentloman relates his story to Mr. Garland. —LXX They arrive mt te tows a

194 Sde Mickens Mictlonary.

after midnight; the old sexton is disturbed; Kit discovers tha old man brooding over the fire,—LXXL The old man knows neither Kit nor his brother; Kelly ts dead.—LXXIL Her barial ts kept a secret from her grandfather; the old man is found dead on the child's rave. —LXXIII. Sampeon Brass, after serving out his sentence, joins his sister in the wretched neighborhood of St. Giles's; Mra. Quilp marries again and lives happily; Mr. Abel Garland becomes the head of a family; Mr. Swiveller bestows upon the small servant the name of Sophronia Sphynx, educates, and finally marries her; sad end of Frederick ‘reat; the Single Gentleman rewards all who befriended his brother; the family history of Kit end Berbera.

Barnaby Rudge.

A TALE OF THE RIOTS OF ‘EIGHTY.

“ Barxany Ropox”—which has been called “the most highly wronght, ear ‘nest, and powerful” of all Dickens's works — is an historical novel, based upon the Lord George Gordon, or London Protestant, rots of 1780. Tt first appeared tm 1841, in * Master Humphbrey"s Clock ;” and in 1849 It was published apart from the machinery of that serial miscellany. The plan of it was formed, and possl- tly some part of it was written, before tho “Pickwick Papers” were com: menced (1630). Itwas announced, under the name of “Gabriel Vardon” (see ‘VARDEN, GABRIEL, p. 201), a4 a new novel by the author of “ Sketchos by Boz; and ft continued to be so advertised until the beginning of 1837, when Macrone (Mr. Dickens's publisher) fulled in business, and the advertisement was withdrawn; ‘while the story was laid side to be taken up and completed at a later day.

In this tale, Dickens inculeates the duty of tolerance, In his Preface he re- wwarks,—~

“It is unnecessary to say that those shameful tamults, while they reflect indelible ‘Magrace span the time In which they occurred, and all who bad act or part In them, teach ‘agoed lesson. That what we falsely call a religious cry ts ensily raised by men who have ‘bo religion, and who in thelr dally practice set at nought the commonest principles of ‘Fight and wrong; that it ls begotten of Intolerance and persecution; that it ts senseless, besotted, inveterate, and unmerciful, i history teaches us: but perhaps we do not ‘now It In our hearts too well to profit by even eo humble and familiar am example as he * No Popery * riots of seventeen handred and eighty.”

‘The story was also meant to be an argument against capital punishment, of which tho author had an Intense abhorrenoo. Formerly, fn England, death was the ordinary punlshmont for every description of felony; and, although at the ‘present day It Is actually intilcted only in case of treason oF murder, until towards the close of the reign of George IIT, the criminal code, with almost Draconian ‘Justice, prescribed or Implied that penalty for more than & hundred and sixty

ifunses, rrany of them of a comparatively venial character. 105

196 Ede Dickens Wictlonarp.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Akerman, Mr. Head jailer at Newgate. (Ch. Ixiv, lexvi ) |

Black Lion, The. Landlord of a Lindon inn of the same aame; so called because he had instructed the artist who painted bis sign to convey into the features of the lordly brate whose effigy it bore, as near a counterpart of his own face as his skill could com pass and devise, He is such a swigger of beer, that most of his faculties have been utterly drowned and washed away, except the ‘one great faculty of sleep, which he retains in surprising perfection. (Ch. xxi.)

Chester, Mr., afterwards Sir John. An clegant and punctili- ously polite, but thoroughly heartless and unprincipled gentleman ; intended as a portrait of Lord Chesterfield (Philip Dormer Stan- hope), who was equally celebrated for his polished grace of man- ner, his loose morality, and his love of intrigue. Mr. Chester at- tempts, but unsuccessfully, to break off the match between his son Edward and Miss Emma Haredale, both because the girl is poor, and because he is bent on an alliance which will add to his own wealth and importance. (Ch. x-xii, xiv, xv, xxiii, xxiv, xxvi- rrey), Hue.

Chester, Edward. His son; in love with and finally married to Miss Emma Haredale. (Ch. i, ii, y, vi, xiv, xv, xix, xxix, xxii, Ixvii, Ixxi, Lxxii, Lexix, Ixxxii.)

Cobb, Tom. General chandler and post-ofllee keeper; a crony of old Willet’s, and a frequent visitor at the Maypole Inn. (Ch. i, xxx, xxxill, liv.)

Conway, General. A member of parliament, and an opponent of Lord George Gordon. [Not a fictitious character.] (Ch. xhx.)

Daisy, Solomon, Parish clerk and bell-ringer of Chigwell; « little man, with litdle round, black, shining eyes like beads, and studded all down his rusty black coat, and bis long flapped waist- coat, with queer little buttons, like nothing except his eyes, but se like thom, that he seems all eyes from head to foot. (Ch. i-iii, xt xxx, xxxili, liv, lv.)

Dennis, Ned. Ringleader of the Gordon rioters. slaving fow

Barnaby Rudge. 197

meny been a hangman, and therefore entertaining « profound re- pect for the Inw, he desires that every thing should be done in a constitutional way. Yet, as an adept in the art of “ working peo- ple off,” he thinks it the better and neater method to hang every- body who stands in the way of the rioters; and he is frequently dis- gusted by the refusal of his fellow-insurgents to adopt his sugges tion, When the riot is at last suppressed, and Dennis is arrested, and condemned to death, he suddenly discovers that the satisfaction which he has experienced for so many years in executing the capi- tal sentence upon his fellow-mortals was, in all probability, not shared by the subjects of his skill; and he shrinks in the most ab- ject foar from his fate.

“No reprieve, no reprieve! Nobody comes near us. There's only the night Jeft now!” moaned Dennis filntly,as he wrung his bands. “Do you think theyll repriove me in the night, brother? I've known reprieves come in the night, afore now. L've known ‘em come ms late ax five, ax, and seven o'clock Inthe morning. Don’t you think there sn good chances yet; don’t you? Say youdo.- Say you do, young man,” whined the miserable creature, with an Line ploring gesture towards Barnaby, “ or I shall go mad!”

“Better be mad than sane here,” said Hugh. * Go mad)”

# Bat tell me what you think, Somebody tell me what he thinks!” orfed the wretahod object,—so mean and wretched and despicable, that even Pity's self might have turned away at sight of auch a belng in the likeness of a man. “Isn't there » chance for me? is n’t there a good chance for me? In n't it Uikely they may be doing this to frighten me? Don't you think it is? Ont” he almost alirieked as ho wrung his hands, “ won't anybody give me cornfort 2”

You onght to be the best, Instead of the worst,” suid Hugh, stopping before him. “Ha, ha, ha! Seo the hangman when it comos home to hira!”

You don’t know what it Is," cried Dennis, actually writhing as he spoke: “Ido, That I should come to be worked offt— I, 1,—that {should come!”

“And why not?" said Hugh, as he thruat back his matted hair to get a bet- ter view of his lato associate. * How often, before 1 kuew your trade, did Wear you talking of this as if {t was a treat!”

“TF aln’t unconsistent!" screamed the miserable creature. “I'd talk #0 again, if Iwas hangman. Some other man has got my old opinions at this minute. ‘That makes It worse. Somebody %s longing to work ie off, I know by myrelf that vomebody must bo.”

*+ He 1 soon have his longing, that, and be quiet.”

(Gh. xxxvi-xl, xliv, xlix, 1, lif-liv, lix, Ix, Ixiii-lxv, Isix-Ixxd, Ixsiv-Ixxvii.) Gashford, Mr. Lord George Gordon's secretary; a tall, bony, high-shouldered, and angular man.

‘His dross, in imitation of his superior, was demure and staid in the extreme; Ma manner formal and constrained, ‘This gentleman had an overhanging brow, srest hands and feet and care. and a vair of eyes ‘hat seemed to have made as

te

aid Hugh, resuming his walk. " Think of

198 Ebe Michens Mictlonarp,

‘unnatural rotreat Into his bend, and to have dug themselves a otve to hide 1a, ‘His manner was amooth and humble, but very ly and alloking. He wore the ‘aspect of a man that was always tying In walt for something that wouldn 't come ‘to pass; but he looked patient (very patient), and fuwned like » spaniel dog.

(Ch. xxxv-xxxviii, xliii, xliv, xlviii-y, Ii, lili, Lext, Ixxxii.)

Gilbert, Mark. One of the “Prentice Knights, or United Ball- Dogs,” a secret society formed by the apprentices of London for the purpose of resisting the tyranny of thelr master. On the occasion of Mark’s admission to this onganization, he is thus described : —

“Age nineteen, Bound to Thomas Carson, hoster, Golden Fieees, Aldgate, Loves Curson’s daughter. Cannot say that Curzon's daughteg lores ‘him. Should think it probable, Curzon pulled his ears last Tucsday w

(Ch. viii, xxix.)

Gordon, Colonel, Member of parliament, and an opponent of his kinsman Lord George Gordon. (Ch. xlix.)

Gordon, Lord George, Third son of Cosmo George, third duke of Gordon; born Sept. 19, 1750; noted as the chief instigator of the Protestant or “No Popery" riots, which took place in London in 1780, and were a resalt of the passage of a bill by par liament relieving Roman Catholics from certain disabilities and penalties. In these riots (which lasted for several days) many Roman-Catholic churches were destroyed, as were also Newgate Prison, the residence of Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, and numer- ‘ous other private dwellings. Lord George was arrested on acharge of high treason, and was committed to the Tower; but, the offence not having been proved, he was acquitted, He died Nov. 1, 1793. Dickens's descriptions of this misguided man, and of the dreadful scenes in which he was the chief actor, are not only graphie and vigorous, but faithful to the facts of history. (Ch. xxxv-xxxvil, xlili, xlvill-, Ili, Lxxili, Ixxxii.)

Green, Tom. A soldier. (Ch. Iviii-)

Grip. A raven; the constant companion of Barnaby Rudge; avery Imowing bird, supposed to be a hundred and twenty years old, or thereabouts.

‘The widow triod to make tight of Barnaby’s remark, and endeavored to divert ds attention to some new subject, —too ensy a task at all times, as «he knew, His supper done, Barnaby, regardless of her entreaties, stretched himselfou the mat before the fire (Grip perched upon his leg), and divided his thne between dozing in the grateful warmth, and endeavoring (as it presently appeared) ta recall a new accomplishment he had been atadying all day.

A Jong and profound silence ensued, broken only by ome change of poritlon ‘an the part of Barnaby, whose eyes were still wide open, and uten‘ly fixed upow

Barnaby Ruvge. 199

‘the fire, or by an effort of recollection on the part of Grip, who would ory in @ Jow volce from time to time, * Polly, put the ket” — and there stop short, forget ting the remainder, and go off in a doze again.

After a long interval, Barnaby's breathing grew more deep and regutar, and his eyes were closed. But even then the unquiet «pirit of tho raven interposed. Polly, put tho ket,” — cried Grip; and his master was broad awake agsin.

Atlength he slept soundly; and the bird, with his bill sunk upon his breast, ‘Wis breast itself puffed out into a comfortable alderman-tike fort, and his bright ‘eye growing smaller and smaller, really seemed to be subsiding Into m staty of ‘repose. Now and then he muttered in asepulchral vo! kot? = ‘Wut very drowslly, and more Ike a drunken man th

‘The widow, scarcely venturing to breathe, rose from her seat, The man gilded from the closet, and extinguished the candle.

“—tle on,” cried Grip, suddenly struck with an idea, and vory much excited. “tle on, Hurrah! Yolly, put the ket-tle on: we all have tea. Yolly, putthe ket-tleon: we'll all havetea, Harrah, hurrah, harrah! I?m adevil, I'ma devit I'm a kettle on, Keop up your spirits. Never say die, Bow wow wow? I’m & devil, I'm a kettle, I’m o,—Polly, put the kettle on: we'll all have tea”

‘They stood rooted to the ground, as though It had been ® volce from the

grave. ‘But ren this failed to awaken the sleeper. He turned over towards the fire; ‘his arm foll to the ground; and hls head drooped heavily upon It,

(Ch. v, vi, x, xvil, xxv, xlv=xlvii, Ivii, Iviii, Ixvili, Lxxifi, lxxy- Ixxvil, Ixxix, Ixxxii.)

Gruoby, John. Servant to Lord George Gordon; » square-built,

strong-made, bull-necked fellow, of the true English breed, self hard-headed, and imperturbable. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvii, xxxriii, Ivii, xvi, Ixxxii.)

Haredale, Mr. Geoffrey. A country gentleman, burly in person, tera in disposition, rough and abrupt in manner, but thoroughly honest and unselfish. He resides at a mansion called “ The War- ron,” on the borders of Epping Forest, and not far from the May- pole Inn, Being a rigid Roman Catholic, he is made a special Object of vengeance by the Lord Gordon mob, He kills Sir John Chester in a duel, and thereupon quits England forever, ending his days in the seclusion of an Italian convent. (Ch. i, x-xii, xiv, xx, xxyexxrii, xxix, xxxiv, xlii, xliii, Ivi, Ixi, Ixvi, Levil, Lexi, Lexvi, lexix, Ixxxi, Lxxxii.)

faredale, Miss Emma. His riece; daughter of Mr. Reuben Harodale, who is mysteriously murdered. She is finally married to Faward Chester. (Ch. i, iv, xii-xy, xx, xxv, xxvii-xxix, xxxii, Tix, Ixx, Ixxi, Lxxix, Ixxxi.)

Hugh. A wild, athletic, gypsy-like young fellow, with something Gerve and sullen in his featares. Ho is at first a hostler at the

—

200. The Michens Mictlonarp.

Maypole Inn, and afterwards a leader in the Gordon riots. Ha turns out to be a natural son of Sir John Chester, who, when urged to save him from the gallows, treats the appeal with the utmost sang froid, and permits }.im to be executed, without making the least effort in his behalf. (Ch. x-xii, xx, xxii, xxiii, xxviii, xxix, xxxiv, xxxy, xxxvii-xl, xliv, xlviii-l, lii-liv, lix, Ix, Ixiii-lxv, Ixvii-Ixix, Ixxiy, Ixxvi-Ixxviii.)

“Hugh is anodle conception, Mis tleree exultation An bis animal powors, bis sabe serviency to the smooth Chester, his mirthful contempt and patronage of Tappertit,

‘und his Prutal yet drm courage in the hour of death, form a pietare to beset in diae monde" —£. A. Poe.

Langdale, Mr. A vintner and distiller; a portly, purple-fuced, and choleric old gentleman. (Ch. xiii, Lxi, Levi, Ixvii, Lxxxi.) Miggs, Miss. The single domestic servant of Mrs, Varden.

‘This Miggs was a tall young lady, very mach addicted to pattens in private Ifo; slender and shrewish, of a rathor uncomfortable gure, and, though not absolutely iihlooking, of a wharp and noid visage, As m gonerat principle aad abstract proposition, Migge held the male sex to be utterly contemptible, and unworthy of notice ; to be Hoke, false, base, sottish, inclined to perjury, aud wholly undeserving. ‘When particularly exasperated ngninst them. (which, ‘scandal an{d, was when Sim Tappertit slighted her most), she was accustomed to wah, with grent emphasis, that tho whole race of women could bat die off fn ‘order that the mon might bo brought to know the real value of the blessings by which they set so little store: nay, her feeling for her order ran so high, that ae, sometimes declared, if she could only have good security for a falr round mum ber—say ten thousand—of young virgins following her example, she would, to spite mankind, hang, drown, stab, or poison herself with a joy past all ex- pression,

When the Gordon riot breaks out, she forsakes her old master and mistress to follow and watch over Mr. Sim ‘Tappertit. After the dispersion of the rioters, Miss Miggs returns to Mr. Varden’s house, quite as a matter of course, expecting to be re-instated in her old situation. But Mrs. Varden, who is at first amazed at her audacity, orders her to leave the house instanter; whereupon the young lady relieves her mind after this wise: —

“I'm quite delighted, I ’m sure, to find sich independency; feeling sorry. though, at the same time, mim, that you should have been forced into submissions whes you couldn't help yourself, He, ho, he! It mast bo great yexations, ‘ape cially considering how ill you always spoke of Mr, Joe, to have him for a son-in-law at last; and E wonder Miss Dolly can put up with him, either, after being off and ‘on for so many yeurs with a coachmaker. But I have hoord ¢ay that tho couche maker thought twice about it, —e, he, he !—=and that he told s young mamas was friend of bis, that he hoped he knowed better than to be drawed Into thet ‘though she and all the family déd putl uncommon strong."

Hero she paused for a reply, and, receiving none, went on as befores—

“Thave heerd say, mii, that the illnesses of some ladies was all pretensions

‘

(

Darnady Rudge. 200

‘evi that they could faint away stonc-dead whenever they had the inclinations sotodo. Of course, I never seo sich cases with my own eyes: ho, nol—he, Jie, ho!—nor master, neither: ho, nol He, he, he! I have heerd the neighbors make remark as some onoas they was acquainted with was a poor gvod-natur’d, mmcan-spirited creetur a4 went out fishing for u wifo one day, aud caught » Tar- tar. Of course, I never, to my knowledge, ree the poor person himself; nor did you, neither, mim: ho,no! Twonder whoitean be; don't you, mim? Nodoubs youdo,mim. Ho, yes! He,he, tei”

Cast upon a thankless, undeserving world, and baffled in all hor schemes, matrimonial and otherwise, Miss Miggs turns sharper and sourer than ever. Tt happens, however, that, just at this time, a female turnkey js wanted for the county Bridewell, and a day apd hour is appointed for the inspection of candidates. Miss Mizgs attends, and is instantly chosen from a hundred and twenty-four competitors, and installed in office, which she holds till her decease, more than thirty years afterwards. (Ch. vii, ix, xiii, xviii, xix, xxii, xxvii, xxxi, xxxvi, xxxix, xli, li, xiii, Lex, Lexi, Ixxx, lxxxii.)

“That mircle of mingled weakness prudery, and malice,—the Incomparable Mise ‘Migs. She te an elderly maiden, who, hy some strange noglect on the part of mankind, ‘has been allowed fo remain unmarried. This neglect might tn some amall degree be ac- ‘counted for by the fact that her person and disposition came within the range of Me. ‘Tappartit’s epithet of “acraggy." She had various ways of wreaking her hatred upon ‘the olber sex, the most crue) of which was In often honoring them with ber company end divcouree, . . . Whon she watches at the window for the return of Sim Tappertit, ‘With the Intention of betraying him, is described as’ having an expression of fice in which a great number of opposite Ingredients, such as mischief, cunning, malice, tk Jumph, and paticnt expectation, were all mixed up together Ina kind of physlognomical punch ¢* and as composing herself to wait and listen ‘Like some fair ogress who bas sat ‘trap, and was waiting for a nibble from a plump young traveller.’ Dickens, in thiy aharacter, woll represents bow such seemingly Insignificant malignants as Miss Miggs tam become the pest of families, and that, though full of weakness and maltgnity, they san be proud of thelr virtue and religion, and mako slander the prominent element of their ploux conversation." — £. P. Whipple.

Parkes, Phil. A ranger who frequents the Maypole Inn; a tall mar, ‘Very taciturn, and a profound smoker. (Ch. i, xi, xxx, xxxiii,

Peak. Sir John Chester's valet. (Ch. xxiii, xxiv, xxxii, lxxy, Ixxxii.)

Recruiting Sergeant, The. A military officer in whose regi- tment Joc Willet enlists. (Ch. xxxi.)

Rudge, Barnaby. A fantastic youth, half-crazed, halfidiotic Wandering listlessly about at the time of the Gordon riot, he overtaken by the mob, and eagerly joins them in their work of de= struction, His strength and agility make him a valuable auxiliary; and he continues fighting, until ho is at last overpowered, arrested, and condemned todeath. “ Aha, Hugh!" says he to his companion on the eve of their execution, “we shall know what makes the

Sars shine now." A pardon is finally procured for him by Mr

202 The Dickens Mictfonary,

Varden. (Ch. ili-vi, x=xii, xvii, xxv, xvi, xlv-l, 1ii, lili, Ivil, Iviil, Ix, Lei, Lev, Leviii, Lxix, Lexiii, Lexv-Ixxvii, Lexix, Lxxxii.)

“ Thore never wes an \dlot so bountifully endowed with practical wixdom and herole ‘tourago, with such fine feelings and such fidelity, aa* Baraaby;* but then one does not Judge bis by ordinary rules... . Tt ix interovting to contrast with the realistioorimnale ‘whom Mr. Dickens depicted In later times the eriminal of the romance, the melodra- ‘mati¢ Rudge, forever haunted by bis Imagination, — preciesly as we are told by persons ‘familiar with them murderers are nof haunted, —leading @ self-tortured life for years, ‘and then impelled to visit the #eene of his crimes at whlcb ideal of a’ radian who had ‘ercapad detection hy a vory clover ruse modern experience would amile. Mat we do ot smile: the story Is too much for asy It ls too powerful to bo rosisted, though :¢ te Gflerly untruo; therefore we regard It as one of the finest romances ever written.” — Dudtin Review, vol. OX.

Rudge, Mrs. Mother of Bamaby. (Ch. iv-vi, xvi, xvii, xxv, xxvi, xli, xlv-l, Ivii, Ixii, bxix, Isxiil, Ixxvi, Ixxix, Lexxii.)

Rudge, Mr. Father of Barnaby, and a former steward of Reuben Haredale’s. One morning in the year 1788, Mr. Haredale is found murdered, and the steward is missing. Afterwards » body is dis- covered, which is supposed to be that of Rudge; but it is so dis- figured as not to be recognizable. After the lapse of many years, itis proved that Rudge was the real murderer, and that the body which was taken to be his was really that of another of bis vic- tims. He is finally captured and executed. (Ch. i-ili, y, vi, xvi- xviii, xxiii, xlv, xlvi, lv, lvi, lxi, xii, lxv, Ixviii, Ixix, xxiii, Ixxvi.)

Btagg. A blind man; proprietor of a drinking-cellar and skittle ground. (Ch. viii, xviii, xly, xlvi, Lxif, Ixix.)

Tappertit, Simon. Apprentice to Mr. Gabriel Varden, and a sworn enemy to Joe Willet, who has rivalled him in the affections of his master's daughter Dolly.

Sim . . . was an old-fashioned, thin-faced, sleek-halred, sharp-nosed, smal eyed little fellow, very little more than flve feet high, and thoroughly convinced fn his own mind that he was above tho middle size, —rather tall, in fact, than otherwise. Of his figure, which was well enough formed, though somewhat of

he leanest, he entertained the highest ndmlration; and with his legs, which, a knee breeches, were perfect curiosities of Littleness, he was enraptured to # ogree amounting to enthusiasm. ... Add to this that he was fn yeare Just tweaty, In his looks much older, and in conoelt at tenst two hundred; that he had no objection to be jested with touching his admiration of iy master’s daughter; and had even, when called upon at a certain obscure tavern to pledge the Indy whom he bad honored with his luve, tousted with many winks nd leers a fair creature, whose Christian name, he sald, began with « D [Dolly Varden),

Mr. Tappertit is captain of the “ Prentice Knights” (afterwards called the * United Bull-Dogs”), whose objects were vengeance o#

Barnaby Rudge, 203

their tyrant masters (of whose grievous and insupportable oppres- sion no ’prentice could entertain a moment's doubt), and the res- toration of their ancient rights and holidays. He takes a leading part in the Lord George Gordon riots, but finally receives a gun- thot wound in his body, and has his precious legs crushed into shapeless ugliness. After being removed from a hospital to prison, ‘and thence to his place of trial, he is discharged, by proclamation, ‘on two wooden legs. By the advice and aid of his old master, to whom he applies for assistance, he is established in business as a shoe-black, and quickly secures a great run of custom: so that he thinks himself justified in taking to wife the widow of an eminent ‘bone and rag collector. (Ch. iv, vii-ix, xviii, xix, xxii, xxlv, xxvil, xxxi, xxxvi, xxxix, xIvili-lil, lix, 1x, Lxii, Lxx, Ixxi, Ixxxii.)

Varden, Dolly. A bright, fresh, coquettish girl, the very imper- sonation of good-humor and blooming beauty. She is finally mar- Tied to Joe Willet. (Ch. iv, xiii, xix-xxii, xxvii, xxxi, lix, lxx, Ixxi.)

Varden, Gabriel. A frank, hearty, honest old locksmith, at charity with all mankind; father to Dolly Varden. (Ch. Si-vii, xiii, xiv, xix, xxi, xxii, xxvi, xxvii, xli, xlii, li, Lxiii, Lxiv, Lexi, Lxxil, Ixxiv-lxxvi, Ixxix, lxxx, lxxxii.)

Varden, Mra. Martha. His wife.

‘Mrs, Varden was a lady of what is commonly called an uncertatn temper, — a phrase, which, being interpreted, alguifies » temper folerably certain to make everybody more or less uncomfortable. ‘Thus it generally happened, that, when other people were merry, Mrs. Varden was dull; and that, when other people wore duil, Mrs, Varden was dispoved to be amazingly cheerful, Indeed, the worthy housewife was of such a capricious nature, that she not only st- tained a higher pitch of genius than Macbeth, in respect of her ability to be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, loyal and neutral. in an instant, bat would somotimes ring the changes backwards and forwards on all possible moods and fights in one short quarter of an hour; performing, as It were, a kind of triple ‘bob major on the peal of instruments in the female belfry, with @ skilfulness and rapidity of execution that astonished all who heard her.

It bad boen observed In this good lady (who did not want for personal at- tractions, being plump and buxom to look at, though, like her fair daughter, somewhat short In stature), that this uncertainty of disposition strengthened ‘sad Increased with hor temporal prosperity; and divers wise men and matrous ‘on friendly terms with the locksmith and his family even went #0 far as to as ‘ert, that a tumble down some halfdozen rounds in the world’s Indder— such as the breaking of the bank Sa which her husband kept hls money, or some It. tle fal of thar kind — would be the making of her, and could hardly fall to ren ‘dei her one of tho most agreeable companions in existence.

(Ch. iv, vii, xili, xix, xxi, xxii, xxvii, xxxvi, xli, sli, Ji, Lew, bexii, lxxx, lxxxii.)

204 She Wickens Dictlonarp.

Willet, John, Landlord of the Maypole Tnn at Chigwell; a burly, large-headed man, with a fat face, which betokened profound obstinacy and slowness of apprehension, combined with a very strong reliance upon his own merits.

‘The Maypole was an olf building with more gutleends than a lazy man would care to counton a sumuy day; hugo zigzag chimneys, out of which Jt seemed ns If smoke could not choose bat come in more than naturally fantastis shapes imparted to it in ite tortuous progress; anid vast atables, gloomy, rala- 2uta, aud empty. ‘The place was said to have been bailt in the days of King Monry the Bighth. ... Its windows wore old diamond-pane lattices; its floors ‘were sunken and uneven; Its colling blackened by the hand of time, and heavy with masaive beams. Over the doorway was an ancient porch qualntly and grotesquely carved; and hero, on summer eveatngs, the more favored customers smoked and drank, — ay, and sung many a good song too, sometimes, — repos ing on two grim-looking, high-backed settles, which, like the twin dragons of some fairy-tale, guanted the entrance to the mansfon. ... All bars are «nug places; but the Maypolo’s was the very enuggest, eosiest, and completest bar that ever the wit of nan devised. Sach amazing bottles in old oaken pigrou- holes! such sturdy little Dutch kegs, ranged in rows on shelves! so many lem- ons, hanging in separate nets, and formiug the fragrant grove already mentioned in this chronicle, suggestive, with goodly cans and snowy eagur stowed away hard by, of punch idealized beyond all mortal knowledge! such clozets! such presses! such places for putting thingy away in hollow window-seats!—alf crammed to the throat with eatables, drinkables, or sarory condiments; Inst Jy, and to crown all, as typical of the immense resourees of the establishment, and Its defiance to all visitors to ent and come again, auch a stupendous cheesot

(Ch. x-xiv, xix, xx, xxiv, xxix, xxx, xxxili-xxxv, liv-lvi, Ixxii, Lexviii, lxxxii.)

Old Willet ts not earpassed by any character, een among thove of Dicken fle Je natare Itself; yet a step farther would have placed him in the class of carieatures. ‘His combined concelt and obtusity are indosoribably droll; and his peculiar mite ‘directed enongy, when aroused, ls one of the moat eaquisite touches In all humorous painting." —£, 4. Poe,

Willet, Joo, Son of John Willet; a broad-shouldered, strapping young fellow, whom it pleases his futher still to consider a little boy, and to treat accordingly, After being bullied, badgered, wor- ried, fretted, and brow-beaten, until he can endure it no longer, Joe runs away and joins the army. At the time of the London riots, however, he turns up, and renders good service to his friends, notwithstanding the loss of an arm at the siege of Savannal:. The futher is only too glad to welcome him back; nover speaks of him to a stranger afterwards, without saying proudly, “ My son's arm was took off at the defence of the— Salwanners — in America, where the war is." Joe finally marries Dolly Varden, whom he has long loved. (Ch. i-iii, xiii, xiv, xix, xxi, xxii, xxx xxxi, xli, Iviii, Levi, Lexi, Ixxii, xxviii, Lexx, Lexxii.)

Barnaby Rudge 205

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

‘Cnarrex I. John Willet, andlor of the Maypole, and his guests, disctas the weathy Fs & euxplolous-looking stranger asks questions about the Warron, and Is waswored by Joe Willet; tho younger gacat ots oat to walk to London throagh the storm; Joe Willet te lectured for his forwantness by his father and his ¢riends: Solomon Daisy relatos the story of the munter of Mr. Rouben Haredate twenty-two years before,—I1. The enspictoam ooking stranger sets out for London, and rides furtously through the darkness; ho en ‘counters Gabriel Varden on the road; Gabriel goes tack to the Maypole.— ITT. Joe Wiles ‘rebels against his father's authority, and threatens to rum away; Gabriel advises him to think better of {ti going on to London, Gabriol te attracted by Ioud outeries, and finds Barnaby Radge standing over a bloody and apparently Ufeles body.—I¥. Mr. Varden's home descrited; Mr. Siinon Tappertit Is Introduced: Mr. Varden gives bis daughter an ecouut of his last night's adventure on tho road, and also his dificalty in nding Mise ‘Emma HMaredaloy Dolly's confusion on bearing of Jos Willets the Jealousy of Mr. Tap= [pertlts aroused. —'V. Venton goes to Mire. Rudge's to inquire about Mr. Edward Chester, ‘the young man whom he rescnedt he I wstonisted to find her reoelving # call from the ‘ruffian he cneountered on the road.— VI. She declines to make any explanation, but begw him to keep allonty Gabriel sees Mr. Edward Chester. who gives him an account of his adventure; and Vanden recognizes In hls aseallant tho same man he himanif met; Barnaby ‘nd his avon. —~ VET, Gabriel's reception by Dire. Varden and Migys on bis return home. —

‘Kojghts,"* where bo ts received by Sugg; tho” "Prentice Knights" admit anew member; ‘contdence betwen the captain und thenovice, TX, Miss Miggs witnesses Sim's exit from ‘the house, and receives him on his retarn.—X. Mr. John Cheater vikits the Maypole, and ‘nonds 4 note to Mr. Iaredale, requesting him to meet him there: Barnaby retarus with Mr. Haredale"sanswer.— XI. Speculations of Str. Willet’s customersin regant to tho meeting of ‘Mr. Chester and Mr, Haredale; Interviow between these gentlemen, in which they dixcass ‘the attachment of Mr. Edward Chester and Mise Emma Haredale, nnd agree, though on ‘different grounds, to oppove it. ~ XII. Surprise of John Willet at flading Me. Chester wntn- Jared. —XIIL Joe Wiilet sets out for London to pay hefather's rent; he goes to the Warren forany memago Miss Fins may havo for Edward Cheater: Joogoes to the Vantous’, where ‘Ube bouquet he had prepared for Dolly meotaan Inglorious Mito; Dolly goes toa party, and Too gous homo disappointed. — XIV. On the road home Joo is Jolned by Mr. Edward Chester: ‘Zdwari calls on Miss Haredate, nd ts dixmiaeed from the house by her unclo; finding bia ‘father st the Maypole, Edwand avolds meeting him, and returns to town, — XV, Intorview etween Mr. Jahn Chester and hison, whorcin he explains the poverty of their resources ‘and the neceslty of his son's forming # wealthy marriage.— XVI. Condition of London Streets at the timo of the story; appesrance among the outcasts of the rufflan who am sulted Mr. Chester: ho follows Mra. Rudge to her home, and galas admittance. — XVIL. ‘Terror of the widow lest he should be seen by her idiot aon; Barnaby tells hie mother of els wearch for the robber, who, concealed tn m closet, overhears thelr conversation: tho ‘huffian threatens her with a sure and slow rovenge, If she betrays him, and leaves her.— XVINL After wandering through the streets nearly oll night, he sees the departure of Sim, ‘Tappertit from the rendezvous of the ‘Prentices, and obtains sbeltor with Stags.— XIX. Hatwrand Chester calls at Mr, Varden's to request Dolly to be the bearer of w Lotter to Mise Baredale: Mr. Varden proposes to tako his wife and daughter to the Maypole, and how Mire. Varten recelvés the proposal they arrive at the Maypole; Dolly goes to the Warren, artylng Mr. Edward's letter.—XX. Leaving Mix tlaredale, on her return with theanewot be is mot by Mr, sredale, who questions her in regard to her errand, and proposes to het ‘Wdecome Sine Haredaie’s companion; returning to the Maypole, Dolly it assaulted by ugh, and reeoued by Joo Willet.— XXL. She discovers tho loss ef her bracelet and of ‘Aim Haredale's letters Hugh questions her about the man who ssaaulted her, secretly ‘warning ber not to betray him; the Vardens returning home, Joe accompanies them oa he way, snd thay are soon Joined by ugh —XXIE. Hugh rides back with Joe; Miger 8

206 Sbe Dickens Mlctlonacy Fi

‘sepeats Dolly"s adventure to Mr. Tappertit, wh» denounces Joy. — XXII. Hagh walts upon ‘Mr. Joln Chestor, and gives him Mis Haredale’s letter to his son, telling hin how he ‘obtained It; how Mr. Chester received It; and how he cautioned Flugh wbout robbing on he highway. —XXIV. Mr, Tappertit calls upon Mr. Chester, and compiains of the treat- iment he has recelved from bls son; recommends him to seo Mrs. Varden, and prevent Dolly's being a go-between for the lovers: and warns him against the character of Joo. — ZXXV. dra Madge and Barnaby go to Chigwell; she has an interview with Mr. Baredale, ‘and rejeets the assistance she bas received from him since her husband's murder, for rea ons which sho declines to give.—XXVI. Mr. Haredale tnforma Varden of the slngulat eonduct of Mrs. Rudge, and Mr. Varden gives him an account of bis sdventare with the ruffian, and of 3tre Rudge’s conduct towards him; they go to Mrs, Rudge's house together, ‘and And Mr. John Chester there alone, who informs them of the disappearance of the ‘widow and hor son, but cannot toll where they have gone.— XXVIL. Mr. Cheater leaves ‘them, and calls upon Mra. Varden; he makes insinuations against the character of bis 10m, ‘And roquests Mrs. Varden's influence in breaking off the engagement between Kaward and ‘Miss Haredale.— XXVIUL Mr. Chester dnds Hugh asleep on the stairways Hugh gives him & lottor from Dolly Varden to Miss Maredale, which Mz. Chester recelves with less pleasure than Hugh expecta — XXIX, Mr. Chester goes to Chigwell again, and stopratthe ‘Maypolos Hugh shows bis actirity 1 Joo Wiliet upon his“ patrole; * Mr. Cheater encoun- ters Mina Haredale, and endeavors to poison her mind against Edward; they arelnterrupted oy Mr. Maredale,— XXX. Joo rebels againat his father's authority, punishes ‘Tom Cobb for interfering, and escapes from the house. — XXXL. Ho mects a recrulting-sergoants Joe ‘sccks ai interriew with Dolly Varden, who seomé indifferent to hii, and he enlists, — XXXII. Mr. Chester and his aon haye an interview, in which Edward gives his father ‘offence, nnd Ix diamissod from his root with hls ourse.— XXXIUK. After an interral of five rears. John Willet and bis friends are sitting again tn the pablic room of the Maypale, & sovere storm mging without; sudden entrance of Solomon Dalsy in grout fright ho Te ates what he as Jost heard and soon at the church, —XXXIV. Mr. Willet resolves te ‘eommunteate to Mr, Huredale what Daisy has witnessed, and summous Hagh to accompany ‘dm to the Warruny Mr. Willet’s story bas # marked effoct on Mr. Maredale.—XXXV. Ie turning home, Mr, Willet cueounters Lord George Gorton and his attendants, who go to tho Maypole to apend the night; interview betwoen Lord George Gordon and hisanoretary ¢ van Grueby expreses his disgust at his lord's proceedings. XXXVI. Lord George nd hip secretary in council consider the accemions to thelr cause In men snd means; Guxhford sowing seed. — XXXVIL Lord George Gordon's cause and ite progres; Lord George and Ihis artendants Journay to London; Intorwew between Gashford and Donnis, in which ‘Dennis shows his desire for active work tn the No-Popery cause. —XXXVIIL Hugh pre ‘sents himself, bringing one of the handbilis dropped by Gashford, and Ix enrolled 4n ste Great Mrotestant Amsoclation; Hagh and Dennis take a look at the houses of parliament, ‘and then repair to the Boot. —XXXIX, Mr, Tappertit bestows his patronage upon Hugh, ‘and reminds him of former timer; Dennis gives his companion tome particulars of bis Arade, without exposing himself,— XL Hugh makes a call ut Sir John Chester'ss how Si Joho obtained hia titles Hugh informs Sir John that he has Joined the Protestant Aspocine ‘Won, and made the acquaintance of Dennis; Sir Jotm's underhand plotting. XLT Mr, ‘Varden defends himself for jolning the Voluatecrs; Dolly questions hor futher about Mr, ‘Harodale's abscnce from home; Dolly"s agitation at her father’s wontion of Joo Willet XLI. Mr. Haredale moots the locksmith, and Informa him that ho intends to pase the night In watching at Mrs. Rudgo's old home: and Mr, Varden leaves him there, —XLUL Mow Mr. Haredale kept his watch; Mr. Haredale encounters Sir John Chester and Gaahe fond in Wostruinster Hall; Lord George Gordon johus them, and Sir John introduces Mr, Haredalo ax m Paplat; Mr. Maredale, assaulted by the crowd, retallates upon Gasbford, tad 1s rescued frum the revenge of the mob by Jolin Grueby.—XLIV. Gashfurd jolus ‘Dennis and Hugh, aad incites them to puniih Haredale. —XLV, Mra Ikudge and Barnaby, 1 tho quiet village home they had secured, are saluted by a blind waytarer; ho proves te }+ Stagg. and theagent of the radian from whom tho widow hr fied, in whose name be Aermands twenty pounds. — XLVI. Stagg excites in Barnaby a wealro to seo the world; the ‘widow slvos Stagg hor lislo hoand, and early In the morning leaves her home with Barna W to Lose theusselyos ta the crowds of London, —XLVLL. Harats treatment of the widow

Barnaby Burg 207

and her son by a “fine old country gentioman.""—~XLVITT. The travellers arrive at West ‘minster Bridgo Jast as the crowd of Lord Gonton’y adherents are passing over to the city + Barnaby ts enticed to Join them by Lora George himself: he Is recognized by Hagh, ana drawn into the ranks. —XLIX, The erowd of Lard Georse Gordon's followers meet at the Douse of commons; they rv confronted by General Conway and Colonel Gordon; the mod are opposed by the military, and Barnaby strikea down a soldier with hin flagetaff, —~ 4. Gashfort finds Dennis and Mugh at tho Boot, and puts them up to greater acta of vie Tenet. —LL Mr. Tappertit retarns home, boasting of the part he has taken 10 the disturb ance of the day, gives Mrs Vanten « “protection ™ from Lord George Gordon, and escapen from Mr. Vanden, who attompts to detain him; Gabriel destroys hile wifo's colloction-bax, and the *proteotion."*—LIL. Hugh and Sim Tappertit plan an expedition agalest Mr. ‘Harodale's house; the rioters derpoll churches and dwellings, and make bonfires of the plunder. LIK Gashford informs Hugh of the reward offered for he ringleaders of the mols; the rioters set out on thelr expedition to Chigwell. —LIV. Mr. Willot gives the “evidence of his venses"* against the reports of the London riots: bis cronies start for ‘London to ses for themselvex; the mob visit the Maypole, dospoll the house, bind oldJobn to bis chair, and hasten on to the Warren, LY. After the departure of the mob, a man comes to the tnn, and Is questioning Willet, when be is startled by the ringing of the bell atthe Warren; the mob destroy Mr. Haredale's house, and disperse. — LVI. The Maypole ‘eronies.on the way to London, meet Mr. Uaredalo on horseback, who takes Dalsy up behind ‘him, end hurries on to Chigwell: they find Mr. Willet bound as the mob left him; he fnforms Mr. Haredalo of the call ho: has rocolved from “a dead many" Mr, Iaredal

Dastens on to the rulas of his house, follows a shadowy form up the towerstatrs, and Krap= los with Rodge, the munlerer of his brother. —LVIT. amahy,on guard st the Boot, is ‘Visited by Lord Gordon and his servant; Gruchy excites the anger of Lont George by ealle Sug Damady mad; s company of soldiers surround the Woot, and Barnaby is taken Prinoner.—LVILL. Barnaby notices a one-armed ian among his guard; Barnaby 4¢ come mitted to Newgate, —LIX. Sim Tappertit, Dennls, and Hugh, having dispersed the rioters, conrey Emma Haredite and Dolly Varden in « carriage to Landon, whore they consine ‘them in. miserable cottage, and warn them against any disturbance. — LX. Retarning to ‘the Hoot, Tagh and his companions find \t tn posscssion of the soldiers. and repair to the Vieet Market: « one-armed man brings news of the arrest of Barnaby. —LXI. Mr. Hare ale haatens to London with his prisoner, and applies to the lord-mayor for bie committal; mecting with no success, he obtains a warrant from Sir Jobn Fielding, and sees the muir Serer confined tn Newgate, —LX11. Stagg visite Kadgo In prison, who relates to him the ‘particulars of his crime; Stagg forms a plan for releasing him: the father and son meet in ‘the prison, —LXIIT. The rioters, carrying out thelr designs on Newgate, ropatr to Gabriel Vandet's; he refuses to comply with thelr demand that he shall pick the prison lock; Sim ‘Tappertit ordors Miggs to bo released, and sonds her to Join Xmme and Dolly.—LXIV. ‘Varden refuses the demands of the mob in froat of Newgate, and ts rescued from thelr fury by tho one-armed man snd another, and conveyed away through tho crowd; the ‘Hoters burn down the Jail-door, and gain entrance to the tnterior.~ LXV. Radge and Barnaby are released dy the mob; Dennis viaits the criminals condemned to be hungt Mugh releases theso criminals against the remonstrances of Dennis. —LXVI. Mr, Haredale ‘sceks his niece without avail: fearing the release of the murderer, ho goes to Newga

but ls met by Mr. Langdale, who conveys him, in an exhausted condition,to his homes Progress of the rlot.—LXXIL. The rioters, led ty Hagh, attack the houso of Mr. Langdaley ‘Langdale and Mr, Haredalo, oseaping by secret passage, are mot by Ldward Chester anG Toe Willet, who, disguised as rioters, have found this means of resouing them: Joo Wiles [proves to be the one-armed man.—LXVIII. Uarnaby and his fathor eacape to Clerkenwell, (and find shelter in a poor shed; Barnaby rejoins the rioters on Holborn Hill Just as Hugh weatruck down by Edvard Chester, rescues Hugh, and carries him to the place where Maidice ta concealed. —LXIX. Barnaby goes in search of Stage, with whom he returns: ‘Dennls Joins them, nnd, at « xignal from him, a body of soldiers advance, and arrest all but Stig, who Is shot In attempting to escape. —LXX. Dennis goes to the house where Bama ‘400 Dolly sre confined, Miggs informs him that Miss Haredale is to be removed the next ‘aight; and he {mparts his scheme for disposing of Dolly.—LXXI. Gashfurd attempts to {aduce Emma to trust in hilt, and go with him, whon Mr. Haredale and his friends onter,

208 Ede Wickens Wictlouary.

reseue the captives, and all repalr to the Black Lion.—LXXII. Mr. Willet makes up hie ‘mind that Joo's arn hasbeen took off" Interelew between Dolly and Joe—LXXELE, Dispersion of the rioters; interview between Itarnaby and hie mother in bit dungeons Mrs. Rudge makes a vain wttempt vo move her husband torepentance. —LXXIV. Deonia's terror of Hagh on being confined in the same cell with kim: Hugh tells Dennis of bts mother’s fate, —LXXV, Gabriel Varden calls upon Sir Job Chester, informs hin thas be bellowes Hugh to be bla non, and besa Sir Jobn to see bil, and atterupt to rouse tn hire & ‘sense of his guilt: Ste John’s callousness. —LXXVL The exeeation of Budge: agouy of ‘Devinis at hla pppreaching fate. —LXXV1I. Iugh and Dennis are led out to execution, ang Hugh pleads for Banuaby. —LXXVIIL Dolly sceks ous Soo Willet, and declares her affec~ tion for him. —LXXUX, Mr. Haredate and Kaward Chester meet at Mr. Vanten's house; Mr. Haredale now approves of Eawant"s attachment to his niece, and blesses thelr uniont Galsiel Is bronght home # triumph by the crowd, accompanied hy Harnaby, for whom they havo obtained a pardon, —LXXX. Happiness of the locksmith and hisfamily: Mlgee recelves her discharge from Mra. Varden Mr. Haredalo visits the ruins of tho Warren, where he encounters Sit John Chester, with whom he has an altercation, ending In &duek ta which Bir John te killed, ~LXXXI, Subsequent career of the principal characters,

A Christmas Carol.

TY rose.

BEING A GHOST-STORY OF CHRISTMAS.

‘Tuts work was “printed and published for the suthor by Messrs. Bradbury and Evuns,in December, 1643, in one volume, I2mo, with four colored etchings on steel by John Leech,” In the Protos to the edition of the Christmas books pub- Uished in 1850, Mr, Dickens snid of this, as well as of the others, “My purpose ‘was, in a whimsical kind of mask, which the good humor of the #eason Justified, to awaken some loving and forbearing thoughts, never out of season in a Christian land.” Lord Jefrey wrote to the author respecting the present tale, “You may be sure you have done more good, and not only fastened more kindly feelings, but Frompted more positive acts of benevolence, by this little publication, than ean be traced to all the pulpits and confessfonals since Christnas, 1842."

OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Belle. A comely matron, whom the Ghost of Christmas Past rhows to Scrooge, and in whom he recognizes an old sweetheart. (Stave ii.)

Varoline, Wile of one of Scrooge’s debtors, shown to him in & dream by the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. (Stave iv.)

Cratchit, Bob. Clerk to Scrooge. He works in a dismal little cell,—a sort of tank leading out of Scrooge’s counting-room (Stave i, iil, iv, v.) See Scrooge.

Lod

210 She Miekens Mietlonacy.

Cratchit, Mrs. His wife, (Stave iii, iv.)

Cratchit, Belinda. Their second daughter. (Stave ili, iv.)

Cratchit, Martha. Their eldest daughter. (Stave iii, iv.)

Cratchit, Master Peter. One of their sons. (Stave ili, iv.)

Cratchit, Tim, called Tory Tim. Their youngest son, a cripple (Stave iii) See Scnooax.

Dilber, Mrs, A laundress whom’ the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come shows to Scrooge. (Stave iv.)

Fan. A little girl, Scrooge’s sister (afterwards the mother of Fred, his nephew), whom the Ghost of Christmas Past shows to Scrooge in a dream. (Stave ii.)

Fezziwig, Mr. A kind-hearted, jolly old merchant to whom Scrooge was a ‘prentice when a young man, and whom the Ghost of Christmas Past brings before him in a vision when he has become an old man and a miser, (Stave li.)

Fezziwig, Mrs. His wife, “worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term.” At the ball which her husband gave to his work-people on Christmas Eve, and which the Ghost of Christmas Past shows to old Scrooge, “in came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast, sub- stantial smile.” (Stave ii.)

Fezziwigs, The three Miss, Their daughters, beaming and lovable, with six young followers, whose hearts they break. (Stave ii.)

Fred. Scrooge’s nephew. (Stave i, iii, v.)

Ghost of Christmas Past. A phantom that shows “ shadows of things that have been” in his past life. (Stave ii.)

Ghost of Christmas Present, A jolly spirit, glorious to see, of a kind, generous, hearty nature, who invisibly conducts old, Scrooge through various scenes on Christmas Eve, (Stave ili.)

Much and fur they went, and many homes they visited, but alwayy with happy end, ‘The spirit stood beslde sick-beds, and they were cbeerfils ‘on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty, and It was rich. In almshouse, hospital, nud Jail, tn mivery's orery refuge, where vain man, tu bls little briet authority, had not made fast the door, and barred the spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scrooge his precepts.

Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, An apparition which shows Scrooge “shadows of things that have not happened,” but which may happen in the time befors him. (Stave iv.)

Joe, A junk-dealer, and a receiver of stolen goods, shown to ole Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. (Stave tv.)

dl

BOB CRATCHIT AND TINY Trot

& Chetstmas Carol. on

‘Marley, The Ghost of Jacob. A spectre that visits Scrooge ou Christmas Eve, and was in lift his partner in business. (Stave i) See Scrooor.

Berooge, Ebenezer. The hero of the “ Carel;” surviving part- ner of the firm of Scrooge and Marley.

‘Oht dat he was a tight-fisted hand at tho grindstone, Scrooge! —a squeezing, ‘wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching,

contained and solitary as an oyster. ‘The cold within him froze hls old fea

tures, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait, mado bis ‘eyes red, hin thin lips blue, and spoke out shrewdly In his grating voce. A frosty rime was on his head, and on bis eyebrows nnd his wiry ebin. He care ried his own low temperature always about with him: he toed his office in the dog-days, and did n't thaw it one degree at Christmas,

One Christmas Eve, after having declined in a very surly man- ner to accept an invitation to dinner the next day from his nephew Fred, and having reluctantly given his clerk, Bob Cratchit, permis- sion to be absent the whole day, Scrooge goes home to his lodg ings, where, brooding over a low fire, he is visited by the oe Old Marley, who has been dead seven years,

Scooge fell upon his knees, und clasped his bands before his fhce.

“Morey!” ho sald. “Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?”

“Man of the worldly mind!’ replied the ghost, “do you believe in me, or not?”

“1 do," ald Serooge. “I must, But why do spirits walk the earth? and ‘why do they come to me?”

“It Is required of every man,” the ghost returned, “thot the spirit within ‘Mm should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, Af that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death, It ts doomed to wander through the world,—oh, woe ls me!—and witness what it

‘cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned te happiness.”

Apts tmp rated wpe oe its chain, sud wrung ite ehadowy

rie om are ftiered? ald Groogs, trembling. “Tell me why.” “<Fwear the chain I forged in life," replied the ghost. “I made tt tink by Unk, and yard by yard: I gieded it on of my own free will, and of my own free ‘will [wore tt, Te its pattern strange to you?”

Serooge trembled more and more,

“Tenr mo!" eriod the ghost, “My tlme fs nearly gone. . . . T am here tow ‘aight to warn you that yon have yet a chance and hope of exeaptng my fave,— chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer."

“You were always a good friend to me,” said Scrooge. *Thank’ee!”

+ You will be haunted," resumed the ghost, “by threo apirita, .. . Rxpeet ‘the first to-morrow, when the bell tolls one.”

“Could n't I take "em all at once, and hav® it over, Jacob? hinted Scrooge. “ Expect the second on the next night nt the tame hour; the third upon the next night, when the last stroke of twelve ns ceased to vibrate. Look to see

212 Ede Wickens Wietfonary,

‘me no more; and look, that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between as!” ...

‘became sensible of confused noises in the alr, incoherent wounds of

and selfaccusatory.

Scrooge inmentation and regret, wailings Inexpressibly sorrowful ‘The spectre, after listening 2 moment, joined in the mournful dirge, and floated ‘out upon the bleak, dark night,

Being much in need of repose, whether from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigués of the day, or his glimpse of the invisible world, or the lateness of the hour, or from all combined, Scrooge goes straight to bed, without undressing, and falls asleep upon the instant. When he awakes, itis nearly one. Tho hour soon strikes; and, as the notes die away, the curtains of the bed are drawn aside, and a child stands before him. It is the Ghost of Christmas Past. The spirit bids him follow, and takes him to scenes long past. His childhood eomes back to him. His sister Fan is before him. His o!d master Fezziwig re-appears, and Dick Wilkins, the companion of his boyish days. It is Christmas time; and he and Dick and many are made happy by their master’s liberality. The scene changes, and Scrooge sees himself in the prime of lif. “His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years, but it had begun to wear the signs of avarice;” and a young girl stands beside him, and tells him that another idol, a golden one, has displaced her, and that she releases him. “May you be happy in the life you have chosen!” she says sorrowfully, and disappéars, “Spirit” says Scrooge, “show me no more; conduct me home.” But the ghost points again, and the wretched man sees a happy home, — husband and wife, and many children; and the matron is she whom he might have called his own. ‘The spirit vanishes, and Scrooge, exhausted and drowsy, throws himself upon the bed, and sinks into a heavy sleep. He awakes as the bell is upon the stroke of ones and the Ghost of Christmas Present is before him. Again he goos forth.

And perhaps it was the pleasure the good spirit had in showing off this power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty natare,and bis sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge’s clerk's; for there he went, and took Serooge with him, holding to his robe; and on the threshold of the door the spirit smiled, and topped to boss Bob Cratehit’s dwelling with the xprinklings of his torch. ‘Think of that! Hob had but fifteen “Bob” mweek himself; he poeketed on Saturdays but fiftecn copies of his Christian name: and yet the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house!

‘Then up rose Mrs. Cratehit, Cratehit’s wife, dressed out but poorly in a twice turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap, and make a goodly show for aixpence; and ehe laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Crrtchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Meter Cratchit plunged a fork inte the saucepan of potatoes, and, getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-eallar

Bob's private property, conferred upon his son and belr is honor of the day tate

ee

& Christmas Carol. 213

his mouth rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his tinen in the fashionable parks, And now two smaller Cratehits, boy and girl. came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known It for thelrown; and, basking in Inxurious thougtits of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced about the table, and exalted Master Voter Cratchit to the Skies} while he (not proud, although his collar near choked him’ blew the fire ‘until the slow potatoes, lubbllng up, knocked loudly at the saucepanlid to be let ‘out, and pooled,

“ What has ever got your precious father, then?” said Mrs. Cratehit, “And your brother Tiny Tim? And Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day by half an hour!"

Here ’s Martha, mother!” said a girl, appearing ws ahe spoke.

“Here ’s Martha, mother!” eried the two young Cratchits. “Hurrah. there's guch a goore, Martha!”

“Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!” sald ara. Cratebit, ‘Meving her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet for ber with ofl ious zeal.

“We # deal of work to finish ap last night,” replied the girl, "and had to dear away thls morning, mother!”

‘Well, never mind, so loug as you are come," sald Mrs, Cratchit, “Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm; Lord bless xe!”

“No, not There "« father coming,” eried the two young Cratehlts, who were everywhere at once. “ Ifide, Martha, hide!”

80 Martha hid herself; and in came little Bob the father, with at least three feet of comforter, exclustyn of the fringe, hanging down before him, and his thread- bare clothes darned up and brushed to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim! he bore a little eruteh, and hnd his limbs sup ported by wn iron frame,

“Why, wheres our Martha?” cried Bob Cratehit, looking round.

“Not coming!" said Mrs. Cratehit.

“Not coming!” nald Bob, with a xudden declension in his high spirits; for he had been Tim’s blood-horse all the way from church, and tnd come home rampant, “Not coming upon Christmas Day!

Martha did n’t Iike to see him disappotated, if it were only a joke: 10 she came out prematurely from bebind the closet-door, and ran into his arms ‘hile the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the waah-house, that he might hear the pudding singing In the copper.

* And how did little Tim behave?” naked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credality, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart’s content,

As good ag gold” «aid Bob,“ and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sit fing by Diinseif 40 much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. Ie told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was ‘cripple, and tt inight be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day who taade lamo beggars walk, and blind mon «ee.”

Bob's voice was tremulous when he toht them this, and trembled more when he sald that Tiny Tira was growing strong and hearty.

Wiswotire listle crutch was heard upon the floor; and back came Tiny Titn before smother word was spoken. escorted by his brother and aister to his stool beside the fire. And while Bob, turning up his cuffs. —as if, poor fellow! they were capable ‘af being made more ehabby,—compounded some hot mixture in a jug with pin ‘©ud lemous, and stirred it round and round, and put it on the hob toslmmer, Suse fer Peter and the two ubiquitous young Cratchlis went to feteh the goose, with chick they soon returned {a high procession,

24 Ebe Wickens Bictlonarp.

Such a bustle ensued, that you might bavo thought a goose the rarest of alt birds, —a feathered phenomenon, to which n black ewan was a matter of course, and, fu truth, tt was something very like ft In that house, Mra. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in w little waucepan) hisking hot; Muster Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; ‘Murtha dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the ¢wo young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting them= selves, and, mounting guard upon thelr posts, crammed spoons into their months, Jest they should alirick for goose before thelr tarn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was exid, It was succeeded by a breathlens pause, ‘as Mra. Cratehit, looking slowly all nlong the carving:kulfe, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing Insaed forth, one murmur of delight arovo all round the board; and even Tiny Tim, exelted by the two young Cratchits, best on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly erled, “ Hurrah 1

At Just the dinner was all done, the cloth wns cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire mado up. ‘The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, ap- ples and oranges were pat upon the table. and ashovelful of chestnuts on the fire. ‘Then all the Cratohit family drew round the hearth, In what Bob Cratchit called & circle, meaning half x one; and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display Of glass, —two tumblers and a custard-cup without a handle,

‘Those held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would hae done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestauts on the fire sputtered and cracked nolally. ‘Then Bob proposed :—

“A merry Christmas to us-all, my dears! God bless ust” Which all the family recehoed.

+ God bless us every one!” said Tiny Tim, the Inst of all.

Bob then proposes the health of Mr. Scrooge ; and although his wife does not relish the toast, yet, at the solicitation of her husband, she eonsents to drink it for her husband's sake and the day's.

Again the scene changes, and Scrooge finds himself in the bright gleaming house of his nephew, where a merry company are enjoying themselves, and are laughing at his surly refusal to join in their Christ- mas festivities.

‘The third and last spirit comes at the same hour, and introduces Itself as the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. It shows Scrooge a room in which a dead man is lying, and in which a motley crowd is joking and laughing, and casting lots for the very curtains surround ing the bed on which the body lies. The gpirit points to the head, covered by the thin sheet; but Scrooge has no power to pull it aside, and view the features. As they leave the room, howover, he beseeches the spirit to toll him what man it Is who lies there so friendless and uncared for. ‘The ghost does not answer, but conveys him hurriedly to a churchyard, neglected, overgrown with weeds, “ choked up with ‘oo much burying, fat with repleted appetite. A worthy place!* ‘The npirit stands among the graves, and points down to one; and

Mi Epcistmas Carol, 216

Scrooge beholds upon the-stone of the neglected grave his own name, —“ Ebenezer Scrooge,”

“Am Fthat man who lay upon the bed?” he erled upon his knees.

{The eplrit pointed from the grave to him, and back agala.

No, spirit!) Oh, no, not”

‘Tho fingor still was © Scrooge asks if there is no hope; if these sights are the shadows of what must, or what may come téhim? The kind hand tremblos and Serooge sees room for hope.

“Twill honor Christmas in my heart, and try co keep it all the year, Twill live dn the Paxt, the Present, and the Future, ‘The spirits of all three shall strive within me. Iwill not shut out the lessons they teach, Ob! tell me I may sponge away the writing ou this stone!” . .

Holding up his hands In a last prayer to have his fate reversed, he saw an

“alteration tn the phantom’s hood and dress, It shrunk, collapsed, and dwin- died down Into a bed-post.

‘Yes! and the bed-post was his own; the bed was his own; the room was bls own, — best and happiest of all, the time before him was his own to make ‘amends in!

And he does make amends most amply. The les#on of his dream is not forgotten. He instantly sends a prize turkey to the Cratchits, twice the size of Tiny Tim, and gives half a crown to the boy that goes and buys it for him. He surprises his nephew by dining with him, and the next day raises Bob Cratchit’s salary. In short, “he became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old eity, town, or borough in the good old world.”

Tiny Tim. See Crarcurr, Tim,

Topper, Mr. Onc of the guests at Fred’s Christmas dinner-party ; @ bachelor, who thinks himself a wretchod outcast because he has no wife, and consequently gots his eye upon one of Scrooge’s nisco's sisters. (Stave ii.)

Wilkins, Dick. A fellow 'proatice of Scrooge’s. (Stave ii.)

The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuz3lewit.

‘Twas novel was begun after Mr. Dickens’s return from his first visit to America In 1941-42, and was Issued in twenty monthly shilling parts, the first part making its appearance January 1, 1863, ‘The work was completed and published in one volume in 19M. It was illustrated with twenty etchings on steel by “Phiz™ (Hablot K. Browne), and was dedicated to Miss Burdett Coutts,

“My main object in this story,” says the author In his preface, wns to exhibit In a varinty of axpects the commonest of all the rices; to show how selfishness propagates itself, and to what a grim giant {t may grow from small begtuntngs." Another object was to call attention to the want of sunitary improvements in the neglected dwellings of the poor,” and to the system of ahip-hospitals aud the character of workbouse nurses.

Frosh from his travels in the United States, and with « vivid recollection of the people he had met and the places he had seen, and especially of what was most Hdlealous and most censurable in Amerloan life and manners, Mr, Dickens yleld- ed to the temptation of making his hero follow his footsteps, and pass through = varloty of experiences, —some trying, and some laughable, but all of them unneors- sury to the development of the main plot, and constituting a mere episode in the Mory, though, it must bo confessed, an exceedingly humorous end interesting ‘one. Of thls portion of the book Mr. Dickens says in his preface, that It “is ta no other respect a caricature than as it Is an exhibition, for the most part, of the fudicrous side of the American charncter,—of that side which is, from its ver nature, the most obtrusive, and the most IIkely to be seen by such travellers ax young Martin and Mark Tapley. At I have never, in writing fiction, had ang Aisposition to soften what 1s ridiculous or wrong at home, T hope (and believe that the good-humored people of the United States are not generally disposed te quarrel with me for carrylag the same usage abroad.” Our author's American readers did, however, quarrel with him very generally and very seriously, as they bad presionsly done for bia strictures on thelr social neages and political inatitations,

w his“ American Notes.” But, as Emerson says (in his essay on“ Behavior," ty 216

Martin Cpuzzlewlt. 217

“The ConJuct of Life™), “the lesson was not quite lost: It held bad manners up, #0 that the ehurls could see the deformity” On his second vislt to the United Btates, Mr. Dickens frankly and gracefully, and “ns an act of plain Justioe and honor," bore testimony (in his farewell epeceh at New York, April 18, 1868) to the astonlahing progress which had taken place in the country during the quarter of a ‘century that had elapsed since his first visit. Tt ism duty,” he sald, “with white ‘Thenceforth charge myself, not only here, but on every multable occasion whatso ‘ever and wheresoerer, to express my high and grateful sense of my second recep Hon In America, and to bear my honest testimony to the natfonal generosity ano mognanimity; also to declare how astounded I have been by the amazing changes that I have seen around me on every #lide,—changes moral, changes physical, changes in the amount of land subdued and peopled, changes tn the rise of vast new cities, changes in the growth of older cities almost out of recognition, changes in the graces and amenities of life, changes In the press, without whose advancement no advancement can be made anywhere. Nor am I, believe me, #0 ‘arrogant as to suppose, that, In five and twenty years, there have been no changes 4m me, and that f had nothing to learn, and no extreme Impressions to correct ‘when I was here first."

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Bailey, junior. The “boots” at Mrs. Todgers's “ Commercial Boarding-house ;" a small boy with a large red head, and no nose to speak of. He afterwards bocomes “Tiger” to Tigg Montague, and finally engages with Mr. Sweedloplipe in the barber-business. (Ch. viii, x, xi, xxvi-xxix, xxxviii, xli, xlii, xlix, lii.)

Bevan, Mr. A sensible, warm-hearted Massachusetts man, whom Martin Chuzzlewit mects at his boarding-house in New York, and who afterwards advances him money to enable him to return to England. (Ch. xvi, xvii, xxi, xxiii, xxxiy, xliii.)

Bib, Julius Washington Merryweather. An American gentleman in the lumber line; one of a committee that waits upon the Honorable Elijah Pogram. (Ch. xxxiv.)

Brick, Jefferson. The war :orrespondent of “The New-York Rowdy Journal." (Ch. xvi.) He is introduced by Colonel Diver, the editor of the newspaper, to Martin Chuzzlewit, who had at first supposed him to be the colonel’s son.

“My war correspondent, alr, Mr. Jefferson Brick!” ‘Martian could not help starting at this unexpected announcement aud the onsclousness of the irretrierabie mistake he had nearly made, »

218 Ede Dickens Bietfonarp.

Mr. Brick seomed pleased with the sensation he produced upon the stranger, and shook bands with him with an alr of patronage designed to reassure him, ‘snd to let him know that there was no oecasion to be frightened; for he (Brick) ‘would a't hurt him.

“You have heard of Jefferson Brick. T eq, sir," quoth the colonel with « ‘smile, “England has heard of Jefferson Brick. Europe has beard of Jeferso1, Brick. Let me seo. When did you leave England, alr?”

“Five weeks ago,” repented the colonel thoughtfully, as he took his seat upew: the table, and swung his legs. “Now, let mo axk you, str, which of Mr. Brick's ‘the most obnoxious to the Lritlsb parliament

“Upon my word," said Martin, “I7— —*

“T have reason to know, slr,” Interrupted the colonel, “ that the aristocratie clreles of your country quail before the name of Jefferson Brick. T should like to be informed, sir, from your lips, which of his sentiments has struck the dead- Mest blow" —

‘At the hundred heads of the Hydra of Corruption now grovelling in the ‘dust beneath the lance of Reason, and spouting up.to the walversal arch above ‘us ite sangulnary gore," eald Mr, Brick, puttlag on a little blue eloth cap with » ‘glazed front, and quoting his last article, ' ‘The Uibation of freedom, Brick,” hiated the colonel.

“Must wometimes bo quatfed in blood, colonel,” erled Brick. And when he sald blood," he gave the great palr of solssors a sharp snap, as if they sald hilood too, and were quite of hls oplaion.

‘This dota, they both looked at Martin, pausing for a reply.

“ Upon my life,” said Martin, who had by this time quite recovered his usual coolness, “I can’t give you any satisfactory information about it; forthe trath Ma, that 1” —

“Stop1” cried the colonel, glancing sternly st his war correspondent, and giving his head one shake after every sentence. “That you never heard of Jef- ferson Brick, #ir; thut you never rend Jefforson Brick, sir; that you never saw “The Rowdy Journal? sir; that you nover knew, sir, of its mighty influence upon the cabinets of Europe. Yes!”

«That '* what I was about to observe, certalnly,” sald Martin.

“ Keep cool, Jefferson," ald the colonel gravely, “Don’t bast! © you Buro- peans! Arter that let "shave a glass of wine!”

Brick, Mrs. Jefferson. His wife, and the mother of “two young Bricks.” She is taken by Martin Chuzzlewit for a “little gitl;” but he is put right by Colonel Diver, who informs him that she is a “matron.” (Ch. xvi, xvii.)

Buffum, Mr. Oscar. A member of a committee that waits upon the Honorable Elijah Pogram for the purpose of requesting the honor of his company “nt a little le-Veo” in the ladies’ ordinary at the National Hotel. (Ch. xxiv.)

Bullamy. A porter in the service of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinter ested Loan and Life Insurance Company. (Ch. xxvil, li.)

‘When he sat upon a seat erected for him in a corner of the office, with his glazed hat hanging on ® peg over his head, tt was impossible to doubt the re

Martin Chuyslevott. 219

/ mpoctability of the concern Tt went on doubling ttself with every square tneb ‘of hin red walsteoat, until, Ike the problem of the ualls in the barse’s shoes, the total became enormous. Teople had been known to apply to effect an insuranoe ‘on their lives for a thousand pounds, and, looking at him, to beg, before the form ‘of propoxal was filled up, that it might be made two. And yet he was not = giont. His coat was rather small than otherwise, ‘The whole charm was in his waistcoat. Respectability, competence, property in Bengal, or anywhere ele responsibility to any amount on the part of the company that employed him, — ‘wore all expressed in that one garment,

Choke, General Cyrus. An American militia general, whose acquaintance Martin Chuzzlewit makes in a railway car. He is a member of the Eden Land Corporation, belongs to the Watertoast Association of United Sympathizers, and, taken all in all, is “one of the most remarkablé men in the country." (Ch. xxi.)

Chollop, Major Hannibal. A man who calls upon Martin Chuzzlewit at Eden. (Ch, xxiii, xxiv.)

He was usually described by his friends {a the South and West as “a eplen- did sample of our na-tive raw material, slr,” and was much értoemed for his derotion to rational liberty, for the better propagation whereof he usually car ried a brace of revolving plstols in his coat-pocket, with seven barrels aplece. Me also carriod. amongst other trinkets a swordsttick, which he colied his “Ticker” and a great knife, which (for he was a man of a pleasant tarn of hunior) he called “ Ripper,” tn allusion to Its asofulness as moans of ventilate ing tho stomach of any adversary in aclose contest, te had used these weapons with distinguished effect in several instances (all duly chronicled in the news- papers), and was greatly beloved for the gallant manner fn which he had jobbed ‘out™ the eyo of one gentleman as he was in the act of knocking at his own streetdoor,

Preforring. with a view to the gratification of bis tickling and ripping fancies, to dwell upon the outakirts of roclety, and In tho more remote towns ‘and cities, he was in the habit of emigrating from place to place, and establishing tn each somo business, —usually a newspaper,—which he presently sold; for the most part closing the bargain by challenging, stabbing, pistolling, or gou- ging the new editor, bofore he had quite taken possession of the property.

He had come to Eden ou a speculation of thls kind, but had abandoned ft, and ‘was about to leave, He always introduced himself to strangore as # worshipper of freedom; wax the consistent advocate of Lyrch law and slavery; and nym Hably recommended, both in print and speech, the * tarring and feathering" of any unpopular person who differed from himself. Ie called this “planting the tandard of clviltzation in the wilder gardens of My country.”

The Honorable Elijah Pogram thus culogizes him to Martin: —

‘Our follow-countryman [+ » model of a man, quite fresh from Natur’ mould! ++. He {sa truo-born ohild of thi« free hemisphere! Verdant as the mountains of our country, bright and Mowing as our mineral leks, unspfled by withering conventionalities ax alr our broad and boundless perearerst Rough he may bo- 0 wir our barrs. Wild he may be: +o sir our buffalers, But he is child of

< Natur? and a child of Freedom; and his boastful answer to the despot and ‘Whe tyrant fs, that bls bright hore {s 1 the settin' aun,

220° Ebe Dickens DBictlonarp.

Chuffey, Mr. Clerk to Anthony Chuzzlewit; a little, bleareyed, weazen-faced old man, looking as if he had been put away and forgotten half a century before, and had just been found in a lum- ber closet, He hardly understands any one except his master, but always understands him, and wakes up quite wonderfully when Mr. Chuzzlewit speaks to him. (Ch. xi, xvili, xix, xxv, xxvi, xlvi, xlviii, xlix, li, liv.)

Chuzzlewit, Anthony. Father of Jonas, and brother of Martin Chuzzlewit the elder; an old man with a face wonderfully sharponed by the wariness and cunning of his life. (Ch. iv, viii, xii, xviii, xix.)

Chuzzlewit, George. A gay bachelor, who claims to be young, but has been younger. He is inclined to corpulency, over-feeds himself, and has such an obvious disposition to pimples, that the bright spots on his cravat, and the rich pattern on his waist- coat, and even his glittering trinkets, seem to have broken out upon him, and not to have come into existence goyfortably. (Ch. iy, liv.)

Chuzzlewit, Jonas. Son of Anthony, and nephew of old Martin Chuzzlewit; a sly, cunning, ignorant young man, who is in pecu« niary matters a miser, and in instinct and disposition a brute. His rule for bargains is, “Do other men; for they would do you.” “That's the true business-precept,” he says. “ All others are counterfeit.” ‘Tired of the prolonged life of his father, and eager to come into pos- session of his property, he attempts to poison him, and believes that he has succeeded, as the eld man dies shortly afterwards, The truth is, however, that his attempt has been discovered by his intended vie~ tim and an old clerk named Chuffey, who privately remove the poison. But the thought of his son's ingratitude and unnatural wickedness breaks old Anthony's heart; and in a few days he dies, having firre made Chuifey promise not to reveal the dreadful seeret, Jonas now marries Mercy, the youngest daughter of Mr. Pocksniff, and treats her very cruelly. ving that he has murdered hia father, and that the secret has in some way become known to Mon+ tague Tigg, a swindling director of the Anglo-Bengalee Disine terested Loan and Lif Insurance Company, Jonas is forced, ag a condition of his secrecy, not only to come into the company hime self, but to pay large sums to Tigg as hush-moncy. At last, goaded to desperation, he follows Tigg into the country, where he waylays and mnrders him. ‘The deed, though very cunningly devised and

.

Martin Chuzzlewit. 221

executed, is soon traced to him, and he is arrested, but poisons him- self on his way to prison. (Ch. iv, viii, xi, xvili-xx, xxiv, xxvi- xxviii, xxxviil, xl-xlil, xliv, xlvi-xlviii, li.)

Chuzzlewit, Martin, senior. A very rich and eccentric old gentleman; brother of Anthony, and grandfather of young Martin. He is nearly driven mad by the fawning servility and hollow pro- fessions of his covetous relatives, and even quarrels with and dis inherits his grandson, the only one among them all for whom he has over cared. Receiving a visit from his cousin Mr. Pecksniff, ‘under whose assumption of honest independence he instantly detects the selfishness, deceit, and low design of his true character, he takes ‘occasion to say, —

“ Judge what profit you are Ifke to guin from any repetition of this vislt, and Jeave me. Ihave so corrupted and changed the nature of all thore who have ‘ever attended on me, by breeding avaricious plots and hopes within them; I ‘have engendered such domestic strife and discord by tarrying even with mem- ders of my own fumily; T hare been such a lighted torch in peaceable homes, Kindllng up all the inflammable gases wnd vapors in thelr moral atmosphere, ‘which, but for me, might have proved harmless to the end,—thnt I have, T may say, fled from all who knew mo, and, taking refuge in secret places have lived, of lute, the life of one who is hunted. ‘The young girl whom you Just now saw «+. 180 orphan-child, whom, with one steady purpose, I have bred and edu- eatod, or, if you prefer the word, ndopted. For a year or more sbe hax been my constant companion, and she Is my only one. I have taken, as she knows, a solemn oath never to leave her aixpence when I die; but, while I live, T make her an annual allowance, not extravagant {n ite amount, and yet not stinted. ‘There fs m compact between us that no term of affectiounte cajolery shall ever be addressed by either to the other, but that ahe shall call me always by my Chris- tian name, I her by hers, She is bound to mo in life by ties of interest, and losing by my death, and having no expectation disappointed, will mourn It, per- haps; though for that I care little. ‘This ts the only kind of friend I have or will hare, Judge from such premises what a profitable hour you have spent in eom- ing here, and leave mo, to return no more.”

Notwithstanding this plain speaking, the old man, for purposes ‘of his own, goes to reside with Mr. Pecksniff, and pretends to be entirely governed by his wishes, When young Martin returns from America, rendered humble and penitent by his hard experience, he sees Pecksniff drive him from the door, and yet does not interpose word. But the time soon comes, when having thoroughly tested both, and proved his grandson truc, and Pecksniff false, he makes ample amends to the former, and awards the latter his just deserts, (Ch. iii, iv, x, xxiv, xxx, xxxi, xliii, Hiv.)

Chuzzlewit, Martin, the younger. The hero of the story; ‘a rather wild and selfish young man. He has been brought uo by ‘a rich grandfather, who has intended making him his heir. But

222 She Dickens Mietlonarp.

the young man presumes to fall in love with a young lady (Mary Graham) of whom the old man does not approve, and he is therefore, disinherited, and thrown upon his own resources. He goes to study with Mr. Pecksniff, with a vague intention of becoming a civil engin- eer, His grandfather, upon ascertaining this fact, intimates to Mr. Pecksniff (who is his cousin), that he would find it to be for his own advantage, if he should turn young Martin out of the house. This Mr. Pecksniff’ immediately proceeds to do; and Martin again finds himself whthout money, or the means of obtaining it, Ho determines to go to America, and accordingly makes his way to London, where he meets Mark Tupley, who has saved a little from his wages at the Blac Dragon, and who wishes to accompany him. They tako passage on the packet-ship “ Screw,” going orer as stecrage-passengers, but with sanguine expectations of amassing sudden wealth in the New World. Soon after their arrival at New York, Martin is led into investing the little money remaining to himself and Mark in a lot of fifty acres in the thriving city of Eden, in a distant part of tho country; and they set out for it immediately. They find the city — which on paper had looked so fair, with its parks and fountains, ita banks, factories, churches, and public buildings of all kinds—adreary and malarious marsh, with a dozen log-cabins comprising the whole settloment. Worse than all, Martin is seized with fever and ague, and barely escapes with his life; and, before he is fairly convalescent, Mark is also stricken down. When they are at last able to move about a little, they turn their faces toward England, and after some timearrive at home. Martin seeks an interview with his grandfather, but finds that Mr. Pecksniff’s influence over him is paramount, and that not even a frank and manly avowal of error, coupled with a ro- quest for forgivencss, avails to revive the old love, or to save him from the indignity of being ordered out of the house. Miss Graham, how- ever, has remained faithful to him ; and with this one comfort he again turns his face towards London, to make his way in the great world ‘as best he can, In the sequel he finds, much to his surprise, that his grandfather, distracted by suspicions, doubts, and fears, has only been probing Peeksniff, and accumulating proof’ of his duplicity, and that, all through their separation, he bimself has remained the old man’s favorite, (Ch, v—vii, xii-xvii, xxi, xxi, xxxili-xxxy, xliii, xlviii-t, lii-liv.)

Croero, A negro truckman in New York, formerly a slave. (Ch xvil.)

Codger, Miss. A Western literary celebrity. (Ch. xxxiv.)

HMactin Chusplewet. 223

*

Crimple, David. A pawnbroker, afterwards tapster at the Lom- bards’ Arms, and then secretary of the Anglo-Bengaloo Disinterested ‘Loan and Life Insurance Company. His name wasoriginally Crimp; but as this was susceptible of an awkward construction, and might be misrepresented, he altered it to Crimple. (Ch. xiii, xxvii, xxviii, sxlix, li.)

Diver, Colonel, Editor of “ The New-York Rowdy Journal ;"a sal- Jow man, with sunken cheeks, black hair, small twinkling eyes, and an expression compounded of vulgar cunning and concelt. (Ch. xv.)

Dunkle, Doctor Ginery. One of a committee of citizens that waits upon the Honorable Elijah Pogram to request the honor of his company at a little le-Vee at the National Hotel. Although he has the appearance of « mere boy with a very shrill voice, he passes for “a gentleman of great poetical elements.” (Ch. xxxiv.)

Fips, Mr. A lawyer, who, as the agent of an unknown person (old Martin Chuzzlewit), employs Tom Pinch as a kind of librarian and secretary. (Ch. xxxix, xl, lili.)

Fladdock, General. A corpulent American militia officer, starched and punctilious, to whom Martin Chuzzlewit is introduced at the Norris's in New York, as having come over from England in the same vessel with himself. ‘The general does not recognize him ; and Martin is obliged to explain, that, for the sake of economy, he had been obliged to take passage in the steerage, confession which at once stamps him as a fellow of no respectability, who has gained an entrance into good society under false pretences, and whose acquaintance must forthwith be disavowed. (Ch. xv, xvii.)

Gamp, Sairey. A professional nurse.

‘She was a fut old woman, this Mrs. Gamp, with a husky voice and # moist eye, which she had a remarkable power of turning up, and only showing the white of it. Having very little neck, it cost her some trouble to look over her- telf, If ono may say #0, nt thoso to whom she talked. She wore avery rusty binok gown, rather the worse for snuff, and a shaw! and bonnet to correspond. In these dilapidated articles of dress sho had, on principle, arrayed herself, time ‘out of mind, on such occasions as the present; for thie at once expressed « decent umount of veneration for the deceased, and tuvited the next of kin to present her with a fresher sult of weeds, —an appeal so frequently suceessfl, thas ‘the very fotch and ghost of Mrs. Gamp, bonnet and all, might be seen hangiig Up, any hour in the day, in at Teast a dozen of the second-hand-clothes shops abont Holborn. The face of Mrs. Gamp—the nose In particular—was some- ‘what red and swollen; und it was difticalt to enjoy her soclety without becoming conscious ofa smell of spirits. Like most persons who have attained to great ‘eminence in thelr profession, sho took to hers very kindly; Insomach, that, wet

. tiog aside her natural predilections aa ® womun, abe went to o tyingin ore \aylng-out with equal sest and relish

2m Ee Wickens Mictlonacp.

>

‘Mrs. Gamp is represented as constantly quoting or referring to a certain Mrs. Harris—a purely imaginary person —as an authority for her own fancies and fabrications. Thus, when Mr. Pecksniff says to her, that he supposes ehe has become indifferent to the dis tress of surviving friends around the bed of the dying and of the dead, and that “use is second nature,” —

© You may well say second nater, sir," returned that lady. © Ono's frat ways is to find rich things m trial to the footings, and so Isonc’s lasting custom, If it was at for the nerve a little sip of liquor gives me (E never was able to do more than taste ft), T never could go through with what X sometimes has to do. ‘Mrs. ‘Harris,’ I says at the very Inst case ws ever F acted in, which it was but a young person, —* Mrs. Harris,’ Isays, ‘leave the bottle on the chimley-piece, and don’t ‘ask me to take none, bat Jet me put my lips to it when Tam so dispoged, and then I will do what I’m engaged to do, acoording to the best of my ability.’ — “Mrs. Gamp,' she says in answer, ‘if ever there was a sober creetur tobe got at eighteen-pence a day for working-poople, and three and six for gentlefolks (‘night-watching,’" «ald Mrs. Gamp with emphasis, “* being a extra charge’), “you are that {nwallable person.’ —~' Mrs. Harris,’ I says to her, ‘don't name the charge; for, if T could afford to lay all my fellercrecturs out for nothink, Twould gladly do It; sich i# the love I bears ‘em, ut what I always says to them ax has the management of matters, Mrs. Harris?” (here she kept her ese on ‘Mr. Pecksnlif), “*be they gents or be they ladies, Is, don’t ask me whether 1 ‘won't take none, or whether Iwill, but leave the bottle on the chimley-plece, and let me put my lips to ft when Tam #0 dlapoged.’ "

(Ch. xix, xxv, xxvi, xxix, xl, xlvi, xlix, li, li.) See Pero, Bersey, Gander, Mr. A boarder at Mrs. Todgers's. (Ch. ix.) Graham, Mary. Companion of old Martin Chuzzlewit, and be- trothed to young Martin, whom she finally marries.

She was very young (apparently not more than seventeen), timid snd stirink+ cng in her manner, and yet with a greater sbare of self-possession aud controt over her emotions than usually belongs to a far more advanced period af female life, ... She was short in stature, and her figure was elight, ax became her years; but all the ebarme of youth and maldenhood set {t off, and clustered om her gentlo brow.

(Ch. ili, v, vi, xxiv, xxx, xxi, xxxili, xliii, 1ii,

Groper, Colonel. One of a committee who wait upon the Hon- orable Elijah Pogram to request his attendance at a le-Vee at the National Hotel, given to him by the citizens. (Ch. xxxiv.)

Hominy, Mrs, A literary celebrity introduced to Martin Chuz zlawit. She is “one of our chicest spirits, and belongs toc one of our most aristocratic families.” (Ch. xxii, xxiii, xxiv.)

Iezard, Mr. One of the deputation of citizens who beg the attend- ance of the Honorable Elijah Pogram at a little le-Vee at eight o'clock in the evening at the National Hotel. (Ch. xxiv.)

Yack. Driver of a stage-coach plying between London and Salix bury. (Ch. xxxvi)

Martin Epuzslewlt. 225

Jane. Mr. Pocksniff’s female servant, (Ch, xxxi.)

Jinkins, Mr. ‘The oldest boarder at Mrs. Todgers's; a gentleman of a fashionable turn, who frequents the parks on Sundays, and knows a great many carriages by sight. (Ch. ix~xi, liv.)

Jobling, Doctor John, Medical officer of the Anglo-Beagalee Disinterested Loan and Life Insurance Company. (Ch. xxvii, xxviii, xxvii, xli.)

Jodd, Mr. A member of the committee of citizens that waits upon the Honorable Elijah Pogram to solicit the favor of his com- pany at a le-Vee at the National Hotel. (Ch. xxiv.) See Pooram,

Kedgick, Captain. Landlord of the National Hotel, at which Martin Chuzzlewit stays on his way to Eden, and also on his re- turn+to New York. (Ch. xxii, xxxiv.)

Kettle, Lafayette. An inquisitive, bombastic American, whom Martin Chozzlewit meets while travelling; secretary of the Water- toast Association of United Sympathizers. (Ch. xxi, xxii.)

Lewsome, Mr, A young man bred a surgeon, and employed by ‘a general practitioner in London as an assistant. Being indebted to Jonas Chuzzlewit, he sells him the drags with which old An- thony Chuzzlewit is poisoned, though he has reason to suspect the ‘use which will be made of them. After the death of the old man, lie makes a voluntary confession of his agency in the matter; being impelled to do so by the torture of his mind and the dread of death caused by a severe sickness. (Ch. xxv, xxix, xlviii, 11.)

Gupin, Mrs, Landlady of the Blue Dragon Inn at Salisbury; afterwards the wifi: of Mark Tupley.

‘Tho mistress of the Blue Dragon wax In outward appearance Just what « Jandiady should be,— broad, buxom, comfortable, and good-looking, with a face ‘of clear red and white, which by its jovial aspect at once bore testimony to her hearty participation in the good things of the Jarder and cellar, and to thelr ‘thriving and healthful {nfuencos, She was n widow, bat years ago hnd passed through her state of weeds, and burst into dower again ; and in full bloom she was ‘now, With roses on her ample skirts, and roses On her bodice, roses in her eap, roses In her cheeks, find rores, worth the gathoring too, on her lips, for ‘that matter. She hi il a bright black eye and Jet binck halr; was comely,

Aimpled, plump, and tight as a gooseberry; and, though she was not exactly ‘what the world calls young, you may make an affidavit, on trust, before any

‘mayor or magistrate in Christendom, that there are a great many young ladies In the world (blessings on them, one and all!) whom you would n°t like half aa well, or admire half a1 much, os the beaming hostess of the Blue Dragon.

(Ch. iii, iv, vii, xxxi, xxxvi, xxxvil, slii’, xliv, li.)

226 Che Dickens Dictlonarg.

Moddle, Mr. Augustus, The “youngest gentleman” at Mra ‘Todgors’s Commercial Boarding-House, He falls desperately in love with Miss Mercy Pecksnifl, and, becoming very low-spirited after her marriage to Jonas Chuzzlewit, is entrapped into an on- gagement with her sister Charity, but loses his courage, and breaks his word at the last moment, sending the injured fain one a letter to inform her that he is on his way to Van Dicmen’s Land, and ‘that it will be useless for her to send in pursuit, as he is determined never to be taken alive. (Ch. ix-xi, xxxii, xxxvii, xlvi, liv.)

Montague, Tigg. See Tiaa, Monraaus,

Mould, Mr. An undertaker; a little bald elderly man, with a faco in which a queer attempt at melancholy was at odds with a smirk of satisfnction. (Ch. xix, xxv, xxix, xxxviil.)

Mould, Mrs, His wife. (Ch. xxv, xxix.)

Mould, The two Misses. Their daughters; fair, round, and chubby damsels, with their peachy cheeks distended as though they ought of right to be performing on celestial trumpets, (Ch. xxv.)

Mullit, Professor. A very short gentleman, with a red nose, whom Martin Chuzzlewit meets at Mrs, Pawkins’s boarding-house in Now York, He is a professor “of education,” a man of “fine moral elements,” and author of some powerful pamphlets, written under the signature of Suturb, or Brutus reversed. (Ch. xvi.)

Nadgett, Mr. ‘Tom Pinch’s landlord, employed by Montagoo ‘Tigg as a detective.

He was ashort, dricd-up, withered old man, who ¢cemed to have neoreted hls very blood; for nobody would have given him credit for the possession of six ounces of It in hla whole body. How he lived was a secret; where he lived was a scoret; and even what he was was @ secret, In bis musty old pocket~ book he earried contradictory cards, in somo of which he called himself a coal- ‘merchant, in others a wine-merchant, in others a commlssion-agent, In others collector, In others an nccountant; aa if he really did n’t know the seoret hime self, He was always keeping appointments in the city, and the other mam nover seemed to come.

(Ch, xxvii, xxviii, xxviii, xl, xli, xlvii, li)

Norris, Mr. A Now-York gentlems fashionable ; a sentimental abolitionist, and “a very good fellow in his way,” but inclined to set up on false pretences,” and ridicu lously afraid of being disgraced by moneyless acquaintances, (Ch

wealthy, aristocratic, and

His wife; much older and more faded than she ought to have looked. (Cb. xvii.)

MB PECKSNIVY AND HIS DAUGHTERS

Bertin Shayy cen, we

Norzis, The two Misses. Rete eee cather teraty, beth very shmden, but wary prey, (Ch.

Pawkins, Major. A Now-York poltician; MS ee Sriniller)}, an oratar anda man of the poaple, and a gemoral Woalin,

(Cb. xi)- haces His wit; keaper of a boanting hoa, O)

eden ec. A resident of Salisbury ; ostensibly an architect Se ners Sere bo tal sree Solel ER OD and his surveying was limited to the extensive prrepect from windows of his house,

good sentiments In his tnalde, Tn this partiondar re wo ike the trl th Ue fairy-tale, except that, if they were not actual diamonds while Feil Cron hi Tl, ‘they were the very brightest paste, anid showe prowigtowsly, He wna Wowk man, —fuller of virtoous precept than & copphook, Maine prenpihe

Uikened him to @ direction-poot, which fs always telllnge Hho way 10 # pila, Mich never goes there; bet there were his enemies, the pio heed oant by tite ess: that wns ail. Ils very throat was moral, You gave a good deal ‘You looked over a very low fence of white eravat (selverwar ive iimt Wail rer bre hold the the, for he fastened It behind), and there Ut lay, « valley between Hii Jutting heights of collar, serene and whiskorless befvre you. Tt Wenner 1 Hay, ‘on the part of Mr. Peckyulf, «'Thore i uo deception, nos wnd gontlewnein ll Ja peace; a holy calm pervades mo” fo dit bis hairy Just grlantert with wu rou gray, which was all brushed off hiv forehead, and stood bolt upright, oF elyrhily drooped In kindred action with hils henry eyelids, So did Ile person, welleh wae sleek, though free from corpulency, Ro did tle snmnier, wiilale wna eo wind ethys In nord, even his plaln black pult, ani tate of widower, mid dawiug yale eve-glaes. —all tended to the eame purporr, aint erlod alovil, “ Helald (he moral Pecksnliri*

‘Mr. Pecksnlit’ professlonal engagements were almont, 1f not sutirely, oi fined to the reception of pupils; for tho collection of ren ‘ale he oceasiorally varied and relieved hie gen etrietly architectural employment, Hs genta

% guardians, and pocketing premiums, A young gentlemun’s prewilin being paid, and the young gentleman come lo Mr. Poekanlit'4 fone, Mr) Meek

family Hesented hitn liiglily on his parents ur gumntians, ws (he eaen Mlglit ‘be; aml tarned tim Joove In w epaedous room on tive twogeale Arewl j wivers fit the company of certain drawing bomrds, puraliet rulers, very atliFirgaeed ew arses, end two, of, perhaps, three, other young pratinusen, le nprored iid sell for three or five years, according to bie artictes, te tuning elevations of Rallatury Cathedral from every poseltile pesine rf shat, ant li eomelenenhig fie the air a vert quantity of exctles, harass of parliament, mi onlver pevldle Wath oe

228 The Dickens Mictlonary.

‘Mr. Pocksniff is a cousin of old Martin Chuzzlewit's, who being very ill, a general council and conference of bis relatives is held at ‘Mr. Pecksniff'’s house in order to devise means of inducing him to listen to the promptings of nature in the disposal of his large prop. erty. The meeting is far from being harmonious; and Mr, Pecksniff is compolled to listen to some very plain truths, Mr. Anthony Chuzzle. wit telling him bluntly not to be a hypocrite.

“4 what my good slr?” demanded Mr, Pecksnlt.

“4 A hypocrite."

“Charity, my dear,” sad Mr, Pecksntf # when ¥ take my chamber candlestick. tought, remind me to be more than usually particular in praying for Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit, who has done mo an injustice,”

Meeting Mr. Chuzzlewit in a stage-coach, some time afterwards, Mr. Pecksniff takes occasion to remark, incidentally, but cuttingly “I may be a hypocrite; but I am not « brute.”

“Pooh, pooh!” snld the old man. * What signifies that word, Pecksnlif? Hyp- ocritet Why, we are all hypocrites. We were all hypocrites t? other day. Iam sure I felt that to be agreed upon among us, or I should n't hare called you one. ‘We should not have beon there wt all If we had not been hypocrites, The only difference between you and the reat was— Shall I tell you the difference between ‘von nnd the rest now, Pecksnlit ?”

“If you please, my good «irs If you please.”

“ Why, the annoying quality in you Is,” said the old ran, “ that you never have ‘® confederate or partner in your Juggling. You would decelve everybody, eren those who practise the same art; and haves way with you, as tf you —he, he, he as if you really believed yourself. 17d lay a handsome wager now," ald the old man, “if Jali wagers (which I don't, and never did), that you seen sa seteee: ances by a tacit understanding, even before your own daughters here.

During the journey, Pecksniff imbibes copious refreshment from a brandy-bottle, and is thereafter moved to give utterance to various moral precepts and weighty sentiments,

“What are we,” said Mr. Pocksnlil, “but coaches? Some of us are slow eonclies” —

" Goodness, pat” cried Charity.

“Some of us, I say,” resumed her parent with Increased emphasis, “are alow couches; some of us are fast coaches, Our Passions aro the horses, and rampant ‘eximals tool” —

“ Roa'ly, pat” ried both the daughters at once. “How very unpleasant!”

“And rampant animals, too!™ repeated Mr, I'ecksniff, with #o much determt- sition, that he may be sald to have exhibited, st the moment, a sort of moral rampanzy himself ; “and Virtue ls the drag. We start from The Mother's Arms, and we run to The Dust Shovel.”

When he had said this, Mr. Peckentif, being exhausted, took some further re freshment. When he had done that, be corked the bottle tight, with the air of a ian who had effvetually eorked the subject also, and went to sleep for three ages.

-

Mart(n Chuzzlewlt, 229

Mr. Pocksniff receives young Martin Chiizzlewit into his family asa student, and manifests a very strong interest in him; but, on a hint from the elder Mr. Chuzzlewit, he contumeliously tarns him out of his house, and renounces him forever. ‘This he does because ‘Martin's grandfather has expressed his desire fora better under standing between himeelf and Mr. Pecksniff than has hitherto ex- istod, and has declared his intention to attach him to himself by ties of interest and expectation. Systematic self-server that he is, in order to secure the old man’s great wealth, Mr, Pecksniff sedulously studies his likings and dislikings, falls in with all his prejudices, lies, fawns, and worms himself (as be thinks) into his favor, through concessions and crooked deeds innumerable, through meannesses and vile endurance, and through all manner of dirty ways; but in ‘the end he finds, that, after all, bis labor has been for nought, that his duplicity has been fathomed to the bottom, and his servile char- acter thoroughly unmasked. Yet he remains the same canting hypocrite even in shame and discovery, and in the drunkenness and begyary in which he ends his days.

According to “ Blackwood's Magazine,” “Pecksniff owed much of his celebrity, we believe, to his remarkable likeness to the late Sir Robert Peel.” But the American Publishers’ Circular for June 27, 1857, in announcing the fact of Mr. Samuel Carter Hall's intention to visit the United States for the purpose of dehvering a series of lectures, denied the resemblance, asserting, that —

“Mr, Hall is eapposed to be the actual, veritable Peoksniff of * Martin Chuzzlewit.' 1c Hobert Poot waa the original Of hat character; but the impression faded off, aod Mr. Samuel Carter Mall Is univers mally confoared to bo the man. Tho artiet' Piz * has it off, in te kent, & strong personal resemblance to Mr, Hall,—an unmistakable resemblance, indeed, 82 did Dickens point him out, showing him In his family, surrounded by portraits and boats of himself. Afterall, though somowhat protentiogs, and aiming at passing off as ‘A great mora) philosopher, Mr, Hall has numerous good points, -. . Mets reported to be ‘expactal over In the fill, being engaged by an" Institution® in New York. If the bille De headed “Tho Original Peokenif,” curloalty will fl the house on Xho frat night.” — Vou tt, zavi, p. 406 i, viil-xii, xvilinxx, xxly, xxx, xxi, x<xy, xliii, xliv, liv.) Pecksniff, Charity, called Curney. Mr. Pecksniff’s elder daugh- ter, betrothed to Mr. Augustus Moddle, but deserted by very day appointed for tue wedding, (Ch. il, iv-vi, xx, xxiv, xxx, xxxll, xxvii, xliv x.vi, liv.) See Movpix, Ma

Avaustvs,

lis

230 Fhe Wickens Wiettonary.

.

Pecksniff, Mercy, called Mrnny. His younger daughter; a giddy, vain, and heartless girl, and a hypocrite like her father.

Her slmpticity snd innocence . , . were gromty—very prety + +» oS ‘all glelishmess and playfulness and wildness and kittentsh buoyancy. She was the Saost arch, and #t the xame time tho most artless creature, was the young- ext Mixs Veckeniff, that you can possibly imagine. twas her great charm. Sho was too fresh and guilelees to wear combs in her halr, or to turn tt up, or to frizale {t, or to braid {t. She wore itin nerop,—a loosely-dlowing crop, whlch had so many rows of curls in ft, that the top row was only one curl.

‘Mr. Jonas Chuzalewit, a thoroughly sordid and despicable vile Tain, ufter making love to her sister, abruptly proposes to herself. She accepts and marries him, — partly to spite her sister, and partly because he has money. She soon finds out that he is a brate as well as a rascal, and she suffers much from his cruelty ; yet —won- derful to relate !|—« throwing aside at once the ingrained selfishness and meanness of nearly thirty years,” she “becomes in less than two months a model of uncomplaining endurance and selflenying affection.” (Ch. fi, iv-vi, viii, x, xl, xx, xxil, xxiv, xvi, xxviii, xxxvi, xl, xlvi, xlvii, li, liv.)

Pinch, Ruth, Governess in a wealthy brass and copper founder's family at Camberwell; sister to Tom Pinch; afterwards the wife of John Westlock. (Ch. ix, xxxvi, xxvii, xxix, xl, xlvi, xlvili, 1, lii-iv.)

Pinch, Tom. An ungainly, awkward-looking man, extremely short-sighted, and prematurely bald. He is an assistant to Mr, Pecksniff, for whom he has an unbounded respect, and in whose pretensions he has a wonderful faith; his naturo being such, that he is timid and distrostful of himself, and trustful of all other men, — even the least deserving,

He was fur from handsome, certainly; and was dressed In m enuif-colored sult, of an uncouth make at the best, which, being shranken with long wear, was twisted and tortured into all kinds of odd shapes, But notwithstanding hit attire and his clumsy figure, which a great stoop in bis shoulders, and n ludi- crous hablt he bad of thrusting hia head forward, by no means redeemed,one ‘would not have been disposed (untess Mfr, Pecksniff sald #9) to courider tilm « bad fellow by any means, He was, perhaps, about thirty; Lut he might hare been almost any age between sixteen and sixty, being one of those strange creatures who never decline into an ancient appearance, but look their oldest when they are very young, and get over it at once.

‘Tom's faith in his master remains unshaken for a long time; bus his cyes are opened at Inst, and he sees him to be a consummare hypocrite and villain. Peeksniff, knowing himeelf to have beer found out, discharges Tom, who goes to London to try his fortung

ELIJAH POGRAM AND MRS. HustNY,

Martin Shuyslewst. 231

aud is befriended by old Martin Chuzzlewit, secretly at first, but afterwards openly. (Ob. ti, vil, ix, xii, xiv, xx, xxiv, xxx, xxxi, xxxvi-xl, xlv, xlvi, xlviii, 1, lii-liv.)

“Perhaps Mr, Dickens's claims as 8 humourlst — member of that brotherhon/ of au- thors whe have contributed to the world auch delicate and graceful creations as Uccle ‘Tohy and Bir Roger do Coverley —rest. more upon this loving and tender ploture than ‘upon any other tndividual ereation which he has yet produced. Tom's weaknesses and folblex—aro we Jef ignorant of one of thom? Tot do wo regand him a whit ha less ‘Recause wo sinile nt those gentle faults of his? Mz. Dickens has mado aketehes of more pretension; but he has never dons ary thing so complete, 0 good, or of vo gracetul a porfectlon In hiaart,as the portrait of Tom Mach." — Blackwood's Magazine, vol. Lxxvil, . db0 (April, 18551,

Pip, Mr, A theatrical character, and a “capital man to know ;” a fiiend of Montague Tigg’s, (Ch. xxviii.)

Piper, Professor. One of a deputation chosen to wait upon the Honorable Elijah Pogram, to request the honor of his company at a little le-Vee, at eight o'clock in the evening, in the ladies’ ordinary of the National Hotel. (Ch. xxxiv.)

Pogram, The Honorable Hlijah, A member of Congress, and “one of the master minds of our country,” whose acquaintance Mar- tin Chazzlewit makes on his return from Eden to New York. He is especially noted as the author of the * Pogram Defiance,” which rose 80 much con-test and preju-dice in Europe." Mr. Pogran is waited on at the National Hotel by a committee of the citizens, and tendered a public reception, or “levee,” the same evening,

Fach man took one slide forward as he was named, butted at the Honorable ‘El§jab Pogram with his bead, shook hands, and slid back again. The introduc tions being completed, the spokesman resumed.

“ster”

“Mr. Pogram 1” cried the shrill boy,

‘As there was nothing the shrill boy dexired more, he immediately stepped

forward.

“Mr. Pogram! Sir! A handful OF your fellow-ltizens, sir, hearing Of your Arrival at the National Itotel, nad fecling the patriotic charactor Of your publle eervices, wish, sir, to have the gratification Of beholding you, und mixing with + In those moments which ®—

“ Which air so peculiarly the lot, sir, Of our groat and happy country.”

“Hoar!” cried Colonel Groper in a loud voice. “Good! Hear him! Good"

* And therefore, sir,” pursued the doctor, “ thiey request, as A mark Of thelr respect, the honor of your company at a litt }e-Vee, a=, in the ladies” ordinary. ‘at eight o'oiock."

‘Mr. Yogram bowed, and said,—

232 The Dickens Dictlonary.

“«Pellow-countrymen

Good! cried the colonel, “Hear him! Good!

‘Mr. Pogram bowed to the colonel individually, and then resumed, —

“ Your approbation of My labors in the common cause goes to My heart, At times and{n all places, in the ladies? ordinary, My friends, and in the Battle Field” —

Good, very good! Hear him! Hear him!” said the colonel,

‘The name of Pogram will be proud to Jine you. And may it, My friends, be written on My tomb, * Ife was @ member of the Congress of our cominow country, und was ac-Tive in his trust?

“Tho Committee, sir," sald the shrill boy, “will wait upon you at five mine ‘utes afore eight. Itake My leave, sir.”

‘Mr. Pograim shook hands with him, and everybody else, once more; and, when they came back again at five minutes before elght, they sald, one by one, In m melancholy vole, * How do you do, sir?™ and shook hands with Mr. Pogram all over again, as if he had been abrond for atwelvemonth fn the mean time, aud they met now at a funeral.

But by this time Mr, Pogram had frestened himself up, and had composed his hair and features after the Pogram statue: 40 that any one with half au eyo might cry out, “There he is! as he delivered the Defiance!" ‘The committee wore embellished also; and, when they entered the ladies’ ordinary in x body, there was much clapping of hands from ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by cries of * Pogram! Pogram!" and some standing up on chairs to nee him,

‘The object of the popular caress looked roand the room as he walked up It, ‘and smiled, ut the same time observing to the shrill boy, that he know something. ‘of the beauty of the daughters of thelr common country, but had never seen it 4n such lustre and perfection nx at that moment. Which the shrill boy put in the paper next day, to Elijah Pograin's great aurpriso.

“Wo will re-quest you, sir, if you please,” said Bulfum, Inying hands on Mr. Pogram as if he were taking & measure for his coat, “to stand up with your back agin the wall right In the furthest corner, that there may be more room for our fellow-cit-lzens, If you could set your back right slap agiu that curtain-peg, air, keeping your left leg everlastingly behind the stove, wo should be fixed quite slick.”

‘Mr. Pogram did us he wns told, and wedged himself into such a little corner, that the Pogram statue would n’t have known him,

‘The entertainments of the evening then began. Gentlemen brought ladies nd brought themselves up, and brought cach other up, aud asked Elijah

Fogram what he thought of this political question, and what he thought of that,

and looked at iim, and looked at one another, and seemed very unhappy indeed.

‘The Indies on the chairs looked at Elijah Pogram through thelr glasses, and sald

audibly, “I wish he 'd speak! Why don't he epeak? Oh, do axk him to speak!”

And Elijah Pogram Yooked sometimes at tho ladies, and sometimes elsewhere,

delivering senatorial opinions us he was asked for them. But the great end and

‘onyect of the meeting seemed to be aot to Jot Elijah Pogram out of the coraer

ou any account: vo there they kept him hard and fist.

(Ch. xxiv.) Vrig, Betsey. A day-nurse; a bosom-friend of Mrs. Gamp'a.

Mrs. Prig was of the Gamp baild, but uot s0 fat; and her yore was Jooper nd more Jike® man's, She had also » beard.

‘Theeo two ladies often “ nuss together, turn and turn about, one

F

fAactin Chuzslewlt. 238

off, one on.” They are both engaged by John Westlock to take care of an acquaintance of his who lies dangerously ill at» public- house in, London; and, when Mrs, Gamp relieves Mrs, Prig, the following conversation occurs : —

“Any din? to tell afore you goes, my dear?” asked Mrs. Gump, setting her bundle down inside the door, and looking affectionately at her partner,

Mrs. Gamp expressed herself much gratified.

“The physic and them things It om the drawers and mankleshelf,” «ald Mra, Prig curvorily, “Ho took his Inst slime draught at soven, The easy-chair an’t soft enough. You "ll want his piller.”

Mrs. Gamp thanked her for these hints, and, giving her a friendly good-night, hheld the door open until she hind disappeared at the other end of the gallery.

The patient at last recovers sufficiently to admit of his being re- moved to the country; and Mrs. Gamp and Mrs, Prig superintend the arrangements for the journey.

‘He was so wasted, that it ecemed as if his bones would rattle when they moved him, Ils cleoks were sunken, and his eyes onnaturally large. He Iny back in the easy-chalr like one more dead than living, and rolled his languid eyes towards tho door when Mra. Gamp appeared, as painfully as If their weight alono were ‘burdensome to move.

“And how are wo by this time?” Mrs. Gamp observed. “We looks charm-

*

“ We looks a deal charminger than we are, then," returned Mrs. Prig, a little ebafed {n her temper. “ We got out of bed back’ards, I think; for we 'ro as cross astwosticks, 1 never see sich amant Ie would n't havo been washed if hed ‘had hiaown way.”

Sho put the soupin my mouth,” sald the unfortunate patient fecbly.

“Could n't you keep it shut, then?” retorted Mrs, Prig. “ Who do you thinks 41) wash one feater, and miss another. and wear one's eyes out with all manner of ne work of that description, for hulf » crown # day? If you wants to be tittl vated, you must pay accordin’.”

0b, dear me!” cried the patient. “Oh, dear, deart*

“There!” sald Mrs. vig, “that's the way he *s been weonducting of himself, balfats, ever since I got him ont of bed, if you 'll belleve It"

“(Insteat of being grateful,” Mrs, Gamp observed, * for all our little ways. Oby ile for shame, slr! fe for shame |”

Here Mrs. Prig solzed the patient by the chin, and began to rasp his unhappy ead with a hatr-brush.

“Tauppose you don't like that, neither,” she observed, stopping to look at him.

‘Te wns Just posslble that he did n't; for the brush was a specimen of the hardest tiad of instrament producible by modern art, and his very eyelids were red with she friction. Mra, Prig was gratified to observe tho correctness of her suppo sitlon, ard sali triumphantly, abe " krow'd as much."

‘When his hair was smoothed down comfortably into his eyes, Mrs. Prig and

20°

that the starched points should also Invade thore organs, und afliet them with at artificial ophthalmia, Lis walstooat and coat were next arranged; and as every button was wrenched into a wrong button-hole, and the order of his boots war reversed, hie presented, on the whole, rather a melancholy

“1 don’t think it 's right," said the poor weak Invalid, “I feel ws if I was tr somebody else’ clothes. T’mallon one side; and you ve made one of my lege shorter than the other. There ‘4a bottle in my pocket too, What do you make me sit upon a bottle for?”

“ Douse take the man!” cried Mrs. Gamp, drawing it forth. “If ho aln’t heen and got my night-bottle here! I made a little cupboard of his coat when st hung dehind the door, and quite forgot it, Betsey. You'll find an ingun or two, and « Uttle tea and sugar, in his Vother pocket, my dear, if you "ll just be good enough to take ‘em ont."

Betsey produced the property {n question, together with some other artistes of weneral chandlcry; and Mra.Gamp transferred them to her own pocket, which was a speoies of nankeen panier, Refreshment then arrived in the form of chops and strong ale for the ladies, and a basin of beef-tea for the patient; whieh refoction was barely at an end when Joha Westlock appeared.

‘Tho arrangements are finally completed ; and, a Mrs. Gamp is to accompany the invalid, she bids farewell to Mre, Prig.

+ Wishin’ you lots of sickness, my darling ereetur," Mrs, Gamp observed, “and 00d places. It won’t be long. F hope, afvre we works together, off «nd on, agnin, Betsey; and may our next meetin’ be at a large farnily's, where they all takes ft regilar, one from another, turn and turn about, and has It business-like!”

“<I don't oare how soon it 1s,” sald Mre. Prig; * nor how many weeks it lasts.”

‘The two friends have a falling-out at last, however. Mrs. Prig has ‘been invited to take tea with Mrs, Gamp, on which occasion the lat ter informs her of another prospective job of nursing In partnership

“Now, Sairah,” said Mrs. Prig, “Jolning business with pleasure, wot is tht ‘caso in which you wants me?”

Mrs. Gamp betraying in her face some intention of returning an evasive am Betsey added, — Tait Mra. Harris?

“No, Betsuy Prig: {t w'n't,” was Mrs. Gamp’s reply.

“Well,” said Mrs. Prig with a short laugh, ““T 'm glad of that, at any ratet?”

“Why should you be glad of that, Betsey?" Mrs, Gamp retorted warmly «Sho ts unbeknown to you, except by hearsay: why should you be glad? If you have any think to say contralry to the character of Mrs. Harris. which well 1 knows bebind her back, afore her face, or anywheres, ls not to be Impenged, out with It, Betsey. I have knowod that eweetest nod best of women," said Mra. Gamp, shaking her head, and shedding tears, “ever since afore her first, wblcb Mr. Harris, who was dreadful thmid, weat and stopped hia eare in a empty dog kennel, and never took his hands wway or come out once sill he was showed the daby, wen, bein’ took with fits, the dootor collared him, and iaid him on his back spon the alry stones, and she was told to ease her mind. his owls way organs 4nd I have know'd hor, Betsey Prig, wen he has hurt hor feelin’ art by sayin’ of ais ninth, that {twas one too many, if not two; while that dear innocent wat ‘wooin' th his face, which thrive it did, though bandy: but I have never know'd as

Martin Shuyytetrt. 235

had oceagion to be glad, Be'sey, on account of Mrs. Harris not requiring you. fre sho never will, depend upon it; for her constant word In sickness is, and ‘will be, “Send for Sairey1"”

Daring this touching address, Mra. Prig, adroitly feigning to be the victim of that absence of mind which has its origin In excessive attention to one tople, helped herself from the tespot without appearing to observe It. Mrs. Gamp ob served It, however, and came to a premature elose in consequence.

“Well, ft a’n’t her, it seems," sald Mrs. Vrig coldly. “ Who is it, then?”

“You have heen me mention, Betecy,” Mrs. Gamp replied, after glancing 1n am ‘expressive nnd marked manner at the teapot, “a person ax I took care on at the Hime as you and f was pardners, off and on, in that there fever at the Bull??”

* Old Snuffey,” Mrs. Prig observed.

Sarah Gamp looked at her with an ore of fire; for sho enw in this mistake of ‘Mrs. Prig another wilful and matignant stab at that same weaknoss oF custom of ‘hers,an ungenerous allusion to which, on the part of Betsey, had first disturbed thelr barmony that evening, And she saw it still more clearly, when, politely ‘but firmly correcting that Indy by the distinct enunciation of the word “ Chuffey,” Mrs. Prig received thecorrection with » diabolical laugh. . . , Her countenance ‘became about this time derisive and defant ; and sho sot with her arms folded, and ‘one ey shut up, in a nomewhat offensive, because obtrusively {atelligent manner,

Mrs, Gamp, obsercing this, felt it the more necbasary that Mrs. Prig should know hor place, and be made sensible of her exact station in soctety, as well as of her obligations to herself, She therefore assumed an alr of greater patronage ‘sod {mportance as she went on to answer Mrs. Prig a little more In detail.

© Mr. Chuffuy, Betsey," sald Mrs. Gamp, “is weak {a bia mind. Exeuge mo if ‘I makes remark, that he may neither bo ¢0 weak as people thinks, nor people may pot think he is so weak as they pretends; and what I knows I knows, and what yon don’t you don't: 40 do not ask me, Betsey. Bat Mr. Chuffey’s friends has made propojals for his bein' took care on, and hns sald to me, * Mrs, Gamp, wéll you tndertake it? We could n’t think,’ they says, ' of trusting him to nobody but yous for, Sairey, you are gold as has passed the furnage. Will you undertake it at your uwn price, day and night, and by your own self??—*No,' I ways, *1 will not. Do not reckon on it. There is,’T bot one erectur in the world as I would under- take on sech terms; and her name is Harris. But,’ 1 Tar acquainted with friend, whose name is Betsey Prig, that I ean recommend, and will mssist me. Betsey,’ Trays, ‘1s always to be trusted, under me, and will be guided as X could desire?"

‘Here Mrs. Prig, without any abatement of her offensive manner, again coun tmfoited abstraction of mind. and stretched out her hand to the tenpot. It was more than Mrs. Gamp could bear. She stopped tho hand of Mrs. Prig with her own, and said with great feeling, —

4 No, Betsey! Drink fair, woterer you do!”

‘Mrs, Prig, thus bailed, throw hervelf buck In her ehalr, and losing the same eye more emphatically, and folding her arms tighter, suffered her heud to roll slowly from side to side, while she surveyed her friend with = contemptuous smile.

Mrs. Gamp resumed, —

“Me. Harris, Betsey

* Bother Mrs. Harris!” said Betsey Prig.-

‘Mra. Gamp looked at her with amazement, Incredality, and iodignation; when

Prig, shutting her eye still closer, and “olding her arms still tighter, uttered ‘tmemorable and tremendous words :—

236 The Mickens Mictlonargp.

“T don’t belteye there °s no sich a person!”

After the utterance of which expressions, she leaned forward, and snapped her fingers once, twlov, thrice, each thn Dearer to the face of Mrs, Gamp; then rose to put on her bounet. as one who felt that there was now a gulf tween them which nothlag could ever bridge across,

‘The shock of this blow was 40 violent and sudden, that Mra. Gamp sat staring ‘at nothing with uplifted eyes, and her mouth open ns if she were gusping for breath, until Betaey Prig bad put on her bonnet and her shawl, and was gather- ing the latter about her throat, ‘Then Mrs. Gamp rose, —morally and physically rose, —and denounced her.

“What!” ald Mrs. Gamp, “you bage creetur! Have I know'd Mrs. Harrie five and thirty year, to be told nt Inst that there aln’t no sech m person livin’? ‘Haye I stood her friend in alt her troubles, great aud small, for it to come af last to vech a end as this, which her own sweet plcter banging up afore you all the time to shame your bragian worde? But well you may n't believe there "s no sech a crectur; for she would n't demena herself to look at you. And often has she #aid, when T have made mention of your name, which to my lnful sorrow I have done,—* What, Salrey Gampt debage yourself to hers? Go along with youl"

“1'm agols', ma’am; alnt 1?” aald Mrs, Prig, stopping as she yald It.

“ You had better, ma’syp,” sald Mrs, Gamp.

“Do you know who you "re talking to, ma'am?” inquired her visitor.

“ Aporiently,” said Mrs. Gamp, surresing her with scorn frow head to foot, “to Detaey Vrig,—aperiently so, Lknow her, Noone better. Goalong with you!”

“ And you was a-going to take me under you!” erled Mrs. Prig, surveying Mre. Gamp from head to foot, In her turn,—* you was; was you! Oh, how Kind! Why, deuso take your Imperence!" said Mre. Prig, with a rapid change from banter to ferocity, “ what do yon mean?”

“Go along with you!" sald Mrs. Gamp. “I blush for you.”

+ You had better blush a little for yourself while you are about it!” eald Mrs. Prig. “You and yourChusfeys! What, the poor old creetur is n’t mad enough; lantthe? Abst”

“He 'd very soon be mad enough if you had nny thing to do with him,» sald Mrs. Gamp.

“ And thats what Twas wanted for; 14 {t2” orled Mra. Prig trlumphantly. “Yes. But you "il find yourself deceived, I won't go near him. We shall see how you get on without me. I won’t have nothink to do with him.

“You never spoke a truer word than that!" said Mra. Gamp, “Go slong with you!”

(Ch, xxv, xxix, xlix.)

Beadder, Zephaniah. Agent of the Eden Land Corporation. He dupes Martin Chuzzlewit into buying, for the ridiculously small sum of a hundred and fifty dollars, a little lot of fifty acres in the city from which the company takes itt name, and which looks won- derfully thriving on paper, but proves to consist of a few log-houses in the midst of « hideous and pestilential morass.

te

Ho wasn gaunt man in a hage straw hat and a coat of green stuf, The ‘weather being hot, he had no cravat, and wore his shirt-collar wide open, so that ‘every time he spoke something was seen to twitch and jerk up n his throat, like

i ;

Martin EChusslewi(t. 237

‘the little hammers tn a harpsichord when the notes are struck. Perhaps it was ‘the truth feebly endeavoring to leap to his lips. If #0, it never reached them.

‘Two gray eyes lurked deep within this agent's head; but one of them had no ‘right In It, and stood atock still, With that alde of his face he seemed to Hatem ‘to whut the other shie was doing, Thus each profile had distinct expression; ‘end, when the movable side was most in action, the rigid! one was in its coldest slate of watchfuluess, It was like turaing the man Inside out, to pass to that view of his features in hls liveliest mood, and see how calculating und intent they were,

Each long black halr upon his head hung down as straight as any plammet- How; but rumpled tafts wore on the arches of his eyes, aa if the crow whose foot ‘was deeply printed In the corners had pecked and torn them in a savage recog ‘nition of his kindred nature as a bird of prey.

(Ch. xxi.) :

Simmons, William. Driver of a van, who carries Martin Chuz- zlewit from near Salisbury to Hounslow, after his dismissal by Mr. Peoksniff. (Ch. xiii.)

Blyme, Chevy. A very poor and shiftless relative of old Martin Chuzzlewit, and anxious to come into a share of his property. Ho is a friend of Montague Tigg’s, who thus describes his character to Mr. Pecksniff: —

“Every man of true genlus has his peculiarity. Sir, the peculiarity of my friend Slyme is, that he Is always waiting round the corner. He is perpetually roond the corner, air, Ite 1s round the corner at this Instant, Nov,” enld the gentleman, shaking hls forefinger before his nose, and planting his legs wider ‘Apart ax he looked attentively In Mr. Pecksniif’s fice, “that Is a remarkably curious and Interesting trait in Mr. Slymo’s character; and. whenever Slymo's life comes to be written, thut tralt must be thoroughly worked out by his blog-

rapher, oF society will not be satisfied. Observe me, society will not be satis fied.”

‘With this announcement he hurried away to the outer door of the Blue Dragon, and almost immediately returned with a companion shorter than him- self, who wax wrapped (n an old blue camlet cloak with m Maing of fadod scarlet, ‘His sharp features being much pinched and nipped by long waiting in the cold, ‘and his straggting red whiskers and frowzy halr belng more than usually disherelled from the ame cause, he certainly looked rather unwholesome and uncomfortable than Sbakspearian or Miltonic.

“Now,” said Mr. Tigg. clapping one hand on the shoulder of his prepossess- d calling Mr. Pocksniff"s attention to him with the other, “you two: ind relations never did agree, and never will, which ts a win ispensation and an inevitable thing, oF there would be none but fumlly parties, ‘and everybody in the world would bore everybody else to death. If you wore ‘@n good termr, I should consider you a most confoundedly unnatural pair; buty standing towards each other as you do, T look upon you as a couple of devilisa deop-thoughted fellows, who may bo reasoned with to any extent.

(Ch. iv, vii, 1h) Smif, Putnam. A young and ardent clerk in a dry-goods store,

238. Ehe Dickens Dietfonary.

who “aspirates "for fume, and applies to Martin Chuzzlewit. for assistance, (Ch. xxii.)

Sophia. A pupil of Ruth Pinch’s, called by Mrs. Todgers “a syrup” (meaning a seraph or a sylph); a premature little woman of thirteen years old, who had already arrived at such a pitch of whalebone and education, that she had nothing girlish about her, (Ch. ix, xxxvi.)

Bpottletoe, Mr, A relative of old Martin Chuzzlewit, with testa- mentary designs upon his property, He is so bald, and has such big whiskers, that he seems “to have stopped his hair, by the sud- den application of some powerful remedy, in the. very act of falling off his head, and to have fastened it irrevocably on his fice.” (Ch. iv, liv.) :

Spottletoe, Mrs, His wife; a woman “much too slim for her years, and of a poetical constitution.” (Ch. iv, liv.)

Sweedlepipe, Paul, called Port. A bird-fancier, who is an easy shaver and a fashionable hair-drosser also ; Mrs. Gamp’s land- lord.

He was a little elderly man, with a clammy cold right hand, from which even rabbits and birds could not remove the smell of shaving-tonp, Toll had some- ‘thing of the bird fn his nature; not of the hawk or eagle, but of the sparrow, that builds in chimnoy-stacks, and Inctines to human company. He was not quarrelsome, though, like the sparrow; but peaceful, Tike the dove. In his walk he strutted; and in this respect he bore a faint resemblance to the pigeou, ‘as well ns {nm certain proainess of speech, which might, {n (ts monotony, be likened to the cooing of that bied. Hewas yery inquisitive: and when he stood at his ehop-door in the evening-tide, watching the nelghbors, with his head on ‘one wide, and his eye cocked knowingly, there was a dash of tho raven In him. ‘Yet there was no more wickedness in Poll than ina robiu. Happily, too, when any of his ornithological properties were on the verge of going too far. they were quenched, dissolved, melted down, and neutratized in the barber; Just ax lula bald head — otherwise as the head of a shaved magpie —lost tteelf Ina wig of ourly black ringlets, parted on one side, and cut away almost to the crown, to Indicate immense capacity of Intellect,

(Ch. xix, xxvi, xxix, xlix, 11.)

Tacker. Foreman, and chief mourncr of Mr. Mould the under taker. (Ch. xix, xxv.)

An obese person, with his waistcoat in closer connection with his legs thaw

Is quite reconeilable with the established Ideas of grace, with that cast of fem tmre which fe figuratively called a bottlenose, nnd with a face covered all over with pimples, He had been # tender plant once upons time, but, from constant blowing in the fat alr of funerals, had run to seed.

Tamaroo. An old woman in the service of Mrs, Todgurs; sue cessor to Bailey (Ch, xxxil, liv.)

Wee

actin Ehusstewlt, 239

Jn the fulness of time, that the Jocular boarders had appropri a the word (Tamaroo} from an English ballad, in which it ts supposed ta ‘express the bold and flery nature of a certain hackney-coachman; and shat ty ‘was bestowed upon Mr, Inlley’s successor by reason of her having nothing fiery about her, except an occasional attack of that fire which Ls called St. Anthony's ‘This anclent fem: ~ was chletly remarkable for a totill absence of all com. prehension upon any subject whatever, Sho was a perfect tomb for messages ‘and small parecls; and, when despatched to the postofice with letters, lind beem frequently seen endoavoring to taxinnate them into camal chfaks in private doors, under the delusion that any door with hole in it would answer the purpose. She was a very little old woman, and always wore a very course aprom ‘with a bib before, and aloop behind, together with bandages on her wrist, which ‘appeared to be ailllcted with an everlasting sprain, Sho was on all occasions chary of opening the street-door, and ardent to shut It ngain; and she waited ak 3 table In a bonnet, fapley, Mark. Hostler at the Blue Dragon Inn, kept by Mra, Lupin; a young fellow of some five or six and twenty, with a whimsical face and very merry pair of blue eyes, and usually dressed in a remarkably free and fly-away fashion. He believes that there never “was a man as could come out so strong under circumstances that would make other men miserable” as himself, ifhe could “only get a chance.” But that he finds it difficult to do. He takes the situation at the Dragon in consequence of having made up his mind that it is the dullest little out-of-the-way corner in England, and that there would be some credit in being jolly in such a place, But he leaves it because there is no dulness there whatever ; skittles, cricket, quoits, nineping, comic songs, choruses, company round the chimney-corner every winter evening, making the little inn ns merry as merry ean be. Going to London, he meets Martin Chuzzlewit, and finding him moneyless, and resolved to go to America, he begs permission to accompany him as his man- servant, After gome opposition, Martin consents; and thoy take passage in the steerage of the packet-ship “ Scrow.”

It Is due to Mark Tapley to state, that he suffered at least ax much from sem sickness as ony man, woman, of child on board; and that he had a peculiar ime ulty of knocking himself about on the smallest provocation, and Josing tilt lege ‘at every furch of the ship. But resolved, in his usual phrase, to “come out strong” under disadyantageous elroumstanoes, he was the life and soul of the steerage, and made no more of stopping In the middle of n facetious converra- tlon to go away und be exceastvely il! by himself. and afterwards come back in the very best and gayest of temper to resume It, than if auch a course of prov eveding had been the commonest in the world.

Te cannot be auld, that, as his illness wore off, his cheerfulness and good nature increased, because they would hacdly admit of augmentation; bat his usefulness among the weaker members of the party was tauch enlarged.

Av all tins and zeasons there he was, exerting It. Ifa gleam of sunshine shone

Mi —

240 The Wickens Wictlonary.

out of the dark rkr, down Mark tumbled into the cabin; and present!y up he came ‘agnin with a woman in his arms, or half a dozen ehildren, or a man, ora bed, ot ‘& saneepan, or a busket, or something, animate or Inanimate, that be thought would be the better for the wir, If an hour or two of fine weather In the middie of the day tempted those who seldom or never camo on deck at other times to cram] into the long-boat, or Iie dows upon the spare spare, and try to eat, there, in the ‘er ntro of the group, was Mr, Taploy, handing about salt beet and blacult, or dim pousing tastes of grog, oF cutting up the children’s provisions with his pocket-knife, for their greater case and comfort, or reading aloud from a venerable newspaper, or singing some roaring old song tom seloct party, or writing the bogtanings of Jectors to their friends at home for people who could n't write, or cracking jokes with the erew, or nearly getting blown over the side, or emerging half-drowned from a shower of spray, or lending s hand somewhere or other; but always doing something for the general entertainment. At night, when the cooking-fire was Aighted on the deck, and the driving sparks that flew among the rigging and the cloud of salle seemed to menace the ship with cortatn annihilation by fire, in case tho elements of alr and water failed to compass her destruction, there agaln was Mr. Tapley, with iis coat of, and his shirt-sleeyes turned up to his elbows, doing ‘Kinds of culinary offices; compounding the strangest dishes; recognized by every one as an established wuthority: and helping all parties to achieve rome thing, which, left to themselves, they never could have done, and never would have dreamed of. In short, there never was a more popular character than Mark Tapley Decamo on board that noble and fust-salling tine-of-packet hip “The Screw; "and he uttained ut last to such w pitch of universal admiration, that he began to have grave doubts within himself, whether a man might reasonably claim any credit for belng jolly under such exelting olreumstances,

Arrived at New York, Martin invests all his own means, and Mark’s, in the purchase of a fifty-acre lot in the distant “city” of Eden, which is represented to them as a flourishing town with banks, churches, markets, wharf, and the like. It is Martin's in~ tention to establish himself here as an architect; and he takes Mark into partnership, in consideration of his having furnished much the larger share of thelr joint stock, On reaching the place, however, after « long and fatiguing journey of many days, they find it to be a hideous swamp, exhaling deadly minsma, and containing only a few scattered log-cabins. Martin is terribly disheartened on discovering the outrageous swindle that has been practised upon him, and soon sinks under an attack of the fever that prevails throughout the settlement,

“Now, Mr. Taplay.” sald Mark, giving himself a tremendous blow fn the chest by way of reviver, “Just you attend to what I've got to say. ‘Things ts looking About as bad as they cam look, young man. Youll not have such snother oppor: tunity for showing your jolly disposition, my fine fellow, as long as you live. And Aherefore, Tapley, now "4 your time to come out strong, or never!”

Martin no sooner recovers than Mark is prostrated. For many weary days and nights be lies burning up with fever; but, a# long ae

Martin Epusslewlt. 241

he can speak, he assures Martin that he is still “jol.y,” and when, at last, he is too far gone to speak, he feebly writes “jolly” on a slate. After a long and lingering illness, he slowly recovers; and, when able to get about onee more, they both set their faces towards Old England, where they arrive in due time. Martin turns his steps to- wards the Blue Dragon, and finds his old friend Mrs. Lupin alone in the bar. Wrapped up as he is in « great-coat, she does not know him at first, but soon utters a glad ery of recognition, and he catches her in bis arms.

“Yes, Twill” eriod Mark, “ another—one more— twenty more! You did n't ‘ow me in that hat und coat? f thought you would have known me anywheres, Tea more!”

“80 Tvhoald have known you if Tcould have seen you; bat T could n't, and you spoke so gruff! Idid n't think you could speak gruif to mo, Mark, at first ‘coming back.”

«Fifteen more!” sald Mr. Tapley. “How handsome and how young you look! Six more! The last half-dozen warn’t « fair one, and must be dove over aguin. Lord blest you, what a treat it {x to sce you! One more! Well, T never was +0 Jolly! Just a few more on account of there not being any eredit in it”

‘When Mfr. Tapley stopped in these calculations in simple addition, he did it, ‘not becanso he was at all tired of the exercise, but because he was out of breath. ‘The pause reminded him of other duties.

“Me. Martin Chucelewit"* outside,” he sald. “Toft him under the cartahed ‘while Leamo on to see if thore was auybody here. Woe want to keop quiet to ‘night, till we know the news from you, and what It °s best for us to do,”

“There 4 not a soul {n the house, except the kitchen company,” returned the hostess, “+1¢ they were to know you had come back, Murk, they 'd have w bonfire in the atreet, Inte ms tt is”

+But thoy must n't know It to-night, my precious soul,” aald Mark: “so have the house shut, and the kitchen-fire mado up; and, when It ’ all ready, put a light Jn the winder, and we "ll come in. One more! F long to bear about old friends. ‘You "l tell me all about "em; won't you,— Mr. Pinch, and the butcher's dog down the street, and the terrier over the way, and the wheclwright's, and every one of Yem. When I first caught sight of the church to-night, I thought the steeple would have choked me, aid. One more! Won't you? Not avery little one to finish ‘off with ?”*

“You have had plenty, I am sure," sald the hostess. “Go along with your forelga manners!”

“Thu ain't foreign, bles you!” cried Mark, “Nutive ns oysters, that Ia! One snore, because ft "s native; asa mark of respect for the land we live int ‘hie don't count ws botwoen you and ine, you understand,” sald Mr."Tapley. © f ain't ‘wkiselng you now, you ‘ll observe. have been among tho putriote! ’m mkles (’ my country!"

‘This lave-passage ends in the marriage of Mark to the fair widow, and the conversion of the Blue Dragon into the Jolly Tapley. “A ign of my own invention,” said Mark; “wery new, conwivial, and expressive.”

(Ch. ¥, vii, xiii-xv, xvii, xxi-vxiii, xxxili-xxxy, xliii, xlviii, li-liii.)

ai

— ———

a2 She Mickens Wictienary.

Tigg, Montague, alias Tica Moxracue. A needy sharper, and a friend of Chevy Slyme's.

‘The gentleman was of that order of appearance which {s currently termed shabby-genteel. though, in respect of his dress, he can hardly be anid to have been in any extremities, as his fingers were a long way out of his gloves, and the soles of his feet were at an inconvenient distance from the upper-leather of his boots. His nether garments were of « blulsh-gray,— violent In {ts colors noe, but sobered now by agy and dinginoss, — nnd wore so stretshed and strained in

tough conflict between his braces and bie straps, that they appeared every moment fn danger of flying asunder ut the kuees. His coat, In color blue, and

of m military cut, was buttoned and frogged up to bis chin, His oravat was, in hue ond pattern. like ono of those mantles which hairdressers are accustomed to wrap about thelr clients during the progress of the professional syateries. Mis hat had arrived at such a pass, that it would have been hard to determing whether It was originally white or black. But he wore a mustache, -—a shagey mustache, too; nothingIn the meek and mereiful way, but quiten the flereo and scornful style, —the regular satanionort of thing; and he wore, besides, m rast quantity of unbrusbed hair. He was very dirty and very jaunty, very bold and very mean, very swaggering and very alinking. very much like «man who might have been something better, and unspoakably like = man who doserred to be something worse.

At a later period, having come into the powession of a few pounds, he unites with David Crimple, a tapster who has saved a few pounds (see Crimpce, Davin), and reversing his name, and making it Tig Montague, Esquire, organizes a awindling concerr called the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Lifo Insurance Company, and, peculating on a grander scale than formerly, bo- comes a grander man altogether.

Hohad a world of Jot-black shining hairupon his head, upon his cheeks, upon ‘his chin, upon his upperlip. His clothes, symmetrically made, were of the new= ‘ert fashion and the costllext kind, Flowers of gold and bloe, and groen, and Dlushing red, were on his waistcoat; precious chains und Jewels sparkled on hie breast; his Angers, clogged with brilliant rings, were as unwieldy as summer files but newly reacued from a honey-pot; the daylight mantled in his gleaming hat and boots as in a polished glass: and yet, though changed his name, and changed his outward surface, it was Tigg- Though tarned and twisted upside down and Inside out, ne great men have been sometimes known to be; though ‘no longer Montague Tigg, but Tigg Montague: still It was Tiggy—=the same sae tanle, gallant, military Tigg. The brass was burnished, lacquered, newly stamped, yet it was the true Tigg metal notwithstanding.

Obtaining private information of Jonas Chuzzlewit’s attempt to poison his father, Tigg makes use of his knowledge of the face to compel him not only to invest largely in the stock of the Anglo Bengalee out of his own wealth, but to persuade his father-in-law, Mr. Pecksniff, to do so likewise. Jonas finding his secret known and himself baffled, hunted, and beset, watches his opportunity, and

Martin Ehusslewle. 243

murders Tigg; but his crime is discovered, and he is arrested, and put into * coach to be carried to prison, but poisons himself on the way. (Ch. iv, vil, xil, xiii, xxii, xxviii, xxxvili, xl-xlii, xliv, xlvii.)

Yodgers, Mra. M. Keeper of a commercial boarding-house in London; a bony and hard-featured lady, with a row of curls in front of her head, shaped like little barrels of beer.

“Presiding over an establishment ke this makes sud havoe with the fos tures, my dear Mise Pecksniffs," anid Mrs. Todgers. ©The gravy alone ts ‘enough to add twonty years to one's age, I do assuro you.”

“Lor!” oried the two Mise Pecksniffs.

“The anxiety of that one item, my dears,” auld Mrs. Todgore, “keeps the ‘mipd continually upon the stretch, ‘Thore is no such passion In human nature ‘aa the passion for gravy among commercial gentlemen. It’ nothing to say & Joint won't yield—a whole animal would n't yield — the amount of grary they ‘expect ench day at dinner; and what I have undergone, In consequence,” cried ‘Mrs. Todgers, raising her eyes, and shaking her head, “no one would believe.

Though not a handsome woman, Mrs. Todgers is a very kind- hearted one; and when Mrs. Jonas Cliuzzlewit (Merey Pecksniff), heart-broken and destitute, applies to her for sympathy and nssist- ance, she extends both ready band and heart.

‘Commercial gentlemen and gravy had tried Mrs. Todgers’s temper? the main ebance —it was such a very small oue, in hercase, that she might have been ex- used for looking sharp after it, lest Lt should entirely vanish from her sight — iad taken a firm hold on Mrs, Todgers’s attention, But in some odd nook in ‘Mrs. Todgers’s breast, up a great many steps, and In a corner easy to be over- Jooked, there was a secret door, with “ Woman" written on the spring, which, at 4 touch from Meroy’s hand, had flown wide open, and admitted her for shelter.

‘When boarding-houso accounts arv balanced with all other ledgers, and the Dooks of the Recording Angel ure made up forever, perhaps there may be seen an entry to thy credit, lean Mrs. Todgers, which shall make thee besutiful,

(Ch. vili-xi, xxxii, xxxvii, xlvi, liv.)

Toppit, Miss. A literary Indy whom Mrs. Hominy introduces te the Honorable Elijah Pogram. (Ch. xxxiv.)

Westlock, John. A young man who has been a pupil of Pecks sniff’s, but has a difference with him, and leaves him. He is a warm friend of Tom Pinch’s, whose sister Ruth he finally marries, (Ch. ii, xii, xxv, xxix, xxxvi, xxvii, xxxix, xl, xlv, xlvili, xix, Hi-litt.)

Wolf, Mr. A fiiend and confederate of Montague Tigg's; intro- duced to Jonas Chuzzlewit asa literary character connected wit aremarkably clever woekly paper. (Ch. xxviii)

244 Zhe Dickens Dictlonary,

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

Cuarrma I. Conceming the podigres of the Chuzzlewit fuenily.—11 Mr. Hecke $i? about entering hs house, # unceremoniously overturned down tho steps by the wind ‘Mamming the door In bis face; hls daughters discover him, and bear him inte the housey Av. Heckmiff's basiness, and his method of obtalaing pupils, described; Pecksaiit morte zea, and aunounces to his daughters the engagement of a new pupll; ‘Tom Pinch tries to Intarcoile for John Westiock, bat Mr. Tecksnif will Listen to no advances from Tom, oF from John himself, who teaves tn disgust; John tries to open Tom's eyes to the true character of Peckaiff, but without effeeti John Westlock’s departure for London. — 11%. ‘Martin Chuzzlewit, senior, and Mary Graham, arriveat the Blac Dragon; Martin Js very MM, And tho landiady sends for Mr. Pecksolfl; Mre Lupin mistakes the relation existtng Detween Mr. Chuszlewit and Mary; Mr. Chazslewit dextroya a paperhe had with great dimoulty writtan In beds Mr, Peckanitf arrives at the Tile Dragon, and is greatly seandal- fred by the landlady’ story of her lodgers: his surprise at finding In the tnvatld hiseousin, ‘Mr, Chuxalowitt Martin sequatots Mr, Peoksntif with tho cts of his wealth, and fis dle ‘trust of all who court his favor.—1¥. Mr. Peckanitf comes tn violent contact with Mr. ‘Moutague Tigg at the door of Mr. Chusslewit's chamber; Mr, Tig eulogizes his fetend, ‘Mr. Chevy Siymo, and informs Mr. Pocksni{f of tho arrival of Mr. Chusalewit's relations: ‘2 meoting of these relatives 1s held at Mr, Peckenitf"s house ; the meeting proves any thing ‘bot harmonons, exch person accusing every other of designs on the property Of Me. Chua _ lewit, and Pecksniff is called some very hard tiames by his friende; the meeting brewke ‘up on the annooncement that Mr, Chuzzlewit has gone no one knows where. — ¥. ‘Tora Pinch drives to Salisbury to meet the new pupil, taking ap Mark ‘Tapley on the way: ‘Mark informs Tom of his intention to leaye the Dragon, and seck a new situation where hocan get some credit for being Jolly; meeting of Tor Pinch and the now pupil, and ‘hele first impressions of each other! Tom relates to young Martin the elreumstanice of his Playing tho organ in tho church, and of the freqnent appearance thero of & beautiful youn Indy; Mr. Pecksnitf and his daughters affeot surprise at the early arrival of Martins Mr. Fecksniff shows his bouse to Martin, and, after xupper (om a scale thet surprises Tom ‘Vinch), shows tim to his bedroom, and takes an opportunity to give him a hint of Tom's position, — VE. Mr. Pecksnif? announces his intention of going to London, and taking his aughters with his, and gives Martin some suggestions as to bls employment during hie ‘absence; Tom and Martin, Jef alono together, become confidential, and Tom learns of ‘Martin's attachment to Mary Graham, and consequent misunderstanding with Dis grande father; he also learns that his beautiful visitor In the church was Mary.—Vit. Tom and ‘Martin aro surprised by the appearance of Mr. Montsguo Tige, who explains that bhinelf and Chevy Slymo are detained at the Dragon in default of payment of thelr bills, ad ‘Martin and Tom assume the obligation: Mr. Syme shows his independent nature, Mr. ‘Tikx linproves a favorable opportunity, and begs the Iona of a halfaoversign from Tom Pinchs Mark Taploy takes leave of tho ive Dragon.—VIIT. Mr, Peoksniff and his daughters, Journeying to London by the stagovonch, are Joined by Anthony Chuxstowlt ‘and his ein Jonas, and Mr. Jonna becomes attentive to the young Indies; My. Peoksultt arrives with his Caaghters at Mra. Todgors’s Commorcial Boarding-House, and that indy makes arrangements for thelr accommodation, situation of Todgers's described. —1K. Mr. Pockanlff returns a favorable snawer to Mr. Jinkins's roané-robin; Pecksnlff and hie aughters call on Tom Pinch's slater: they patronise Miss Pinch, and offend sho gentle man of the house; Bailey gives sundry dark hints Inregand to the bill of fare for the ap proaching feast: the gentlemen boarders are presented to the young Indies: the xacoesstu. inner, graced by the presence of the young ladies, whore Mr. Jinikins ts triumphant, ane Mr. Modiie becomes despondent and Jealous; Mr, Pecksniff, under tbe infuence of wine pecomes a Iittle particular in his attentions to Mise Todgers; Mr. Pockemiif is put to bet under dimeuitios. ~X. Old Martin Chuzslewit calla on Mr. Peckaniff, apologizes fue hiv ‘former rudeness, snd asks 80 Introduction to thst gentloman’s daughters; Mr. Chuxalewl

Martin Epuszlewet. 2s

tnetructs Pocksnltf to dismiss young Martla from his employ, snd aske hits and the young adios to befriend Mary, who, he's careful to tell them, has no expectations from. him Mr. Chuszlewit warns Pocksnlff that tho world will aacuse him of mercenary motives Ia ‘carrying out this plan, and takes his leave; Bra. Todgers's youngest boarder le Inoensed ‘agiinat Mr. Jinkina; Bir. Pocksnlf? reproves Mra Todgers for dissimulation.—X1. Str. ‘Joons Chuzzlewit iavites the young ladies to view the sights of London; after a ook wt ‘all the free apectacles, Jonas takes them to his home; they are introduced to old Chutfey ; Chutfey's dependence upon Mr. Anthony Chaxclewit; 3isa Charity makes the tea, and reccites particular attention from Jonas; Jonas entertains the sisters through the evening, and then aecompanics them heme: the young gentiomen of Mra Todgers's serenade the Young ladionon tho ere of their departure from London; Str. Balloy receives ® gratulty, ‘Kod makes himself useful; Mr. Anthony Chuzslewit snd Jonas call to tako teare, and (he Pecksniffs start for home.—XH. Young Martin patronizes Tom Pinch, and tells hima What he shall do for him when he himself ts successful: John Westlock fvites Tom and ‘Martin to dine with him af Salisbary; and thay walk to Mallabury to Reep the appolni- ‘mont; John and Martin discuss tho acnlability of Tom Pinch and the hypoorisy of Peck ‘soitly Tom defends Pooksnitf against Joun's prejudices John returns Tom tho money he had loaned Teg, and eautions him ngainat truating that gentleman any furthers Jobm ‘Wertloo’s, watching Tom and Martin as they set out for home, 1s impressed with a seni (of Martin's aeldah mlsappreciation of Tom's character; Martin and Tom turn out to meet Mr, Pecksulff aud bis daughters on thele roturn, and Martin Js astonished to receive no ‘recognition from them; Martin demands an explanation, and Is disinised by Peckanif{'s ‘he determines to go to Amerion ; Tom Pinch gives him bis last halfsoveroign,— XIX, Mar- tin moots a friendly teamster, who helps blm on his way, and gives bli an secoant of iis ‘elend who wont to the U-nited States; Martin encounters Mr. Montague Tix at a pawn- ‘broker's, and makes ineffectual attempts to fad employment In London} be receives ® twents-pound note from an unknown hand; Mark Tapley mtrodaces liimaelf to Martin, and asks to bo taken Into his service, and allowed to go to America with him: Martin ‘relates hile history to Mark, Mark installa himself tn Martin's sorvice,and secures a moot ng between his master and Mary.— XIV. Martin and Mary meet in tho Park; he informe ‘her of his intention to go to Amorica, and conslgns ber to the are of Tom Pinch; Mark tscoris Mary homo after her farewell to Martin, and she sends by him ber diamond rin thee lover.—XY. Mr. Mark Tapley, on bond the ship" Screw.” bound for Americ, oun ‘s5 opportunity to bo Jolky,"* and makes hinsolf useful to his poor fellowepaasengersy Star Uin's pride im avoiding the cabin-pasengers: the Wavellers land ta New York.—XVI. ‘They evoounter Colonel Diver, who eulogizes his country colloquy between the captaln "The Screw “and Colonel Diver; Martin accompanies the colonel to the office of * The | Rowdy Journal,” and (s introduced to Mr. Jefferson Brick; Me. Brick gives a toast they all go to the boarding-honse of Sins. Pawkins, where Martin is astonished af the | ‘voraclly of the boarders, and makes the acquaintance of some of “the most remarkable ten of the country ;"" Mr. Bovan accoste Martin.and explains soine of the charscteristioe of the colonel. —XVIL. Mr. Boyan surprises Martin by his eriticiems of America; they Gnd Mark Tapley ot the office of “The Rowdy Journal." in company with a former slave, ‘whoue story he repeats to them; Mr. Bevan introduces Martin to the funily of tr, Norris} Martin is much pleased with them, until the entrance of General Piaddock, who was « ‘abin-passonger in “Tho Screw; " when he acknowledges that he himself came to the meerage from poverty, he finds a nudden coldness on the part of his hosts Mra Jefferson, cick desoribes her attendance on certain lectures; Mark Tapley revives Martin's splrite by administering @ shorry-cobtler.—XVIIT. Jonas Chuaslowit, examining his father's Will, la tarted by the appearance of Mr. Peckanitf; Anthony Informe Vecksnlff that Jonas frill be his heir, and advises him to bind him to one of his daughters while he ts lu the tuood; mudden death of Anthouy Chuszlewit. — XIX. Mr. Pockanlif goes in quost of 3rx. Aiamp1 Mr. Mould, the undertaker, commends the affectionate regrets of Mr. Jonze, wha ‘eas ordered no limitation of expense In the funoral arrangements; Charley's grief at the ‘seath of his old master; senaltiveness of Zouss under his aMiiction; how old Anthony ‘was Duried, «nd no expense sparet; Jonas Ie alarmed lest Chaffey should talk some seems eX Jonas quostions Mr. Pecksnlff in regard °% the dowry ba will

246 Ede Dickens Dietfonary.

{Fiv0 lls daughter tn ease sho should secure such a husband as imatif; ew Jenne treated Vocksnlt, and how Peckmlif paid the bills Feckeaniff, recalling the mewory of old Ane thony, Is warned by Jonas never to revive the vubjects Mr: Pecksaiff takes Jonax home ‘with him, and they surprise Cherry In the performance of her household duties: Jonas propoves Lo Mercy In tho presence of her ister, mach to the disappointment of the wider ‘stor’ hopes; Tom Finchannounces the approach of old Martin Chuzalewit and Mary Gime ‘hom —XX1. Young Marcin and Mark Tupley, on the way to fiden, discus the attractions of that locality: Mr. La Fayotte Kettle and General Choke give Martin some tuformation. ‘now to him in regard to his own country's tho general edviees the travellers in romard to smtiling in Zdeny Martin takes Mark Into partnership; they consult the agent of the Eden ‘Land Corporation, witness the flouriahing condition (upon psper) of that city, and pur ‘hase an eligible sito: they attend w great mocting of the Watertoast Sympathiaers. ‘and witness the ond of that association — XXL. Martin is lloniaed by the ettizens, and Anvited th doliver a teesure: on declining, hes forced to hoida *te-Vee;™ Mra Hominy is Introduced; Captain Kedgick «ives Mark the seoret of Martin's popularity. XXII. The ‘travollors proceed on their Journey to den, leaving Mra Hominy at New Thermopylam: ‘arrived at Eden, they find it to cousiat of a few log-houses in @ swamp.and Martin Rives ‘way to his feelings Martin is taken {ll with fever and ague.— XXIV. Pocksntif receives 1his visitors with assumed surprise; he propares Mr. Chuzalewit's mind for w meeting with ‘Jonas, whom be eulogizos as a model and datifal son; Tom Minch tights Mr. Chazzlewit ‘and Mary home to the luo Dragon; returning, he encounters Jonas, who assaults bit, ‘und gots tho worst of Itt Jonas ssoribes his Injary to accident, but Charity suspects Tons to be the cause of It, and thanks him for It; old Martin tries to mouse Moray to x eons of her future unhappiness (¢ she marries Jonas: Jonas asks Mercy to fix the day.—XX¥. Airs. Gatap calls upon the Moulds and discourses on the changes of Lifes she obtains Mr. ‘Mould’s permission to nightwatch @ gentleman in connection with taking eave of Mr. Chutfey, who hasbeen Jef in her chargo during the abssnce of Jonas; Joka Westlock calls ‘at cho Boll €0 inquire about Mrs. Gamnp's now patient; Boteay Prig introduces Mre Gaznp to her new patient, whoso mind Iswandering. —XXV1. Mr. Hafley calleupan Poll Sweedle- pipe, and hears of the marriage of Jonas: golng with Poll to.Janas's house to fetch Mire Gamp, sho ts surprised to learn thet Jonas has married “the morry ones" the bride's ‘welcome home, —XXVII. Mr. Montague Tiey appears ws Tigg Montague, Esq., ebairman of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Insurance Company, of which David Crimplo is secretary; meeting of the board of the Anglo-Bengalee; Doctor Jubling tateor duces Jonas Chuzzlewit, who han an Interstew with Tig, in which tho Batter makes lita ‘sf known to Jonas, and invites him to Join ehe company; Montague instructs Nadgett 4o bring bm alt the information he oxn obtain in rezard to Jonas Chusslowlt,— XXVIL- ‘Fonns dines with Br. Tigg and a fow friends at that gentleman's house; he teenrried home crunk try Mr. Batley: Jonas ourses his wife, and strikes ber-—XXIX. Mr. Batley bas 6 ‘tasy have nt the hands of Poll Sweedlopipe: Mra Gamp’s opinion of Mr. Lewsome’s sek- nose; Mrs, Gamp and Betsoy Prig prepare thelr patient for « Journey; Lewaome tolls John Westiock he has a accret weighing on hie mind. — XXX. Mr. ecksnlt reproves tila eldest daughter for her Jealousy of hor ister: and at her request consents to place her at ‘Mra. Todgera's in the city; Pocksnif informs Martin of Charity's proposed departure and Jnvites him to come and stay with hitn for the sake of Mary; Mr. Pecksnl(f moots Mary, and forces her to listen to un offer of marriage, which she spurax, and he threatens 40 Use his influence with Mr. Chusziewit against bis grandson, waless sho aubmalte; Cherry tne forms Tom Winch of her tntended departure. —XXXI, Peckaniff witnesses in tho ehurch an interview between Tom Pinch and Mary, in which she opens Tom's eyes to the true character of bisemployer; Peeksnii complains to Mr, Chuaalewit that he has been cruelly deceived Ly Thomas Pinch; ho accuses Tom, In the presmnce of Mr. Chuzzlewit, of ad- Sreesing proposals of love to Mary in tho eburch: Tom makes no reply, but returns to Pecksnltf his doable-eyoglass which ho had found ta the church, and lexvos the houses Fom declines Mrs. Lupin's invitation to stay at the Deogon, and goes to Salisbury. — XXXIL Mist Peckanltf arrives at Mrs, Todgers’s, and recolves a pathetle account of the

date of Mr, Augustus Moddle; Charity becomes sttentive to Me. Modd'e, and draws ise

010 a proposal of marriage, whlch, of course, she accopte —XXXITL. Mr. Mark Taplay

(Wads thar huis fotlow-passcngers on The Serev: “ arehis next-loornelghborsin Eten Ms

Martin Epusslewlt. 287

‘Buxlbal Chollop calls upon the now sottlersy Mark’s freo speaking Joes not ploase him, ‘ang he warns hima to rostrain it; Martin recovers, afler many weeks, and Mark x then ‘taken III; by these expertenoos Martin learns the Temson of self-sacrifice, and, upon Mark's Freovery, conmuits him in regard to returning home; Martin writes to Mr. Bevan for sxalet- ‘ance, on receipt of which they start homoward.— XXXIV. Martin ts introduced to the Honorable Etijals Pogram, B.C. ; Mr. Pogram glorides the tustitutions of the country, and ‘siuribures Martin's dissent to British prefadion} Captain Kedgick Is surprised 10 s00 she Wrarellors return; Mr. Pogram holds a le-Veo by request of a commitice of the eltizana; meoting of Mrs, Hominy and Elijah Pograms Martin and Mark arrive ia New York, fot Mr. Bevan, and tearn that The Screw” ls in port, and ready to sail for England the next 371 Mark ships.as cook, and #9 pays theirpsssage, enabling them to deatine the assistance Of Mr. Levan. —XXXY. Arrtring Iu England, they witness the laying of the comer-stone of @new building, at which Mr, Pecksniff, as architeot, plays a prominent parts Martin Feeogntzes the plan of tho building as his own, which ho dealgned when studying with Pecksnitl,— XXXVI. Tom Pinch starts for London to scek his fortune: be takes leave of ‘Mra Lupin; arrived im London, he calle upon John Weatlock at Furnival’s Inn, who is delighted to see him, and insists upon his staying with him; Tom goes wo see his sister, ‘and, finding her subjected to the inclvility of sereants and the unjust censure of her em- lovers, boexpresses tis indignation, and takes her away with him; Tom and Huth Bad Joditngs st Islington. —XXXVIE. Tom encounters Miss Charity Pecksnlif in the street, ‘und foes with her to Drs. Todgers’s, whore he mects her sister; Mercy gives Tom a mea sage for old Mr. Chuztlowity Charity introduces Tom to Mr, Moddie; Tom tells John ‘Weatlock his story, and returns to Rath.— XXXVIU1. Mr. Nadgett prosecutes his inquiries: ‘as ontered by Mr. Montague: he reports the result of bis Lavestigations In weiting to his ecxployers Jonas calls upon Mr. Montague, who Keops Nadgett present at thotr interview, in which he proposes that Jonas should go deeper into thelr scheme, and draw tn his fe therin-iaw also, and gives Jonas, in x whisper, good roason for complying. =~ XXXUX. Tom Pinch and Kath commence their housckeeping: how Muth mak

‘snd how John Westlook happens in In season to witness the operatic lreumstances of a call he had received from & gentleman who offered Tom, through lm, ‘Asituation as secretary and Ubrarian, with » salary ofone hundred pounds: Jolm and ‘Tum exll upon Mr. Pips, the agent of Tom's employer; Br. Pips shows Tom tho place where Iie wark Leto be, but declines to give his employer's name; Johu dines wich Tom and his Mister, and hears Tom's account of bis leaving Pocksnif, and of the changes in T'eekenit« family. — XL. Tom enters upon his duttes and makes considerable progress. but the mystery f bs employer is atil! unsolved ; Tom and Rath, taking « morning-walk nonr the steame bout wharf, encounter Mrs. Gamp, anxiously seeking for The AnkWorks Package; ‘Gamp discovers the persons of whom she isin search, and points them out to Toms ‘Tom Mamazed to nee Nadgett at hia elbow, making Inquiries for the same partion; at Nadgett'e request, Torn carries the man a letter, and 1s astonished to recognize Jonas Chuzalewits ‘diet of the lotter upon Jonas, who drags his wife trom tho steamer, meets Montayue apo the wharf, and drives off with him, XLT. Montague threatens Jonas with a disclosure of ‘tho secret ho posseases, unieas he uccedes to his demands; Montague pronosox that Jonas should entice Pecksniff to Invest with them, and, at Jonas’s request, consents to go wht imo to Peckanii"'sy Jonas lanches with Jobling, and questions him in a careleen way about, the use of his lancets; the doctor narrates the particulars of a remarkable murder. — XLIL Journey of the two friends to Satisbury during a violent storm; the carriawe ‘erertamed, the horses thrown down, and Jonas attotnpis to furee them upon Mot vague, ‘who Is ying senealens in thy Toad, Dut is stopped by the driver; Hatley, who accompanies hem, recetves severe injuffes from the accident; Montague resolves to travel ote alone. =XLUL Mrs. Lupin, sitting alone in her bar, ix accosted ~F a traveller who Anqutrex for Mark Tapley; the traveller proves to be Mark himself, who, accompanied by Martin, ha Just arrived; they learn from Mrs Lupin the changes in Pocksnif"s family and the tnfta= 2aco Hockenlst has acquired over old Mr. Cuazzlewit; Martin determines 1 call upou hie grandfather, and sends Mark with a lottor requesting leave to wait upon bli, which eek sniff reenives at the door, and destroys; Martin, aceompanted by Mark, gains admission te Fecksaitf's house, and appeals to his grandfather, who allows Pocksniff to answer for ‘Nim; Martin has an intorriew with Mary, and learns of Peckanift's suit for her bendy

24s The Wickens Mictlonary.

leaving Pecksnift's house, they meot Jonas golng there. —XLTV. Mr. Pecksnlif receiver. ‘his non-ln-law with tender inquiries for his daughters; Jonas informs Peckanlif of hie asiness, Introduces him t Montague, snd secures tho investment of his espital In thalt ‘concern; Jonas leaves Montaxue to complete the arrangements with Pecksniff,and retaroe to London. —XLY, Buth Pinch, waiting for Tom In Fountala Court, is joined by John ‘Wextlock, who takes Tom and his alster homo to his rooms to dine.—XLVI. ‘Tom reintos ‘the occurrences of the morning on the wharf, and John suspects foul plays Tom and Ruth, ‘Foiny to call on Mra Jonas Chuzzlewit, meet Mise Pecksniff and Mr. Modile, who accom pany them; Mes. Gamp makes tea for the company, and admonishes Mr. Chorfey | Jonas Tetarms home, is incensed to find Tom there,and forces him to leave the house; Jonas otires to a private room, giving orders that he shall not be disturbed, and snder cover of ‘the darknons, and In disguise, escapes from the house by an tnfrequented way.—XLVEf. Jonas returns to Wiltshire, concealed by his dlaguise, Ios in walt for Montague, waylays ‘Mo as ho Is passing through a plece of woods, murders him, and returns by night to Lone on : In the torning Jonas ts called by his wife, who informs him that Nadgert had called, ‘very early to noo him. —XLVII. Tota and Ruth are aurprised by a call from Martin and ‘Mark; Martin gives Tom an account of his alroumstances, and by his advice they go to ‘consult John Wostlock, who recetves them with some embarrassment on account of hiay= tnga visitor; Tom and Mark leave Martin with John, ands they walk along Mork informs ‘Tom of the settlement he proposes to maken Ife; John introduces Martin to hix vialtor, ‘Mr. Lewsome, who narrates his instrumentality in the death of Anthony Chuzxlewit, and ‘fixes the respooalbillty upon Jonas, whorn he accuses of his father's munter; Martin and Jobn determine what course to pursue. — XLIX. Mes. Gap enverralus Betsey Prigat her apartment In Kingsgate Street, but that lady showing some unpleasant fooling, and rentur~ Ing to express n doabt of the existence of Mrs. Harris, the friends quarrel, and part: Jobm and Martin arrive Just st thix momont, and learn from Are. Gamp some partioulare in regard to Chuffey.—L. Martin accuses ‘Tom Pinch of unfairness, greatly to Tom"s aur prise: Kath tells Tom abe has discovered his secret love for Mary; Tom's employer wt last appears. —LL Jonas Chuzslewit thinks to carry out hie plan for allencing Mr. Chatty s Mra Gamp arrives, and is soon followed by old Martin and John Westlock, who are fol~ lowed by Lewsome and Mark Tapley; Lewsome states all tho ctroumstances relating to: Jonas’ murder of his father, which Chusfey contradicts, by relating how his old master ‘and himself had discovered Jonus's designs, and that Anthony had died from « broken. ‘heart, and got from polson; Jonas, thinking himself cleared by this testimony, orders them from the room, when Nadgott enters with officors, and arrests bim for the murder of Mone ‘taguo; Nadgott’s narrative of how he had tracked Jonas, and discovered the murder of his father, and Then that of Montagne; Jonas attempts to bribe Slyme, who ls one of the ‘officers, to allow hisa to kill himself, but, Gling ia thls, he comrnlts auiclde by taking polsom ‘as they are carrying him to Jall,- LUI. Mark Tapley waits upon old Martin Chuaelewit by Iiis request; he admits, In turn, Mr. John Weatlock, Tom Minch wad his aletor, young Martlo, and Miss Graham ond Mrs, Lupin: lastly Mr. Pecksnlff enters, and reproaches thom all for taking advantage of the old man, when the old man strikes him down with ‘his staf: Martin compels Pecksnitf to listen to bis exposure of his meanness, and to wile ew his reconciliation with young Martin; Mr. Mockentf takes his departure; Mrs. Gampy Mr. Poll Sweediepipe, and the revived Mr. Balley, appear and disappenr for the tnab tine. ‘==LIIf, John Weatlock declares tis love to Ituth, and finds 1t reciprocated: happiness of ld Martin tn the Joy of tho lovers; he entertains them all at dinner; Miss Pecksnitt makes arrangements for hor wedding. —T1V- Mr. Chuxalowit calls upon Morey at Mm Todkore’s, end tcvites her to place hervelf under bis care; Mark Tapley welcomes home ‘is 0:4 neighbors in Edens how Mr, Augustus Moddle deserted his bride, and Miss Pook. soit! was not married; what Tom Pinch saw as time passed on,

The Chimes.

A GOBLIN STORY OF SOME BELLS THAT RANG AN OLD YEAR OUT, AND A NEW YEAR IN.

‘Tus, the second of the Christmas books, was brought out in 1844 by Bradbury and Evans. It was illustrated with a frontispiece and title on ateel by Daniel Ma ‘elise, and with woodcuts from drawings by John Leech, Richard Doyle, and ‘Clarkson Stanfield.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.”

Bowley, Lady. Wife to SirJosoph Bowley ; a very stately lady. (2d quarter.)

Bowley, Master. Her son, a little gentleman aged twelve. (8d quarter:)

Bowley, Sir Joseph. An old and very stately gentleman, who is a member of parliament, and who prides himself upon being the “poor man's friend and father." The poor man in his district he considers his business, “I endeavor,” he says, “to educate his mind by inculeating on all occasions the one great moral lesson which that class requires; that is, entire dependence on myself, (2d, 34 quarter.)

Chickenstalker, Mrs. Anne. A stout old lady, keeper of » shop “in the general line,” who, Toby Veck dreams, is married to Tugby, Sir Joweph Bowley's porter. (20, 4th qaarter.)

Cute, Alderman, ‘A plain man and a practical man; an easy, af fable, joking, knowing fellow, up to every thing, and not tobe im- posed on; one who understands the common people, and has not the least difficulty in dealing with then. Being a ‘ustice, he thinks

Ld

i

250 Ebe Dickens Bictfonary.

he can “ put down” any thing among “this sort of people,” and so sets about putting down the nonsense that is talked about want, and the cant in vogue about starvation; and declares his intention of putting down distressed wives, buys without shoes and stocke ings, wandering mothers, and indeed all young mothers of all sorte and kinds, all sick persons and young children; and, if there is one thing on which he can be said to have made up his mind more thay on another, it is to put suicide down. Under this name Mr. Dick ‘ens scarified Sir Peter Laurie, a wealthy Scotch saddler residing ic London, who was knighted in 1828 on being appointed sheriff of London and Middlesex, and who was chosen alderman from Alders- gate in 1826, and was elected lord-mayor in 1882. Sir Peter was a garrulous and officlous magistrate, severe in his treatment of the poor, and in the habit of threatening to put down want, vagabond- age, suicide, and the like, among them. (1st, $d quarter.)

Fern, Lilian. An orphan; niece to Will Fern. (2d-4th quarter.)

Fern, Will. A poor but honest man, who only wants to live like ‘one of the Almighty’s crecturs”” but has a bad name, and can’t. (2d-4th quarter-)

Filer, Mr. A low-spirited gentleman of middle age, of a meagre habit and a diseonsolate face, full of facts and figures, and realy to prove any thing by tables; a friend of Alderman Cute’s. (Ist, 8d quarter.)

Fish, Mr. Confidential secretary to Sir Joseph Bowley. (2d, 8d quarter.)

Lilian. See Ferny, Lintax.

Richard. A handsome, well-made, powerful young smith, engaged to Meg Veck. (1st, $d, 4th quarter.)

Tugby. Porter to Sir Joseph Bowley; afterwards married, aa Toby Veck dreams, to Mra. Chickenstalker. (2d, 4th quarter.) Veck, Margaret or Meg, Toby Veck's daughter. (ist4th

quarter.)

Veck, Toby, called Trorry from his pace, “which meant specd, ‘fit didn’t make it.” A ticket-porter.

A weak, small, spare old man, ho was ® vory Hercules, this Toby, in hile go0d Intentions, He loved to cara his money. He delighted to believe —Tobs wns very poor, and couldn't well afford to part with a delight — thes he wae worth his ait. With n shilling or an eighteen-penny message or smail pares in hand, bis courage, always high, rose higher. As he trotted on, he would eal? out to fast postinen ahead of him to got out of the way, devoutly belleving ‘that, In the 18 -vral course <¢ things, he must inevitably ov-rinke aud ran ther

Ebe Chimes. 251

down; and he had perfect fuith—not often tested tn his being able to carry ‘any thing that man could lift,

‘Toby has a great liking for the bells in the church near his station,

Being but « simple man, he invested them with w strange and solemn charac ter. ‘They were «o mysterious (often heard, and never seen), s0 high up, a0 far ‘Off, 10 full of such ® deop, strong melody, that he regarded them with m spezlee of awe; and sometimes, when he looked up at the dark arched widows in the tower, he half expected to be beckoned to by something which was not a Uell, and yet was what he heard #0 often sounding in thie chimes. For all this, Toby scouted with indignation w certain flying rumor that the chimes were haunted, ‘ns lmplying the possibility of their being connected with any evil thlug. In short, they wore very often in his ears, and very often in his thoughts, but always tn hie good opinion; and he very often got such a crick in his neck by staring, with bis ‘mouth wide open, nt the steeple where they hung, thet he was fain to take an ex- tra trot or two afterwards to cure It.

On Christmas Eve, Toby falls asleep by the fireside, while read- ing a newspaper, and dreams that he is called by the chimes, and 80 goes up into the church-tower, which he finds peopled by dwarf phantoms, spirits, elfin creatures of the bells, of all aspects, shapes, characters, and occupations. As he gazes, the spectres disappear, and he sees in overy bell a bearded figure, mysterious and awfal, of the bulk and stature of the bell, —at once a figure and the bell itself? ‘The Great Bell, or the Goblin of the Great Bell, after arraigning him for sundry instances of wrong-doing, puts him in charge of the Spirit of the Chimes, a little child, who shows him various sorrow- ful scones of the future, the actors in which he knows, and some of whom are very near and dear to him, But all these scenes point the same moral, —“that we must trust and hope, and neither doubt ‘ourselves, nor the good in one another.” And when Toby breaks the spell that binds him, and wakes up suddenly with a leap that brings him upon his fuct, he is beside himself with joy to find that the chimes are merrily ringing in the New Year, and that all the sin and shame and suffering and desperation which he has witnessed is but the baseless fabric of a vision. The lesson is not forgotten, howevsr, and the New Yeas is made all the happier by his troubled dream. .

The Exicket on the Hearth.

A FAIRY TALE OF HOME.

POsLisHED in 1645, insoribed to Lord Jeffrey, and {lnatrated with a frontie plece and titlepage by Maclise, and woodonts from drawings by Doyle, Leech Clarkson, Stanfield, and Landseer,

‘The story takes its name from the quaint description with which tt opens, of @ match or trial of skill, in the cozy home of an English carrier, between the ten-kettle and a cricket, in which the latter gains the victory. “ To have # cricket on the hearth,” Dot, the carrier’s wife, tells her husband, “Is the luckiest. thing tn all the world”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Boxer. John Peerybingle’s dog. (Chirp 1st-3d.)

Dot. See Preryntxouz, Mas. Marr.

Fielding, May. A friend of Mrs. Peerybingle’s. She is overs persuaded into consenting to bestow her hand upon Tackleton, a surly, sordid, grinding old man; but, on the morning of the day ap- pointed for the wedding, she marries Edward Plummer, a former lover, who suddenly returns after a long absence, and whom she has believed to be dead. (Chirp 2d, 3d.)

Wielding, Mrs. Her mother; a little, querulous chip of an old Judy with a peevish face, and a most transcendent figure (in right of having preserved a waist like « bedpost), She is very genteor and patronizing, in consequence of having once been better off, or of laboring under an impression that she might have been, if something tad happened (in the indigo-trade) which never did happen, and seemed to have never been particularly likely to happen. (Chirp ‘2d, 3d.) =

2

She Eclewet on the Meartd. 253

Peerybingle, John. A large, sturdy man, much older than his wife, but “the best, the most considerate, the most affectionate, of husbands” to her. (Chirp Ist-8d.)

‘He was often near to something or other very clever, by his ows account, thls Inmbering, slow, honest John; this John so heavy, but #0 light uf spieit; ‘s0 rough upon the surface, but so gentle at the core; so dull without, 30 quick within; so stolld, bat #0 good! O mother Nature! give thy children the true pootey of heart that hid (tself In this poor carrier's breast,—he was but = carrier, by the way,—and we can bear to ave them talking prose, and leading lives of prose, and bear to bless thee for thelr company,

Peerybingle, Mrs. Mary, called Dor from her small size. His wife, a blooming young woman, with a very dollofa baby. (Chirp Ist-Bd.)

Plummer, Caleb. A poor toymaker in the employ of Tackleton ; ‘a spare, dejected, thoughtful, gray-halred old man, wholly devoted to his blind daughter. (Chirp 1st-$d.)

Plummer, Bertha, His daughter, a blind girl. With her father, she lives in “a little cracked nutshell of a wuoden house, . - . stuck to the premises of Gruff und Tackleton like » barnacle to a ship's keel.”

Thave said that Caled and his poor blind daughter lived here. Ishould have ‘sald that Calob tived here, and his poor blind daughter somewhere else, —In an enchanted home of Calcb’s furnishing, where scarelty and shabbiness were not, and trouble never entered. Caleb was no sorcerer, bat In the only magic art that still remains tous, —the magic of devoted, deathloss love. Nature had been the mistress of his study; und from her teaching all the wonder cane.

‘The blind girl never knew that ceilings were discolored; walls blotched, and bare of plaster here and thero; high crevices unstoppod, and widening every day; ‘beams mouldering, and tending downward. The blind girl never knew that fron was rusting, wood rotting, paper peeling off; the #lze and shape, and true proportion of the dwelling, withering away. The blind girl never knew that ‘ugly shapes of delf and earthenware were on the board; that sorrow and faint= beurtedness were in the house; that Caleb’e seanty hairs were turaing grayor gad more gray béfore her sightless face. The blind girl never knew they had master cold, exacting, and uninterested; never knew that Taokieton was ‘Tackloton, in short, but lived in the belief of an cecentrio humorist, who loved to have his Jest with them, and who, while he was the guardian augel of their Hives, disdained to hear one word of thankfulness,

And all was Caleb’s doing; all the doing of her simple futher!

‘The consequence of this well-meant but illjudged deception is, that Bertha comes secretly to love Tackleton with unspeakable af fection and gratitude, and is nearly heart-broken on finding that he ‘means to marry May Fielding. This compels her father to tell her saw truth; to confess that he as altered objects, changed the char

* scters of people, invented many things that never haw’ peen, te 2

UM Ede Dickens Mictlonacg.

make her happier. The shock to ber sensitive nature Is great; but instead of losing her confidence in him, she clings to him all the ‘more closely, and cherishes him all the more devotedly, for his inno- cent deceit, springing from motives so pure and unselfish. (Chirp 2d, 90.)

Lovely as the character of Bertha is, it cannot be said to be true to nature; and there is much justice in the following criticism from The London “Times :"—

“Ho, Mr, Dickens, aronottho blind misled, Fexquisite are tho spared senses, mercifully

strengthened by Providence to make amends for the one tremendous deprivation. ‘The Flagers of tho bitnd read the UibI0; the ears of tho blind —the Agure is bold one—see ‘the friendly vialtor long before you or I, even whilat his foot ls Lingering at the Uhresbold. ‘Would you have as bellove that touch, feeling, hearing. remained for twenty years tor- pid and dead tu the sensitive creature whom yoo have spolled by your perversion? We ‘tell you, and not without good warrant for the aasartion, that no man living, ‘or master, has power to atop up the avenues through which knowledge rashes to the 001 of a poor Innocent deprived of alght. Bectha, by your own account, had ried in ‘he world: sho talked wisely, and even profoundly, on abstruse matiers; she worked ‘with her father; she knew every toy In the room, and where to seek It, end how th ‘make ts she wns in daily {ntercourse with those who knew the charsoter of Tackle ‘on, and who spoke of him with freedom. And yet you ask us to belleve that this young Juss, all feeling and perception, never know * that walls were blotched, and bare of plas ter here and thero; that iron was rusting, wood Totting, paper peeling off; that sorrow and fulnt-heartodnes wore In the house: that they had @ master cold, exacting, un- tnterosted." If we believe you, It must be when Nature proves a Nar.

Plummer, Edward. Son to Caleb, and brother to Bertha Plum- mer. After along absence in the “Golden South Americas,” he returns to claim the hand of May Ficlding, to whom he had been engaged before leaving home, Hearing, when twenty miles away, that she has proved false to him, and is about to marry old Tackle ton, he disguises himself as an old man, for the sake of observing and judging for himself, in order to got at the rea. and exact truth, Tle makes himself known to Mrs. Peerybingle (" Dot”), who ad- vises him to keep his secret close, and not even to let Mr. Peery. bingle know it, he being much too open in his nature, and too clumsy in all artifice, to keep it for him, She also offers to sound his sweet heart, and to go between them, and bring them together, which she does, and has the pleasure of seeing thom married, and of express: ing a hope that Tackleton may die a bachclor. Hor mediation, however, becomes known, in part, to her husband, who misconstrace her actions, and suspects her of being untrue to himself, But in the end every thing is satisfactorily explained, and overybody is made happy ; while even the kettle hums for joy, and the cricket joins the wusic with its “Chirp, chirp, chirp.” (Chirp 1st-8d.)

Tbe Ericket on the Mearth. 253

Blowboy, Tilly. Mrs. Peerybingle’s nursery-maid; a great, clumsy girl, who is very apt to hold the baby topsy-turvy, and who has a habit of mechanically reproducing, for its entertainment, scraps of current conversation, with all the sense struck out of them, and all the nouns changed into the plural number, a when she asks, “ Was it Gruff and Tackletons the toy-makers, then?” and “Would it call at pastry-cooks for wedding-cakes?” and “ Did its mothers know the boxes when its fathers brought them home?” and soon. (Chirp 1st-3d.)

Tackleton, called Grovr axp Tackietox. <A toy-merchant, stern, ill-natured, and sarcastic, with one eye always wide open, and one eye nearly shut.

Cramped and chafing In the peaceable pursult of toy-maklag. he was a do- meatio ogre, who had been living on children all his life, and was thelr imple cable enemy. He despised all toys; would n't have bought one for tho world; delighted, in his malice, to insinuate grim expressions Into the faces of brown paper farmers who drove pigs to market, bolimen who advertised lost lawyers? consciences, movable old ladfes who darned stockings or earred ples, and other ike samples of his stock in trade. In appalling masks, hideous, halry, red-oyed Jacks in boxes, vampire kites, demonincal tumblers who would n't lie down, ‘and were perpetually flying forward to stare infants out of countenance, his soul perfectly reveled. They were his only relief and safety-valve.

After the marriage of his betrothed, May Fielding, to Edward Plammer (see above), he turns his disappointment to good account by resolving thenceforth to be, and by actually becoming, a pleasant, hearty, kind, and happy man. (Chirp ist-Sd.)

The Battle of Life.

A LOVE-STORY.

——

Ponnisitep In 1446, with a frontispiece and titlepage engraved on wood, frem drawings by Maclise, and with woodcuts Loserted in the text, from designs by Doyle, Leech, and Staniield.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Britain, Benjamin, called Lirrte Berrars., A small man with an uncommonly sour and discontented fice ; servant to Doctor Jod- dler, afterwards husband of Clemency Newcome, and landlord of the Nutmeg Grater Inn. He gives this summary of his general condition: “I don’t know any thing; I don't care for any thing; I don’t make out any thing; I don't believe any thing; and I don’t want any thing.” (Part 1-3.)

Craggs, Mr. Thomas. Law-partner of Jonathan Snitchey. He seems to be represented by Snitchey, and to be conscious of little or no separate existence or personal individuality. (Part 1, 2.)

Craggs, Mrs. His wife. (Part 2.)

Heathfield, Alfred. A young medical student; a ward of Doc- tor Jeddler’s, and engaged to his younger danghter Marion. On coming of age, he starts on a three-years’ tour among the foreign schools of medicine, In the very hoyr of his return, Marion flees from home, eloping, as it is supposed, with a young bankrupt named Michacl Warden, After a time, her elder sister Grace becomes Alfred’s wife; and it finally transpires that Marion, though deeply loving him, discovers that Grace also loves him, and, deeming herself to be less worthy of such a husband, sacrifices her own happiness to insure her sister's. But, instead of cloping with young Warden, she retires to an aunt's, who lives at a distance, where she remains se- cluded until after her sister's marriage has taken place. (Part 1-8.)

Jeddler, Doctor Anthony. A great philosopher, the heart and

250

Ede Battle of ite. 257

mystery of whose philosophy is to look upon the world as a gi- gantic practical joke, or as something too absurd to be considered seriously by any practical man. But the loss of his favorite dangh- ter, “ the absence of one little unit in the great absurd account,” strikes him to the ground, and shows him how serious the world is, “in which some love, deep-anchorwd, is the portion of all human creatures.” (Part 1-3.)

Jeddler, Grace. His elder daughter; married to Alfred Heath- field. (Part 1-3.) See Heararrenp, ALFRED.

Jeddler, Marion. His younger daughter. (Part 1-3.) See Heaturimen (Atrrep), Wanpes (Micnaxt).

Martha, Aunt. Sister to Doctor Jeddler. (Part 8.)

Newcome, Clemency. Servant to Doctor Jeddler; afterwards married to Benjamin Britain. (Part 1-3.)

‘She was about thirty years old, and had a sufictently plump and cheerful fnew, ADongh it was twistod up into an o(td expression of tightness that made lt comical ; ‘Dut theextraordinary homeliness of her galt and manner would have superseded ‘any face in the world. To #ay that she hnd two left ngs, and somebody else's ‘arms; and that all four limbs seemed to be out of joint, and to start from per- feotly wrong places when they wero sot In motion, — is te offer the mildest outline of the reality. To eay that she was perfectly content and sntlatied with these

Just as it happened, —Is to render falut Justice to their equanisnt ‘was a prodigious pair of self-willed shoes that never wanted to go where her foot went, blue stockings, » printed gown of many colors and the most hideces pattern procurable for money, and a white apron. She always wore short steerer, and always had, by some necident, grazed elbows, in which ale took so lively an Interest, that she was continually trying to turn them round and get impossible ‘views of them. In general, a little cap perched somewhere on her head, though tt was rarely to be met with In the place usually occupied in other subjects by that article of dress; but from head to foot she was ecrupalously clean, and malntatoed a kind of dislocated tidinors, Indeed, hor laudable anxiety to be ‘tidy and compact in her own conscience, as well as in the public eye, gave rise 40 one of her most atartling evolutions, which was to grasp herself sometimes by n sort of wooden handio (part of hor clothing, and familiarly called a twaxk) and wrestle, as it were, With her garments, until they fell into m symmotrionl nz ravgement.

Snitchey, Jonathan, Law-partnerof Thomas Crages. (Part1-8.)

Snitchey, Mrs, His wife. (Part 2.)

‘Warden, Michael, A client of Messrs. Snitchey and Cragg; a man of thirty who has sown a good many wild onta, and finds his affairs to be in a bad way in consequence. He repenta, however, and reforms and finally mar-ies Marion Jeddler, whom he has long loved. (Part 2, 3.)

a

Dombey and Fon.

‘On Lhe first cf Ootober, 1846, Messrs. Bradbury and Son issued the first num- der of a now serial novel, under tHe title of “Dealings with the Firm of Dombey and Son, Wholesale, Retail, and for Exportation.” Each part was illustrated with two engravings on atecl by Hablot 1. Browne (“Phiz”). The publication of the work extended over twenty months; and on its completion, tn 1888, it waa brought out in a single octavo volume, and was “Dedicated with great esteem to the Marchlonoss of Normanby.”

OHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Anne, <A housemaid at Mr. Dombey’s, beloved by Towlinson, the footman. (Ch. xviii, xxi, xxxv, lix.)

Bagstock, Major Joseph. A retired army officer, wooden- featured and blue-faced, with his eyes starting out of his head. Ho is a near neighbor of Miss Tox, between whom and himself an occasional interchange of nowspapers and pamphlets, and the like Platonic dalliance, is effected through the medium of a dark ser vant of the major’s, whom Miss Tox is content to designate asa

without connecting him with any geographical idea what-

“native, ever.

Although Major Bagvtock had arrived at what 4 called fn polite literature ne grand meridian of life, and waa proceeding on his Journey down hill with ‘ardly any throat, anda very rigid pair of Saw-bones, and long-fapped elephane

sano cars, and his eyes and complexion In the state of artificial excitement ale remly mentioned, he was mightily prond of awakening an interest in Alex Tox, and tickled his vanity with the fiction that she was a splendid woman, who had her eyeon him. This he had several times hinted at the club, {n connection with little Jocularities, of which old Joo Bagstock, old Joey Bagstook, old 3 Bagstock. old Josh. Bagstock, or so forth, was the perpetual theme; it being, ‘as It were, the major's stronghold and donjon-keep of light humor to be om the most familiar terms with bis own name, 238

Dombep anv Son. 259

* Joey B., sir," tho major wouldsay, with a flourish of his walking-stfck, ‘Is worth dozen of you! If you had m few more of the Bagstock breed among ‘you, sir, youd be none the worse for it. Old Jos, sir, need n’t took far for a ‘wife, ren now, If he was on the lookout: but he's hart-hearted, sir, is Joe he’s tough, sir,—tough, and do-vilish sly!” After such declaration, whees Ing sounds would be heard; and the major’s blue would deepen into perple, ‘while bis eyes strained and started convulaively.

And yet Mie Tox, ne aypenrd, forgo him.— gradatlly forgot ha. She

tinued to forget him up to the time of the christening: np mea forgetting ‘him with compound interest after that. Something or somebody had supar- seded him asa source of interest.

“Goodmorning, ma'am!” sald the major, meeting Miss Tox in Princess's Place, some weeks after the changes chronicled In the Inst chapter.

“ Good-morning, sir," said Miss Tox very coldly.

“Joo Bagstock, ma’am,” observed the major with his umusl gallantry, “has not had the happiness of bowing to you mt your window for a considerable vn Rin pangs lp medbiaio cy un has been behind m

“i Ton inctined her head, but very coldly indeed, “Joo's luminary has been out of town, ma’am, perhaps,” inquired the

“Tout of town ? Ob, no! I bare not been out of town/" suid Miss Tox. “I have been much engaged lately, My time is nearly all devoted to some very intimate friends. Iam afraid I have none tospare oren wow, Goodmorning, wrt

‘As Miss Tox, with her most fascinating step and carriage, disappeared from Princess’s Vlace, the major stood looking after her with a bloer face tan ever, mattering and growling some got at all complimentary remarks.

“ Why, damme, sir!” sald the major, rolling bis lobster-eyes round and round Princess’s Fince, and apostrophixing its fragrant air, “six months ago, the ‘woman loved tho ground Josh Bagstock walked on. What ’s the meaning ofr

‘The major decided, after some consideration, that It meant man-traps; that Mt meant plotting and snaring; that Miss Tox was digging pitfalls, “ But you won't catch Joe, ma'am," the major, “ He's tough, ma’am; tough ls J. B, —tough and de-vilish sly!" Over which reflection he chuckled for the rest of the day.

‘Tha major bocomes a friend and companion of Mr. Dombey, ln- troduces him to Edith Granger and Mrx Skewton, and plays the agreeable. to the mother, while Mr. Dombey makes love to the daughter. (Ch. vii, x, xx, xxi, xxvi, xxvii, xxxi, xxxvi, xl, lh, liz, Ix)

Baps, Mr. Dancing-master at Doctor Blimber’s; a very grave gentleman with a slow and measured manner of speaking. (Ch. xiv)

Baps, Mra. His wife. (Ch. xiv.)

Gerinthia, called Beexr. Nieco and dradge to Mrv. Pipchin,

260 The Michens Wietlenacp,

whom she regards as one of the most meritorious persons in the

world, She is a good-natured spinster of middle age, but posses» ing a gaunt and fron-bound aspect, and much afflicted with boily on her nose. (Ch. viii, xi.)

Biler. See Toopte, Rovrs,

Bitherston, Master. A child boarding at Mrs, Pipchin’s; a boy of mysterious and terrible experiences. (Ch. vili, x, xli, Ix.)

Blimber, Doctor. Proprietor of an expensive private boarding: school for boys, at Brighton, to which Paul Dombey is sent to ba educated.

‘The doctor was» portly gentleman, In a sult of black, with strings at his knees, and stockings below them. He had a bald-head highly polished, a deep voler, and ® chin s0 very double that It was a wonder how he ever managed to shave {nto tho crésses, He had likewise « patr of little eyes that wore nlways half shut up, and a mouth that was always half expanded {nto a grin, ae Sf he had that moment posed a boy, and were waiting to convict him from his wa Hips. . . . The doctor's walk was stately, and calculated to linpress the Juvenile mind with solemn feelings. It was m sort of march; but, when the doctor put ‘ut his right foot, he gravely turned upon his axis, with m semicireular sweep towards the teft; and, when ho put out hia left foot, he turned in the xame man une towards the right: so that he seemed, at every stride he took, to look about him, as though he were aaying, “Can anybody have the goodness to indicate ‘any subject, in any direction, on which fam uninformed? I rather think not.

‘Whenever a young gentleman was taken in hand by Doctor Bllmber, he might consider himnelf sure of a pretty tight squeeze, ‘The doctor only under- took the charge of ten young gentlemen; but he had always ready a supply of Jearsing for a hundred, on the lowest eatimato; and ft was at once the business ‘and delight of his life to gorge the unhappy ten with it.

In fact, Doctor Bllmber's establishment was a great hot-bowse, In which there was a forcing apparatus incessantly at work. All the boys blow before thelr time, Mental green-peas wore prodaced at Christmas, snd intellectual ‘asparagus all the year round. Mathematical gooseberries (very sour ones too) werv common at untimely seasons, and from mere sprouts of bushes, under Doo tor Blimber’s cultivation. Every description of Greek and Latin vegetable was gotoff the deyest twigs of boys, under the frostiest ciroumstances. Nature was of no consequence at all, No matter what a young gentleman was Intended to bear, Doctor Blimber made him bear to pattern, somehow or other.

(Ch. xi, xii, xix, xxiv, xi, lx.)

Blimber, Mrs, His wife. Mrs. Blimber, . . . was not learned herself; but she pretended to be: and ‘that did quite aa well, She sald at evening parties, that, if she could have known Cicero, she thought she could have died contented, It was the steady Joy of her life to see the doctor's young gentlemen go out walking, anlike al, other young gentlemen, In the largest possible ehirt-collars and the atiffest pos siblo cravats. It was so classical, abo said,

(Ch, xi, xii, xix, xxiv, xl, Ix.)

Dombep anv Soa 264

Blimber, Miss Cornelia. The daughter; a elim and gravefu. maid. (Ch. xi, xii, xiv, xli, 1x.)

‘There was no light nonsense about Miss Blimber. She kept her halr short and crisp, nud wore spectacles. She was dey and sandy with working in the graves of deceased languages, None of your live languages for Mies Bilmber. ‘They must be dead, —stone dead; aud then Miss Wlimper dug them ‘up like « ghoul.

Blookitt, Mrs. Mrs. Dombey’s nurse; n simpering piece of faded gentility. (Ch. i.)

Bokum, Mrs. A friend of Mrs, MacStinger g, and her bridesmaid ‘oni the oveasion of her marriage to Jack Bunsby. (Ch. Ix.)

Briggs. A pupil of Doctor Blimber's, and the room-mate of Paul Dombey. (Ch. xii, xiv, xli, lx.)

Brogley, Mr. A sworn broker and appraiser, and second-hand fur- niture-dealer; a friend of Sol. Gills. (Ch. ix.)

Brown, Alice, alias Atick Manwoop. A handsome woman of about thirty years of age; a former mistress of James Carker. After suffering transportation for crime, she comes back to England filled with scorn, hate, defiance, and recklessness, (Ch. xxxili, xxxiy, xl, xlvi, lii, lii, Iviii.)

Brown, Mrs,, called (by herself) Goop Mrs. Brow. Her mother; avery ugly old woman, with red rims round her eyes, and a mouth that mumbled and chattered of itself when she was not speaking. (Ch. vi, xxvii, xxiv, x1, xlvi, lil, Ivili.)

Bunaby, Captain Jack. Master of a vessel called “ The Cautious Clara,” and a warm friend of Captain Cuttle, who looks up to him as anoracle. Fearing that the vessel on which her friend Walter Gay has taken passage is lost, Florence Dombey, accompanied by her maid, Susan Nipper, goes to Captain Cuttle for advice. Walter's uncle, Sol Gills, is also very much distressed about his nephew ; and the captain, being a fricnd of all parties, tries to re-assure them. Not being quite cqual to the occasion, however, he fortunately bothinks himself of Jack Bunsby.

With regard to old Sol Gills,” here the captal: became colema, “who fl

stand by, and not desert until death doe us part, cad when the ot do blow, do blow, do blow,—overhau! the catechis: ‘thetically, “and there you ‘Il find them expressions, —if It would com Gills to have the opinion of # seafaring man as has got a sniud equal to way undertaking that he puts it alongside of. wad ws was all but smashed in his Yprentloeship, and of which the uame is Bunsby. that ‘ere man shall give ‘him such an opinion in bik own parlor as "ll stan him. Ab!” sald Captale Cuttle vauatihgly, “as much as if ue'd gone and knocked his head again « door!”

a

262 Ebe Pickens Mictionar

They accordingly go to see Captain Bansby, and, under the piloty age of Captain Cuttle, board “ The Cautious Clara.”

Immediately there appeared, coming slowly up above the bulkhead of the eabin. snother Valkbead,—human and very large,—with one stationary ee In the mahopiny face, and one revolving one, on the principle of some Hghthouses ‘This hend was decorated with shaggy husir, ike oakum, which had no governing Inclination towards the north, cast, west, or aouth, but inclined 1 all four quartere ‘of the compass, and to crery point upon It. The head was followed by a perfeet desert of chin, and by a shirt-collar and neckerchief, and by a dread-nonght pilot ‘coat, and by a pair of dread-nought pilot-trousers, whercof the waistband was #0 very broad and high, thot {t became o succedaneum for a walsteoat, belong ‘ornamented near the wearer's breastbone with same massive wooden buttons Hike tuckgammon-men, Ax the lower portions of thers pantaloons became revealed, Runsby stood confessed; his hands in thelr pockets (which were of vast slzn), ‘and bla gaze directed not to Captain Cuttle or the ladies, but the mast-head,

+ ++ Whispering to Floronce that Bonsby had never in his life expressed sur- prise, and was considered not to know what it meant, the eaptaln watched him ax he eyed his mast-head, and afterwards swept the horizon; and, when the revolving eye seemed tobe coming round in his direction, suid, —

“ Bunsby, mylad, how fares 1?”

A decp, gruff, husky utterance, which seemed to have no connestlon with Bunsby, and certainly had not the least effect upon hls face, replied. “Ay, ay, shipmet, how goos it?” At the same time, Bunsby's right hand and arm, emer- ging from a pocket, shook the eaptaln’s, and went back again,

Bunsby,” «nid the captain, striking home at once, ‘‘here you are,—a man of mind, and a man as ean glye an opiuion. Here’ a young lady as wants to take ‘that opinion In regard of my friend Wal'r; likewise my tother friend, Sol Gills, which {* a character for you to come within bail of, being a man of science, ‘which is the mother of inwention, and knows no law. Buusby, will you ware, to oblige me, and come along with ua?”

‘The great commander, who seemed by the expression of his viange to be always ‘on the lookout for something in the extremest distance, and to have no ocular knowledge of any thing within ten miles, made no reply whatever,

He finally consents to go with them, however, and at last delivers the following “ opinion :" —

“My name *% Jnok Bunsby 1

“ He was chiristened John,” erled the delighted Captain Cutth

“And what I says.” pursued the voice, after some deliberation,

‘The captain, with Florence on hix arm, nodded ut the auditor Now hos comlug out! This {s what I meant when T broug!

“ Whereby,” proceeded the voice, “why not? Ifso, what odds? Can any man

yy otherwise? No. Aqwast then!”

‘When it had pursued its train of argument to this point, the voice stopped ‘ani rested. Tt then proceeded very slowly, thua:—

“Do E belleve this here Son and Heir’ gone down, my lade? Mashap. Dot ways? Which? If a skipper stands out by Sen’ George’s Channel, muking for he Downe, what “s right ahead of him? The Goodwins. He ts n't foreed to ran upon the Goodwins; but he may. ‘The bearings of this observation lays in. the »pplication on It. That n't no part of my duty. Awast then, keep « bright okout for'ard, and good luck to yout”

Dombey and Son 263

‘The voice here went out of tho back-parlor and {nto the street, taking the ‘commander of “ The Cautious Clara” with it, and necompanying him on board again with all convenient expedition, where ho immediately turned in, and ro freshed his mind with a nap.

Notwithstanding his sagacity and independence, Captain Bunsby is finally captured and married, perforce, by his landlady, Mrs, Mac Stinger. (Ch, xxviii, xxix, Ix.)

Sarker, Harriet. Sister of John and James Carker; afterwards the wife of Mr. Morfin. (Ch. xxii, xxiii, xxxiy, liii, lxii.) Carker, James. Mr. Dombey’s head clerk or manager.

Mr. Carker was a gentleman thirty-olght or forty years old, of a florid com- plexion, and with two unbroken rows of glistening teeth, whore requir ext ‘whiteness were quite distressing. It was impossible to escape the Sf thea: fare showed (hem whenerer he opok, abd Bore so widela walle xpoa his countennneo (a amile, however, very rarely Indeod, extending beyond his mouth), that there was something in it like the snarl of a ent. He affected = atlif white cravat, after the example of his principal, and was always closely buttoned upand tightly dressed, Mis manner towards Mr. Dombey was deeply conceived, and perfectly expressed. He was familiar with him fr the very ex- tromity of his sense of the distance between them. “Mr. Dombey, to a man ta your position, from o man {n mine, there ls no show of subservience compatibie with the transaction of business between ua that T should think sufficient. 1 frankly tell you, air, I give itup altogether, I fee) that I could not satisfy my own mind; and Heaven knows, Mr. Dombey, you can afford to dispense with the endeavor." If he had earried these words about with him printed on a placard, ‘and had constantly offered it to Mr. Dombey’s perusal on the breast of his cont, he could not hare been more expiteit than he was.

Enjoying the confidence of his employer, Mr. Carker speculates on his own account, and amasses a fortune, When Mr. Dombey marries a second time, Carkcr observes that there is no love or sym- pathy in the caso, and that both partios arc of a proud and unyield- ing disposition ; and he secretly takes advantage of the confidence reposed in him by Mr. Dombey to increase the constantly widening breach between husband and wife. Goaded to desperation by the conduct of Mr. Dombey in making his clerk the medium of com- municatiag his directions to her, but equally despising both man and master, Mrs. Dombey revenges herself on her husband by eloping with his clerk, and on the clerk by taunting him with his suppored victory, and leaving him, in the very hour of his antici- pated triamph, to the vengeance of ber husband, who has pursaed them. In trying to avoid Mr. Dombey, whom be accidentally en- ‘counters at a rallway-station, he staggers, slips on to the track, and 3 killed by a passing train. (Ch. xiii, xvii, xxii, xxiv, xxvi, xxvii, axxi, xyxiii, xxxvi, xxxvil xl, xlii, xlv, xlvi, slvli, lii-lv.)

264 The Pickens Mlctlonarp.

Carker, Mr. John. Brother of James and Harriet Carker, and under-clerk at Dombey and Son’s. When a young man, he had ‘been led astray by evil companions, and had robbed his employers, who had reposed great confidence in him. His guilt was soon dis covered; but the house was merciful, and, instead of dismissing him, retained him in a subordinate capacity, in which he made expine tion for his crime by long years of patient, faithful service, After the clopement of his brother James with Edith Dombey, he is dis charged; but, by the sudden death of his brother, he comes into possession of a fortune, the interest of which, when Mr. Dombey ‘becomes a bankrupt, he secretly makes over to him year by year as if it were the repayment of an old lost debt. (Ch. vi, xix, xxii, xxxili, xxxiy, lili, lviii, Lxii.)

Chick, Mr. John, Brother-in-law to Mr. Dombey; a stout, bald gentleman with a very large face, and his hands continually in his pockets, and with a tendency to whistle and hum tuncs on every sort of occasion, (Ch. ii, ¥, xxix, xxxvi.)

Chick, Mrs. Louisa. His wife; sister to Mr. Dombey; a weak, good-natured, self-satisfied woman, very proud of her family and of having always tried, as sho puts it, to“ make an effort” (Ch. i, il, v-viil, x, xviii, xxix, xxxvi, li, lix.)

Chicken, The Game. See Gamn Cnrcxex, Tux,

Chowley. See MacSrixcer, Cuances.

Clark, Mr. A clerk of Mr. Dombey's. (Ch. vi.)

Cleopatra, Sce Skewrox, Mus.

Cuttle, Captain Haward. Protector of Florence Dombcy, friend of Walter Gay, and friend and afterwards partner of Walter's uncle, Sol Gills. His first advent in the story is at the house of the latter at dinnertime,

An addition to the little party now made its appearance in the shape of & gentloman Ln a wide sult of blue, with a hook instead of a band attached to bia right wrist, very bushy black eycbrows, and a thick etick In his left hand, covered all over (like his nose) with knobs. He wore a loose black silk hand- kerchief round his neck, h a very largo coarse shirt-collar, that Itlooked Mie @ small soil, Le we ly the person for whomn t was intended, and evidently knew it; for having taken off his and hung up on a particular peg behind the door such « hard glazed bat asa aympathetio person's head might ache at the ight of, and which left a red rim round his own forehead, as if he had been wearing a tight basin, he brought # chair to where the clean glass was, and sat himself down behind it. He wat usually addressed as captain, this visitor; and had been @ pilot, or a skipper, e 8 privatcersman, oF all three, perhaps; aud was s very saltlooking man tw deed.

Bombep anv Son. 265

‘ils face, remarkable for a brown solidity, brighteaed ax he shook hanils with ‘ncle wud nephew; bat he seemed to be of a lnconie disposition, and merely eald,—

“How goes it?”

« All well,” said Mr. Gihs, pushing the bottle towards him.

Ee ins ene erat nee Sa eee

The” © The," returned the Instrument-maker.

Upon that he whistled a ho filed his glass, and seemed to think they ween ‘making holiday indeed,

© Wal'r!” he said, arranging hls bate (which was thin) with his hook, and then polnting It at the justrument-maker, “Look at him} Love! Movort And Obey! ‘Overhaul your eatechism til! you find that passage, and when found turn the lent down. Success, my boy!"

Ho was so perfectly satisfied both with his quotation and his reference to it, that he could not help repeating the words again in a low voice, and saying be had forgotten 'em these forty year.

~ But I never wanted two or three words in my life that I didn't know where to lay my hand upon ’om, Gills,” he observed. “It comes of not wasting langunge ‘as some do.”

‘Tho reflection, perhaps, reminded him that he had better, like young Norval’ father, “increase his store.” At any rate, he became allent.

Walter having been selected by his employer to fill a junior situa- tion in the counting-house at Barbadoes, a meeting of a few friends takes place at his uncle’s, at which Captain Cuttle is present.

“ Weal'r/* sald the captain, when they took thotr seats at table, “if your uncle '* the msn I think him, he’ll bring out the last bottle of she Madelra on the present occasion.”

“No, no, Ned!" returned the old man, “No! That shall be opened when ‘Walter comes home again.”

“Well sald” erled the eaptaia. “ Hear him!”

“There it Hos,” anid Sol Gills, “ down tn the little cellar, covered with dirt and sobwebs. There may be dirt ahd cobwebs over you and me, perhaps, Ned, before Wt se0e the light.”

* Hear him{" cried the captain. “Good morality! Wal'r, my lad. Traln.up & fig-tree In the way it should go, and when you are old sit undor the shade on it. Overhaul the— Well,” «aid the captain, on second thoughts “Tan’t quite certaln where that's to be found; but, when found, take & note of. Sol Gills, heave head sgain!"

Old Sol and the captain accompany the lad on board the ship to sce him off, the former with moist eyes, the latter with a very grave face.

‘The captain. . . drew Walter into a corner, and, with a great effort that made la face very red, pulled up the «tlver watch, which was so big, and 4o tight Ia his » that {t came out Iike a bang “Wal'r,” said the captain, hand.ng [t over, and shaking him heartily by the hand, “® parting gift, my iad. Put it back a half an hour every morning, and sbout # qaarter towards the arternoon, and [t's a watch that ‘ll do you oredit.” a

Mn

266 fhe Wickens Mietlonary

(Ch. iv, ix, x, xv, xvii, xix, xxiii, xxv, xxii, xxxix, xlvili-t, Ivi, Ivii, Ix, Lxii.) See MacSrixoer, Mus. See p. 544,

_Daws, Mary. A young kitchen-maid in Mr. Dombey's service. (Ch. lix.)

Diogenes. A dog given by Mr. Toots to Florence Doubey, “as a sort of keepsake,” he having been a favorite with her brother, little Paul. (Ch. xiv, xviii, xxii, xxiii, xxviii, xxx, xxxi, xxv, xli, xliv, xlviii, xlix, J, Ivi, Lxii.)

‘Though Diogenes was as ridiculous m dog as one would meet with on & sume ‘mers day,—a laundering, ill-favored, clumsy, bullet-headed dog, continually aet- Ing on a wrong Idea that there was an anemy In the nolghborhood whom It was ‘meritorious to bark t,—and though he was far from good-tempered, and core talnly was not clever, and had hair all over his eyes, and # comic nose, and an Anconsistent tall, and m gruif yoloe, be was dearer to Florence. . . than the ‘most beautiful of his kind.

Dombey, Mrs. Hdith. Mr. Dombey's second wift; daughter of Mrs, Skewton, and widow of Colonel Granger, She is a woman under thirty, very handsome, very haughty, and very wilful; pure at heart, but defiant of criticism. Though she feels neither love nor esteem for Mr. Dombey, and does not tempt him to seck her hand, yet she suffers him to marry her, content to be made rich so long as the transaction is understood to be a mere matter of traffic, in which beauty, grace, and varied accomplishments are exchanged for wealth and social position, As might be expected, the alliance proves to be a very unfortunate one. No friendship, 20 fitness for each other, no mutual forbearance, springs up between the unhappy pair; but in- difference gives place to aversion and contempt; arrogance is repaid. in kind; opposition arouses opposition, At last, Edith elopes with Mr. Carker, a confidential clerk of Mr. Dombey’s; and this ehe does with the double motive of revenging herself on her husband, and of befooling and punishing the clerk, who has pursued her from her wedding-day with humiliating solicitations and the meanest stratagems. But she leaves him in the very hour of their meeting: and he is killed by a passing train in trying to escape pursuit. (Ch, xxi, xxvi-xxvili, xxx, xxxi, xxxv-xxxvii, xl-xliii, xlv, xlvil, liv, Ixi.) See Skxwron, Mns.

Dombey, Mrs. Fanny. Mr. Dombey’s first wife; mother of Florence and of little Paul. (Chi) See Domoey, Lirrux Pat.

Dombey, Florence, Daughter of Mr. Dombey, and sister of little Paul. She is a loving and lovable child, but, not having haa

Dombey and Son, 267

the good fortune to be born a boy, is of no account in her father’s eyes. At first she is merely an object of indifference to him, but by degrees he comes to conceive a positive dislike for her, and at, Tast drives her from his house. She finally marries Walter Gay Junior clerk in Mr. Dombey’s bank. (Ch. i, ill, vy, vi, viti-xii, xiv, avi, xvili, xix, xxil-xxiv, xxvili, xxx, xxxv-xxxvil, xl, xli, xlijl-aly, xlvil-l, Ivi, lvii, lix, Ixi, Lxii.) See Domney (Mr), and Domnet (Lirtix Paur).

Dombey, Little Paul, Mr. Dombey’s son and heir. His advent into the world is thus deseribed : —

Rich Mr. Domboy sat in the corner of his wife's darkened bed-chamber, in the reat arm-chair by the bedside; and rich Mr, Dombey’s son lay tucked up warm in a little basket carefully placed on a low sottee in front of the sire, and cloce to it, as if his constitution were aralogous to that of a muffin, and ft was essen tial (o tonst him brown while he was vary new,

‘Rich Mr. Dombey was about eight and forty years of age; rich Mr, Dombey’s son, about eight and forty minutes. Mr. Dombey was rather bald, rather red, and rather stern and pompous; Mr. Dombey’s son was very bald, and very red, ‘and rather crushed and spotty in his general effect, ax yet,

‘Me. Dombey, exulting tn the long-looked-for event, —the birth of a san, — Singled his heary gold watch-chiain as he at in his blue coat and bright buttons ‘by the side of the bed, and said, —

‘Our house of business will once again be not only in name, but fn fet, Dom- bey and Son; Dombey and Son!, Ho will be christened Paul, of course, — his father’s name, Mrs. Dombey, and his grandfather's. I wish bis grandfather were alive this day!” And again he sald. “Dom-bey and Son!”

‘Thoso three words conveyed the one {dea of Mr, Dombey’s life. ‘The earth ‘was made for Dombey and Son to trade in, and the sun and moon were made to give them light. Common abbreviations took new meanings in bla eyes, and had ole reference to them. A..D-had no eoncern with Anno Domini, but stood for Anno Dombel — and Son,

He had been married ten years, nnd, until this present day on which he sat Jingling his gold watch-chain tn the great arm-chalr by the aide of the bed, had Jad no tern

To speak of. Thero had been a girl somo six years before; and she, who had stolen into the chamber unobserved, was now crouching in a corner whence he could 400 her mother’s fhoe. Hut what was a girl to Dombey and Sout

Mr. Dombes"s cup of satisfaction was #0 full, howerer, that he said, * Flor: nee, you may go and look at your pretty brother, if you like. Don": touch dim! *

Little Paul's mother dies in giving him birth, and ke himeclf is put a weakling.

Ir his steeple-chnse towards manhood, he found lt very rough riding, Every ‘oot. was a break-neck fence, and every pimple in the measles a stone wall, to him, He was down In every fit of the whooplng-cough. Some bird of proy gut nto his throat, instead of the thruslt; and the very chickens, turning ferocious, —if they have muy thing to do with that infant malady to whisa they lend thets ‘ame, — worried hilm like tiger-eats,

—————

268 The Dickens Mictfonarp.

The grow to be nearly five years old, —a pretty little fellow, but with something

‘wan and wistful in his email face, that gave occasion to many slgnificant shaker of iis nurse’s head. She sald he was too old-fashioned. He was childish and sportive enough at times; bat he had a strange, welrd, ‘thoughtful was, at other thmes, of sitting brooding in his salnisture arm-chalr, ‘when he looked (and talked) like one of those terrible little belugs in the fulry> tales, who, at a hundred and fifty or twe hundred years of age, fantastically repre ‘sent the children for whom they hare boen substituted,

‘Mr. Dombey becomes uneasy ‘about this odd boy, and sends him to Brighton to board with an old lady named Pipchin, who has acquired an immense reputation as a manager of children. But little Paul grows more old-fashioned than ever, without growing any stronger; and his father, bent on his learning every thing, and being brought forward rapidly, resolves to make a change, and accordingly enrola him as a student in Dr. Blimber's educational establishment, which is conducted on the hot-house, or forcing, principle. His health con- tinues to fail, however, and at last he is taken home to die,

Little Dombey had never risen from his little bed. He lay there, listening to the noises In the street, quite tranquilly; not caring much how the time went but watehing It, and watching every thing.

‘When the sunbeams struck into his room through the rustling blinds, snd quir- ‘rod on the opposite wall, like golden water, he knew that evening was coming on, ‘und that the #ky was red and beautiful. As thy reflection died away, and a gloom ‘went creeping ap the wall, he watched {t deepen, deepen, deepen, into might. ‘Then ho thought how the long unseen streets were dotted with amps, and how the poaceful stars were shining overhead. His fancy had a strange tendency to wan- der to the river, which he knew was flowing through the great clty; and now he thought how black it was, nnd how deep it would look reflecting the hosts of stars, ‘und, more than all, how «teadily it rolled away to meet the sea.

As it grew later in the night, and footateps in the street became #o rare, that he could hear them coming, count them as they passed, and loso them in the hollow distance, he would tle and watch the many-colored ring about the candle, and walt patently for day, Alls only trouble was tho swift and rapid river. Ife felt foreed, sometimes, to try to stop It,—to stem it with his ehildish bands, or choke tes way with sand; and when he saw it coming on, resistless, he eried out. But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself; and, leaning ils poor bead upon her breast

Whien day begun to dawn again, he watched for the nd, when Its cheerful light began to sparkle In the room, he pictured to himself— pictured! he aaw— the high churot:towers rising up into the morning sky, the town reviving. waking, starting into life once more, the river glistening as it rolled (but rolling fist ax ever), and the country bright with dew. Familiar sounds and eries camo by de grees into the street below; the servants fn the house were rousedand busy; faces looked Ia at the door; and yolees asked his attendants softly how he was. Pau always answered for self, “ Lam better,—I am a great deal better, thank you, Toll pupa so.

By little and little, he got tired of the bnstle of the day, the noise of eurringer and carts and people passing and repassing, and would fall aeloep, or be troubled

Bombey ans Son, 265

with m restless and uneasy sense again. * Why, will it never stop, Floy?” he would sometimes ask her. “Tt fs bearing me away, T tink.”

But she could alerays soothe and reassure him; and ft was hla dally delight to make her lay her head down on his pillow, and take some rest. .

“You are always watching me, Floy; let me watch you now!”

‘They would prop him up with cushions in a corner of bis bed, and there he ‘would recline the while she lay beside him, bending forward oftentimes tokiss her, and whispering to those who were near, that she wns tired, and how she had eat te beside him. fh of the day, in Its heat and light, would gradually decline; and ‘again the golden water would be dancing on the wall.

‘The people round him changed unaccountably; and what had been the doctor ‘wonld be his father, sitting with his head leaning on bis hand. ‘This gure, with its head leaning on Sts hand, returned so often, and remained so long, and sat 50 Mill and solemn, never speaking. never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up ite ‘woe, that Paul bogan to wonder languldly If it were real.

“Floy, what fe that?”

“There, at the bottom of the bed.”

“Theres nothing there except papa.”

‘The dgure lifted up its head and rose, and, coming to the bedside, anid, —

“My own boy! don you know mo???

Paul looked {tin thefuce, Beforehe could reach out both his hands to take it between them, and draw ft towards im, the figure turned away quickly from the little bed, and went out at the door.

‘The next time he observed the figure sitting at the bottom of the bed, he eatled wit.

“Don't bo #0 sorry for me, dear papa. Indeed, T am quite happy!"

His futher coming and bending down to him, he held him round the neck, and repeated those wonts to him several times, and very earnestly; and he never saw hie father in hiv room again at any time, whether it were day or wight, but he called ont, * Don%t be so worry for me! Indeed, Iam quite happy!" ‘This was the beginning of his always saying in the morning that he was a great deal better, and that thoy were to tell his father 40.

Mow many times the golden water danced upon the wall, how many nlghts the dark river rolled towards the sea In spite of him, Paul never sought to know, If thelr kindness, oF hls sense of it, could bave increased, they were more kind, nnd ho more grateful, every day; but whether there were many days or few appeared 6f little moment now to the gentle boy.

One night he had been thinking of his mother, and her picture in the drawing room down staira. The train of thought suggested to him to ingulre if he had aver seen his mother; for he could not remember whether they bad told him yes $ no; the river running very fast, and confusing bis mind.

« did [ ever see mamma?"

No, darting: why?

Did I never seo any kind face, ifce « mamma's, looking st me when I wae B baby. Floy?”

Oh, yes, dear!”

“Whose, Floy?””

“Your old nurse's. Ofer.”

And where is my old nurse? Show me that old nurse, Floy, tf you pleare,

“She fa not here, darling. She shall come to-morrow.”

oe

— —

270 Epe Dickens M(ctlonacy.

“Thank you, Floy!”

Little Dombey closed his eyes with those words, and fell asleep. When be awoke, the sun was high, and the broad day was clear and warm. Then he awoke, — woke mind sud body,—and eat upright {ahis bed. Ike saw them now about him. There was no gray mist before them, as there had been soraetimes in the night. He knew them every one, and called them by thelr names.

nd who Is this? Is this my old nurse?” asked the ehild, regarding with # rodiant mile a figure coming in,

‘Yes, yeu. No other sttanger would have shed those tears at alght of him, ‘and called him her dear boy, her protty boy, her own poor blighted child, No ‘other woman would have stooped down by his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and put tt to her lips and breast as one who had some Fight to fondle it. No other woman would havo so forgotten everybody there but him and Kloy, ‘und been #0 full of tenderness and pity.

“Flog, this {s a kind, good face! Iam glad to see it agal. Don't go away, old nurse, Stay here! (Goodby !”

“Good-by, my child?” cried Mrs, Ppchin, hurrying to his bed’ head. “Not goodsby?”

“Ah, yes! Good-by!— Where is papa?”

Its father’s breath was on his check before the words had parted from his ‘The feeble hand waved fn the alr, ns if St eried, “ Good-by!” again.

(ow lay me down} and, Floy, come close to me, and lot me see you."

Siater and brother wound thelr arms around each other, and the goldon Nght came streaming in, and fel! upon them locked together.

“ How fust the river runs between its green banks and the rushes, Ploy. But its vory near the sea now. [hear the waves! ‘They always said so!”

Presently he told her that the motion of the boat upon the stream was lull ing him to reat. Now the boat was out at sea; end now there was # shore before him. Who stood on the bank?

He put his hands together as he had been used to do at his prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it; but they saw him fold them #0 beliind his sle- ter's neck,

“ Mamma fs like you, Ploy. Tknow her by the face! But tell them that the picture on the stairs at school Is not divine enough. The light about the bead Asahining on me ns I go."

‘The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old, fashion! —the fashion that came in with our firat gar. ‘ments, and will Inst unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament {s rolled up like @ seroll; the old, old fashion, —Death !

‘Oh, thank Gop, all who see it, for that older fishion yet of Immortality? And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, ‘when the ewift river bears us to the ocean!

(Ch. i-iii, v-viti, x-xii, xiv, xvi.) Dombey:. Mr. Paul. A London merchant, very wealthy, very starched and pompous, intensely obstinate, and possessed by a conviction that the old banking-house of Dombey and Son is the central fact of the universe. He has a daughter Florence, who ia of no consequence in his eyes; and a son Paul, on whom all his hopes and affections centre, but who dies in childhood. Ho mar

Dombey and Sow. wa

ies for his second wifs a woman whose pride is equal to his own, and who not only has no love to give him, but refuses to render him the deference and submission which he exacts as his due. Goaded to desperation, at last, by his arrogance, and by the slights and affronts he puts upan her, she clopes, upon the anniversary of her marriage, with a confidential clerk whom he had chosen a¢ an instrument of her humiliation, content to wear the appearance of an adulteress (thongh not such in reality), if she can only avenge herself upon her husband. But Mr. Dombey, though keenly sensi- tive to the disgrace she has inflicted upon him, and haunted by the dread of public ridicule, abates no jot of his pride or obstinacy. ‘Ho drives his daughter from his house, believing her to be an ac= complice of his wife, forbids the name of either to be mentioned in his presence, and preserves the same calm, cold, impenctrable exterior as ever. His trouble preys upon his mind, however; his prudence in matters of business deserts him ; and the great house ‘of which he is the head soon goes down in utter bankraptey. But this crowning retribution proves a blessing after all; for it unders mines his pride, melts his obstinacy, and sets his injustice plainly before him. His daughter seeks him out, and in her home be passes the evening of his days, a wiser and « better man. (Ch. i- ili, v, vi, vill, x, xi, xlli, xvi, xvili, xx, xxl, xxvi-xxvill, xxx, xxxl, xxxy, xxxvi, xl-xliv, xlvii, li, 1li, Iv, lvili, lix, Ixi, leit.) See Domucy, Lirrix Paur. See also p. S44.

Feeder, Reverend Alfred, M.A. A brother of Mr. Feeder, B.A. (Ch. lx.)

Feeder, Mr., B, A, An assistant in the establishment of Blim- ber; afterwards his son-in-law and successor. (Ch. xi, xil, xiv, xli, Ix.)

Feenix, Cousin. A superannuated nobleman, nephew to the Hon- orable Mrs. Skewton, and cousin to Edith Dombey. (Ch. xxxi, xxxvi, xli, li, Ixi.)

‘Cousin Feenix was aman about town forty years ago; but he tx still #0 Jure antle in figure and manner, and so well got up, that stratigors are amazed when they discover latent wrinkles in his lordship’s face, and crow"efect in his eyes, and first observe him not exactly zertaln, when he walks across a room, of golng quite straight to where he wants to go. But Cousin Feentx gotting up at half-past seven o'clock, oF 40, i quite another thing from Cousin Feenix got up; and rery dim indeed he looks while belng shaved at Lang's Hotel, ia Bond Street.

Plowers. Mrs. Skewton’s maid. (Ch xxvil, xxx, xxxv-xxxvil xi.)

22 Ede Dickens Wietfonary.

Game Chicken, The, A professional boxer and with very short hair, a broken nose, and a considerable tract of bare and sterile country behind each ear. He is a friend of Mr Toots, whom he knocks about the head three times a week for the small consideration of ten and six per visit. (Ch. xxii, xxviii, xxxii, xli, xliv, lvi.)

Gay, Walter, A young man in the employ of Mr. Dombey; nephew to Sol Gills. He makes the acquaintance of Florence Dombey, and falls in Jove with her, but is soon afterward sent to Barbadoes to fill a junior situation in the counting-house there. The ship in which he sails is lost at sea, and it in long thought that he went down with her; but he finally returns, and marries Florence. (Ch. iy, vi, ix, x, xili, xv-xvli, xix, xlix, 1, lvi, lvii, Ixi,

. si) See Currie, Carraix Epwarp.

Gills, Solomon. A nautical instrument-maker; uncle to Walter Gay. When he hears of the loss of the ship in which his nephew has sailed, he goes abroad in quest of him, leaving his shop in the hands of Captain Cuttle. (Ch. iv, vi, ix, x, xv, xvii, xix, sxxii, xxiil, xxv, lvi, Ivii, Ixii.) See p. 544.

‘To say nothing of his Welsh wig, which was ws plain and stubborn # Welsh vig ns ever was worn, and in which he looked like any thing but m rover, he was a slow, quict-spoken, thoughtful old fellow, with eyes as red as if they had deen amall suns looking at you through a fog; and a newly-awakened manner, such as he might have acquired by having stared for three or four days succes sively through every optical instrument in his shop, snd suddenly eome Back to the world again to find tt green,

Glubb, Old. An old man employed to draw little Paul Dom- bey’s couch. (Ch. xii.)

Granger, Mrs, Hdith. Ser Domery, Mrs. Eprra.

Howler, The Reverend Melchisedech, A minister “of the ranting persuasion,” who predicts the speedy destruction of the world. He was formerly employed in the West India Docks, but was “discharged on suspicion of screwing gimlets into puncheons, and applying his lips to the orifice.” (Ch. xv, Ix.)

Jemima, Mrs. Toodlo’s unmarried sister, who lives with her, and helps her take care of the children. (Ch. ii, vi.)

Joe. A laborer. (Ch. vi.)

John. A poor man with no regular employment; father of Martha, a deformed and sickly girl. (Ch. xxiv.) See Marrma.

Jolinson, A pupil of Doctor Blimber’s. (Ch. xii, xiv.)

Kate An orphan-child, visiting Sir Barnet and Lady Skotiles, at

Dombey and Son. 73

Fulham, with ber aunt, during Florence Dombey’s stay there.

(Ch. xxv.)

MacStinger, Alexander. Son of Mrs. MacStinger, aged two years and threa months. His mother never enters upon any action ‘of Importance, without previously inverting him to bring him within range of a brik battery of slaps, and then setting him down on the street pavement; a cool paving-stone being usually found to act asa powerful restorative. (Ch. xxiii, xxv, xxix, lx.)

MacStinger, Charles, called CoowLey by his playmates. An- other son of Mrs. MacStinger. (Ch. xxxix, lx.)

MacStinger, Juliana. Mrs. MacStinger’s daughter; the very picture of he, snotner. “ Another year or two, the captain” [Cap- tain Cuttle] “thought, and to lodge where that child was would be destruction.” (Ch. xxy, xxix, Ix.)

MacStinger, Mrs. Captain Cuttle’s landlady; a vixenish widow- woman, living at No. 9 Brig Place, near the India Docks, She exhibits # disposition to retain her lodgers by physical force, if necessary. The captain stands in mortal fear of her; though, as he says, he “never owed her a penny,” and has’“done her a world of good turns too.” Circumstances, howover, occur, that make it absolutely necessary for him to remove to another part of the city; and, as he dare not acquaint her with the fact, he resorts ‘to stratagem to effect his purpose.

En the silence of night, the captain packed up his heavier property In chest, which he locked, intending to leave it there, in all probability for ever, at on the forlorn chance of one day finding a man sufficiently Lold and desper- ate to come and ask for It. Of his lighter necessaries the captain made @ bun- die, snd disposed his plato about his person, ready for flight. At the hour of midnight, when Brig Place was buried in slamber.and Mre. MacStinger was Julled in sweet oblivion, with her fafunts around her, the guilry captain, ateal- Jog down on tiptos, in the dark, opened the door, closed it softly after him, ‘and took to his heels,

Purmed by the image of Mra. MacStinger springing out of bed, aud, regard- ae of costume, folowing and oringing him back, pursued also by a conscious ‘uess of his enormous crime, Captain Cuttle neid on at n great pace,and all~wed 30 grass to grow under his fect between Brig Place and the instrument-make. door, It opened when be knocked (for Rob was on the watch); and, when It ‘was bolted und locked behind him, Captain Cuttle felt comparatively mafo,

“Whew! erled the captain, looking round him, “it % a breather

“ Nothing the matter; is thore, captaln ?" sried the gaping Rob.

“No, no!” #1id Captain Cuttle, after changing color, and listening to a pase Jog footstep in the street. ‘But mind ye, my lad, if any lady, except either of them two as you see tothe” day, ever comes and asks for Cap'en Cattle, be sure to report no perso of that uame known, cor never heard of here, Observe thems orders; will you."

—— o

ott Zbe Wickens Wietionars.

“(Tl take care, exptain,” returned Rob,

“You might say, if you liked,” hesitated the captain, “that you ‘d rend in the paper, that scsp'en of that mame was gone to Australia, emigrating aloug wita ‘Swhole ship's. complement ‘of people as had all swore never to come back no more,

‘Tho brave old salt takes great precautions against discovery and recapture; but Mrs. MacStinger finds him out at last, and descends upon him while he is engaged in a consultation with his friend Jack Bunsby. ‘The captain tries to effect his escape, but in vain; for he is stopped by the little MacStingers, who cling to his legs with loud screams of recognition.

“0 Cap'en Cattle, Capen Cuttle!” sald Mra, MacStinger, making her chin rigid, and shaking it in unison with what, but for the weakness of her vex, might be described as her fist,—‘O Capen Cuttle, Cagren Cuttle! do you dare to look mo in the fice, and not be struck down tn the herth ?”

‘The captain, who looked auy thing but daring, feebly muttered, “Stand by!”

“Oh! Ewasa weak and trusting fool when I took you under my roof, Cap'en. Cuttle—Iwas!” cried Mrs, MacStinger. “To think of the benefits I've showered ‘on that man, and the way in which I brought my children up to love and honor him ay If he was a father to "em; when there an’t a?ousekeeper, no nor a lodger, In our street, don't know that I lost money by that man, and by his guzzlings and his muszlings” (Mfrs. MacStinger used the last word for the Jolut sake of allitera: tion and aggravation, rather than for the expression of any idea); “and when they riod out one and alt, shame upon him for patting upon an industrious woman, up early and late for the good of her young family, and keeping her poor place #0 cloan, that a individual might have ate hie dinner, yes, and his tea too, if he was 10 disposed, off any one of the floors or stairs, in spite of all his guzzlings and is muzzlings, such was the eare and pains bestowed upon him!”

‘Mra. MacStinger stopped to fetch her breath; and her fico flushed with tri tumph in thls second bappy Introduction of Captain Cuttle's muzzlings.

And he runs awa-e-a-ay!” oried Mrs. MaoStinger, with a longthening-out of the last syllable that made the unfortunate captain regard himself as the meanest of men, “and keeps away a twelvemonth! From a woman! Sitch tx bis eon science! He has n't the courage to mect her hi-tiigh" (long syllable aguin), © but steals away ikea felion. . . . A pretty sort ofa man is Cap’en Cattle,""anld Mre, MucStinger, with a sharp stroas on the first syllable of the captain's name, “to take on far, and to lose sleep for, and to faint along of, and tothink dead, fore sooth, and to go up aud down the blessed town like a mad woman, asking ques tous after! Oh, a pretty sort of a man! Ha,ha, ha, hat Ho ‘worth all that troable and distress of mind, and much more. Thats nothing, bless yout ts, ba, ha, hat Capen Cuttle," ald Mrs. MacStinger, with severe reaction in her ‘voice nnd manner, “ I wish to know if you "ro a-coming home.”

‘The frightened captain looked into his hat, ns if be saw nothing for it but to pot it on, and give himself up.

“Cap'en Cutie,” repeated Mrs, MacStingerin the same determined manger, * wish to kuow if you "re a-coming home, air.”

‘The eaptaln seomod quite ready to go, but faintly suggested womething to the sffeot of not making s0 much nose about it.”

‘The gallant captain is relieved, however, by Bunsby, who diverts

Dombep and Son 276

the widow's attention from his friend, and soothes and softens her by a little delicate flattery, and by offering to “ conwoy ” ber home, which he does, returning, after ome hours, with the captain's chest, which is held to imply a relinquishment of any further claims upon \ the owner by his late landlady. Mrs, MacStinger subsequently marries Captain Bunsby. (Ch. ix, xvii, xxiii, xxv, xxxix, lvi, kx.)

Martha. The danghter of a poor laboring-man, who finds it very difficult to get work to do. She is ugly, misshapen, peovish, ill-con- ditioned, ragged, and dirty, but dearly loved by her father, who robs himself, and makes his own life miserable, to add to her com- fort, (Ch. xxiv.) See Jou.

Marwood, Alice. See Brows, Anice.

‘Melia, A servant-girl at Doctor Blimber’s, (Ch. xii, xiv, xli:)

Miff, Mrs. A wheezy litile pew-opencr; a mighty dry old lady, with « vinegary face, an air of mystery, and a thirsty soul for six- pencesand shillings. (Ch. xxxi, lvii.)

Morfin, Mr. Head clerk at Dombey and Son's; a cheerful-looking, hazel-eyed, elderly bachelor, who befriends John Carker, and marries his sister Harriot. (Ch. xiii, xxxiii, lili, viii, Lxii.)

Native, The. A dark servant of Major Bagstock’s, 80 called by Miss Tox, tough without connecting him with any geographical idea whatever. He has no particular name, but answers to any vituperative epithet. (Ch. vii, x, xx, xxi, xxvi, xxvii, xxix, lviii, Tix.)

Nipper, Susan. Florence Dombey's maid; a short, brown, ‘womanly girl, with a little snub nose, and black eyes like jet beads. Notwithstanding a peculiarly sharp and biting manner that she has, she is, in the main, a good-natured little body, and is wholly devoted to her mistress, She has the audacity to tell Mr. Dombey what she thinks of his treatment of his daughter, and is immediately discharged from that gentleman's service. She afterwards marries Mr. Toots, who considers her “a most extraordinary woman.” (Ch. ii, ¥, vi, xiii, xv, xvi, xviii, xix, xxii, xxiii, xxvili, xxxii, xliii, xiv, Ivi, Ivil, Ix-Ixii.) See Toors, Mr. P.

Pankey, Mias, A boarder at Mrs. Pipchin's “select infantine boarding-house," worth “a good cighty pounds a year” to ber. (Ch. viii, xi.)

Paul, Little, See Downey, Lrrre Pav.

Peps, Doctor Parker, (Cow of the court physicians, and man

~ of immense reputation for assisung at the increase of great families,

276 The Dickens Dietlonarp.

on which account his services are secured by Mr. Dombey when little Paul is born. (Ch. i, xvi.)

Perch, Mr. Messenger in Mr. Dombey’s office, living (when at home) at Balls Pond. (Ch. xiii, xvii, xxii, xxiv, xxxi, xlvi, li, Iii, Wili, lix.) See p. S44.

Perch, Mrs. His wife, always in an interesting condition. (Ch. xiii, xxii, xxi, xxxy, li, lili, Iviii, lix.)

Pilking, Mr. Mr. Dombey's family physician, (Ch. 4, viii.)

Pipchin, Mra, An old lady living at Brighton, with whom little Paul Dombey, accompanied by his sister Florence and a nurse, is sent to board. She afterwards becomes Mr. Dombey’s housekeeper.

‘Mrs, Pipshin . . . had acquired wn immense reputation asa great manager” of children; and the secret of [her] management was to give them every thing that they did n't like, and nothing that they did. Mfrs. Pipchin had also founded great fame on belng w widow-lndy whose hneband had broken his heart in pumping water out of some Peruvian mines. This was a great recommenda- tion to Mr. Dombey;; for it hada rich sound. “Broke his heart of the Peruvian mines,” mused Mr. Dombey. ‘* Welll—a very respectable way of doing ite

celebrated Mrs. Pipchin was a marvellous ili-favored, il-conditioned old lady, of a stooping fygure, with a mottled fuce Like bad marble, a hook nose, and w hard gruy eye, thut looked as if {t might have been hammered at on an anvil, Forty years, at lenst, had elapsed since the Peruvian mines hud been the death of Mr. Pipchin} but his relict still wore black bombazine. And she was such abitter old lady, that one was tempted to believe there hid been some mis take in the application of the Peruvian machinery, and that all her waters of gladness, and milk of human kinduess, had becn pumped out dry, fustead of the mines,

The original of this character was a person with whom Dickens lodged when employed, at the age of ten years, in a blacking- warchouse. He speaks of her (Forster's Life of Dickens, vol i. p. 56) as “a reduced old lady, long known to our family, in Little College Street, Camden-town, who took children in to board, and had once done so at Brighton; and who, with a few alterations and embellishments, unconsciously began to sit for Mrs. Pipchin in Domsry when she took in me.” (Ch. viii, xi, xi, xiv, xvi, xlii-xliv, xlvil, Ii, lix.)

Richards. See Toopie, Pouty.

Rob the Grinder. See Toopte, Rowry.

Skettles, Lady. The wifs of Sir Barnet Skettles. (Ch. xiv xxi, xxiv, xxviii, Lx.)

Bkettles, Sir Barnet. A member of the house of commons living in a pretty villa at Fulham, on the banks of the ‘Thames It was anticipated, that, when he did catch the speaker's eyes

Dombey and Son. 27

(hich he had been expected to do for three or four years), he would rather touch up the radicals, His object in life is constantly to extend the range of his acquaintance. (Ch. xiv, xxiii, xxiv xxviii, Ix.)

Bkettles, Barnet, junior. His son; » pupil of Doctor Blimber's (Ch. xiv, xxiv, xxviii.)

Skewton, The Hon. Mrs., called Curoratra, ‘rom the name appended to a sketch of her published in her youth. Aunt to Lord Feenix, and mother to Edith Dombey. An old lady, who was once a belle, and who still retains, at the age of seventy, the juvenility of dress, the coquettishness of manner, and the affectation of speech, which distinguished her fifty years before. She parades her fair daughter through all the fashionable resorts in England in order to sell her to the highest bidder. She succeeds in making a ‘yery “advantageous match " for her, but dies soon after, a hideous paralytic, demanding rose-colored curtains for her bed, to improve her complexion. (Ch. xxi, xxvi-xxviii, xxx, xxxv-xxxvii, xl, xli.)

Sownds. A portentons beadle, orthodox and corpulent, who spends the greater part of his time sitting in the sun, on the church-steps, or, in cold weather, sitting by the fire, (Ch. v, xxxi, Ivii.)

Toodle, Mr. Husband to Polly Toodle, and father to“ Rob the Grinder.” He is at first a stoker, but afterwards becomes an engine-driver. (Ch. ii, xv, xx, lix.)

Toodle, Mrs. Polly, called Rrctanps by Mr. Dombey and his family. His wife; foster-mother of little Paul Dombey ; a plamp, rosy-cheeked, wholesome, apple-faced young woman with five children of her own, one of them being a nursing infant. (Ch. ii, iii, yvli, xv, xvi, xxii, xxxviii, Ivi, lix.)

Toodle, Robin, called by the family Brcer (in remembrance of the steam-engine), otherwise styled Ron tux Grixper. Their sen, nominated by Mr. Dombey to a vacancy in tho ancient establish+ ment of * The Charitable Grinders ;” but the child meets with so much badgering from the boys in the street, and so much abuse from the master of the school, that he runs away. He afterwards Becomes the spy and instrument of Mr. Carker, and finally enters the service of Miss Tox with a view to his “restoration to respecte bility.” (Ch. ji, v, vi, xx, xxii, xxiii, xxv, xxxi, xxii, xxxvili, sxxxix, xlii, xlvi, lil, lix.)

Toota, Mr. P. The eldest of Doctor Blimber’s pupils; a wealthy Young gentleman, with swollen nose and excessively large head,

“

278 Ebe Wickens Mictlonarp.

of whom people did say that the doctor had rather overdone it with young Toots, and that, when he began to have whiskers, be left off haying brains. Having license to pursue his own course of study, he occupies his time chiefly in writing long letters to himself from persons of distinction, addressed “P, Toots, Exq, Brighton, Sussex,” which he preserves in his desk with great care. His personal appearance takes a great deal of his attention, and he prides himself especially upon his tailors, Burgess and Co., as being “fash'nable, but very dear.” His conversational ability is not remarkable; but bis deep voice, his sheepish manner, and his stock phrases, — of which “It'e of no consequence” is the most usual —are particularly noteworthy. ‘Of his intellectual and social deficiencies he is by no means ignorant, however. “I am not what ia considered a quick sort of a person,” he says: “I am perfectly aware of that. I don’t think anybody could be better acquainted with his own, —if it was not too strong an expression, I should say with the thickness of his own head than myself.” Mr. Toots conceives ¢o strong a passion for Miss Florence Dombey, that he is—to use his own words— “perfectly sore with loving her.” His attentions, however, are not encouraged, and he be- comes very down-hearted. “I xNow I’m wasting away,” he says to Captain Cuttle, “Burgess and Co. have altered my measure, I’m in that state of thinness. If you could see my legs when I take my boots off, you'd form some idea what unréquited affection is.” He recovers his health and spirits, however, after no long time, and consoles hime self for the loss of Miss Dombey by marrying her maid, Miss Susan Nipper. The result of this union is a large family of children. After the birth of the third, Mr, Toots betakes himself to the “ Wooden Midshipman” to give information of the happy event to hie friend Captain Cattle, whom he always misnames Captain Gills.

“Tknow that you ' be glad to hear, and so T came down myself, Were pow

{tively getting on, you know. There '* Florence and Susan, and now here’ another little stranger.’

quires the eaptatn. * Yes, Captain Gills ‘Toots; “and I'm glad of it: the oftener we ena { most extraordinary woman, my opinion ls, the better."

“Stand by!" ays tho eaptain, turning to the old cuse-botile with ao throat; for it Is orening, and the Midshipman's usual moderato provision of pipes and ison the board. “Here "s to her; and tay she have ever so many more!” “Thank "ee, Captain Gills!” says the delightod Mr. Toots, “I echo the eenth ment.”

(Ch. xi, xii, xiv, xvill, xxii, xxviii, xxxi, xxii, xxxix, xli, xlv xlviis, 1, Ivi, Ivii, Ix, Lxil.)

Dombey and Son. 279,

Toots, Mrs. See Nirren, Susan.

Towlinson, Thomas. Mr. Dombey’s footman. (Ch. v, xviii, xx, xxviii, xxi, xxxv, xliv, li, lix.)

Tox, Miss Lucretia, A friend of Mrs. Chick’s, greatly admired by Major Bagstock.

‘The caty , - . was a long. lean figure, wearing such a faded alr,that she ‘seemed not to have been made in what linen-drapers call “ fust colors” orige ually, and to have, by little and little, washed out. But for this, she might have been described as the very pink of generat propitiation and politeness, From slong habit of listening admiringly to every thing that was said in her presence, and looking at the speakers as if she were mentally engaged in taking off im pressions of their tmages upon her soul, never to part with the #ame but with Iife, her head had quite settled on one side, Her hands had contracted « spasmodic habit of raising themselves of thelr own accord as in involuntary admiration. Her eyes wore lable to a similar affection, She had the noftest voice that ever was heard; and her nose, stupendously aquiline, had o tittle Amob fn the very centre oF keystone of the bridge, whenee it tended downwards towards her face, as in an invincible determination never to turn up at any ‘thing.

After the death of the first Mrs, Dombey, Miss Tox has a modest ambition to succeed her, but, failing of doing so, her regard for Mr. Dombey becomes severely platonic, (Ch. i, ii, v-vili, x, xviii, %x, xxix, xxxi, xxxvi, xxviii, li, lix, Lxli.)

Tozer. A room-mate of Paul Dombey's at Dr. Blimber’s; a solemn

entleman whose shirt-collar curls up the lobes of his ears,

xiv, xli, Ix.)

Wickam, Mrs, A waiter’s wife (which would scem equivalent to being any other man's widow), and little Paul Dombey’s nurse. (Ch. viti, xi, xii, xvii, Ivili.)

‘Mrs. Wickam was @ meek woman, of a fair complexion, with her eyebrows slways elevated, and hor head always drooping; who was always ready to pity herself, or to be pitied. or to pity anybody else; and who had a surprixing natural gift of viewing all subjects in an utterly forlorn and pitiable ght, and bringing dreadful precedents to bear upou them, and deriving the greatest eon- solution from the exercise of that talent.

Withers, Page to Mrs. Skewtor tail, wan, and thin. (Ch. xxi, xxvi, xxvii, xxx, xxxvii, x1.)

—

280 The Dickens Mictlonary.

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS. —-

‘Cuarran I. Mr. Dombey exprosses his gratification at the birth of a son, and recetros ‘tho congratulations of his slstor, Mrs, Chick; Nis sister's friend, Miss Tox, presents her offering: Mrs. Dombey, not being ablo to make the effort urged by Mrs. Chick, gradnatty, faila, and dies clinging to her daughter, ~ IT, Mrs. Chick exerts herself to provide a wet- ‘oaree for little Raul; Miss Tox also Interests horssif in the matter, and Introdaces the ‘Toodle family; Mrm Tool, as Itichards, is engaged. —IEL, Florence hears from Hichards the story of hor mother’s death; Susin Nippor makes her frst appesrancos Tichants, by a littio management, brings the children constantly together.— IV. Solomon Gtlis, on the ‘ccoasion of his nophow's, Waltor Gay, entering the employ of Dorabey and Bon, produces ‘8 bottle of choice Madeira; Captain Cattle Jains the party, and Usey drink to Dombey and Son, nnd Daughter.—¥. Mrm Chik and Miss Tox enjoy a eooial evening In tho nursery, to tho dimmust of Mias Nipper; little Paul is christened, Mise Tox being one of the sore; chilling effect of thochristening oollations Mr. Dombey shows his regard for.

‘by appotnting Hiller a" Charitable Grinder.”*— VI. Richards and Susan take the children to Stager's Gardens, the home of the Toodles: returning homo, Richards discovers Biler bn ‘trouble, and goes to hls rescue; an alarm of “ Mad Tull" ts raised, and tho party gets ‘separated; Florence ls pleked up by Good Mra. Brown, who robs her of her clothing, sends her home in ragst sho Is found tn the street by Walter Gay, who takes her t0 Hl ‘uncle's, anit goes to Mr. Domboy" with tha news of hor axfoty, which her father receives quite indifferently ; Richards is discharged. — VII. Major Joo Bagstock fads himesif sa- persedted In the notice of Miss Tox by # baby. — VEIL. Little Paul, grown to the ugo of ‘vo years, nurprines hia futher by hisqueations about money; Paul not being etrong and ‘well, the dostor recommends searnir, and he and Florence aro sent to Mes. Pipella'sat Brighton) Pant te tmpolite to Mra. Pipching Mra Wickam expresses some superstitions fears tn rogard to him; Paul asks Florence what the waves are always saying — 1X. ‘Walter notioos « chango in Uncle Sol, and tries to cheer him up: returning from the sffos one day, ho ls astonished to find that Mr. Brogley, a broker, lias taken ponscmion of tha! stook for debt, Waiter looks up Captain Cuttlo, whom he has some trouble in coming at ‘onaccount of the pervorseness of his landlady, Mra. MacStinger; the captain takes tho matter into consideration, and advises applying to Mr. Domboy for ® Joan, #04 ho and ‘Walter set off to Brighton for that purpove.— X, Major Bagstook traces the onuso of Mise: Tox's reserve to her devotion to the Dambeys, and goes to Hrighton, whero he throws himself In Mr, Dombey"s way, and makes his sequuntance; Walter, supported by Captain ‘Cute, snakes his application to Mr. Dombey: the captain presents his valuablos ne segue rity: Mr, Dombey, through Paul, lends the required amount to Mr. Gill, — XI. Mr. Dorm bey decides to remove Paul from Mtrx Pipchin's to Doctor Ibtimbor's¢ Doctor Iimber's ‘establishment, and Its methods of teaching; Mr. Dombey, accomnpaniat by Florence and Mrs. Pipchin, takes Paul to Doctor Iitimber's, wherd he Is Introdced to-the family of that Jearned gentleman, and where ho ls left to be subjected to the forcing process for which that extablishimont ts celobrated.— XEL, Mies Wilmber takes Paul in handy Mx. ‘Toots shows hix good-will; Miss Blmber starts Paat Jn his course of study; Florenge obtains tho books which contain Paul's lessons, and assista him tn thelr preparation; Mfr. Toots continues to interest himself ia Paul.— XIU. ‘The deftrance paid to Mr. Dombey hy thou fH ond around his oftce; Mr, Carker the manager informs Mr. Dombey of a vacancy tt ‘Gude agency at Barbadoes and he decides to sond Walter Gay to All ity Walter heary a conversation betwoen the brothers James and John Carker, in which the position of the Latter Is defined; Mr, Joha Carkor tolls Walter the story of his temptation ant fd. — XIV. Mies Ailmber prepares an analyaie of Yaul'« character; Maul grows mom an 1 more old-fashioned ; he recelves his tnvitation to Doctor and Mrm Btimber's early party; "" be basa fainting-At in Mr, Fowler's room, and by the doctor's advice i rolleved

from Jus studies; Pant cotlects all his small peascslous fur taking home: at the Blimbers'e party, Paul receives the kindest attentions from all present, and Fioronce becomes a unk ‘versal fiyorite; they all show tholr fondness for Puul at his departure, and he Gnally

reuches home. —XV. Walter makes up hls mind ¢o Inform his uncle of the Tarbadoes project, and goes to Captain Cuitlo to get him to break the news to Sol Gills; the eaptaliny

a

Dombep and Bon. 281

im consideration of tho matter, “bites hiv malls a bit" and finally decides to wee Mr. Dombey, and talk it over with him: Waltor, walking about to give the captain sine to ‘break the news to Sol Gills, t overtaken Uy Susan Nigper in a coach, In search of Stages ‘Gandons and Mrs. Toodlo: he assists her to tind Richards, and returns with them t Mr. ‘Dombey's house, where he ts called in.— XVI. Little Pani, grown more and more fueble, bogs to see his old nurse and Walter. and dies with his arms around Florence's neck. = XVI. Not socing Mr. Dombey at homo, Captain Cattle goes to the ofice of Dombey and and calls on Mr, Carker the manager; the captain explains his understanding of tho tive fo Carker, and his mapirations iq connection with Walter and Mloronce, which Str, ‘Carer takes pains to strengthen, and the eaptaln Is fally satiefled that he" has done @ little business for the youngetere" —XVILE. Faneral of little Paul, and Mr. Dombey's tndifferenes to Florence; Mra. Chick and Mise Tox attempt to console Plorence: Blt Barnet and Lady Skottlex invite Florence to visit thom, but «ho prefors to remainat home Mr. Dombey grows more and more cold towards his daughter: Mr. Toots calls upoa lor ‘ence, and brine Diogenes, the dog of which Panl was #o fond at Doctor Biimber's: Sasan ‘taforms Florence that her father fs to leave home on the morrow. In company with Major ‘Biagstock ; Florence goes to her father's room, and trios to excite his affection wad sympa ‘thy, Dut finds hitn sell cold und reserved. — XIX. Walter prepares to go away, and 18 Hiving his uncles message for Florence, when she and Susan entor the shop Florenos ‘and Walter take leave of each other, and Florence prevents tim with a Keepsike; Joba ‘Career comes to take leavo of Walter Walter goos aboard“ The Son and Hetr."" «nil sho starts upon her voyage —XX Mr. Dombey breakiaste with Major Bagstock: the Major ‘speculates on the matrimonial ambition of Miss Tox, Mr. Toodle expresses tis «pmpathy ‘at the death of little Paa!, but Mr. Dombey does not respond: reflections of Mz. Dombey ‘om the road the maajor railles him on his thoughtfulness: they arrive at Leamington, — XXE Mr: Dombey and Major Bagstock encountor Mrv. Skewton, and her daughter Mrx, Granger; Mra. Seewton expresses hor fondnoss for" Nature" and Hearty Malo Mar stock informs Mr. Dombey wba these new friends aro; Mr. Domber and the major call ‘upon the ladies, and Mrs. Granver shows her accomplishments, = XXIL; Mr, Carker tho manager shows his alfection for Mr. Carker the Janlor, and for thetr alster: Mr. Perch Informe Mr, Carkor that Hob tho Grinder Is seeking employment: Mr. Carker has him broaght ins Sol Gills comes to pay the instalment dae on his debt. and to Inquire for news of “Tho Son and Meir,” wnich has not deen beard from since sho salted; Carker proposes to put Rob into hisemploy; Carker coex home with Mod, and fally eogngos to take change ‘of that young hopeful, whom he places asa spy upon Sol Gillis; Carkor ls witness to tho Giscomfture of Mr. Toots, consequent upon that young gentleman’ advances to Suman ‘Mpper. —XXIT. The lonoly life of Florence in the deserted houve; Florence. anxious at ‘he absence of news from Walter, goes with Sazan to soo Sol Gills, and, not finding him at ‘Yome, they go to Captain Cattle's; meeting of Susan Nipper and Mra SMacktinger: Cape ain Cattle, at loss what to aay about Walter's ship, consulta the oruoular Bansby, who ‘ghres an opinion, the * bearings “* of which “Lays In the spplication on It.""—~ XXIV. Plor- nice vinte thio family of Sir Tarot Sketvles at Pulham; various Incidents remind her of ‘her estrangement frota her futher; they encounter Carker on the stroet, who inform Flor sage there is no new? of tho ship.—XXV. Sudden disappearance of Sol Gills: Captain utile, finding no ten. es of hit, runs away from Mre, MaoStinger, an takex posseation of sbe shops KXVL Carker arrives at Lonminyton; the nixjor and Mfrs. Skewton encourage she attentions of Mr. Dombey to Faith; Mra Skewton accepts for herself and Edith Br. ‘Donidey's invitation to breakfast, and to a ride to Warwick Castle. — XXWIT. Carker mocte *Alth In the grove, and relieves her from tho annoyance of Good Mrs Browns Carker watches Edith closely daring the breakfast and tho trip to Warwick; Dombey makes am ‘Sopointment with Mrs. Granger" fora purpose," and sho recapivalates to hor movher the SBunspement they have used in bringing him to adeclaration, —XXVITL, Florenca proposes soretue home; how Mr. Toot prootived boating roturning homo, Florence and Susan ial the house undercolny extensive alterations; Florence ‘nects Faith and Mra. Skewton for tho fing sime,and hears of tho sy proaenmg marriage of her father.—XXIX. Mew Chick alls upon Sie Tox to 'a%ern her of Me. Dombey"s contemplated marriagy; Misa Tox ix ‘overcome by the news, snd Mrs. Chick has her ¢)s.opened to tho ambitious hopes of hee trlend, wh 7a whe cyrsequently casts off. —XX.X, latith shows @ waria friendship for Flor ae

——

82 Tbe Dickens Wiettonary.

‘nce; she unges her to roinsin at home alone after her father's murtiages Mee Skewton,

tows her interest In Florence: Edith refusos to allow Florence to remata with Mix Rowton during her own absence. —XXX1. The wedding of Mr Domber and Edith Grangor; the wedding-breakfast, whore Cousin Feealx makes speech. and Mr, Carker niles apon theconipany.—XXXIL Captain Cattle, keoping close quartersat the Wooden ‘MidabIp.oan, |s called upon by Mr, Toots and the Game Chicken: Mr, Toots is ansious te have Captaly Cattle cultivate tis acquaintance; ho reads Crom a newspaper an account ‘of tho loss of "Tho Son and Heir to Captain Cattle; Captain Cattle calls again on Mr. Carker, who recelves him with loss politeness than bofure.—XXXI1T. Mr. James Carkor'y Lome nvar Norwood, sith the plctare resembling BAlth ou the wall; Mr. John Cacker's ‘house on thio other side of Landon Jobim Carker parte with his alstor fur tho day sho te ‘visited by a stranger gentleman, who ts thoroaghly acquainted with their history, and who, ‘moures hier promise to call on him If they evor need assistance: Harriet Carkor betriends Alico Brown, a retarned convict. — XXXIV. Good Mra. Brown welcomes home her daugh- ‘tort Mra. Drown Informs Alioe what she knows of Carker: learning that it was his sister ‘who befrionded her, sho returns to her house, and flings back her gift with curtey,—XXX¥. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Dombey are welcomed home afer their bridal tours Mr, Dombey, pretending toaleep, watchos Florence and Edith, and his heart hardens towards hie daughter to find. ‘that she hus won bis wifw's loves Florence relates to Eiith the story of Walter: Edith ‘warns Florence not to expect to gain through her hor father's affection. — XXXVI. Mr. and Mrs Dombey give an entertalament which ts not sooial: Cousin Feenlx relates « story: Mr. Carker Is tho only man at ease, and Mra Chick fools hersolf alighted: Mr. Dowbey In the presence of Carker makes objections to his wife's conduct, —XXXVIL. ‘Garker calls upon Mrs. Dombey, and insists upon an interview; Carkor asames the exe Istenee of devoted attachment between Mra. Dombey and ber husband, and endeavors to estaXieh an influence oror hor through her foar of injuring Florence: Mrs, Skewton is struck with paralyals.—XXXVIU. Misa Tax, abandoned by Mrs. Chick, seeks Richards for tofurmation of the Domboys, and is escorted home by Rob the Grader. —~XXXIX. ‘Captain Catto bestows on Mr. Toots the pleasuro of fix acquaintance, on condition that Florence must never be named or referred to; Rab the Grinder leaves Captain Cuttlo's verricoy Captain Cattle, with tho approval of his friend Bunsby, opens Sol Gills's packet tn the prosence of that worthy; Mra MacStinger and her fumily suddenly appear on the sconoy mach to Captain Cuttle’s amazement, Bunsby pacifies ber, and, escorting her ome, returns with the captain's box, which he had Jett at Kirlg Place on hls excape.— XI ‘Mr. Dombey expresses to Eitith his displeasure at hor conduct,

towards him, and requests, for the sake ofothers, mutual forbearan ‘on his own will; the family, exoept Mr. Dombey, accompany Mes, Are Skewton and her daughter encountor<iond Mr. Brown and Alice = XLT Mr, Toots, ‘secompanied by Florence, calls at Doctor Biimber's; on thelr return Mr. Toots la on the point of making # declaration of hie love, which Florence checks: dosth of Mrs. Skowton. —XLIL. Rob the Grinder appears in the service of Mr. Carker; Mr. Dombey wnd Mr, Cark- ein counoil: Mr. Dombey instracts Carker to act as bis agent bn expressing to nue wife ‘his demande In regand to hor conduct; Mfr. Dombey la thrown from his horse and acverely hurt, and Carker carries the news of the accitent to Edith.—XLIM. Sasan Nipper ex= reese! hor opinion of Mr, Carker, wad of Mra. P:pchin, who lias bocome housskeepert Florence goes to her father's com, and kisses hitn in his sleep: Florence finds Eaith ti stave of great awitation after her interviow with Carkor. —XLIV. Susan Nipper, watobing .aer opportunity, enters Mr. Dombey's room wher he Is aloue, and relieves horaitnd; Mr ‘ipohin gives hor warning, aiid sho Ioaves wndor the excort of Mr, Toots! she destroys Nis ‘aopes of ever belag loved by Florence. — XLV. Carker requesta an interview alone with, ait: ho states the position Mr, Domber would have bim fll towards her. and declares himulf devoted to her service; ahe denies having any affection for her husband; Carker warns her, for Florence's sake, to withdraw her affection from her.—XLVE. Mr. Carket 4 watched by Good Mrs. Hrown and her daughter, who afterwards question BoD the Grinder tn reeard to his master: Mr. James Carkor again taunts his brother with bie dis uve, ad moors at bis expressions of good-will towards Mr, Dombey,—XLVIC. Katt ide Plorenoe, and informe her that they must become eatranyed; Mr. Dombey persists tn 0g “eoting Edith in the presence of Carker and Florence; Edith answers him, and Aske

Pombep and Son. 283

{Bt a separation on ils own torms; Mr Dombey rejects the proposition; Carker attempts two conciiinte: Eallth shrinks from Ficrence on the stairs: ight of Kalith end Carkers Fioronea Is atraek down by an angry blow from her fither.—XILLVILL Sho files to the ‘house of Sol Gills, where she le received by Captain Cuttle, from whom sho learns of the imag pearance of Walter's uncle; the captain provides for the comfort of Florence: tr. ‘Toots calls, and Informs Captain Cuttle that a person whom he met at the door that morn ng is waiting to.nee him at Mr, Heogley"st tho captaln goos to Mroglay's, snd returns ta a state of great excitement. —XLIX. Captain Cuttle takes tonder caro of Florence, and hicers hier up by rominding her that“ Wal'r °* drownded: " Florence goes shopping with, he ca stain; the eaptutn relates to Plorence the story of the ablp Jont at sea, from which fea2 Ind was saved: the shadow of a man appears upon the wall, and ¢he welcames Walter home, while Captain Cattle" makes orer a Utelo property Jintiy.""—f. Florence rolates tho xsson of her fight from home: Walter reasons that his uncle 1s still alive, and will return; they dincuss the position of Florence, and decide to fad out Susan ax the Lex ‘attendant for her; Mr, Toots, distracted with the nows of Florence's disappearance, 1s fe Moved to find sho tx safe, though in his rival's charge, and promises to devote himscif and ‘the Chicken to the recovery of Suxan; Florence, pained at Walter's svolding her, socks ‘su explanations their interview results in a mutual profession of love, to the great delight of Captain Cuttle.—L1. Sr. Dombey warns his slater to tre alfont on the aubject of Flor ences Major Bagstock claims the name of Dombey's friead when the time comes for ‘Moctlng Carker; how the family dlsaxtor affects Mr. Dombey's clarks. — EIT, Mr. Dombey b0es tothe abode of Good Mra, Brown to hear aows of Carker; from a place of eonceal- ment ho hears Mrs, Brown and her danghter draw from Rob the Grinder. by questions and threats, tho secrota of his mater and Mra. Dombey's fight, and thelr place of destination + LIKE, John Carker is dismissed Harrict relates to her brother tho appearance of thele unknown friend, who proves to be Mr. Morfin of Dombey and Son's house: he relates how he came by « knowletgo of their affairs, and promises to assist thomy Mr. Morfin {informs Harriet Carker of the condition of hee brother's pecuniary connection with Dom bay und Son} Alice Ikrown rolents at her aharo in the betrayal of Carker. and, after relating ‘to Harriet the cause she has 10 curse him, bors her to warn him that Dombey ts on hie track, LIV, Eaith appears alone wt the apartment in Dijony Carkar Joins hers Edith spurns Carker's advances, threatens him with violence if he approaches her, and shows i that her ight with him was in order to avenge the inaults she had recelved from hin; ‘tho Informs him of her hasbans’s presence in the town, and escapes from the apartment Just ns Mr. Dombey arrives at the doors Carker escapes through an obsoure passage, — LY. ‘Garkor hastens back to England, terriflod by the focting that Mr. Dombey 4s pursuing ims ‘ho stops to rest at & remote country station, and, as ho Is about to proceed, he encounters 3x. Demnbey, to avold whom he gots apon the track, and ts cut to pieces by the engine. — LVL Me. Toots returns to the Midshipman with Sasan Nipper, and becomes roconesiad to the leas of Florence; Bre Richards becomes housckeoper at the Midshipman; Mr. Toote'e unhappiness at hearing the barns read ta church: return of Sol Gills: bls tony absence ‘td hile al! ioe are explained: the Gamo Chicken expresses his disgust, and he and Mz, Toots part company. — LVI. Walter and Plorenco visit th tomb of little Paul; marriage <€ Walter and Florence, and their departure on a voyage to China.LVIIL. allure of the house of Dombey and Son; Marrtet Carker begs Mr. Morfin to give Mr. Dombey the Antereat of the bulk of the forcane Left by hee brother James: Harriet visits Alice Brown, Whom sho has rescued from her sinful tif, and who now lies vory sick, nursed. by Mew Wickam; Mes Brown informs Harriet of the relationship betwoon her child and Mex ounibey i death of Alice. —LIX. Mr. Domber's servants are dismtesod, and the furnitare Al at auction, while Me. Dombey keeps himself unseen tn his own apartments: Mew Vipelitn resigns her charge of the house, ana tx aucoceded by Richarde|. Miss Tox conthaes Sshow her sympathy; Br. Dombey wanders through the house hy night, and Learns to tong for Florence; she roturns, aad secks her fithee, and takes him home with her Miss Tox takex Nob the Grinder into her service.—LX. Mr. Footer, B.A. raartves Cor ella limber, Mr. Toots and bis wite, ‘ormerly Mist Susan Nipper, belng present at the seromony: Mrs. MacStinger leads Bunsby to tho altar: Samin retarns to Florence, EXT ‘Douatn Foentx takes Florence to his house to meet Kaith; thelastbottle of the old Madelre “edrruk to Walter and his wif —UXIL. Final disposition of all the characters

oo |

The Haunted Man, AND THE GHOST’S BARGAIN,

A FANCY FOR CHRISTMAS-TIME.

PUmLAsiTED fn 1648, and Knstrated with a frontieploce wna title-page engraved n wood from drawings by John Tennlel, and with woodcuts in the text from sketches by Stanfield, Leech, and Stone.

‘The story ts founded upon a legend attached to an old portralt: “Lord, keep may memory green!” But, instead of taking the word “memory " in ite intended and obvious sense of continued existence in the remembrance of others, Mr, Dickens very curiously misinterprets It to mean that power or eapsclty of the mind which enables it to treasure up for future use the knowledge it acquires.

OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Denham, Edmund. A student, whose true name is Lonarorp. ‘He comes under the evil influence of Mr. Redlaw, and loses all sense of the kindness that has been shown him during « dangerous illness, But, when a change falls upon Redlaw, his heart feels the effect also, and glows with affection and gratitude to his benefac tress: (Ch. ii, iii.)

fhongford, Edmund. See Dexuam, Epmunp,

Redlaw, Mr. A learned chemist, and a lecturer at an ancient institution in a great city, He is a melancholy but kind-hearted man, whose life has been darkened by many sorrows. As he site

‘ight over the things that might have been, but never iam Swidger, the keeper of the Lodge, with his wife

Milly, and his father Philip, enter the room to serve his tea, and te

decorate the apartment with holly in honor of Christmas.

She Mauntey Man. 285

© huother Christmas comes; another year gone!” murmured the chemist wiih ‘8 gloomy igh. * More figures tn the lengthening sum of recollection that wo ‘work and work at, to our torment, til! Death idly jumbles all together, and rab ‘sii out. So, Philip!" breaking off, and raising his voles as he addressed the old

‘man standing apart, with his gilstening burden in his arms, from which the quiet ‘Mrs, William took smal! branches. which she noiselesaly trimmed with her scis- sore. und decorated the room with, while her aged father-in-law looked on much Interested in the ceremony.

“My duty to you, sir.” returned the old man. “Should haye «poken before, sir, but know your ways, Mr. Redlaw,—proud to eay.—and walt till spoke to. iri and happy New-Year! and many of "em! Have had « myself,—ba, hu !—snd may take the liberty of wishing "ei.

‘'m elghty-veven!”

“Have you had #o many that were merry and happy?" asked the other.

* Ay, sir} ever co many,” returned the old man.

“Ts his memory impaired with age? It is to be expected now," aald Mr. Red- Jaw, turning to the son, and speaking lower.

“Not « morvel of it, sir," repliod Mr. William. That’ exactly what I say myself, sir. There never was auch a memory as my father’s. Ho's the most tronderful man in the world. He don’t know what forgetting means. Its the ‘very observation I’m always making to Mrs. William, sir, if you "l beliove me!”

‘The old man reminds Mr, Redlaw of a picture of one of the founders of the institution, which hangs in what waa once the great ining-hall, —a sedate gentleman, with a scroll below him, bearing this inscription, “Lord, keep my memory green!" And then the younger Mr. Swidger speaks of his wife's visits to the sick and suffer- ing, and tells how she has just returned from nursing a student who attends Mr. Redlaw’s lectures, and who has been seized with a fever.

“Not content with this, sir, Mrs. William goes and finds, this very night, ‘when she was coming homo (why it” not above a couple of hours ago), # crearare, more like w young wild beast than young child, shiveriig upon doorstep. ‘What does Mrs, William do but brings it home to dey it, and foed St, and keep ft All our old bounty of food and flannel is given away on Christmas morning! fit wver felt a fire before, {ts ns much as It ever did; for it’s slitting In the old Lodge chimmey, staring at ours as if {ts ravenous eyes would never abut again. It’ Witting there, at least,” eald Mr. William, correcting himself on reflection, “ unless Wt" bolted.”

* Heaven keep her happy!” said the chemist aloud, “ and you too, Phitip! and cou, William! 1 must consider what to do in this. I may desire to aoe this student: 1"Ii not detain you longer now. Good-night!” .

“F thankeo, sir, thankee!” said the old man, “for Mouse, and for my som

‘William, and for myssif, Where's my ron William? William, you tuke the antern, and goon first through them long dark passages, as you did tast year wd the year afore. Ha,ha! J remember, though I’m eighty-seven! ‘Lord, Keep my memory green!? It’s m very good prayer, Mr, Medlaw,—that of the earned gentleman in the peaked beard, with a ruff round his neck; hangs up, hocond on the right abore the panelling In what used to be, afore our ten poor gentlemen commuted, our great dinner ball, ‘Lord, keep my memory green!” W's very q00! and pious, alr. Amex, amen!” '

. ———

286 Ede Oi-kens Wictionarp.

After the departure of these humble friends, Redlaw falls back into lis train of sorrowful musings; and, as he sits Lefore the fire, ‘an awful spectral likeness of himself appears to him. It echoes his mournful thoughts, brings each wrong and sorrow that he has suffered vividly before him, and finally offers to cancel the remembrance of thom, destroying no knowledge, no result of study, nothing but the intertwisted chain of feelings and associations, each in its turn de pendent on and nourished by the banished recollections.

“ Decide,” It said, “before the opportunity # lost!”

“A moment! I call Heaven to witness,” eaid the agitated man, “thet I hare Rever boen & hater of my kind,—never morose, indifferent, or hard to sny around me. ff, living here alone, I have made too much of all that was might have been, and too ttle of what 4s, the evil, I beliere, has fallen om me, and not ou others. But, {f there were polton in my body, should I not, possessed of untidotes, and knowledge how to use thom, use them? If there be poison in tmy mind. and through thia fearful shadow I can cast {tout, aall I not cast lt out?”

ts it done?”

A moment longer!” he answered hurriedly. “I would forget it (f T could? Have / thought that alone? or has it been the thought of thousands upon thon ‘sands, generation after generation? All human memory ts fraught with sorrow and trouble. My memory {* ns the memory of other men; but other men have ‘not this choles, Yes: I close the bargain. Yes: I Witt forget my sorrow, “wrong, and trouble!” Bay.” said the spectre, “ts ft done?” tat? it 18. And take this with you, man whom here renounce, The gift that 1 have given, you shall give again, go where you will. Without recovering yourself the power that you have yielded up, you aball henceforth destroy ita like in all whom you approach, Your wisdom has discovered that the memory of sorrow, wrong, and trouble, Is the lot of all mankind, and that mankind would be the happler ia its other memories without it. Go! Be tte benefactor! Freed from uch remembrance from this hour, carry involuntarily the blessing of auch free dom with you. Its di(fusion is toseparable and tualienable frowm you.”

The phantom leaves him bewildered, and with no memory of past wrongs or troubles. He does not know in what way he pos sesses the power to communicate this forgetfulness to others; but, with a vague feeling of having an antidote for the worst of human 13s, he goes forth to administer it. ‘Those whom he secks, and those whom he casually encounters, alike experience the infection of his presence. Charged with poisor. for his own mind, he poisons the minds of others, Where he felt interest, compassion, sympa- thy, his heart turns to stone. Selfishness and ingratitude every where spring up in his blighting footsteps. There is but one persom who is proof against his baneful influence, and that is the ragged thild whom Mrs. Swidger picked up in the streets, Hardship and

de Maunted Man. 2387

“prucity have so blunted the senses of this wretched creature, that it grows neither worse nor better from contact with the haunted man, It is, indeed, already a counterpart of him, with no memory of the ast to soften or stimulate it. Shocked by the evil he has wrought, Redlaw awakes to a consciousness of the misery of his condition, Maving long taught that in the material world nothing ean be spared, that no step or atom in the wondrous structure could be lost without a blank being made in the great universe, he is now brought to te that it is the same with good and evil, happiness and sorrow m the memories of men. He invokes the spirit of his darker hourt to come back and take its gift away, or, at least, to deprive him of the dreadful power of giving it to others. His prayer is heard. ‘The phantom re-appears, accompanied by the shadow of Milly, the wife of William Swidger, from whom Redlaw has resolutely kept himself aloof, fearing to influence the steady quality of goodness that he knows to be in her, fearing that he may be “the marderer of what is tenderest and best within her bosom.” He learns that she, unconsciously, has the power of setting right what he has done; and he seeks her out. Wherever she goes, peace and happiness attend her, The peevish, the morose, the discontented, the ungrateful, and the selfish are suddenly changed, and become their former and better selves. Even Redlaw is restored to what he was; and clearer light shines into his mind, when Milly tells him, that, to her, it scems a good thing for ux to remember wrong, that we may for- give it.

Some people have aid since, that be only thought what has been herein set down; others, that he read ft In the fire, one winter-night, about the twilight- time; others, that the ghost was but the representation of hix gloomy thoughts, iid Milly the embodiment of his better wisdom, Z say nothing.

—Except this. ‘That as they were assembled in the old hall, by no other light tan tnt of a great fire (having dined early), the shadows once more stole out of thele hidingyplaces, and danced about the room, showing the children marvellous shapes and faces ou the walls, and gradually changing what was real and farailiar there to what was wild and magical; bat that there was one thing in the ball, to which the eyes of Redlaw, and of Milly and her husband, and of the old mag, and of the stadent and his bride that was to be, were often turned; which the *indows did not obscure or change. Docpened in Its gravity by the frelight, and gazing Trow the darkness of the panelled wall like life, the sedate fice in the portrait, ‘with the beard and ruff, looked down at them from under its verdant wreath of ‘soir, as they looked up at it; and clear and plain below, as if'a voloe had uttered ‘hem, were the words, —

“Bord, keep mp PAemorp Geen!”

288 Che Dickens DMictlonary.

Swidger, George. Eldest son of old Philip Swidger; a dying man, repentant, of all the wrong he has done and the sorrow he has caused during a career of forty or fifty years, but suddenly changed, by seeing Rediaw at his bedside, into a bold and callous raffian, who dies with an oath on his lips. (Ch. ii.)

Swidger, Milly. Wife of William Swidger; an embodiment of goodness, gentle consideration, love, and domesticity. (Ch. i-ili.) See Repiaw, Mn.

Swidger, Philip. A raed custodian of the institution in which Mr. Redlaw is a lecturer. He is a happy and venerable old man of eighty-seven years of age, who has a most remarkable memory. When, however, at the bedside of his dying son, he mects Redlaw (sho has just closed the bargain with the ghost, in couse- quence of which he causes forgetfulness in others wherever he goes), he all at once grows weak-minded and petulant; but, when he once more comes within the influence of his good daughter Milly, he recovers all his recollections of the past, and is quite himself again. (Ch. i-iii.) See Repiaw.

Swidger, William. His youngest son; servant to Redlaw, and husband to Milly; a fresh-colored, busy, good-hearted man, who, like his father and others, is temporarily transformed into a very different sort of person by coming in contact with his master after “the ghost’s bargain” is concluded. (Ch. i-iii.) See Repuaw.

Tetterby, Mr. Adolphus. A newsman, with almost any number of small children, —usually an unselfish, good-natured, yielding little race, but changed for a time, as well as himself, into the exact oppo- site by Mr, Redlaw. (Ch. ii, iti.)

Tetterby, Mrs. Sophia. His wife, called by himself his “little woman.” “Considered as an individual, she was rather remarkable for being robust and portly ; but, considered with re to her husband, her dimensions became magnificent.” (Ch. i

Tetterby, 'Dolphus, Their eldest son, aged ten: h paper boy at a railway station. (Ch. it, iii.)

His juvenility might have beon at some lox for a harmless outlet tn this ‘early application to tram, but for a fortunate discovery he made of a means of entertaining himself, and of dividing the long day iuto stages of interest, withe ‘out neglecting business. This Ingenious invention, remarkable, like many great Aiscoreries, fur its simplicity, consisted in varying the firet vowel inthe word paper," and substituting in Ita stead, at different periods of the day, all the other vowels in grammatical order, Thus, before daylight in the wintertime he went to and fro, in his little ollskin cap and eape and his big comforter, pler ing the honvy air with his ery of “Morning paper!” which, about an hour

Ebe Paunter fan. 289

‘before noon, changed to“ Morning pep-per!” which, at about two, changed to “Morn-ing pip-per!”” which, In a conple of hours. changed to “ Morning pop- por!” and ao declined with the xan into “ Rreniagpeirpey = ioihe gers, and comfort of this young gentleman's spirits.

Tetterby, Johnny. Their second son; a patient, omieariietage child, whose special duty it is to take care of the baby. (Ch. ii, iil)

Tetterby, Sally. A lange, heavy infant, always cutting teeth ¢ :)

It was a very Moloch of a baby, on whose Insatlate altar the whole existence of this particular young brother [Johnay) was offered up a daily sacrifice, Ite personality may be said to have consisted In its never being quiet in any one place for five consecutive ralautes, and never going to sleep when required. . . « It roved from door-atep to door-step in the arms of little Johnny Fettorby, and Jagged heavily at the rear of troops of juveniles who followed the tumblers or the monkey, and came up, all un one side, a little too late for every thing that was attractive, from Monday morning until Saturday night. Wherever child- hood congregated to play, there was little Moloch making Johnny fag and toll. Wherever Johnny desired to stay, little Moloch became fractious, und would not remain. Wheuever Johnny wanted to go out, Moloch was asleep, and must be watehed. Whenever Johany wanted to stay at home, Moloch was awake, aud must be taken out, Yet Johnny was verily persuaded that It was # faultless baby, without its peer in the realin of England; and was quite content to catch meek glimpses of things in graeral from behind Its skirts, or over ita limp flxp- ping borvet, and to go staggering about with it like m very little porter with « ‘very large parcel, which was not directed to anybody, and could uever be deliv: ered anywhere,

The Personal History of David Copperfield the Dounger.

‘Tus work, which Is by many considered to be Dickens's masterpiece, wat ‘sriginalle brought out under the following tide: “The Personal History, Adven- tures, Experiences, and Observations of David Copperfield the Younger, of Blum derstone Rookery (which ho never meant to be published on any account).” It ‘was lequed in twenty monthly parts, with two illustrations by “I’hiz” (Eablot K, Browne’ in each part. The first number appeared May 1, 140; and the preface was dated October, 1880. In it the author thus spoke of his work:

Of all my books, f Like this tho best, Tt will be easily believed that Tam * fond parent fo erecy child of my fincy, and that no one can ever love that fuunily a« dearly as X love ‘them; bat, like many fund parents, E have lo my heart of hearts # fevorite obild, and is name fe Davi CorrExrre:o.

‘Mr. Dickens's affeetion for his child was easlly accounteu for. It was at once teen that D.C, was only 0, D. reversed, and that the story must be In several Important respects autoblographic; for the hero, like the author, was emplayed In & lawyer's office, then turned parliamentary reporter, and finally became @ su cessful novelist, But that the painful struggles and experiences of Copperfield’s boyhood were a mere transcript of the writer's own sufferings and foellngs wae ‘ot fully known until the publication of Forster's Life of Dickens.” Yet such was the case,

For the poor little 1nd — with good ability and ® mest sensitive nature, turned at the age ton {nto “laboring hind ™ in the eervioe of “Murdetone and Grinby,"* and eonselous Mroady of what made It seem very strange to him that he could 40 eaally have boom shrown away at such an age — was indeed himself, His was the secret sgony of sal at nding himself “ companion to Mick Walkor wnd Mealy Potatoes: ™ and lus the taars tha ingled with the water in which heand they rinsed and washed out bottles, Tt had all ‘econ written as fot, before he thought of mny other use for It; and [twas not anti several

onthe later — when the fancy of * David Copportield,"" Itanlf suggested by what ho hae 200

0 writen of his early troabien, began to take shape tn his mind —thet he abandoned his iret intention of writing his own Life. ‘Those warehouse experiences fell then so aptly Into the subject he had chosen, that he could not resist the temptation of immediately ‘using them) and the manuscript reconting tha, which was bat the Srst portion of what hho had dealyned to write, was embodied 1a the substance of the ¢-eventh and eartier chep ters of his novel.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Adams. Head boy at Doctor Strong’s; affuble and good-humored, and with a turn for mathemati: (Ch. xvi, xviii.)

Babley, Richard, called Mr. Dick. A mild lunatic, and a protége ‘of Miss Betsey Trotwood’s, who insists that he is not mad.

“He had « favorite sister,” sald my aunt, —“ a good creature, and very kind to him: but she aid what they all do,—took ahusband; and Ae did what they all do,—made her wretched. It had such nn effect upon the mind of Mr. Dick, (that 's not madness, I hope!) that, combined with his fear of hls brother and ‘hs sense of his unkindness, it threw him Into m fever. ‘That was before he ‘came to me; but the recollection of it is oppressive to him even now. Did he ‘aay nny thing to you about King Charles the Firat, child?”

“Yes, aunt.”

“ AhI" said my aunt, rubbing her noso as if she were a little vexed. “That's this allegorical way of expressing It. He connects hia illnexs with grent dls turbatioe wbd Wgitation, naturally; and that *s the figure, or the simile, or what ‘ever ft % called, which he chooses to use. And why should n't he, if he thiake

Traid, “Cortainly, aunt.”

“It 's not a business-like way of sponking,” sald my aunt, ‘nor a worldly ‘way. Tam aware of that; and that’s the reason why I inalst upon it that there sha?n’t be a word about tt In his memorial.”

“Is It a memorial about his own history that he ts writing, aunt?”

“Yer, child,” said my aunt, rubbing her nose again, “He i memorialla- ing the Lord Chancellor, or the Lord Somebody or other, —one of those people, at all events, who are paid to Ye memorialized, — about his alfairs. T suppose it will go in one of these days. He has n't been able to draw {t up yet, without introducing that mode of expressing himself; but it don't algnify; it keeps

To fact, I foond out afterwards that Mr. Dick had been for upwards of ‘years endeavoring to koop King Charles the First out of the memoriol; had bern constantly getting into It, and was there now.

(Ch. xiii-xy, xvii, xix, xxxiy, xxxvi, xxviii, xlii, xliii, xlv, xlix, Ui, liv, Ix, Ix, Ixiv.) Bailey, Captain. An admirer of the eldest Mies Larkina (Ch. xviil.)

292 She Wickens Bieri onary,

Barkis, Mr, A carrier who takes David Copperfielé from Blan derstone to Yarmouth, on his first being sent away to school. As they jog along, Copperfield asks Mr. Barkis if thoy are going no farther than Yarmouth together,

That's about it,” said the carrler. “And there I shall take you to the stage-cutch; and the stage-catch, that "ll take you to—wherever ft bx.

As this was a great deal for the carrier to say,—he being of a phiegmatio temperament, and not at all conversational, — I offered bim n cake as a mark of ‘attention, which he ate at one gulp, exactly like an elephant; and which made no more impression on his big face than it would hare done on an ele phant’s,

“Did she make ’em, now?” sald Mr. Burkis, always leaning forward, tn kis Slouching way, on the footboard of the cart, with an arm on each knee,

“ Peggotty, do you mean, wir?”

“Ant” sald Mr. Barkls,— “her”

‘es. She makes all our pastry, and does all our cooking,” “Do she, though?” sald Mr. Burkle.

‘He made up his mouth as if to whistle; but he did n't whistle. He sat looking at the horse's ears as if he saw something new there, and sat so for # consider- able time, By and by, he sald,—

“ No sweethearts, I bilieve?”

“Sweotments, did you say, Mr. Barkis?” For I thought he wanted some thing else to eat, and had pointedly alluded to that description of refresh: ment.

“Hearts,” sald Mr. Darkis, —“ sweethearts; no persoo walks with her?”

“ With Peggotty 2”

“ AL he said. —“‘her.” jh, nol She never had a sweetheart,/”

“Did n’t she, though?” said Mr, Barkis.

Again he made up his mouth to whistle, and again he did n’t whistle, bat rat looking at the horse's ears.

Bo she makes," said Mr. Barkis, after a long interval of refleetion, “all the ‘spple-parsties, and does all the cooking; do she?”

I roplied that such was the fact. :

“T ahall cortalnly write to her," I rejoined.

“AI” be sald, slowly turning his eyes towards me. “Well! If you was ‘writin’ to her, p'raps you ‘d recollect to say that Barkis was willin’; would

“That Barkis was willing,” I repeated innocently. “Is that all the mea sage?”

“ Te—es,"" ho anid, considering. “ Ye—es: Barkla Ja willin’

“But you will be at Blunderstone ngain tomorrow, Mr. Barkley: T sald fuitering a little at the idea of my being far away from it then, “and vali give your own measage 40 much better.”

As he repudiated this suggestion, however, with a Jerk of his heat, and onee ‘more confirmed his previous request by saying with profound gravity, *Barkle fa willin’; that the mexsngo,”’ I rendily undertook its transmission. ‘While I was walting for the coach in the hotel at Yarmouth, that very afternoon, T procured a sheet of paper and an inkstand, and wrote a note to Peggotty, whicn

Davl(d Copperllele, 293

‘Fan thos: “ My dear Poggotty, Ihave come here enfb, Barkis ts willing. My Jove to mamma. Yours affectionately. P.S.—Ho says be particularly wants ‘you to know — Baris de willing."

After the death of her mistress, Peggotty becomes “willin’™ also, and marries Mr. Barkis, who makes her a very good husband, save that he is “ rather near,” as she expresses it, and jealously guards a box under his bed, which contains bis money and valuables; although he persists in telling everybody that it is “old clothes,” At last he is taken very ill; and David goes down from Lordon to. visit him.

~“Barkis, my dear,” said Peggotty, . . . bending over him, . . .“ Hero’ my dear boy,—my dear boy, Muster Davy, who brought us together, Bar Kis; that you eent messages by, you know! Won't you speak to Master Davy?”

‘He was as mute and senseless as the box, from which his form derived the

‘only expression it had, “He 's mgolng out with the tide,” sald Mr. Peggotty to me, behind his

My eyos wore dim, and eo were Mr. Peggotty’e; but I repeated In a whisper, “With the tide?””

“People can't die along the coast," sald Mr. Peggotty, “except when the tide "s pretty nigh out, ‘They can’t de born unless it "s pretty nigh in,—not properly born, till food. He ’s a-going out with the tide. It’ ebb at halé-arter three, slack water half an hour, If he lives till t turns, ho ‘ll hold his own tlt past the flood, and go out with the next tide.”

We remained there, watching him, a long time,—hours. What mysterious Influence my presence had upon him In that state of his senses, I shall not pre- tend to say; but, when he at Inst began to wuuder feebly, it is certain he waa ‘muttering about driving me to school.

Mr, aud whispered with much awe and reverenos, “They are both a-golng out fast.”

“ Barkis, my dear!” sald Peggotty.

“C. P, Darkis,” he oried faintly, Yo better woman anywhere!

“Look! Here "s Master Dary1” sald Peggotty. For he now opened hls

oo

Twas on the point of asking him if he knew me, when he tried to stretch out

his arin, aud sald to me distinctly, with m pleasent smile,

«Baris ts willln’ 1" A

And, {t being low water, he went out with the tide,

(Ch. ii-y, vii, viii, x, xxix, xxsi.)

Barkis, Mrs. See Peacorry, Ciara.

Charley. A dranken, ugly old dealer in second-hand sailor's clothes and marine stores, te whom David Copperfield sells his jacket for fourpence when travelling on foot to his aunt's. (Ch. xiii.)

Chestle, Mr. A hop-zrower; a plain, elderly gentleman, wie marries the eldsst Miss Larkins. (Ch. xviii.)

20°

204 Ede Wickens Mictlonary.

Chillip, Mr. The doctor who officiates at the birth of David Copperfield. (Ch. i, ii, ix, x, xxii, xxx, lix.)

‘He was tho meckest of hile sex, tho mildest of little men. He ¢idled In and ‘out of » room to tako up the less space. He walked as softly us the Ghost in “ Hamlet,” and more slowly. He earried his heed on one aide, — partly ia modest depreciation of himself, partly in modest propitiation of everybody alae. It ie ‘nothing to say that be had n’t a word to throw at a dog. Ife could n't have ‘thrown a word at a mad di

Clickett, An “orfling” girl from St. Luke's Workhouse; servant to the Micawbers. She is a dark-complexioned young woman with ahabit of snorting, (Ch. xi, xii.)

Cop) Mrs. Clara. The mother of David; an artless, affectionate little woman, whom Miss Betsey Trotwood insists upon calling a mere baby. She marrics Mr. Murdstone, a stern man, who, in conjunction with his sister, attempts to teach her “ firmness," but breaks her heart in the experiment. (Ch. i-iv, viii, ix) See Correrrietp, Daviv.

Copperfield, David. The character from whom the story takes its name, and by whom it issupposed to be told. He is a child, having been born six months after his father’s death. His mother, young, beautiful, inexperienced, loving, and lovable, not long afterwards marries a handsome and plausible, but hard and stern man,—Mr. Murdstone by name,— who soon crushes her gentle spirit by his exacting tyranny and by his cruel treatment of hor boy. After being for some time instructed at home by his mother, and reduced to a state of dullness and sullen desperation by his step-father, David is sent from home, He is sent toa vile Ininous school, near London, kept by one Creakle, where he receives more stripes than lowons. Here he is kept until the death of his mother, when his step-father sends him (he being now ten years old) to London, to be employed in Murdstone and Grinby's ware house in washing out empty wine-bottles, pasting labels om them when filled, and the like, at a salary of six shillings a week, But such is the secret agony of his soul at sinking into companionship with Mick Walker, “Mealy Potatoes” and other boys with whom be is forced to associate, that he at length resolves to ram away, and throw himself upon the kindness of great-aunt (Miss Brtsey Trotwood), whom he has never seen, but of whose eccentric habite and singular manner he has oftea heard. She receives him mack better than he has expected, and soon adopts him, and sends him te ecbool in the neighborimg town of Canterbury. He does well here

. BDavlo Coppertiely. 295

and finally graduates with high honors. Having made up bis mind to become a proctor, he enters the office of Mr. Spenlow, in London. Soon after this, his aunt loses the greater part of her property; and David, being compelled to look about him for the means of subsist ence, learns the art of stenography, and supports himself comfart- ably by reporting the debates in parliament. In the mean time he has fallen desperately in love with Dora, the daughter of Mr. Spen- Jor, but has been discouraged in his suit by the young lady’s father. ‘Mr. Spenlow dying, however, he becomes her accepted suitor. ‘Turn+ ing his attention soon after to authorship, he acquires a reputation, and obtains constant employment on magazines and periodicals, He ‘now marries Dora, a pretty, captivating, affectionate girl, but utterly Ignorant of every thing practical. It is not long before David dis covers that it will be altogether useless to expect that his wife will develop any stability of character, and he resolves to estimate her by the good qualities she has, and not by those which she has not. One night, she says to him in a very thoughtful manner that she wishes him to call her his “ child-wifi.”

Tt a stupid name,” she sald, shaking her curls for a moment, —"child-wife.»

‘Tiaughingly asked my ehild-wife what her funcy was in desiring to be so called. Sho answered without moving, otherwise than as the arm I twined about her may ‘have brought her bine eyes nearer to me, —

“ Fdon't mean, you silly fellow, that you should use the name instead of Dora: Lonly mean that you should think of me that way. When you are golng to be angry with mo, say to yourself, *1t 's only my child-wife,’ When I nm very dis- appointing, say, ‘T knew, a long time ago, that she would make but a child-wife.’ When you miss what I should like to be, and I think eas never be, any, Still xy foolish child-wifo loves me. For indeod I do."”

Thad not been serious with her, having no idea, uatil now, that she was serl ‘ous herself. But her affectionate nature was so happy in what I now said to her with my whole heart, that her face became a tanghing one before her glittering ‘eyes were dry. She wns coon my child-wife indeed, sitting down on the floor out- tide the Chinese House, ringing all the little bells one after another, to punish Jip for his recent bad behavior; while Jip Jay blinking in the doorway with his head out, even too lazy to be teased.

‘This appeal of Dora's made a strong impression on me. T look back on the time I write of; I invoke the innocent figure that I dearly loved, to come out from the mists and shadows of the past, and turn {ts gentle head towards me ouce ‘agnin; and T can still declare that this one little speech was constantly In my memory.

At length Dora fulls into a decline, and grows weaker aud weaker, day by day.

ats night, and Iam with hor still. Agnes has arrived; has been among us for ‘a whole day and an evening. She, my aunt, and I have sat with Dora since the ‘morning, all together, We have not talked much; but Dora has been perfeetiy seutented and cheerful. We are now alone,

206 be Michens MDlctlonary.

‘Do I know now that my child-wife will oon leave me? They have told me +o they have told me nothing new to my thoughts; but I am far from eure that TLave taken that troth to heart. Ioannot master tt, » - » Ecwunot shut out » pale lager lng sbadow of belief that ste will be spared.

“Lam going to apeak to you, Doady, I am golng to xay something I have ‘cften thonght of saying Intely. You won't mind?” with m gentle look,

“Mind, my darling?”

“ Because I don't know what will think, or what you may have thought ‘sometimes, Ierhaps you have often thought the same. Doady, dear, 1 am afraid ‘Twas too young.”

T Jay my fuce upon the pillow by her, and abe looks into my eyes, and speaks very softly. Gradually, as she goes on, T feel with m atricken heart that she te speaking of herself as past.

“Tam afraid, dear, I was too young: don't mean tn years only, but In experl- ence and thoughts and every thing. I was such as'lly little creature! Tam afraid 4t would have beon better if we had only loved each other as a boy and giel, and forgotten it. I have begun to think I was not iit to be a wife.”

T try to stay my tears, and to reply, “O Dora, love! —as it aa I to be a hus

don’t know,” with the old shake of her curls. “Perhaps. But, ifThnd been more fit to be married, { might have made you more #0 too. Besides, you arevery ‘lover, aud I never was.”

re have been very happy, my sweet Dora” .

“Twas very happy, very. But as years went on my dear boy would hare ‘wearled of bis child-wife. She would have been less and less a companion for him. He would have boon more and more sensible of what was wanting in his homo, She wonld n't have tmproved. It is better as it i.”

“© Dora, dearest, dearest, do not speak to me sol Every word seems a ree proach.”

No, not a syllablet * she anxwers, kissing me. ...“O Dosdy! after more years, you never could have loved your child-wife better than you do; and after ‘more yeara she would so haye tried and disappolated you, that you might not have been able to lore her half 40 well. I know I was too young and foollah, It lt auch better ns It fs."

‘After the death of his wife, David goes abroad, passing through many weary phases of mental distreey, Daring his absence, Agnes WVickfield, a dear friend of Dora’s and of himself, writes to him.

Sho gave mo.no advice; aho urged no duty on me; ahe only told me in her own fervent manner what her trust iu me wns. She knew (she sald) how such & na tare as mine would turn alliietion to good. She knew how trial and emotion would ‘exalt and strongthon It. She was ere, that, in my every pur; 2%, Tahould gata ® firmer and a higher tendency through the grief t hnd undergone, She who 6 Worled in my fame, and 40 looked forward to Itt augmentation, well knew that T would labor on. She knew that in me sorrow could not be weakness, but muse de strength. As the endurance of my childish days had done its part to make me ‘what I was, #0 greater calamities would nerve me on to be yet better than ¥ was and 50, as they had taught me, would I teach others. She commended me to God who had taken my fsnocent darling to his rest: and in her sisterly affection cher Ished me always, and was always at my alde, go where I would, proud of what = ‘aad done, but infinitely prouder yet of what I was reserred to do.

Davlo Coppertte!

When throe years have passed, David ret.rns to England, where his few works have already made him famous. But wore than all else he values the praise and encouragement he receives from Agnes, whom he has come to think the better angel of his life, and whom he would gladly make his wife, did he not believe that her feeling towards him was merely one of sisterly affection, and that she has formed a deeper attachment for another. He discovers at Jast, Lowever, that she loves him only, and that she has loved him all her life; though she unselfishly subdued the feelings of her heart 20 far as to rejoice sincerely in his marriage to Dora. They ars ‘soon united, and she then tells him that Dora, on tho last night of hor life, expressed the earnest wish that she, and she alone, should suceced to her place.

And now, as I close my task, subduing my desire to linger yet, these thoes fade away. But one faeo, ahining on me like 2 heavenly light, by whieh I 520 ail other objects, is above them and beyond them all. And that remains.

Tturn my head, and see it in its benutiful serenity beside me. My lamp burns Jow, and I hare written fur Into the night; but the dear presence, without whieh I'were nothing, bears mo company,

© Agnes, oh, my soul, s0 may thy face be by me when I close my life indeed! 0 may I, when realities aro melting from me like the shadows which I now dismiss, still find thee near me, pointing upward! Copperfield, Mra. Dora. See Spentow (Dora), and Correr- PreLp (Davi), 2 Creakle, Mr. Master of Salem House, the school to which David Copperfield is sent by Mr. Murdstone; an ignorant and ferocious Lrute, who prides himself on being a * Tartar.” (Ch. v=vii, ix, Ixi.)

‘Mr. Creakle’s fhoe wns fory; and lis eyes were small, and deep in his head; hho had thick veins In his forehead, a little nose, and a large chin, He was bald on the top of hie head; and had some this, wet-looking hair, that was Just tum: ing gray, brushed across each temple, 60 that the two sides interlaced on bis fore head, But the clecumstance about him which impressed me most was, that he had no voice, but spoke In a whixper. ‘The exertion thia cost him, or the con selounness of talking In that focble way, made his angry face so much more angry, and his thick velus so much thicker, when he spoke, that Tam not sur prised, on looking back, at this peculiarity striking mo as his chief one,

I should think there never can have been a man who enjoyed hls profession more than Mr.Creakle did. Ie had a delight In entting at the boys, which was ke the satisfaction of a craving mppotite. 1 um confident that he could n't Tealst a chubby boy, expecially; that there was n fasciaation in such ® wubject, which made him restless io his mind urtll he kad scored and marked him for che day... . Miserable little propitiators of a remorseless Idol how abject we ‘were to him! What s jaunch {n life I think it now, on looking back, to be + miro and servile ton man of such parts and protensions|

298 E5e Dickenu Dicetfonary.

Mere I sit at thederkaguln, watching his eye— humbly watehing Lis ¢ye—us he rales a cipheringybook for another victim whore hands have just been flat tened by that identteal ruler, and who Is trying to wipe the sting oat with «

. Ehave plenty to do. I don't wateh his eye In idienees, ‘Dut because I am morbidly attracted to It in ® droad desire to know what be will do next, and whether it will be my turn to suffer, or somebody else's. A Jano of stall boys beyond me, with the same interest In his €ye, watch It too. T think he knows it; though he pretends he don’t, Io makes dreadful moutha ‘as he rules the ciphering-book; and now he throws his eye sideways down our Jane, aud we all droop over our books, and tremble. A moment afterwards we ‘are again eying bim. Ao paper malpit, fone patiy X. Espetins eos ‘approaches at his command. ‘The culprit falters excuses, and professes a doter- ‘mination to do better to-morrow. Mr. Creakle cats a joke before he beata him, and we laugh at it, —misornble little doge, we langh, with our visages as white ‘as ashos, and our hearts sinking into our boots, Mrs. His wife; a thin and quiet woman, ill-treated by her husband. (Ch. vi, ix.)

Creakle, Miss, Rance supposed to be in love with Steerforth. (Ch. vi, vil, ix.)

Crewler, Mrs. Wife of the Reverend Horace Crewler; a very superior woman, who has lost the use of her limbs. She becomes the mother-in-law of Traddles. Whatever occurs to harass hor (aa the engagement and prospective loss of her daughters) usually settles in her legs, but sometimes mounts to her chest and head, and per- vades her whole system in a most alarming manner, (Ch. xxiv, xxii, Ix.)

Crewler, Miss Caroline. Eldest daughter of Mra. Crewler; a very handsome girl, who marries a dashing vagabond, but soon sep- arates from him. (Cb. xli, Ix, Ixiv.)

Crewler, Miss Louisa. Mrs Crewler’s third daughter. (Ch. xii, be, Ixiv.)

Crewler, Miss Lucy. One of Mrs. Crewler's two youngost daughters, educated by her sister Sophy. (Ch. xli, Ix, Ixiv.)

OCrewler, Miss Margaret. One of Mra. Crewler's two young~ est daughters, educated by her sister Sophy. (Ch. xli, Ix, Ixvi.)

Crewler, Miss Sarah. Mrs. Crewler’s second daughter. (Ch. xxxiv, xli, Ix, Lxiv.)

Crewler, Miss Sophy. Fourth da: ghter of Mrs. Crewler; alwaya forgetful of herself, always cheerful. and amiable, and as much a mother to her mother (who is a confirmed invalid) as she is ta her sisters, She becomes the wife of Tommy Traddles, who re — gards her bosh before and after marriage as “the dearest gitl ir the world.” (Ch. xxvii, xxviii, xxxiv, xli, xliii, lix, lxi, Lxil, Lxke.)

Dablv Coppertlel, 299

Crewler, The Reverend Horace. A poor Devonshire clergy- man, with a large family and asick wife. (Ch. xxiv, xli, Lx, lxiv.)

Crupp, Mrs. A stout woman living in Buckingham Street, in the Adelphi, who lets a set of furnished chambers to David Coppers field when he becomes an articled clerk in the office of Spenlow ond Jorkins. She is a martyr to a curious disorder called.“ the spazzums,” which is generally accompanied with inflammation of the nose, and requires to be constantly treated with peppermint. (Ch. xxiiicexvi, xxviii, xxxlv, xxv, xxvii.)

Dartle, Rosa. A lady some thirty years old, living with Mra Steerforth as a companion, and passionately in love with her son, who does not retarn her affection. She is of a slight, short figure, and a dark complexion; has black hair, and largo black eyes, and a remarkable sear on her lip, caused by a wound from a ham- mer thrown at her by Steerforth, when @ boy, in a moment of exasperation. She is very clover, bringing every thing to grind- stone, and even wearing herself away by constant sharpening, till she is all edge. (Ch. xx, xxi, xxiv, xxix, xxii, xxxvi, xlvi, }, lvi, Ixiv.)

Demple, George. A schoolmate of David Copperfield’s at Sa- Jem House. (Ch. ¥, vii.)

Dolloby, Mr, A dealer in second-hand clothes, rags, bones, and Kitchen-stuff, to whom Dayid Copperfield sells his waistcoat for ninepence when he ri way from “ Murdstone and Grinby's” to seek his aunt, (Ch.

Dora. See Srextow, Dora.

Em'ly, Little. Nieco and adopted danghter of Mr. Peggotty, and the object of David Copperfield’s first love. She is afterwards betrothed to her cousin Ham, but is seduced by Steerforth. (Ch. iil, vil, x, xvil, xxi-xxiii, xxx.) See Srexnvonru, (Jans).

Endell, Martha. An unfortunate young woman, without money or reputation, who finally discovers “Little Emly,” and restores her toher uncle. She is reclaimed, and emigrates to Australia, where she marries happily. (Ch. xxii, xl, xlvi, xIvii, 1, li, Ivii, Lxili.)

Fibbetson, Mrs. An old woman, inmate of an almshouse. (Ch. y)

George. Guard of the Yarmouth mail. (Ch. v.)

Grainger. A friend of Steerforth’s, and a very gay and lively feb low. (Ch. xxiv.)

Grayper, Mr. A neighbor of Mrs. Copperfield. (Ch. ix, xxii.)

———

300 Ede Dickens Bret Mae.

Grayper, Mrs. His wife. (Ch. ii, xxii.)

Gulpidge, Mr. A guest of he Wak who has enti todo at second-hand with the law business of the Bank. (Ch. =xv.)

Gulpidge, Mrs. His wife. (Ch. xxv.)-

Gummidge, Mrs. The widow of Mr. Peggotty’s partner, Her husband dying poor, Mr. Poggotty offers her a home, and supports her for years; and this kindness she acknowledges by sitting in the most comfortable corner, by the fireside, and complaining that she is “a lone, lorn creetur, and everythink goes contrairy with her.” (Ch, iii, vii, x, xxi, xxii, xxxi, xxxii, xl, li, lvii, Lxiii.)

Hamlet's Aunt. See Srrxer, Mrs, Henry,

Heep, Mrs. A very ‘umble widow woman, mother of Uriah Heep, ‘and his “dead image, only short." (Ch. xvii, xxxix, xlil, Iii, Ixi.)

Heep, Uriah. A clerk in the law-oflice of Mr. Wickfield, whose partner he afterwards becomes. David Copperficld’s first: meeting with him is thus deseribed : —

‘When the pony-chalre stopped at the door, and my eyes were Intent upon the house, I saw a cadayerous face appear at a smnall window on the ground- floor (tn a little round tower that formed one aide of the house), and quickly disappear. ‘The lowarched door then opened, and the fies came out. Tt was quite as cadaverous as it had looked In the window; though, in the grain of it, ‘there was that tinge of red which is sometimes to be observed In the aklas of red-halred people. Itbelonged toa red-haired perscn, =m youth of fifteen, as I take It now, but looking much older, — whose hnir was cropped as close as tha closest atubble; who had hardly any eyebrows, and no eyelashes, aud eyes of a red-brown, 20 unsheltered and unshaded, that T remember wondering how he went to sleep. He was high-shouldered and bony; dressed in decent black with a white wisp of a neck-cloth; buttoned up to the throat; and bad & Tong Jank, skeleton hand, which particularly attracted my attention ms he stood mt the pony's head, rubbing his chin with it, and looking up at us tn the chaise,

‘The following conversation takes place a little while after wards: —

“T nuppose you are quite great lawyer,” 1 said, after looking a nlm for some time,

“ Me, Master Copperfield?” said Uriah. “Oh, no! Ima very ’umble pers ton."

It was no fancy of mine about his hands, £ observed; for he frequently ground the palms against each other as if to squeeze them dry and warm, be tides often wiping them, tn a stealthy way, on his pocket-handkerchief.

~ Tam well aware that 1 am the ‘umblest pervon going,” said Uriah Heep modestly, “lot the other be where he may. My mother is Ukewise = very tumble person. We livein a numble abode, Master Copperfield, bat have much to be thankful for, My farber’s former calling was'umbie. ie was a sextug”

“ What is be now?” Tasked.

URIAH HERP AND HIS MOTITER

Davy Coppertlelo. 30a

Me te w partaker of glory at present, Master Copperfield,” ania Uriah Heep Rat we have much to be thankful for. How much have I to be thankful fo» living with Mr. Wickfeld!"

As time runs on, David finds that Uriah is obtaining an un- ‘bounded influence over Mr. Wickficld, whom he deludes in evry possible way, and whose business he designedly perplexes and com- plicates in order to get it wholly into his own hands; and, further~ more, that he locks with greedy eyes upon Mr, Wickficld’s daughter Agnes, to whom David himself is warmly attached. He even gocs 0 far as to boast of this, and to declare his intention of making her his wife.

asked him, with a better appearance of composure than f could have thought

4 minute before, whether he had made his feelings known to Agnes.

“Oh, no, Master Copperfield!" he returned, —“ ob, dear, no! Not toany one but sou. You reo { am ouly just emerging from my lowly station, I rest m good deal of hope on her observing how useful I am to her father (for X trust to be very useful to hii indeed, Master Copperfield), and how I smooth the way for him, and keep him stralght. Sho’ eo much attached to her father, Master Copperfield. (ob, what a lovely thing it is {a a daughter!) that X think the may come, on hls account, to be kind to me.”

T futhomed the depth of the rascal's whole scheme, snd understood why he laid St bare.

“If yoo "il hare the goodness to koep my secret, Master Copperfield,” he

“and not, in general, to go aguinst me, { aball take it as & particular favor, You would n't wish to make unpleasantacss. I know what a friendly ‘heart you 'vo got; but, having only known me on my ‘umble footing (on my *umblest, I should say; for t am very Tumble still), you might, unbeknown, go against mo, rather, with my Agnes. I call her mie, you see, Master Copper- field, ‘Thore "sn tong that eays, ‘Td crowns resign to call her imine!’ Thope to do it, one of these days.”

Uriah goes on weaving his meshes around Agnes and her father until he has them completely in his power. But his rascality is at last unravelled and exposed by Mr. Micawber; and Mr. Wickfield not only recovers all the property of which he has been defrand- ed, but is absolved from all suspicion of any criminal act or intent. Uriah pursucs his calling in another part of the country, but ix finally arrested for fraud, forgery, and conspiracy, and is sentenced to solitary imprisonment. (Ch. xv—xvii, xix, x ev, xxxy, xxxvi, xxxix, xlii, xlix, lii, liv, Lx)

Hopkins, Captain.. A prisover for debt, in tne King’s Bench Prison, at the time that Mr. Micawber is also confined there. Un- ‘ler this name is described a certain Captain Porter, who was a fellow-prisoner with Mr. Jokn Dickens in the Marshalsea Prison

sbout the year 1822 (Ch. xi) Py

Ww

302 The Dickens Dictionary,

Janet, Miss Betsey Trotwood’s handmaid. (Ch. xili-xy, axiii sooxx, xllii, bx.)

Jip (a contraction of Grrsx). Dora’a pot dog. (Ch. xxvi, xxxill, xxxvi-xxxviil, xli-xliv, xlviii, lii, li.)

Joram, Mr. The partner and son-in-law of Mr. Omer the under taker. (Ch. ix, xxi, xxiii, xxx, li, lvi)

Joram, Mrs, See Omer, Miss Mrxwre,

Jorkins, Mr, A proctor, partna of Mr, Spenlow. (Ch. xxiii, xxix, xxxv, xxxvili, xxix.)

‘He wasa mild man of a hear) temperament, whose placo ta the business was to keep himeelf in the background, and be constantly exhibited, by name, ‘os the most obdurate nnd ruthless of nem, If. clork wanted his salary raised, Mr. Jorkins would n’t listen to such a proposition; if a client were slow to settle his bill of costs, Mr, Jorkins was resolved to have it paid: and, however Painful these things might be (and always wore) to the feelings of Mr. Spen- Tow, Mr, Jorkins would have his bond. The heart and hand of the good angel Rpenlow would hare been always open, bat for the restraining demon Jorkins. As I have grown older, I think I have had experience of some other houser doing business on the principle of Speulow and Jorkins.

Lerkins, Miss. tall, dark, black-eyed, fine figure of n woman, ‘of about thirty, with whom David Copperfield falls desperately in love when about seventeen. His passion for her is beyond all

bounds ; but she crushes his hopes by marrying a hop-grower. (Ch. xviiL) Larkins, Mr. Her father; a gruff old gentleman with a double chin, and one of his yes immovable in his head. (Ch. xviii) Littimer. Confidential servant of Stecrforth. (Ch. xxi-xxili, xxviii, xxix, xxxi, xxxii, xlvi, xi.) See Srexrvontm, JAMES.

T believe there never existed in his station » more respectableJooking man, Me was taciturn, soft-footed, very quiet in his manner, deferential, obserrant, always at hand when wanted, and never near when not wanted; but his grest claim to consideration was his respectability. He had not a pliant fee; he had rather @ atiif neck, rather a tight smooth head with short hair clinging to It at ‘the rides, n soft way of «peaking, with a peculiar hablt of whispering the lotter § so distinctly, that he scemed to use it oftener thin any other man: bit every peculiarity that he had he made respectable. . ,. He surrounded himself with an atmosphere of respectability, and walked secure in it. It would have been next to Impossible to suspect him of any thing wrong, he was so thoroughly respectable. Nobody could bave th

have Lwen to luflict a Wanton insult on the feclings’of a most respectable man.

Maldon, Jack, Cousin to Mrs. Doctor Strong; an idle, needy libe tine with a handsome face, a rapid utterance, and a confident bold air, (Ch. xvi, xix, xxxvi, xli, xly, lxiv.)

WV IH(My

MR. MICAWRER AND HIS FAMILY,

Davl(y Coppertiety. 303

Markham. A gay and lively fellow of not more than twenty; # friend of Steerforth's. (Ch. xxiv, xxv.)

Markleham, Mrs. Mother of Mrs. Doctor Strong. (Ch xvi, xix, xxxvi, xiii, xlv, Ixiv.)

‘Our boys used to call hor the Old Soldier, on account of her generalship and the skill with which she marshalled great forces of relutlons against the doctor. ‘She was a little, sharp-cyed woman, who sed to wear, when she was dressed, ‘one unchangeable cup, ornamented with some artificial flowers, and two arth fivial butterflies supposed to be hovering about the flowers.

Mealy Potatoes. (So called on account of his pale complexion.) A boy employed at Murdstone and Grinby’s wine-store, with David Copperfield and others, to examine bottles, wash them oat, label and cork them, and the like. (Ch. xi.)

Mell, Mr. Charles. An under master at Salem House, Mr. Creakle’s school, He is a gaunt, sallow young man, with hollow cheeks, and dry and rusty hair. Mr. Creakle discharges him because it is ascertained that his mother lives on charity in an alms-house, He emigrates to Australia, and finally becomes Doctor Mell of Colonial Salem-House Grammar-School. (Ch. v-vii, Ixiii.)

Mell, Mrs. His mother. (Ch. ¥, vii.)

Micawber, Master Wilkins, Son of Mr. Wilkins Micawber, He has & remarkable head voice, and becomes a chorister-boy in the cathedral at Canterbury. At a later date, he acquires a high reputation as an amateur singer. (Ch. xi, xii, xvii, xxvii, xvi, xlii, xlix, lii, liv, lvii, Ixiv.)

Micawber, Miss Emma. Daughter of Mr. Wilkins Micawber; afterwards Mrs. Ridger Begs of Port Middlcbay, Australia. (Ch. xi, xii, xvii, xxvii, xxxvi, xlii, xlix, lii, liv, lvii, Lxiv.)

Mivawber, Mr. Wilkins. A gentleman—remarkable for his reckless improvidence, his pecuniary involvements, his alternate elevation and depression of spirits, his love of letter-writing and speech-making, his grandiloquent rhetoric, his shabby devices for cking out a genteel living, and his constantly “waiting for something to turn up”—with whom David Copperfield lodges while drudging in the warehouse of Murdstone and Grinby. In this character Mr. Dickens has represented some of the

* experiences and foibles of his own father, who was for several years in very embarrased circumstances, and for a time a prisoner for debt in the Marshalsea. But two facts should be borne in mind: first, that Mr. Dickens thus described his father to a friend (sce

304 be Dickens Mictlonary.

Forster's Life of Dickens, vol. i, pp. $7, 88),—“I know my to be as kind-hearted and generous a man as ever lived in world. Every thing that I can remember of his conduct to his or children or friends, in sickness or afiliction, is beyond all «++ De never undertook any business, charge, or trust, that he not zealously, conscientiously. punctually, honorably dischurge. His industry has always been untiring.” Secondly, it must not be fore gotten, that, “though Mr, Micawber is represented as careless in noney-matters, apt to get into debt, and addicted to getting out of it by means of bills and notes of hand, he never says or docs any thing at variance with morality or probity. ... He is never mean, false, or dishonest.”

‘Mr. Micawber is thus introduced upon the scene: —

‘Tho counting house clock was at half-past twelve, and there was general prep- aration for golng to dinner, when Mr, Quinion tapped at the counting-house wine dow, and beckoned me to go {n. I went in, and found there w stoutish, middie~ aged person, In a brown surtout and black tights and shoes, with no more hair ‘upon his head (which was a large one, and very shining) than there Is upon an ‘egg, and with a very extensive fice, which he turned full upon me, His clothes Wwereshabby; but he had an imposing shirt-collar on. He carried a jaunty sort of @ stick with a largo pair of rusty tassels to it; and a quizzinggiase hung outside his coat,—for ornament, I afterwards found, as he very seldom looked through st, and could n't eee any thing when he did.

“This,” wald Mr. Quinton, in alluslon fo mysclf, “As he.

“This,” said the stranger, with s cortain condescending roll in his voles, and # certain indescribable air of doing something genteel, which impressed me rery snuch, “is Master Copperfield. I hope Laee you well, slr?"

Trald I was very well, aud hoped he was, I was sufictently ill at ense, Hearen knows; but it was not in my nature to complatn much at that time of my Life: so T sald I was very well, and hoped he was,

“Tam,” sald the stranger, “thank Heavent quite well, I hare received letter from Mr. Murdstone, in which he mentions that he would desire me to receive into an apartment in the rear of my house, which is at present unoceapled, and Is, in short, to bo let a4 8—tn short," said the stranger, with a smile, and in w burst of confidence,“ ax a bed-room, the young beginner whom I have now the pleasure to —and the stranger waved his hand, and settled hls chin in bla abirt- collar.

“This fs Mr Micawber,” sald Mr, Quinlon to

“ Ahem” said the stranger: “' that Ls my name.

“ Mr. Micawber,” said Mr. Quinion, “is knowa to Mr, Murdstone, Me take crders for us on commission, when he can got any. He has been written to by Mr. Murdstone on the subject of your lodgings, and he will reecive you as a fodger.”

When young Copperfield takes possession of his quarters at Mr Micawber’s, Windsor Terrace, City Road, he finds the domestic sit uation of that gentleman beset with difficulties which to any other

man would be ‘thoroughly discouraging.

ick

Ss

Dabld Coppertlelv. 305

‘The only visitors Tever eaw or heard of were creditors. They used to come at all hours; and some of them were quite ferocious. One dirty-faced man, I think hho was a bootmaker, usnd to edgo himeelf {nto the passagn ax early a8 werwn o’elock in the morning, and eall up the stairs to Mr. Mioawber, “Come! You aln’t out yet, you know. Pay us, will you? Don’t hide, you know: that "s mean. Twould 4’ be mean, If Twas you. Payus, will you? You just pay us: ye hear? Come!” Kecwtving no answer to these taants, he would mount in bis wrath to the words “windlers” aud “ robbers," and, these being ineffectual to, would treet, and roaring up at the wine cond floor, where he knew Mr. Micawber was, At these times, Mr. Mioawber wpuid be transported with grief and mortification, even to the length (os Fwas once made aware by a seream from his wife) of making motions at himsolf with a razor; but, within balfan hour afterwards, he would pollah gp hie shoos with extraordinary pains, and go out, humming a tune with a greater air of gentility than ever.

Mis difficulties come to a crisis at last, however; and he is arrested one morning, and earried to the King’s Bench Prison, saying that the god of day has gone down upon him: but before noon he is seen playing a lively game of skittles. At last, he applies for release under the Insolvent Debtors’ Act; and in due time is sct at liberty, Mrs. Micawhber's friends being of the opinion that his wisest course will be to quit London, he determines to go down to Plymouth, where he thinks something may “turn up” for him in the custom house. Before parting from David, he gives him a little friendly counsel.

“My dear young fHlend," sald Mr. Mlcawber, “I am older than you; a man of somo experience {a life, and— and — of some expertonce, in short, in dificulties, generally speaking. At present, and until something turns up (which T um, may Jay, hourly expecting), T have nothing to bestow bat advice. Still my advice ia to far worth taking, that—in short, that f have never taken it myself, and am the”— here Mr. Micawber, who had been beaming and smiling all over his head ‘and face. up to the present moment, checked himself, and frowned, —* tho mise erable wretch you behold.”

* My dear Mioawber! urged his wife.

“Fsay?"roturned Mr. Micawber, quite forgetting himself, and smiling agafn, — “the miserable wretch you behold. My advice 1s, never do to-morrow what you ean do to-day, Trocrastination Is the thief of time, Collar him!”

“ My poor papa’s maxim," Mrs. Micawber observed.

“My dear,” said Mr. Micawber, “your papa was very well In bla way, and Heaven forbid that I should disparage him! ‘Take him forall in all, we no'er mall —in short, make the nequatntanco, probably, of anybody else posseasing, at thus time of life, the dame legs for galters, and able to read the anme description of print without spectacles, But he applied that maxtn to our marriage, my dene, and that was so far prematurely entered into, in consequence, that I never peeovered the expense.”

Mr. Micawber looked malde at Mre, Micawber, and added, “Not that T am scrry for it: quite the contrary, my love.” After which he was grave for « minute oro.

“My other pleoe of advice, Copperfield,” sid Mr. Micawber, “you know, 20%

—

ninoteon, nineteen, result happiness, "anmual Income twenty pounds}, annual expenditere {weay pounds nought and six,—result misery. The blossom 1a blighted, the leaf ts withered, the god of day goes down upon the dreary scene, and—and, In short, you are forever doored. As Iam!”

‘To make his example the moro impressive, Mr. Micawber drank » gins of punch withan nir of grest enjoyment and satisfaction, and whistled the College Hornpipe.

Some time after this, David—then a pupil of Dr. Strong’s, at Canterbury —unexpected!y meets Mr. Micawber, who has left Plym- outh (talent not being wanted in the custom house), and is invited to dine at his inn with him.

Wo bad a beautiful tittle dinner,— quite an clegant dish of fish, the Hitser sot of w loin of veal roasted, fried sauvage-meat, a partridge, and o pudding.

‘was wine, and there was wtrong ale; and after dinner Mev. pica ue bow! of hot panch with her own bands,

Mr. Micawber was uncommonly convivial. I never saw him such good com- Dany: +

As the punch disappeared, Mr. Micawber became still more frlendiy and eon- vivial. Mra. Mleawber’s spirits becoming elevated too, we sang “ Auld Lang Syne," When we came to “Hero ‘sm band, my trusty frere,” wo all joined hands round the table; and when we declared we would “take a right gude Wille Waught,” and had n't the least idea what it meant, wo were really alfeoted,

In a word, I never saw anybody so thoroughly Jorial as Mr. Mlcawber was down to the very last moment of the evening, when I took # hearty farewell of himself and his amiable wifo, Consequently I was not prepared at seven o'clock next morning to receive the following communication, dated haif-past nine in the ‘evening, —a quarter of an hoor after I bad left him: —

“My Dean YouNG Farexp,—

“The dio fs cast: all is over. Hiding the raragos of caro with a slckly mask of mirth, have not informed you, this evening; that there is no hope of the remit- tance. Under the circumstances, alike humiliating to endure, humiliating to eon- template, and humiliating to relate, I have discharged the pecuniary Mability contructed at this establishment, by giving a note of hand, made payable fourteen days after date at my residence, Pentonville, London. When it becomerdue, It ‘will not be taken up, ‘The rovult is destruction, The bolt is Impending, and the tree must fall.

“Let the wretched man who now addresses you, my dear Copperfield, bem beacon to you through life. He writes with that Intention and in that hope. If ho could think himself of so much use, one gloam of day might, by ovate, ponetrate into the cheerless dungeon of his remaining existence; though hie sOngevity fs, at present (to aay the least of It), oxtremely problematical,

“This ls the last communieation, my dear Copperticld, you will ever receive

“From

“The © Boggared Qutcaat,

“ WiLKiNe Micawnen®

Twas #0. shocked by the contents of this heart-rending letter, that T ran of

Mireetly towards the little hotel with the intention of taking it on my way to Dr

Davly Copperttele. 307

Btrong’s, and trying to soothe Mr. Micawber with a word of ¢omfort, But half ‘way there I met the London coach with Mfr. and Mrs. Micawber up behind; Mr. Micawber, tho very picture of tranquil enjoyment, atnlling at Mrs. Micawber's ‘conversation, eating walnuts out of # paper bag, with » bottle sticking out of his breast-pocket. As they did not see mo. F thought it best, all things considered, ‘not tonee them. So, with great welght taken off my mind, T turned into a by- ‘street that was tho nearest way to school, and felt, upon tho whole, relieved that they were gone; though I still liked them very much, nevertheless,

‘Mr. Micawber next engages in the sale of corn upon commission; ‘dat not finding it “an avocation of a remunorative description,” and

getting again into “ temporary embarrassments of a pecuniary nature,” he accepts an offer from Uriah Heep to become his confidential clerk. But, before leaving London ior Canterbury (where Heep is estab- lished), he invites David to spend an evening at his house with their common friend Traddles, When the time has nearly come for them to take their leave, Mr. Micawber rises to acknowledge a toast pro- posed by Copperfield. He thanks his friends for their good wishes, and speaks as if he was going “five hundred thousand miles” away. He hopes to become an ornament to the profession of which he is “about to become an unworthy member,” and finally concludes as fol- lows: —

“Under the temporary pressure of pecuniary abilities, contrncted with a view to thelr irumediate liquidation, but remaining unliquidated through acombination of elreamstances, I have been under the necessity of assuming « garb from which my natural lastinets recoil, — allude to spectacles, —and possessing myself of m ‘eognomen to which I can establish no legitimate pretensions. All T have to say Ou tha score Is, that the cloud has passed from the dreary soene, and the god of day is ono» more high upon the mountain-tops, On Monday next, on the arrival of the four o'clock afternoon couch ut Canterbury, my foot will be on my native heath —my name, Micawber!”

Mr. Micawber resumed his aeat on the close of theas remarks, and drank two glasses of punch in grave succession, He then eaid with much solemnity, —

*<One thing more E have to do before this separation is complete; and that ito perform an uct of justices. My frlend Mr. Thomas Traddles has, on two several deeanlors, “put his name,’ if { may use a common expression, to bills of exchange OF ty accommodation. On the Grvt occasion, Mr. Thomas ‘Traddles was left —~ let me xay, in short, In the lurch. ‘The fulfilment of the second hns not yet arrived. The amount of the first obligation,” here Mr. Micawber carefully referred to pa: pers, “was, I believe, twenty-three, four, nine and a half; of the second, accord. Ing to my entry of that transaction, eighteen, sx, two. These sums, united, souke a total, if my calculation fs correct, amounting to forty-one, ten, eleven and half, My frlend Mr. Copperfield will perhaps do me the favor to chock that ole”

Tdid s0, and found it correct.

“To leave this metropolis.” sald Mr. Micawber “and my friend Mr. Thomas ‘rndales, without soquitting myvelf of the pocunlary part of this obligation, would ‘veigh upon my mind to an insupportable extent. I have therefure prepared for tay friend Mr, Thomas Traddles, and 1 now hold in my band, » document which

at

808 She Dickens Wletlonarp,

‘accomplishes the desired object. I beg to hand to my friend Mr. Thomas Trad dies my I. 0, U, for forty-one, ten, eleven, and a half; and I am happy to recover ‘my moral dignity, and to know that I can once more walk ereet before my fellow. man!

With this {ntroduction (which greatly affected him), Mr. Micawber placed his 1. 0. TJ. in the hands of Traddles, and said he wished him well iu every relation of life, Tam permaded, not only that this was quite the same to Mr, Micuwber ‘81 paying tac money, but that Traddies himself hardly knew the differenos unti behad had Lime to think about tt.

‘Mr. Micawber does not find his position in Heep's office as pleasant aa his sanguine temperament bas led him to anticipate. He soon dis covers his employer to be a consummate hypocrite and villain, who ix bent upon ruining his partner, Mr. Wickfield, and that he himself ir being made use of as a tool to aid in furthering the scheme. Th therefore 2ets himself to the task of unravelling the whole tiseae of rascality so cunningly woven by Heep; and, when this is done, he denounces and exposes him in a long and characteristic letter, which he reads to Copperficld, Traddles, and Miss Botsey Trotwood, who meet by appointment at Mr. Wickfield’s former office.

‘Miss Trotwood, having been made acquainted with Mr. Micawber’s straitened circumstances, suggests that it might be well for him to try his fortunes in Australia, and offers to pay his debts, and the pasiage of himself and family to that country. Mr. Micawber fs delighted at the idea, and makes immediate preparations for emigrating, Ina fow days, he informs his kind patron that his “ boat is on the shore,” and “his bark is on the sea.’”

“In reference to our domestio preparations, madam," sald Mr. Mlcawber with some pride, “for meeting the destiny to which we are now understood to be self devoted, I beg to report them, My oldest daughter attends at five every morning In a neighboring establishinent, to acquire the proves —if process It may be called —of milking cows. My younger children are Instructed to observe, as closely a efrcumstances will permit, the habit of the pigs and poultry maintained In the poorer parts of this clty,—s pursuit from which they hare, om two occasions, been brought home within an inch of being run over. I have myself directed tome attention, during the past week, to the art of baking; and my son Wilkins thas issued forth with a walkingstick, and driven cattle, when permitted, by the rugged hirelings who had them in charge, to render any voluntary eerrice fn that direction, which I regret to say, for the credit of our nature, was not often; he bolog generally warned, with Imprecations, to deslat.”

Many years afterwards, David receives from Me. Peggotty (who went out in the same vessel with Mr. Micawber) a copy of an Aus- tralian paper containing an account of a public dinner given to “our listinguished townsman, Wilkins Micawber, Exquire,” and, in anothe, column, a letter addressed —

David Coppecliely. 309

“TO DAVID COPPERFIELD, ESQUIRE, “THE RMIXENT AUTHOR, "Mr pram Sim,

“Years have elapsed since T had an opportunity of ocularly perusing the Uneaments, now Guniliar to the tmaginations of a considerable portion of the tivilized world.

‘But my dear sir, though estranged (by the force of clreumatances over which T Lave had no control) from the personal soclety of the fiend and companion of my youth, { hare not beeu unmindful of his souring flight; nor have f been debarred,

‘Thoogh seas botwoen us biald ha’ roared,’

(Benxs) from participating in the tntellectual feasts he has spread before us.

“ F cannot, therefore, allow of the departaye from this place of an Individual ‘whom we mutually respect and esteom, without, my dear sir, taking this publia opportunity of thanking you on my own behalf, and, I may undertake to add, on that of the whole of the lahabitants of Port Middlebay, for the gratification of which you are the ministering agent.

“Go on, my dear sir You are not unknown here; you are not unappreciated. ‘Though ‘remote,’ we are neither ‘unfrended,’ ‘melancholy,’ nor (I may add) ‘slow!’ Go on, my denr alr, in your eagle course! ‘The Inhabitants of Port Middicbay may at least aspire to watch it with delight, with entertainment, with fnstruction!

“Among the eyes elevated towards you from this portion of the globe will ever be found, while it has light and life,

“The “Bye “Appertataing to WILKINS Mrcawnen, “ Magistrate.”

T found, on glancing at the remalaing contents of the newspaper, that Mr, Micawber was a diligent and esteemed correspondent of that Journal. There was another Ietter from him in the same paper, touching » bridges there was an advertisement of a collection of similar letters by him, to be shortly repub- Ushed in a neat volume, * with considerable additions; and, unless I am very much mistaken, the leading article was his also.

(Ch. xi, xii, xvii, xxvii, xxvili, xxxvi, xxix, xlii, xlix, li, liv, Wii, Leiti.)

“31s. Mleawher Is as genulne an addition to the world's popniation as if we Knew ‘hore to find his mark tn the parish register, and were acquainted with all the begine Sings of his earser,—how he fell in love with Mra Micawber, and how that Inds's fanily permitted a union which wax to give them ao much trouble, A1is gentoel aif, Ble fianknow on the sabject of his difficulties, hia delightful readiness to give his attention to any thing that may tara up, tho way in which hit tmpocuntosity servos titm as a Prafueaion, aro all set before ua with au unfailing spirit. Me. Micnwber nevor flagys Vere Is never a moment at which we can fool that the anthor has forgotten what went Leforevorlost the throad. , . . As we read, we, too, feel the exhilarating effect of @ meal procured by tho aale of a bedsteud; we,too. arw awareof that sensttion of having settled S serious point of basiness, which possomes Ar. Micawber when ho hus put his nawe bo bill. Wo scorn the worldiing who healts*es at that weeurity, We understand the roll Meus friend's Voice, his consek. ss oss that he has or'ne into his proyerty, and paid off At tho ebargos with a liberal hand when he writes hr awe fo “hat bit of paper, +

B10 Ede Dickens Bietlonary.

‘Mr. Mlcawber's seuso of honor and generosity ts strong: though It Isnt. pereaps, #8 ‘effectual upon his character aa might be dexired. It in true that tho signature cf the Dill ls to him, as it were, a receipt in full, clearing hit of all further responsibility; bul stilt how charm ngly ready hte to eign it! how incapable of taking advantage of sng ‘one's cenervalty without (hat presaation! . . . Perhaps none of us have ever encoun tored in the worst the fale-blown perfection of a Bir. Micawber; . .. but how many ‘hints and suggestions of Mr. Micawber has the ordinary observer met! and how kindly, how geniaily, with what # friendly Insight, has the author combined thoes ‘taggestions, and male them into one conslatent being.”"— Blackevod's Aagatine, vo ola, pp. 683, 64,

Micawber, Mrs. Emma. Wife of Wilkins Micawber; a hie morously-exaggerated portrait of Mr. Dickens's mother. (Seo Forster's Life of Dickens, vol. i, ch. i, i

Arrived nt his [Mr, Mloawber's) house in Windsor Terrace (which I noticed was shabby, like himself, but also, like himself, made all the show it could}, he me to Mrs, Micawber, a thin and faded lady, not at all young, who ‘was sitting in the parlor (the first floor was altogether unfurnished, and the blinds were kept down to delads the nelgubors) with a baby at her breast. ‘This baby was one of twins; and { may remark hero, that I hardly ever, fn all my experience of the family, enw both the twins detached from Mrs, Micawber at the ame time, Ono of them wns always taking refreshment.

When her husband's resources are at the lowest ebb, she deter mines to come to his resoue if she can.

Poor Mrs. Mleawber! Sho «ald sho bad tried to exerthervelf; and #0 T have no doubt she had, The centre of the street-door was perfectly covered with a great brass plate, oa which was engraved, * Mrs. Micawber’s Boarding Eatab- Ushment for Young Ladies: ” but I never found that any young Indy had ever been to school there; or that sny young lady erer camo, oF proposed to come; OF that the least preparation was ever made to receive auy young lady.

Tn the ease of her temper and the elasticity of her spirita, Mra, Micawber is scarcely surpassed by her husband.

I have known her to be thrown into falating-fits by the King's taxes at thron Yelock, and to eat amb-chops breaded, and to drink warm ale (paid for with «wo teaspoons that had gone to the pawnbroker's), at four, On one occasion, ‘when an execution had just been put in, coming home, through some ehance, at ‘early as #lx o'clock, Tsaw her lying (of course with a twin) under the grate In gs swoon, with her halr all torn about her face; but I never knew her more cheerful than she was that rery samo night, overa veal-outlet before the kitebeme fire, telllng me stories about her papa and mamma, and the eompany they used to keep,

Among the striking and praiseworthy characteristics of this re markable lady, her devoted attachment to her husband is deserving of special mention. On one occasion, shu tells David Copper+ field, —

i never will desert Mr. Micawber! Mr. Micawber may hare concealed hie ieulties from me in the Gist instance; but his sanguine temper may have lea him to expect that he would overcome them. ‘The pearl necklace and bracelets

Dadi

ppectlely Sil

‘which I inberited from mamma have been disposed of for less than balt thelr alae; and the set of coral which was the wedding-gift of my papa has been actually thrown away for nothing. Bat T never will desert Mr. Micawber. No!" cried Mra. Micawber, more affected than before, “{ never will do it! It" of no ase asking me.”

Tielt quite uncomfortable, —ae if Mrs. Micawber supposed had asked her to do any thing of the sort, —and sat looking at her In alarm.

“Mr, Micawber hax his faults, Ido not deny that he is improvident. 1 do not deay that he has kept mo tn ths dark ns to his resources and his Linbilitice both?" she went on, looking at the wall; “but I nover will desert Mr. Mi- eawber!

Mrs, Micswher having now raised her-yoloe into m perfect scream, I was 10 frightened, that I ran off to the club-room, and disturbed Mr. Micawber, in the act cf presiding at a long table, and leading the chorus of

Geo up, Dobbin,

Gee ho, Dobbin,

Geo up, Dobbin,

Gee up, and Gee ho—o—o! with the tidings that Mrs. Micawber was in an alarming state; upon which be {mmediately barat into tears, and came away with me with his walatooat full of ‘the heads and tails of shrimps of which he had been partaking.

“Emma, my angel!" ried Mr. Micawber, running tuto the room, "what is ‘the matter?”

“T never will desert you, Mioswber!" she exclaimed,

My life! said Mr. Micawber, taking her in his arms. “I am perfectly of #1" % He is the parent of my children! He Is the futher of mytwins! Hots the band of my affections!” eried Mrs. Micawber, struggling; “and I ne—ver— ‘will—devert Mr. Mieawber!””

Mr. Mioaweber was #0 deeply affected by this proof of her derotion (as te me, I was dissolved in tears), that he hung over her in a passionate manner, imploring ber tolook up andtobe calm. But, themore he asked Mra. Micawber to look up, the more she fixed her eyes on nothing; and, the more he asked her to compose herself, the more she would n’t. Consequently Mr. Micawber was soon 40 overcome, that he mingled his tears with hers and mine, until he begged me to do him the faror of taking #chalron the staircase while he got her into bed.

(Ch. xi, xii, xvii, xxvii, xxviii, xxxvi, xlii, xlix, lii, liv, lvil, Lili.)

“Mex Mienwber!s almost as good berhasband, ‘The intrepid courage with whic sie ‘keeps ap that tinaginary struggle with her family, scoring every tomptation to leave ‘Mr. Micawhber ; her cecasional despair, and beautifal power of overcoming tase wae ‘and & mother, and making herscifas comfortable as clroumstances permit; hor miley ‘that Mr. Micawber should have occupation worthy of his talents, and be sp] et Tasty hor nerer-failing gentility, and sense of what ts due to ber position, —are @it opt cp with the ame perfect spirit and reality." —Blachwood's Magueine, vol, ebx, D685, 38

Mills, Miss Julia. ‘The bosom-friend of Dora Spenlow. (Ch. xxxiii, xxxvii xxviii, xli, Leiv.)

‘Tiearned . . . mat Mise Milis had had ber trlals in the course of a checkered ‘existence, und that to these, perbaps, 1 might refer that wise benigulty of saanuer which I had already noticed. I found, in the course of the day, that

&

Se,

\

& >)

312 ¢ Dickens Dietlonacp.

‘this was the case; Miss Mills baring been unbappy tn a misplaced affection, and Delng understood to bare retired from tho world on her awful stock of ex perience, but still to take a calm interest fn the unblighted hopes and loves of youth.

For the more exact dishange of tao duties of friendship, Miss ‘Mills keeps a journal, of which the following is a sample :—

“ Moxpay.—My sweet D. still sich depressed. Headache, Called atten. Hon to J. os being beautifully sleek, 1D. fondiedJ. Associations thus awakened ‘opened floodgates of sorrow. Rush of grief admitted. (Are tears the dew: drops of the heart ?—J. 3)”

Mills, Mr. Her father; a terrible fellow to fall asleep after din- ner, (Ch, xxxiii, xxxvii, xxviii, xli.)

Mowcher, Miss. A dealer in cosmetics, a fashionable hairdresser, &c., who makes herself useful to a variety of people in a variety of ways, She is very talkative, and plumes herself on being “volatile,” but is thoroughly kind-hearted and honest. (Ch. xxii, xxxii, Ixi.)

I was still looking at the doorway, thinking that Miss Moweher was a Jong while making her appearance, when, to my Infinite astonishment, there came waddling round a sofa which stood between me and it a pursy dwarf of about forty or forty-five, with a very large head and face, w palr of rogulsts gray eyes, und such extremely little arms, that, tocnable herself to lay a finger archly against her nub nos he ogled Steerforth, ahe was obliged to meet the fla- rer half-way, and lay ber nose against (t. Ler chin, which was what is called adovble chin, wns so fat, that it entirely swallowed up thentrings of her bounet, —bow nnd all. Throat she had none; walst she had none; legs she had none, worth mentioning; for though she was more than full «lzed down to where her waist would hare been (if she had hadany).and though she terminated, as human beings generally do, in a palr of fect, she wax so short, that ahe stood at common sized chair as at a table, resting a bag she carried on the seat, ‘This lady,—dressed in an off-hand, easy atylo; bringing her nove and her forefinger together with the difficulty E have described; standing with her head ne- cossarily on one side, and, with one of her sharp eyes shut up, making an un commonly knowing face, —after ogling Steerforth fora fow moments, broke into a torrent of words.

Murdstone, Mr. Edward. Step-father of David Copperfield. (Ch. ii-iv, vili-x, xiv, xxxiil, lix.) “See Correnrretp, Davin.

Firmness, I may observe, was the grand quality on which both Mr. and 3fiae ‘Murdstone took thelr stand. However I might have expressed my comprehen sion of it at that time, if I had beon called upon, I nevertheless did clearly ‘comprehend, in my own way, that it was another name for tyranny, and for ® certaln gloomy, arrogant, devit's humor, that was in them both. ‘The ereed, ms I should state it now, was this: Mr, Murdstone was firm; nobody in his ‘world was to be so firm as Mr. Murdstone; nobody else in his world was to be firm at all, for everybody was to be bent to hie firmness, Miss Murdstone war an exception, She might be firm, but only by relationship, and in nn inferior and tributary degree. My mother was another exception, She might beLirm sud must be, but only in bearing their firmuces, and firmly believing there was no other firmaess upon earth,

BIMAVE OXY ALLODoKd

Davld Coppertletan 413,

‘The gloomy taint that was Inthe Murdstone blood darkened the Murdstone religion, which was austere and wrathful. I have thought, since. that its as- suming that character was necessary consequence of Mr. Murdatone's firtn- ‘ness, which would n’t allow him to let anybody off from the utmost weight of ‘the severest penalties he could find any excuse for.

After the death of David's mother, Mr. Murdstone marries, for his second wife, a lively young woman, but soon breaks hur spirit by his gloom and austerity, and at last reduces her to a state bor dering on imbecility.

Murdstone, Mise Jane. Sister to Edward Murdstone; a gloomy- looking, severe, metallic lady, dark, like her brother, whom she greatly resembles in face and voice; and with very heavy eye- brows, nearly meeting over her large nose, as if, being disabled by the wronge of ber sex from wearing whiskers, she had earried them to that account. She is constantly haunted by a suspicion that tho servants have a man secreted somewhere on the premises; and, under the influence of this delusion, she dives into the coal-vellar at the most untimely hours, and scarcely ever opens the door of a dark cupboard, without clapping it to again, in the belief that she has got him. (Ch. iv, vili-x, xii, xiv, xxvi, xxxiii, xxvii, lix.) See Correnrietp (Mrs, Cuara), Corernrigtp (Davin), Murp- stows (Mn. Epwanp).

Nettingall, The Misses. Principals of a boarding-shool for young ladies. (Ch. xviii.)

Old Soldier, The. See Manxienam, Mana,

Omer, Minnie. Daughter of Mr. Omer; a pretty, good-natured girl, engaged to Mr. Joram. (Ch, ix, xxi, xxx, xxxil, Ii.)

Omer, Mr. A draper, tailor, haberdasher, undertaker, &c., at Yar mouth; a fat, short-winded, morry-looking little old man in black, with rusty little bunches of ribbons at the knees of his breeches, black stockings, and a broad-brimmed hat. (Cu. ix, xxi, xxx, xxii, li.)

Paragon, Mary Anne, A servant who keeps house for David Copperfield and Dora. (Ch. xliv.)

Passnidge, Mr. A friend of Mr. Murdstone’s. (Ch. ii.)

Peggotty, Clara. Servant to Mrs. Copperfield. and nurse and friend to her son David; a girl with no shape at all, and eyes so dark, that they scem to darken their whole neighborhood in her fhee, and with checks and arms so hard and red, that the birds might peck them in preference to apples. Being very plump, whenever she maxes any little exertion after she is dressed, some of the but-

a

————i

S14 Ede Dickens Mictlonary.

tons on the back of her gown fly off. After the death of her min tress, Pegyotty marries Mr. Barkis, a carrier, who bas long admirea her; but she never forgets her old love for David, whose house- keeper she finally becomes, (Ch. i-v, viii-x, xii, xili, xvii, xix-xxili, xxvil, xxx—xxxy, xxxvil, xliil, Hi, Iv, Lvii, lix, Lxi, Ixiv.)

Peggotty, Mr. Daniel. A rough but kind-hearted and noble souled fisherman; brother to Clara Peggotty.

Thad known Mr. Peggotty"s house very well In my childhood; and Tam «ure Toould not hare bees morv charmed with it Af It had been Aladdin’s patnce roc's egg; and all. Itwas nn old black barge, orbont, high aud dry on Yarmoute sands, with an fron funnel sticking oat of it for a chimney. There was adelight- ful door cut in the side, and it wax roofed fa, and thore were little windows ia it. It was bewutifully clean, and ss tidy ax possibie, ‘There were xome lockers and boxes, and there was a table, and there was a Dutch clock, and there was a chont of drawers, and there was a tea-tray with a painting on it; and the tray ‘was Kept from tumbling down by # Isible; and the tray, if it had tumbled down, would have smashed « quantity of cups and saucers and m teapot that were grouped around the book. On the walla were colored pictures of Abraham, iu red golng to ancrifice Isnno in blue, and of Daniel in yellow being cast Into aden of green lions. Over the little mantebahelf was a plature of the * Sarah Jane,” lugger, bullt wt Sunderland, with areal little wooden stern stuck on it,—a work ‘of art combining composition with carpentry, which I had regarded in my ebltd- hood as one of the most enviable possessions the world could afford.

‘gotty, ax honest n srafaring man ax ever breathed, dealt in lobsters, crabs, crawiish; and a heap of those creatures, in a state of wonderful conglomeration ‘with one another, and never leaving off pinching whatever they Inid hold w% were usually to be found in a little wooden outhouse, whore the pote and kettles rere kept. ~s

Mr. Peggotty’s nepliew Ham and his adopted niece Emily, a beau- tiiul young woman, — both members of his household, — are engaged to be married; but, before the wedding-day arrives, Emily elopes with Steerforth, a brilliant, handsome, plausible fellow, who has suc- ceeded in winning her affections, and seducing her. She leaves a letter for Ham, which he gives to David Copperfield to read aloud.

Tremembera great wall and cry, and the women hanging about him, aud we all standing in the room,—I with am open letter in my hand, which Ham had given mo; Mr. Peggotty with his vest torn open, his hair wild, his fov aad Lipa white, and blood trickling down his bosom (it had sprung from his mouth, 1 think).

“Read It, slr; slow, please. I docn’t know as I can understand.”

In the midst of the silence of death I read thu from the blotted letter Ham had given me, In Em'ly’s hand, addressed to himself: —

“> When you, who love me #0 much better than I ever have deserved, ever when my taind was innocont, see this, Iehall be faraway. When I leave my dea home—my dear home —oh, my dear home !—in the morning?” (the letter bore dato on the previous night), ‘* {t will bo never to come back, unless be brings me back a lady. This will \® found at night, many hours after, Instead of me. For

Daviv Coppecliely 316

mcrey’s sake tell uncle that Inerer loved him half 20 dear as now. Ob! don't remember you and I-were ever to be married, but try to think ws if I dlted when I ‘was very little, and was buried somewhere. Fray Heaven that I am going away from, have compassion on my uncle! Be bis comfort. Love some good girt, that will bo what I was oneo to uncle, nnd that witl be true to you, and worthy of you, sod know no shame but me. God bless all! If he don’t bring me back a lady ‘and I don't pray for my own self, Il pray for all. My parting love to unclot My last tears, aud my last thanks, for uncle!” ‘That was all.

‘Me stood, long after I had ceased fo read, still looking at me. Slowly, at last, be ‘Moved his eyes from my fuce, and cast them round the room.

“Who ' the man? Twant to know his name.” Ham glanced at me, and and- Genly I felt w shock, "Mas Davy, go out @ bit, aud let me tell him whet £ must. You doewt ought to hear it, air.”

Trane down in achalr, and tried to utter some reply: but my tongue was fot- tered, und my sight was weak; for I felt that the man was my friend, the friend ‘Ahad unhappily introduced there, —Stesrforth, my old schoolfellow and my friend.

T want to know his namo!”

“Mave Davy," exclaimed Ham Ins broken voice, "it ata't no foult of yourns and Iam far from laying of {t to you: but it is your friend Steerforth, and ‘he % a damned villain!"

Mr. Peggotty mored no more, until he seomed to wake ail at once, and pulled down his rough coat from its peg in a corner.

“Beara hand with this! Ivmatruck of a heap, aod can’t do it, Beara baad ‘snd help me, Well! Now give me that theer bat!”

‘Ham asked him whither he was going.

Tm agolng to eck my niecs, I'm a-golng to seck my Emily. I'm e-golng, first, to stave in that theer boat as he gave me, and sink it where I would have drownded him, as I’m a livin’ soul, if Chad had one thought of what was tn him! As ho sat afore me in that boat, fice to fnce, atrike me down dead, but I'd have drownded him, and thought it right! I'm a-going fur to seek my niece’?

“Where? ®

“Anywhere! I?m agoing to seek my nlece through the wureld. I?m a-golng to find my poor niece tn her shame, and bring her back wi" my comfort and for- giveness. No one stop me! f tell you I'm mgolng to seck my niece! I’m s-polug to seek ber fur and wide!”

Months pass; and Mr. Peggotty has been absent—no one knows where—the whole time, when suddenly David encounters him in ~ondon, and learns the story of his wanderings.

+ You sce, alr, when she was & child. she used to talk to me adeal about the ‘fea, and about them coasts where the sea got to be dark bine, and to lay a-shine fog and a-shining in the sun, When sho was Jost, f know'd in my mind as be ‘would take her to them countries. 1 know’ in my mind as he'd have told her ‘wonders of em; and how she was to bea lady theer; and haw he first got her to ‘Matun to bim along 0” sech like. I went across channel to France, and landed theer Asif I'd fell down from the skies. I found outa English gentleman as was in authority, and told film I was going to reek my niece. He got me them papers ax + wanted fur to carry me through, I don’t rightly know how they 're called, — and he would have gire me money; but that I was thankful to have noneed on. Tthank him kind forall he dont I'm eure, I told him, bestas I wae able, what my gratitoode was, and went away through France fur to seek my nieoe.”

Alone, and on foot?”

316 Ebe Diek

Dictlonary.

“Mostly afoot; somotimes fn carts along with people golng to market; some ‘imes in empty couches, Many mile & day afoot, and often with some peor sole dicr ar another, tenvelling fur to see his friends. 1 could n't talk to him, nor ha to me; but we was company for one another, too, along the dusty roads. When f ome toany town, I found the ian, and waited about the yard till seme one came by (some one mostly did) os know'd English. ‘Then I told how that t was on my way to seek my nice; and they told me what manner of gentlefvlks was in the house, and I waited to seo aty as veemed like her, going In or out. When if warn’t Emly, T went on agen, Iy little and tittle, when f como to a new rillege ‘oF that, among the poor people, I found they know'd about me, They would wet me down at their cottage-doors, and give me what-not fur to eat and drink, and show mo where to aleep. And many a woman, Mav'r Davy, ma hina had a daoghe ter about Em’ly's age, I "ve found ayuiting for me, at our Bavlour’s cross, outside the village, fur to do me sim’lar Kindnesses. Some has had daughters as was dead ; and God only knows how good them mothers was to me!"

laid my trembling hand upon the hand be put before his face.“ Thank'eo, air! doen’t take no notice.”

“At last Icome to the sea. Tt warn’t hand, you may suppose, for a seafaring man Ike mo to work hie way overto Italy. When I got theer, I wandered on as Thad done afore. I got news of her being seen among them Swiss mountains, yonder. I made for them mountains, day and night. Ever so fur as west, over ‘0 fur them mountains seemed to shift away from me, Mut I come up with ’em, and crossed ‘em. Inever doubted her! Not not a bit! On'y let her see my ‘noe; on'y lot her heer my volee; on'y let ray stanning stl afore her bring to her thoughts the home ehe had tled away from, and the child she had been, —and, Af she had growed to be a royal Indy, she Md have fell down at my fect! Iknow'd Atwell! I bought a country dress to put upon her. To put that dress upon her, and tocast off what she wore ; to take her on my arm again, and wander towards homo; tostop sometimes upon the road, and heal her bruised fect, and her worse bruised heart, —wasall Ithowt of now. But, Mar Davy, it warn’tto be,—not yet! Iwas too Inte, and they was gone, Wheer, Icould n't learn, Some sald hoor; some said theer. X travelled heer, and 1 travelled theer; but X found no Em'ly, and I travelled home.” .

At last, however, Mr. Peggotty finds his niece, and emigrates with her to Australia, “No one can't reproach my darling in Aus- tralia,” he says, “ We will begin a new life over thee (Ch. fi, Ail, vil, x, xxi, xxii, xxx-xxxii, xl, xliii, xlvi, xvii, |, Hi, Ivii, Leill.)

Peggotty, Ham. Nephewof Daniel Peggotty. He is engaged to little Emily; but, on the eve of their marriage, she elopes with Steerforth. Years afterwards, he attempts, one night, to rescue some unfortunate passengers from & vessel wrecked in a great storm on Yarmouth beach. One of these passengers proves to be Stoerforth, who is returning home from abroad. A mighty wave ingalfs them all; and the wronged and wrong-docr perish together on the very svene which had witnessed the triumph of the one and the blighted hopes of the other. (Ch. i, vii, x, xxi, xxii, xxx~xxxii, xl, xlvi li, lv.) See Peacorry (Daniev), Sreerrorra (JAMES).

Badly Koppert!

3

Quinion, Mr. A fiiond of Mr. Murdstone's, and chief at Murdstone and Grinby’s warehouse, in London. Mr. Murdstone calls on Mr. Quinion and Mr. Passnidge, at Lowestoft, in company with little David Copperfield, to whose mother he is on the point of being married,

‘They both rolled on to thet fect {n an untidy sort of manner when we came th, und sald, “ Halloo, Murdstone! we thought you were dead."

* Not yor," sald Mr. Murdstone,

“ And who’s this shaver?” said one of the gentlemen, taking hold of me.

“That "* Davy,” returned Mr. Murdstone.

“Dary who?" aald the gentleman, “Jones?”

Copperfield,” suid Mr. Mardstone,

“What! Bewltching Mrs. Copperfield’s tneumbrance?” cried the gentle man. +‘ fhe pretty little widow?”

* Quinton,” «ald Mr, Murdstone, “take care if you please, Somebody's

“Who [s?” asked the gentleman, laughing.

Tiooked up quickly, being curious to know.

“Only Brooks of Sheifield,” sald Mr. Murdstone,

Twas quite relieved to find {twas only Brooks of Sheffield; for at first I Peallythonght It was I.

‘There seemed to be something rery comical in the repatation of Bfr. Brooks of Sheffield; for both the gentlemen laughed heartily when he was mentioned, and Mr. Mardstone was a good den} amneed also. After some inaghing, the gon- tleman whom he had ealled Quinion said,—

“ And what is the opinion of Brooks of Sheffield Ia reference to the projected business?”

“Why, Idoo't know that Brooks understands much about {t st present,” replied Mr. Murdstone; but he is not generally favorable, I believe."

‘There was more langhter at this; and Mr. Quinton sald he would ring the bell for some sherry in which to drink to Brooks. ‘This he did; wnd, when the wine ‘eumo, he made me have a lttle with a biseult, and, before I drank it, stand up and ray, '*Confuslon to Brooks of Sheffield!" ‘The toast wax received with great applause, and such hearty laughter that it made me laugh too; at which ‘they langhed the more. In short, we quite enjoyed ourselves.

(Ch. ii, xxii.)

Sharp, Mr. First master at Salem House, Mr. Creakle’s school, near London; a limp, delicate-locking gentleman, with a good deal of nose, and a way of carrying his head on one side, as if it were a little too heavy for him. (Ch. vi, vii, ix.)

Bhepherd, Miss. A boarder at the Misses Nottingall’s Establish ment for Young Ladies, with whom David Copperfield is for « time deeply in love. She is a litle girl in a spencer, with a round face, and curly flaxen hair )

Bpenlow, Miss Clarissa. The elder of two maiden sisters of Mr, Spenlow, with whom his daughter Dora resides after his death.

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318 Ede Vickers Bictionary.

‘They are both dry little Indies, upright in their carriage, formal, precise, composed, and quiet. (Ch, xxxviii, xxix, xli-xliii, liii.) Bpenlow, Miss Lavinia. Aunt to Dora, and sister to Miss Cla- ¥issa and Mr. Francis Spenlow. (Ch. xxxvili, xxxix, xli-xilil, liii.)

‘Miss Lavinia was an authority in affairs of the heart, by reason of there: having anclently existed a certain Mr. Pidger, who played xhort whlat, and was ‘supposed to have been enamoured of her. My private opinion Is, that this wae entirely a gratuitous assumption, and that Pidger was altogether Innocent of any such sentiments, to which he had nerer given any sort of expression, that Toould ever hear of, Moth Miss Lavinia and Miss Clariess had a superetition, however, that he would have deciared his passion, if he had not been eut short In his youth (at about sixty) by over-drinking hls constitution, and overdoing an attempt to sot It right again by swilling Bath water, They had a lurking suspicion even, that he died of secret love; though I must say there was a plctare of im fa the house, with adamask nose which concealment did not appear to have erer preyed upon,

Spenlow, Miss Dora, Only daughter of Mr. Spenlow; atter~ wards the “ child-wife” of David Copperfield ; timid, trustful, sen- sitive. artless little beanty, who is not much more than a plaything, and who dies young. (Ch, xxvi, xxxill, xxxv, xxvii, xxxwii, xli- xliv, xIvili, iii.) See Correnrrenp, Davin; also p. 544.

Spenlow, Mr. Francis. One of the firm of Spenlow and Jorkina (proctors in Doctor’s Commons), and the father of Dora, who is afterwards David Copperficld’s wife. (Ch. xxii, xvi, xxix, xxiii, xxx, xxxviii.) See Jonxixs, Me.

He was a little light-hatred gentleman, with nndeninble boots, and the stiffest of white cravats nd ahirt-collars. He wax buttoned up mighty trim and tight, tnd must have taken x great deal of pains with hia whiskers, which were acca- rately curled. .. . Ho was got up with soch oare, and was so sti, that ho could hardly bend Limself; being obliged, when he glanced at some pupers om his desk, ufter altting down In his chair, to move his whole body from the bottom ‘of his spine, like Punch,

Spiker, Mr. Henry. A guest at a party given by Mr. and Mrs. Waterbrook. He is solicitor to somobody or something remotely connected with the treasury, and is so cold a man, that his head, * instead of being gray, seems to be sprinkled with hoarfrost. (Ch. xxv.)

Spiker, Mrs, Henry, His wife; « very awful lady, looking like a near relation of Hamlet's, —say his aunt. (Ch. xxv.)

Steerforth, James, A shoolfellow and friend of David Coppers fiel’s; a young man of great personal attractions and the most easy and engaging manners. Always adapting himself readily to the society he happens to be in, he has no trouble in securing the

Coppertlely. 319

‘gard and confidence of simple-hearted Mr. Peggotty, whose bamble house he visits with David. Here ho meets Mr. Peggotty’s niece and adopted daughter, Emily,—a beautiful young woman, be- ‘trothed to her cousin Ham, — and deliberately sets to work to effect ber rnin. In this he is successful; and, on the eve of her intended marriage, she consents to elope with him. They live abroad for tome time; but he finally tires of her, and, after insultingly propos fing that she should marry his valet, a detestable scoundrel, cruelly deserts her. Not long after, he sets sail for England.

{Throngh} a murky confusion of flying clouds tossed up into most remarkable heaps, the wild moon seemed to plunge headiong, as if, in a dread disturbance of the laws of nature, rhe had lost her way. ‘There had been w wind all day; and It ‘was rising then, with an extrnordinary great sound. Tu another hour, it had much Mnereased, and the sky was more overcast, and it blew hard.

But, wr the nlgbt advanced, It came on to Blow harder and harder, Many times, fn the dark part of the night (it was then Inte in September), we were in serious ‘Aapprebension that the coach would be blown over; and, when the day broke, the wind blow harder, and still harder. T had been In Yarmouth when the seamen sald It blew great guns; but { had never known the like of this, or auy thing uppronehing to it.

‘As wo struggled on, nearer and nearer to the sea, from which this mighty wind was blowing dead on shore, its force became more and more terrific. When xe came within sight of the sea, the waves on the horizon, seen, at intervals, abore tho rolling abyss, were like glimpses of another shore with towers and buildings. ‘When at last we got {nto the town, the people came out to thelr doors, making wonder of the mail that had come through such # storm,

‘The tremendous sea itself, when I could find pause to look at ft, in the agitation of the bifading wind, the flying stones and sand, and the awful nolse, confounded me. As the high watery walls camo rolling {n, and tumbled Into surf, T seemed to seo a rending and uphesring of all nature, . . .

‘When T had washed and dressed, and tried to sleep (but in vain), It was late in Lhoafternoon. I had notaat five minutes by the coffee-room fire, when the walter, coming to stir It, told mo that two coltfers had gone down, with all hands, m fow ulles off; and that some other ships had been seen laboring hard in the Roads, ‘and Erying, 1a great distros, to keop off shore. Merey on them, aud on all poor sailors,” sald he, + if we had wnother night ike the Inst!"

Teould not eat; I could not sit still; F could not continue stendfust to any thing. My dinner went away almoat untasted, and I tried to refresh myself with glass ‘or two of wit ain, I walked to and fro; tried to read an old gazetteer listened to the awful nolees; looked at faces, scenes, and figures in the fire. At length the ticking of the undisturbed clock on the wall tormented me to that ‘degree, that I resolved to go to bed. ...

Twas aroused at elght or ulne o'clock by some one knocking and calling #¢ my

“A wreck! close by 1”

«What wreck?”

“A schooner from Spain or Portugal, Inden with frult and wine. Mabe haste, air, if you want to eee her! It’ thought down on the beach she ‘ll go to places ‘every woment.”

820 Eb: Mickens Mictfonarp.

‘T wrap ed myself in my clothes as quickly as T could, and ran into the street, where nun bers of people were before me; all running tn one direction, —to the beach. Irxu the same way, outstripping a good many, sud soon came facing the wild sea, Every appearance It had before presented bore the expression of being ‘oclled: and she height to which the breakers rose, and bore one another down, and rolled {x ta Interminable hoste, was most appalling.

In the di Moulty of hearing any thing but wind and wares, and in the crowd, and the unspeakable confusion, and my first breathless efforts to stand against the weather, I was "0 confised, that I looked out to sea for the wreck, anil saw ‘othing but the foaming hends of the great waves,

A boatman laid a hand upon my arm, and pointed. ‘Then T saw {t,— lose ia upon us.

‘One mast was broken short off, #ix or elght feet from the deck, and lay orer the sido, entangled nn maze of sail and rigging; and all that ruin, as the ship rolled ‘and beat,— which she did with a violence quite ivable,—beat the alde as Af It would staye it in, Some efforts were being to cut this portion of the wreck away; for as the ship, which was broadside on, turned towards us in her rolling, 1 plainly descrted hor people at work with axes,— especially owe active figure with long curling hair. But a great ery, audible even abore the wind and ‘water, rose from the shore: the sea, swoeplng orerthe wreck, made a clean breach, ‘nod carried mon, spare, casks, planks, bulwarks, heaps of euch toys, into the boll. Ing surge.

‘Tho aecond mast was yet atanding, with the rage of a rall, and w wild confusion of broken cordage, flapping to and fro. * "The ship had struck once," the same boat- man ald, “and then lifted In, and struck again.” Cunderstood lin to add that whe ‘was parting minidships. As ho spoke, there was another great ery of pity from the beach, Four men arose with the wreck out of the deep, clinging to the rig- ging of the rematning mast; uppermost, the active figure with the curling halr.

‘There was a bell on board; aud, as the sblp rolled and dashed, thix bell rang; and its sound, the knell of those unhappy men, was borne towards us on the wind. Again we lost her. and again she rose, ‘Two of the four men were gone.

Tnoticed that some new sensation moved the people on the beach; and I raw \hem part, and Ham come brenking through them to the front,

Instantly Fran to him; for I divined that he meant to wade off with a rope. T ‘eld him back with both arms, and implored the men not to listen to him, not to et him stir from off that xand,

Another ery arose, and we raw the cruel sail, with blow on blow, beat off the lower of the two men, and fly up in telumph round the active Agure lef alone spon. the mast, Against such a sight, end against such determination ax that of the calmly desperate man, who was already accustomed to lead half the people pres ent, I might as hopefully have entreated the wind.

was ewept away to some distance, where the people around me made me stay; urging, as I confusedly perceived, that he was bent on going, with help or without, and that I should endanger the precautions for his safety by Coubling thove with whom they rested. I saw hurry on the beach, and men running with ropes, and penetrating into a clrele of figures that hid him from me, ‘Then I saw him standing alone, in a eeaman's frock and trousers, a rope in his hand, another round his body, and several of the best men holding to the latter.

‘The wreck was breaking up. I saw that she was parting in the middle, and that the life of the solitary man upon the mast hung by 4. thread. Ie tind « singular red cap on, not like a sailor's cap, but of a finer color; and as the fow planks between him and destruction rolled and bulged, and as his death-knell rung, be

Maovlv Coppertlels, 321

‘was sven by all of us to wave thisosp, Isaw him do ft now, and thought I was ‘polng distracted, when his action brooght an old remembranceto my mind of a ‘once dear friend, — the once dear friend, —Stewrforth,

Ham watched the sea until there wns a grest retiring ware; when he dashed to after {t, and in a moment was baffeting with the water, rising with the hils, fullixig with the valleya, lost beneath the foam, borne In towards the shore, borne ‘on towards the ship.

Atlength he neared the wreck. He was 60 near, that, with one more of his ‘vigorous strokes, he would be clinging to it, when a high, green, vast hillaide of ‘water moving on #horeward from beyond the ship, he seemed to lexp up into it ‘with mighty bound, 1nd the ship was gone!

They drew hin to my very feet,—Insensible, dead. He was carried to the ‘Dearest hours, and every means of restoration was tried; but he had been beaten to denth by the great wave, snd his generous heart wns stilled forever.

As Laat beside the bed, when hope was abandoned, and all was done, a fisher- man who had known me when Emily and I were children, and ever since, whis- pered my name at the door,

“Sir, will you come over yonder?”

‘Tho old remembrance that had been recalled to me was fn his look; and I asked him, “Its a body come ashore?

“Yea

“Do T know it?”

He answered nothing; but he led me to the shore, And on that part of it where she and I had looked for shells, two children, — ow that part of it where some highter fragments of the old boat, blowa down last night, had been sost- tered by the wind; among the rains of the home he had wronged, —I saw him lying with his head upon his arm, as f had often seen him lie at school.

(Ch. vi, vii, ix, xix-xxv, xxviii, xxix, xxxi, lv.)

Steerforth, Mrs, Mother of James Steerforth; an elderly lady, with a proud carriage and a handsome fice, entirely devoted to her son, but estranged from him at last; both of them being im- perious and obstinate. (Ch. xx, xxi, xxiv, xxix, xxxil, xxxvi, xlvi, 1vi, Ixiv.)

Strong, Doctor. Master of a school at Canterbury attended by Darid Copperfield; a quiet, amiable old gentleman, who has mare ried a young lady many years his junior.

‘Some of the higher scholars boarded 1 the doctor's house, and, through them, ‘Tiearned at second-hand some particulars of the doctor’s history, — ax how he had not been married twelve months to the beautiful young lady I had seen in the study, whom he had married for love, as abe had not a sixponce, and had ‘8 world of poor relat ‘so our fellows said) ready to swarm the doctor out 6f house and home; also how the doctor's cogitating manner was attribute: bie to his being always engaged In looking out for Greck roots . . . witha view ton new dictionary which he had in contemplation. Adams, our hend boy, who bad @ turn for mathematics, had made a calculation, I was Informed, of the time this dictionary would take in completing, on the doctor’s plan and at th ‘doctor's rate of going. He considered that it might be dons in one thousand #lx hundred and forty-nine years counting from the doctor s last or slxty:neo ond birthday.

322 She Dickens Wietlonary.

‘The doctor’s wife has a cousin, Jack Maldon, who is a pensioner on the bounty of her husband, and who attempts to make love to her, even while enjoying the hospitality of her husband's house. Through very shame, Mrs. Strong does not mention this; but there are ready and meddlesome tongues to hint suspicion to the kind old man, and to make him miserable. His faith in his wile never falters, however; and, to prove it, he makes « will, in which he leaves his property unconditionally to her, Hearing of this, and knowing that he has heard a magnified story of her inthe macy with her cousin, she resolves to go to her husband, and frankly explain all. This she docs, much to the confusion of those who have hoped to separate them, and to the complete satisfaction of her husband. Mrs. Strong had formerly been attached to Mr. Jack Maldon; but seeing his course, and having principles and senti- ments the exact opposite of his, she concludes, that “there is no disparity io marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose,” and she thanks Heaven forthe day she wedded one whom she can esteem and respect and love altogether. (Ch. xvi, xvii, xix, xxxvi, xxxix, xlii, xly, Ixii, Lxiv.)

Strong, Mrs. Annie, The wife of Doctor Strong, and daughter of Mrs, Markleham (the Old Soldier). She is a beautiful woman, much her husband’s junior, (Ch, xvi, xix, xxxvi, xlii, xlv, lxii, lxiv.) See Stnoxa, Docror.

Tiffey, Mr. An old clerk in the office of Spenlow and Jorkins; a little dry man, wearing a stiff brown wig that looks as if it were made of gingerbread. (Ch. xxiii, xxvi, xxxiii, xxxv, xxviii.)

Tipp. A carman employed in Murdstone and Grinby’s warehouse. (Ch. xi, xii.)

Traddles, Thomas. \ schoolmate of David Copperfield’s at Sa- Jem House (Mr. Creakle's school).

Yoor Tradiies! In a fight sky-blue wut, that made his arms and legs like Ger man sausages or roly-poly puddings, he was the merricst and most miserable of all the boys. He was always being caned,—T think he was exned every day that half-year, exoept one holiday Monday, when he was only rulered on both:

nd wae always going to write to his uncle about it, and never did.

ig his head on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up, somehow,

begin to langh again, and draw akeletons all over bis #late before bis eyes were dry. T used, at first, to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skele~ tout, and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded, himvelf. by those symbols of mortality, that caning could n’t last forever. But

T beliove he only did tt because they were eaay, and did n't want any featuren, He was very honorable, Traddies wus, and held it as a solemn duty in the boya

to stand by one another. He suffered for this on several ocoasions, and partiow

) wavrw Coppecttetv. 323

‘arly once, when Steerfortk laughed In church, and the beadic thought ft was Trad. Ales, and took him out. I see him now, going nway in castody, despised by the congregation. He never said who was the real offender, though he smarted for It hoxt day, and was {imprisoned so mauy hours, that he came forth with a whole eharchyardfal of akeletons «warming all over his Latin dictionary. Bat he hnd his reward. Steerforth said there was nothing of the sneak in Traddies; snd we all felt that to be the highest pratse.

Years afterwards, David meets Traddles in London, and finds him a shy, steady, but agreeable and good-natured young man, with a comic head of hair, and eyes rather wide open, which give him a surprised look, — not to say n hearth-broomy kind of expression. He is read- ing for the bar, and fighting his way on in the world against difficul- ties, He tells David, that, at his uncle's death, he got but fifty pouuds; though he had expected to be handsomely remembered in his will.

“Thad never been brought up to any profession, and at first Twas at a lons what todo for myself. However, I bemin, with the assistance of the son of a profs tloual man, who bad been to Salem House, —Yawler, with his nose on one aide. ‘Do you recollect him?”

. He had not been there with mo, All the noses were straight, In my day, It don't matter,” sald Traddles. “I began, by means of his assistance, to copy law-writings. ‘That did n't answer very well; and then I began to atate caser for them, and make abstracts, and do that sort of work; for E am a plodding kind of fellow, Copperfield, and had learned the way of doing such things pithily. Well. That put it in my head to enter myself asa law-atadent; and that ran away with ‘ll that was Ioft of the fifty pounds, Yawler reoommonided me to one or two other offices, however, — Mr. Waterbrook’s for oue,—and I got a good many Jobs. I was fortunate enough, too, to become acquainted with a person in the publishing ‘way, who was gotting up an enoycloprdin, and he set ma to work; and, Indeed” (glancing at bis table) am st work for him at this minute. I am not a bad compiler, Copperfield,” auld Traddles, proserving the aame alr of cheerful confi- once in all he sald; “but T have no invention at all: not a particle, I suppose ‘there never was a young man with less originality than I have.”

‘As Traddles seemed to expect that I should assent to this as a matter of course, TL nodded; and he went on with the same sprightly patience — I can fad no better expression —as before,

“So, by little and little, and not living high. T managed to serapo up the hun- Aired pounds at last,” sald Traddles: “and. thank Heaven! that" pald; though tt was —though It certainly was” — sald Traddies, wincing again as if he had had another tooth out, “a pull. Iam living by the sort of work I haye mentioned, sul, and I hope, one of these days, to get connected with some newspaper; which would almost be the making of my fortune. Now, Coppertield, you are vo exactly ‘what you used to be, with that agreeable moe, and it 's so pleasant to see you, that Tsua’n’t conceal any thing. ‘Therefore you man know that I am engaged."

Engaged! © Dora!

“She is a curato’s daughter,” said Traddies, “one of ten, down in Devonshire. Ye.” For he saw w- glance, involuntarily, at the prospect on the inkstand, “That ’s the church! Yon 2ome round here, to the left, out of this gute," tracing Ibis finger slong the ivkstand; “and exactly where I hold this pen there stauds the

B24 Che Dickens Mictlonacp

‘house, facing, you understand, towards the church. ... She ts eri”... “a Tittle older than me, but the dearest girl! I told you I going out of town? I have been down there, I back, and I had the most delightful timo! I dare ray ours is likely to bow rather long engagement; bat our motto {s,* Walt and hope.” We always say that. “Wait and hope.’ we alwaysaay. And ahe would walt, Copperfield, till she was sixty — any nge you can mention — for me."

‘Tradiles rose from his chalr, and, with a triumphant smile, put his hand upom the white cloth I had observed.

“ However,” he eald, “It % not that we hare n’t made a beginning towarde housekeeping. No, not we have begun. We must get on by degrees; bat we have begun. Hero,"drawing the eloth off with great pride and care, “ are two pleces of furniture to commence with. This flower-pot and stand she bought herself. You put that in» parlor-window,” wuld ‘Traddios, falling w little buck from it to survey it with the greater admiration, “with a plant in it, and—and there you are! ‘This little round table with the marble top (it " two feet ten ia. circumference) bought. You want tolay a book down, you know, or somebody comes to sce you or your wife, and wants a place to stand @ cup of tea upon, aud—and there you are ayaln!" aald Traddice. “Tt% an admirable piece of workmanship, firm as 8 rook!”

T praised them both highly, and Traddles replaced the covering as carefully as he had removed it.

‘Jt "% not a great deal towards the furnishing,” sald Traddles; “bat tt something. The table-clots and pilow-cases, and articles of that kind, ore what discourage me most, Copperfield. 80 does the Ironmongery, eandle- boxer, and gridirons, and that rort of necessaries; beans thor things tell, and mount up. However, *walt and hope! And I assure you she’s the dear est girl!”

+ Tam quite certain of it,” sald 1.

“In the mean time,” said Traddies, comtng back to his chatr, "and this ts the end of my prosing about myself, I got oa as well as cau. I don’t make mach; but I don’t spend much.”

In due time, Traddles is married, and, getting on by degrees in

is profession, at last accumulates a competence, becomes a and is honored and estecnied by all who know him. (Ch. vi, vii, bx, XXv, Xxvii, xxviii, xxxiv, xxxvi, xxviii, xli, sliii, xliv, xlviii, xlix, ii, liv, lvii-lix, Ixi, Ixii, Ixiv.) See p. 545,

trotwood, Miss Betsey. The great-aunt of David Copper field ; an austere, hard-favored, and eccentric, but thoroughly kind- hearted woman. David's father had once been a favorite of hers, but had mortally offended by marrying “a wax doll.” On the occasion of the birth of his posthumous son, she pays his widow a visit for the first time. Finding Mrs. Copperfield quite ill, she im- nnediately proceeds to take charge of the house, and frightens everybody with her odd manners and abrupt speeches.

“Tam all io a tremble,” faltered my mother. “TI doa’t know what" the woatter. I shall die, Lam sure!" Wo, Wot" sald Miss Betsey. “ Have some tea.”

i 5 5 i

(0 Goppectfety. 325

‘Oh, ear me, dear me! Do you thiuk {t will do’me any good?” eried my ‘mother In n helpleas manner,

“Of course, It will” said Miss Betsey. “It % nothing but fancy. What do you call your girl?”

“I don’t know that It will be a glrl, yet, ma’am,!* sald my mother fanocently.

“Bless the baby!" exclaimed Miss Betsoy, unconsciously quoting the second sentiment of the pineushion in the drawer up stairs, bat applying ttto my mother, Instead of me. “I don't mean that. I mean your servant.”

“ Peggotty." sald my mother.

‘“Peggotty!” repeated Miss Betsey with come indignation, ‘Do you menn to say, child, that any human being has gone into a Christian church, and got herself named Poggotty ?”

‘it's her surname,” sald my mother faintly. “Mr. Copperfield called her by it, because her Christian name was the same as mine.”

“Here, Peggotty!” cried Miss Betsey, opening the parlordoor. “Tea, ‘Your mistress is a little unwell. Don’t dawdie.”

Having issued thix mandate with as much potentiality as if she had been = recognized authority in the house ever alnce it had been a house, and having looked out to confront the amazed I’eggotty coming along the passage with a can- die at the sound of a strange voice, Miss Betsey shut the door again, and sat dows ‘as before, — with her feet on the fender, the skirt of her dress tucked up, and her nsnds folded on ono knee,

“You were speaking about its being = girl." sald Miss Betsey. “I have no doubt It will be a girl. I havo a presentiment that it must be a gitl, Now, child, from the moment of the birth of this girl ¥ =

“Perhaps boy,” my mother took the liberty of putting in.

“T tell you E have a prosentiment that it must be a girl," retarned Miss Betsey “Don'tcontradict. From the moment of this girl's birth, child, I Intend tobe her friend. T intend to be her godmother, and I beg you "ll call her Betsey ‘Trotwood Copperfield. Thwre must be no mistakes in life with this Betsey Trotwood. There must be no trifling with her aifections, poor dear! She must be well brought up, and well guarded from reposing any foolish coufidences where they aro not dov served. I must make that my caré.”

When the child is born, Mr. Chillip, the attending physician, de- sends to the room where Miss Trotwood is waiting, and accosts hee thus: —

* Well, ma'am, Tam happy to congratulate you.”

“What upon?” anid my sunt sharply.

‘Mr. Chillip was fluttered .. . by the extreme severity of my aunt's manver: to he made her & little bow, and gave her a little smile, to mollify her.

“ Merey on tho man, what 's be doing! " cried my aunt impatiently, “Can't be

ke? De calm, my dear ma'am," sald Mr. Chilllp In his softest necents, “There is ho longer nay occasion for uneasiness, maram, Be calm,”

It hus since been considered almost # miracle that my annt did n't shake him, fand shake what he had to say out of him She only shook her own head at him, at In a way that mado tim yuall.

“ Well, ma’am,” resumed Mr. Chilifp, ax voon ws he had courage, “I am happy *e congratulate you. Al) {x now over, ma'am, and well over.”

During tho five minutes or 40 that Mr. Chilllp dovoted to the delivery of thie ‘waiion, my sunt eyed him narrowly.

=

826 Ede Dickens Mictlonary.

ibe bi nt yep tins bar cn ae eae sl a them.

“Well, matam, she will soon be quite comfortable, 1 hope,” returned Mr Chillip,—“quite as comfurtable as we can expect a young mother to be under these melancholy domestic clreumstances. ‘There cannot be any objection to yout seeing her prowmntly, ma'am. It may do her good.”

“And she— how is she? said my aunt sharp!

‘Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my aunt Itke an amiable bird,

“Tho babs,” said my aunt —"* how fs she?”

“Ma'am,” returned Mr. Chillip, “I apprehended you had known. It" « boy”

‘My aunt sald never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, In the manner ofa sling, almed a blow at Mr.Chillip’s head with It, put it on beut, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a discontented fulry, or lke one of those supernatural beings whom It was popularly supposed I was entitled to wee; and never eame buck any more.

After the death of his mother, David runs away from the warehouse, in London, where his step-father has placed him in a menial position, to seek the aunt of whom he has often heard, resolved upon trying to soften her heart, and, if need be, to apologize for not having been born a girl. He arrives at last in Dover, ragged, footsore, and weary; ascer- tains the way to his aunt's house; and, on reaching it, sces a figure in the garden, which he knows must be that of his kinswoman.

“Go away!” said Miss Betsey, shaking her head, and making a distant chop in the afr with her knife. “Go along! No boys here."

Ewatched her, with my heart mt my lips, as xhe marched to ® corner of her gar den, and stooped to dig up some little root there. ‘Then, without » scrap of courage, Dut with a great deal of desperation, I went softly In and stood beside her, touching her with my finger.

“If you please, ma’am,” I begun.

She started, and looked up.

“If you please, aunt.”

“ En?" exclaimed Miss Betsey, ina tone of amazement I hye never heard approached.

* If you please, aunt, I'am your nephew."

“Oh, Lord! "said my aunt. And sat flat down in tho garden-path.

“Tam David Copperfield of Blunderstone, in Suffolk, — where you came on the night when I was born, and saw my dear mamma, I have been very unbappy since she died. I hare been slighted, nnd taught nothing, and thrown upon my self, and pat to work not fit forme. It made me run away to you. I was robbed At first rotting out, and have walked all the way, and have never slept In = bed Aince I began the journey.” Here my sel{-support gure way all at once; and with & movement of my hands intended to show her my ragged #tate. aud call it to witness that I had suffered somothing. I broke into a passion of erying whieh 1 suppose had been pent up within me all the week.

‘My aunt, with every sort of expression but wonder discharged frcmn her eounte nance, #at on the gravel, #taring at me, until I began toery; when abe got up in great hurry, collared me, and took me into the parlor. Mer firet proceeding they:

+

David Copperilelv. 327

‘was ‘0 unlock a tall prest, bring out several bottles, and pour tome of the con: tents of ench into my mouth. F think they must have been taken out mt ran dom; for I am sure 1 tasted aniseed-water, anchovy-sauce, and anlad-dressing. When she had administered these restoratives, as I was still quite hysterical, sand unable to contro my tobs, she put me on the sofa, with w shnwl under my head, and the handkerchief from her own head under my feet, lest I should sully the cover; and then sitting herself down behind the green fan or screen Ihave already mentioned, so that I could not see her face, ejaculated at inter ‘vals, “Mercy on us!” lotting those exclamations off Iike minute-guns.

After a time, recovering from her astonishment, she begins to consider what she shall do with him, and determines, as a neces- sary preliminary, to have him well washed. While the bath is heating, she becomes suddenly rigid with indignation, and calls out, “Janet! Donkeys!” upon which David, to his great surprise, sees ‘his aunt and her servant-girl rush out doors, and drive off several donkeys and small boys from the green in front of the house. This, he finds, is regularly repeated every hour during the day, and every day during the week, sometimes resulting in a hand-to-hand conflict between his aunt and the bigger boys, but in which Miss Betsey always came ont victorious.

Mr. Murdstone, learning the whereabouts of his step-ton, calls on ‘Miss Trotwood, and informs her, that, if she puts any obstacles in the way of his taking the lad home, his doors will be forever shut against him. David begs to stay with his aunt, and she tells Mr, Mardstone that he can go as soon as he likes, and she will take her chance with the boy. Adopting David as her son, she renames him Trotwood Copperfield; sends him to an excellent school; and afterwards articles him to Spenlow and Jorkins, proctars, London. Finding a new and worthy object for her affection and care, her tomper softens by degroes; her oddities of manner diminish; and her solid worth and goodness of heart become more conspicuous (Ch. ii, xiii-xy, xvii, xix, xxiii-xxv, xxxvii-xl, xlv, xlvii-xlix, li-lv, lvii, lix, lx, Ixiv.) See Bastey, Mu

Ricnarp.

‘Trotwood, Husband of Miss Betsey. A handsome man, younger than Miss Betsey, whom he treats so falsely, ungratefully and cruelly, that she separates from him, and resumes her maiden name. He marries another woman; becomes an adventurer, a gambler, and a cheat; nnd finally sinks into the lowest depths of degradation. (Ch. fi, xvii, xxiii, xlvii, lv.)

. Lodge-keeper and tool of Mr. Creakle, at Salem House; stout man with a bul neck, a wooden leg, a surly face, overbanging

328 The Dickens Dietlonaryp.

temples, and his hair cut close all round his head. (Ch. y= vi.) +

Walker, Mick. A boy employed at Murdstone and Grinby’s, with three or four others (including David Copperfield}, to rinse out bottles, cork and label them, Ke. (Ch. xi, xi.) See p. 201.

Waterbrook, Mr. Mr. Wickfield’s agent in London; a middle- aged gentleman with a short throat and a good deal of shirt-collar, who only wants a black nose to be the portrait of a pug-dog. (Ch. xxv.)

Waterbrook, Mrs, His wif; a woman who affects to be very genteel; likes to talk about the aristocracy; and maintains, that, if she has a weakness, it is “blood.” (Ch. xxv.)

Wickfleld, Agnes. Daughter and housekeeper of Mr, Wick- field, and friend and counsellor of David Copperfield, whose second wife she becomes after the death of Dora. (Ch. xv=xix, xxiv, xxxiv, xxv, xxxix, xlii, xiii, lit-liv, Ivii, lviii, 1x, Lxii-txiv.) See Correarixip, Davip.

Wickfield. Mr. A lawyer at Canterbury, and the agent and friend of Miss Betsey Trotwood. He is nearly ruined by Uriah Heep (at first a clerk in his office, and afterwards his partner), who by adroit management, the falsification of facts, and various malpractices, acquires a complete ascendency over him, and obtains control of all his property; but in the end Urish’s machinations are foiled, and his rascality exposed, by Mr. Micawber, whom he has endeavored to make use of as an instrument to assist in the ac- complishment of his dishonest purposes. (Ch. xv, xvii, xix, xxv, xxxix, xlii, lii, liv, Ix.)

William, A waiter in an inn at Yarmouth, who wheedles little David Copperfield out of the greater part of his dinner. (Ch. ¥.)

William. Driver of the Canterbury coach. (Ch. xix.)

Davy Coppertiers 829

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

(Cuarren I. Mrs. Copporteld, sitting by tho fire, te atartiod by the appearance of Mise Bewey Trotwood: their conversation upon the late Mr, Copperield, &c.; birth of David, ‘and sudden disappearance of Miss Getsey.— If. David relates somo of the Incidents of his ‘early childhood; his frst meeting with Me, Murdatone; Peggotty remouscrates with Mra. ‘Copperfield against the attentions of Mr. Murdstone; David goes to Lowestoft with Mtr ‘Murdstone, and reports his conversation to his mother: Peggotty and David go to Yar fmouth.—I1f. David makes the acquaintance of Mr, Peggotty and hie family, ant falls 2a Jve with little Em'ly; be retarms home, and flods hus mother married to My. Murdstone. =IV. Mr. Murdatone takes David tn band; arrival of Miss Jane Murdstone, who amuses {the place of housekeepers David falls Into disgrace over his lessons: he ts beaten by Mrs ‘Murdatone, whowe hand he bites; Ne ts imprisoned tn is room for Ave days, ax a pulshe ‘ment, and then sent from hoine to school. —¥. David sends word to Peggotty that “Barkie 4s willin’s"* the friendly walter relieves David by eating his dinner; David arrives in London, and ls mot by Mr. Mell of Salem Howse; they arrive at Salem House, and David ass @ placard, reading “Take caro of bimj he bites,” attached to his tack.— VL. My Creatic und amily return, and the school reopens; Stecrfurth takes charge of David’ ‘mony, anil tzeats the boys In thelr bedroom therewith. — VII. David amunes the Boye ta Ibis room by repeating the stories ho has read; altereation between Steerforth and Mr. ‘Moll, and Mr, Meli’s dismission from the school Mr. Peggotty and Iam vielt David at the school, and are introduced to Steerforth.— VILL. David goes home for the holidays; Mr. ‘DarAis informs him he ts expecting an answer from Poggotty s in the absenesof Mr, Murd- ‘ono and bis sister, David spends & plewsant evening with his mothor and Pegyotty 1 David leads a wretched life during the holidays, and goes back to school. 1X. He re ‘eelves the news of hls mother’s death: returning home, he makes the acquatatance of Mtr, ‘Omer; Peezotty relates to David the elreumstances of his mother's death. X. Peggotty receives warning from Miss Murdstano, and she and David go again to Yarmouth Pog fotty conelades to accept Mr. Barkls's proposal, and they are married; David returns ‘home, and falls into neglect he is provided for by a situation tn tho house with which Mr, ‘Mardstone ts connected. — XI. Duvid begins his life at Murdstone and Grinby's, and also imoete Mr, Mioswher, with whom ne 18 to board; Mr, MLicawber falls into dioultien, and ie talben to the Debtors’ Prison; he petitions the house of commons fora change in the awe for linprisonment for debt, — X11. He is released from confinement, and decides to leave Sondon with his family; David determines to run away front Murdstone and Grinby"s, and seek his aunt; his adventures and mlefortunes on tho road from London to Dorer,—~ SEIT. Ho Introduces himself to Minx Hetsey Trotwood; Mr. Dick's wise advice tx axked and fale owed; Miss Boteey's ndignation at the donkeys. —XIV. Mr, Dick, writing his memotlal, Ande some disioulty in kooping Charles the Pirst out of tt; Mies Betery tells Trartd Str. Dick's story; she is visited by Mir. and Miss Murdstone, who come to claim Davids she takes Mr, Dick's advice, and decides to Koop him, giving him the name of ‘T-otwood. — XY. David ts taken to Canterbury by his aunt, where he 1s to be put to school: Le makew Ue soquaintance of Mr, Wick#leld and Agnes, with whom be 1s to board, and also of Uriah, Hoep.— XVI. David begins his schoo}-tife at Dr. Strong's: he hearsa conversation between ‘Or, Strong wnd Mr. Wickfiold sont Mr, Jack Maldon, and afterwards secs that gentleman

Mr. Wickiteld's; Uriah Hoop explains his" umble" churncter and posttion; the party AEDr. Strong's op the eve of Jack Maldon's departure for Indiay David discovers & pe sailar expreasdon upon Mra, Strong’ countenance, which makes a lasting lunpresaion upon zim. —XVIL David hears from Mr. Diok the story of the strange man who frightens Mise “rotwood Mr. Disk makes friends with, avid takes tea with Urtals and tbs ‘other, and Mr. Sticawber unexpectedly David enjoys a jovinl dinnor with sho Micawbery, amt receives « dismal lotter from Mr. Mlcawbor directly afterwards. = XVIIE. David takes a rotroapective view of bis schoollays at Canterbury.——XIX, After leaving scdool, his aunt sdvises « visit to Yarmouth; David Gret learus from Agnes the

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330 Ebe Mieke

Bietlonary.

‘mfaenco which Uriah Heep ts gntning over Me, Wickdeld: no also hears of Ue tlatma and probable return of Mr. Jack Maldon; David meets Steerforth in London, —XX. David goes ‘howe with Steerforth} his reception by Mes. Steerforth and Rosa Dart, —XXI. Hie lmprese Mons of Littimee; Steerforth accompanies David to Yarmouth; Vegpatty’s joy at seeing ‘David: Barkla grows o"*littlo near; Dwrid and Steertorth go to Mr. Pergouty's, and heat from him the story of the engagemont of Ham and ttle m'ly.—XXEL. Steerforth shows ‘David his gloomy sido; Steceforch bays & boat, whlch he calls "* The Little Emly; "" they discover Martha following Ham and Emily; the “ volatile" Miss Mowoher makes Ber ap- ‘pearance at tbe nn; they tell her the story of Emily; Emily befrtends Martha, and shedy tears at the thought of her own unworthiness. — XXIII. David consalte Steerforth In regard to his choice of @ profession, and decides to become @ proctor; Sim Betery and ‘Derid, on the way to Doctors” Commons, enoounter the strange man whe has such an effect upon her; David Is articled to Spertlow and Jorkins, tnakes tls Gret viet to courty be takes tho lodgings at Sire. Crupp’s.— XXTY. Ile gives a supper at bis lodgings to Steerfurth and his friends, becomes Intoxicated, and goes In that condition to the theatre, ‘where bo moots Agnes. — XXV, Ills remorve on tho following day) hy Aynos's invitation he calls upon her, and sho warns him against Sieerforth; David meets Traddies at the ‘dinner-party at Mr. Waterbrook"s; David takes Uriah Heep home with him, end hears from him the particalars of the change in his expectations, and his designs ta regard to Agnes. —XXVI. David goes homo with Mr, Speniow; hoe moots Mise Dora Speniow, and falls tn love at sight; Miss Murdetone appears as Dora's“ confidential friend." — XXVIL. ‘David goes to woo Traddlos, and Sads him boarding with Mr, and Mrs, Micawber,— XXVILL David gives a dinnerparty to Traddies and the Micawbers, which ts Interrupted by the appearance of Litthmer: Mr, Mioawber throws down the gauntlet to soclety : Stee forth's arrival at David's rooms; he brings news of the sickness of Mr. Barkls, and David decides to go down to Yarmouth; another gloomy letter from Mr. Mloawber, —XXIX. ‘David visite Steerforth at his home again. —XXX. Arriving at Yarmouth he hears from ‘Mr. Omer of the unsettled state of litte Em'ly; Mr. Barkia™ goos out with the tide." — XXXL Disappearance of Emily, who ts carried away by Steerforth; Mr. Pexpotty decides to seok bis niece, leaving Mrs. Guramidge in charge of bis house, Ham going to live with his munt.—XXXIL. Miss Moweher explains her connection with Steerforth's intimacy ‘with Emily, and her determination to do what she can to resout her; Mr. Peggouty aad ‘Darid call upon Mrs. Steecforth ; pamtonate conduct of Hows Dartley Mr. Poggotty sete out on his Journey. XXXII. David encounters Mr. Murdstone ar the oftce of Me. Spenlow ; ‘David attends & party on Dora's birthday, and falls deeper in love; ho visite Dora at the hhouso of her friend, Jutia Mills, declares his passion, and Is accepted; the engagement tt to be kopt a socrut from Mr. Speniow. — XXXIV. Traddies gives David kome taformation In regand to the family connections of “ the dearest girl In the world; * with Peggotty's wsistance bo redeomna bis household foods, taken on execution by Mr. Mioawhbers orede tore; David, returning home, Is astonished to Qnd his aunt and Me. Dick in bis rooma, and to hear from her of the lows of her property.—XXXV. David makes an tneTeotual Attempt to cancel bis articles: David's Joy at unexpeotediy meeting Agnes, who goes with im to sce Mies Motsey, and they hear from her an account of her Joxses} Uriah Heep shows his increasing Influence over Mr, Wiekflell,— XXXVI. David becomes amanuenae to Dr. Strong, who has removed to London; he meets Mr. Jack Maldon, who tras retarned from India; David determines to learn short-hand reporting. and he aod Traddles find em ployment for Mr. Dick; Mr. Micawber, about to leave London for Canterbury as thy oon- ‘dental clerk of Uriah Heep, entertains David and Trades, and sotties his peauniary ob « fatious to the latter by presenting him hist. 0.U.—XXXVi1. David informs Dore of ‘2e change in his fortune and prospects. —XXXVIIL. Traddies delivers partiomentary moeches, and David roports him; Mr. Spenlow discovers, through Mise Murdstone, the attachment of David and Dora,and forbids the engagements #udden clea of Mr, Speniiwr, and the disordered state In which his affairs are found; Dora goes to live with ber maiden dunteat Putuey.—XXXIX. David finds Mr, Micawber installed ms confidential ele ta Wickseld and Heep, and not altogether eaxy in the position; he consults Agues au the ‘state of his engagement to Dore, and by her advice writes te Dora's aunts: Uriah forter Gus company Gpoo David, and intimates bis designs in regard to Agus Meet upon Mt ‘WiekAeld of the KnowLedge of these designs. — XL. David encounters Mz, Peggotty, Whe

Davl(y Copperllelv. 331

pelatrs is travels in search of Emily, and ts overbeard by Martha Endell.— XI. David ‘und Trades g0 to Putney to seo the Misses Spealow, who consent, on certain conditions, te ecetro David's visits. —XLU. Agnes's Grat meeting with Dora; Urlab Moop uttempta to roneiee Dr, Strong of the fhithlesness of his wife, and the noble answer of the doctot We his aspersions; David gives Uriah a blow; David receives ringular letter from Mrs Mlcawbee,—XLIL Marriage of David and Dora.—XLIV. Some account of their housekeeping. —XLV. 3. Dick suspects tho cause of the unhappiness of Mre Strong, and devermines to ~ set things eg convendent opportaaity offering, he brings about Go donred explanation. — XLVI. David, passing by Mire, Steerforth's house, ts called by Kosa Dartle, who makes Littimer repeat to him the story of Steerforth and Kuully, their separation, and Emily's fight; David repeats the story to Mr. Pogrotty, and advises ‘him to pat Martha upon the watch for Emily, if she should return to London. —XLVIL. David and Mr. Peggotty follow Martha to the rrver-aide, and save her from sulelde, and ‘then seoure her promise to devote herself to the task of saving Emily: David moots again ‘the strange man who has auch an influence over Stina Heteey, and learns from her that he Seher husband. —XLVILI. Some further account of David's housekeeping, and the core mencement of Dora's decline. —XLAX. David receives a mysterious letter from Mr Micawher; Tesddles has one equally mysterious from Mra Micawbee: they meet Mr. Mleawber ty appointment, and flad him in very low splrita; they take him home to Mise ‘Trotwood’, whore he Is overoomo by the cordiatity of Mr, Diek; commits sundry strange hinders a his favorite occupation of making punch, and Mnalty relieves his mind by a frantie denouncement of Uriah Hoep.—L- Martha brings David news of Emily: going to Sartha’s lodging, they nee Rosa Dartle enter the room, and from an wnocctpled room. ‘they wituess the Interview botwoen Rosa Dartio snd Emily; Peggotty returns, and tnoete Emily. —L1. Ho relates to David and Miss Betsey tho story of Emily's escape from Little her, how sho was befriended by a poor cottager, and finally, reaching London, waa rescued by Martha: he slso informs thera of bis plan of emigrating with mfly to Australia; David aitls upon Mr. Omer, and Gnds him fu good spirits; Ham gives David @ parting menage for Emily; Mrs. Gummidgo insists on going with Mr. Peggotty, LIT. Miss Betsey, Mr. Dick, Traddles, and David go down to Canterbury to Leep thelr appolutment with Mr, ‘Micawbory interriew in the office of Wiokfleld and Heep, where Micawber exposta the ‘villany of Uriah, and Truddies, acting for Mr. Wickfeld, makes certain demands with ‘wlulch Uriah thinks it best to comply Miss Rotsey and David witness the reconciliation Of Mr-and Mra. Micawber; Misa Botsey propoves to them emigration, with an, offer of DOCUINEY asalstance.—LIIL, Dora's inoreasing weakness, and her death.—LIV. MM Micawber's preparations for etnigrating; Traddies explains the condition of Mr, Woke folds affulrs, and the recovery of Miss Trotwood's property; they arrange Micawber's money matters; Mist Hotscy tells David the reason of her recent trouble, and ho acoome fanies her to the funeral of her busband: Darid writes to Emily, communicating Ham's Inat message, and receives her reply-—LV. The great storm at Yarmouth; David gocs down to thie ahore to seo the wrecked schooner, with the sctive Ngure consplouous among. er people: 3am attempts to reach the wreck, and is killed by the wavos, and the body ‘Of the sctive seaman is washed ashore, and praves to be Steerforth. LVL. David bears the news to Mrs. Hteerforth ; passionate marmer of Woaa Dartie towards Mre. Steerforth. =LVIL The emigrants completo their preparntioos, and set sail, Me. Porgotty taking Marcha with bim.—LVIL, David goes abroad and femains for threo years TAX. On bis return he seeks Traddles, ods him married and keeping house, and with Ave of Sophy's ators for rialtoray David encounters Mr. Chillip, and hears news frou the Mundstones — EX. He returns to Dover; Miss Botwy gives bim « hint that Agnes’s affections are et Jared; David's interview with Agnes and her father, and Mr. Wicksield’s story of ber ‘arand kindness. —LXL. A glimpse at the happy life of Traddies and Sophy; David and Traddies find Mr. Creskle « remected magistrate; under his escort they visit ® modes prison, and tnd Livttine: nnd Ursa Heep among Its inmates, LXI. Mins Betsey atrongtb- ‘ens Yiavid's bellof nthe attachment chat Agues has formed; questioning Agnes, David nds thet te ts himself the object of *. —~ LXIIL. Marriage of David and Agnes; ten years aiter, they receive » risit from Mr. Neggotty, who brings good accounts of all the em ranula —LXIV. A laat retrorpect, showing what has happened to the principal personages Mtoe sory

Bleak House.

‘Tn the preface to “David Copperfield,” Mr. Dickens fromised to renew bis sequaintance with the public by patting forth again “two green leaves once @ month.” This he did by bringing out, in 1852, tn the familiar serial form, the first umber of a new novel, called “ Bleak House,” after a tall, exposod brick building ‘which had been his summer residence at Broadstairs, — a favorite watering-place ‘on the east coast of the Isle of Thanet. It was published by Bradbury and Evans, ‘was illustrated by “Phiz," and ran through the usual twenty numbers. ‘The pref ce wns dated August, 1663; and the dedication was to the suthor’s “companions fo the guild of literature and art.” The work was chiefly aimed at the vexatious “delays of the Court of Chancery, and the enormous expense of prosecuting sults therein. At the time of pubileaifon there was a sult before tie court-whtot had been commenced nearly twenty years before; In which from thirty to forty counsel had been known to spear at one time; in which costs had been tnourred to the ‘amount of seventy thousand pounds; which was a friendly suits and which was said to be no nearer to its termination then than when it was begun.

OHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Badger, Mr. Bayham. A medical practitioner in London, to whom Richard Carstone is articled. Mr. Badger is noted princi- pally for his enthusiastic admiration of his wife's former husbands; he being the third,

Mr. Bayham Badger... was a plok, frest-ficed, erisp-looking gentlemae with m weak voice, white tooth, ght halr, and surprised eyes, —somo yeare younger, Islould say, than Mrs, Hayham Kadger, Me admired her exceedingly bat principally, and to begin with, ou the curious ground (as it seemed to us) of ber having had three husbands, We had barely taken our seats, whon he tale te Mr. Jaradyos, quite triumphantly, —

“ You would hardly suppose I was Mrs. Bayham Badger’s third”

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Bleak Mouse. 835

“ Indeed?” said Mr. Jarndyce.

“Her third," sald Mr. Badger. “ Mrs. Bayham Badger has not the appearance, ‘Miss Summerson, of w Indy who has had two former husbands?”

I sald, “Not at all!"

“And most remarkable men!” paid Mr, Badger tn a tone of confidence. “Captain Swosser of the Royal Navy, who was Mrs. Badger’s first husband, was ‘s vory distinguished officer indeed, ‘The name of Professor Dingo, my Immedi- ate ‘Perhaps you may be inter- ested . . . tn this portrait of Captain Swomer. foe! when I look at ft...»

‘that "ea man I should like to have seen, . . . On tho other side, Professor Dingo, I knew him well; attended him fn his last Illness, A speaking likeness Over the plano, Mrs. Bayham Badger when Mra. Swoaser; over the sofa, Mrs. Dayham Badger when Mrs. Dingo, Of Mrs. Bayham Badger in ease, I possoes the orlginal, and hare no copy.”

(Ch. siti, xvii, L)

Badger, Mrs. Bayham. A lady of about fifty, who dresses youthfully, and improves her fine complexion by the use of » little rouge. She is not only the wife of Mr. Badger, but the widow of Captain Swosser of the Royal Navy, and of Professor Dingo, to ‘the loss of whom she has become inured by custom, combined with science, — particularly science, (Ch. xiii, xvil.)

Bagnet, Matthew, culled Lioxum Vira. An ex-artillery-man, “tall and upright, with shaggy eyebrows, and whiskers like the fibres of a cocoanut, not a hair upon his head, and a torrid complexion.” On leaving the service, he goes into "the musical business,” and becomes a bassoon-player. Of his wife's judgment he has a very exalted opinion; though he never forgets the apostolic maxim that “the head of the woman is the man.” To an old companion-in- arms he says, —

“George! You know me. It my old girl that advises. She has the head; but I never own to it before her: discipline must be maintained, Walt tiil the greens is off her mind; then we ll consult. Whatever the old girl says do, do it”

(Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix, liii, lxvi.)

Bagnet, Mrs. His wife; a soldierly-looking woman, usually en gaged in washing greens. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix, lii, lv, xvi.)

‘Mrs. Bagnot {* not an {ll-looking woman; rather lurge-boned, a littleeoarse: in the grain, and freckled by the sun and wind, which have tanned her hulr upon the forehead, but healthy. wholesome, and bright-eyed. A strong, busy, activa, honest-faced woman, of from forty-five to fifty.

Bagnet, Malta. Their elder danghter; so called in the family * Ghough not so christened), from the place of her birth in bar

racks. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix, Ixvi.) Bagnet, Quebec, Their younger daughter; so called in the fam

Bat Che Mickens Mlctfonary.

ily (though not so christened), from the place of her birth in bar racks. (Ch. xxvii, xxiv, xlix, Ixvi.)

Bagnet, Woolwich. Their son; +0 called in the family (though not so christened), from the place of his birth in barracks. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix.)

Barbary, Miss. Aunt and god-mother to Esther Summergon. (Ch. ili.)

She was a good, good woman, She went to church three times every Sunday, ‘snd to morning prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays, and to lectures whenever there were lectures; and never missed, She was handsome, and, if she had ‘ever smiled, would have been (I used to think) like an angel; but she nevor smiled. She was always grave and strict. Sho was s0 very good herself, £ ‘thought that the badnexs uf other people made her frown all her life,

Blinder, Mra. A good-natured old woman, with a dropsy, or an asthma, or perhaps both; a friend of the Necketts. (Ch. xy, xxiii.)

Bogsby, James George, Landlord of “The Sol's Arms” tay- ern, (Ch. xxxiii.)

Boodle, Lord, A friend of Sir Leicester Dedlock’s; a man of considerable reputation with his party, and who has known what office is (Ch. xii.) :

Boythorn, Lawrence. A friend of Mr. Jarndyce's; intended aga portrait of Dickens's friend, Walter Savage Landor. (Ch. ix, xii, xiii, xv, xvili, xxiii, xlili, Ixvi.)

“I went to school with this fellow, Lawrence Boythorn,” sald Mr. Jarn- dyce, . . . “more thas five and forty years ago. He was then the most impet- uous boy in the world, and he ls now the most ‘mpetuous man; he was then the loudest boy In the world, and be is now the loudest man; he was then the heartlost and sturdiest boy in the world, and be ls now the heartiest aud sturdl- est man. He ts a tremendous fellow.”

“Tn stature, sir?” asked Richard.

“ Protty well, Rick, In that respect," said Mr. Jarndyce; “beng some ten years older ‘8 couple of Inches taller, with his head thrown back like u old soldier, his stalwart chest squared, his hands like a clean blacksmith’s, ‘and bie lungs!—there ’s no simile for his tangs. Talking, tanghing, or snore ing, they make the beams of the house shake, . . . But 1t7 the Inside of the ‘man, the warm heart of the man, the passion of the man, the fresh blood of the man, . .. that T «peak of. His language is as sounding as hia voice. He + Is always in extremes; perpetually in the superlative degree, In his condem= mation he is all ferocity. You might euppose him to be an ogre from what he says, and I believe he has the reputation of one with some people, There! tell you no more of him beforehand.” . . .

We were sitting round the fire, with no light but the biaze, when the hall door suddenly burst open, and the hall resounded with these words, uttered with the groatest vohemence, and in & atentorlan tone: —

“ We lave been misdirected, Jarndyce, by # most abandoned ruffian, whe

Blea® Wouse. 385

told ns to take the turning to the right, Instead of to the left. Ha fe the mont

Iwlolerable scoundrel on the face of the earth, His father must have been « ‘most consummate villain ever to have had such a son, I would have ‘tat fel Jow shot without the least remorse!”

“Did he do it on purpose?” Mr. Jarndyce taquired.

“Ihave not the slightest doubt thnt the scoundrel hns passed his whole ex Inteneo In misdirecting travellers!” returned the other. * By my soul, thought ‘kim the worst looking dog I had ever beheld, when he was telling mo to take the turning to the right. And yet 1 stood before that fellow ‘soe *o faor, and did mt knock his brains outi" . .~

‘Wo all conceived a prepossession in his [Boythorn's] favor; for there was = sterling quality in his langh, and In his rigorous healthy volce, and in the round. ‘ness and fulness with which he uttered every word he spoke, and in the very fury of his superlatives, which seemed to go off like blaak cannons, nd hurt

- + +» He was not only a rery handsome old gentleman, —upright and stalwart, as ho had been described to us)—with m massive gray head, a dne ‘composure of face when silent, afigure that might have become corpalent but for bis belng #0 continoally in earnest that he gave it no rest, and w chin that might haye subsided into a double chin bot for the vehement emphasis in which ft was coustantly required to assist; but he was such a true gentleman In bis manner, #0 chivalroualy polite, his face was lghted by emile of so much sweetness and tendernoss, and it seemed vo plain that he hnd nothing to hide, Dut showed himself exactly ax he was, . . . that really I could not help looking at him with equal pleasure ns he «at at dinner, whether he smilingly conversed with Ada and me, or was led by Mr. Jarndyce Into some great volley of super- Jatives, or throw up his head like a bloodhound, and gave out that tremendous “Hs, ha, bal”

Bucket, Mr. Inspector. A detective officer, wonderfully patient, persevering, affable, alert, imperturbable, and sagacious; a stoutly- built, stendy-looking, sharp-cyed man in black, of about the middle age. The original of this character is supposed to have been In- spector Field of the London police, with whom Mr. Dickens was well acquainted, and whom he has described in the article in “Re- printed Pieces,” entitled “On Duty with Inspector Field." (Ch. xxii, xxiv, xxv, xlix, lili, liv, lvi, lvii, lix, Ixi, Lei.)

Mr. Bucket and his fat forefinger are much in consultation. .,, Ie pute It to hils ears, and ft whispors Information; he purs It to ble lips, and it en- Jolns him to secrecy; he rubs It over his nose, and It sharpens his scent; be shakes ft before a guilty man, and it charms hin to his destruction. . . . Othe ‘erwise mildly studious In his observation of human nuture, on the whole, a be: niiguant philosopher not disposed to be severe upon the follies of mankind, Mr. Bucket pervades vast number of houses, and strolls about an Infinity of streets; to outward appoarance rather languishing for want of un object. He 4s fm the friendiiest condition towards hls spectos, and will drink with most of them. He is free with his money, able in his mannera, innocent fn ble con ‘versation; but through the placid stream of his life there gildes nn undercure rent of forefinger. ‘Time and place cannot bind Mr. Bucket. Like man in the abstract, ho is bore to-day, and gone to-morrow; but, very unlike man indeed, ‘he is here again the next day,

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386 She Dickens Mictfonary.

Bucket, Mrs, Wife of Mr. Inspector Bucket; a lady of & natu ral detective genius, which, if it had been improved by professional exercise, might have done great things, but which has paused at the level of a clever amateur. (Ch. liii, liv.)

Buffey, The Right Honorable William, M.P, A friend of Sir Leicester Dedlock’s, (Ch. xii, xxvili, lili, Iviii, Lxvi.)

Richard. A ward of John Jarndyce, and a suitor in Chancery; a handsome young man with an ingenuous fice and a most engaging laugh, afterwards married to Ada Clare. possessed of more than ordinary talent, and of excellent principles, he yet lacks tenacity of purposy, and becomes successively a sta- dent of law, a student of medicine, and a soldier, Ever haunted by the long-pending Chancery suit, and always basing his expendi- tures and plans on the expectation of a speedy and favorable de- cision of the case, he at last becomes very restless, lenves the army, and devotes all his energies to the suit. When the case is finally closed, and the whole estate is found to have been swallowed up in cos’, the blow proves too much for him, and quickly results in his death. (Ch. iii-vi, viii, ix, xii, xiv, xvii, xvill, xx, xxili, xxiv, Xxx¥, Xxxvii, xxxix, xlili, xly, li, Lx, Ixi, xiv, Lev.)

Chadband, The Reverend Mr. A large yellow man, with a fit smile, and a general appearance of having a good deal of traz- oil in his system.

Ho ts very much embarrassed about the arms, as If they were inconventent to him, and he wanted to grovel; is very much in « perspiration about the head; and nover speaks without frat putting up lis great hand, as if delivering a token to his hearers that he ts going to edify them,

From Mr. Chadband's being much given to describe himself, both verbally ‘and in writing, as a weasel, he is @ecasionally mistaken by strangers for a gen- tloman connected with navigation; but he ix, ws he expresses it, “in the minke ty.” Mr. Chadband ia attached to no particular denomination, and is consid ered by his porsecutors to have nothing #0 very remarkable to say on the greatest of mubjects, ax to render his volunteering on his own account, at all incumbent on his conscience; but he has his followers, and Mrs. Suageby Is of the number.

Visiting Mrs, Snagsby's with his wifi, one day, he salutes the Indy of the house, and her husband, in the following manner, which may serve as a specimen of his usual style of delivering himself: —

© My friends, . . . pence be on this house!—on the master thereof, on tha mistress thereof, on the young maidens, and on the young men. My fiends. why (to I wish for peace? Whatis peaco? I it war? No. Ie It atrife? No Ie it lovely aud gentle and beautifil and pleasant and serene and Joyful? Oh. yer! ‘Therefore, my friends, I wish for peace on you and yours. ?

(Ch. xix, xxv, liv.)

Bleak Mouse. 837

Mrs., formerly Mrs. Rachael. Wife of the Reverend Mr. Chadband; a stern, severe-looking, silent woman. (Ch. iii. xix, xxv, xxix, liv.) See Racnarr, Mus.

Charley. See Necxetr, CHancorre.

Chickweed. Ses SMaLtwexrp, BARTHOLOMEW.

Clare, Ada. A ward of Mr. John Jarndyce, and a friend of Esther Summerson; afterwards wife of Richard Carstne. (Ch iii-vi, vili, ix, xili-xv, xvii, xviii, xxiii, xxiv, xxx, xxxi, xxv, xxxvii, xiii, xly, |, li, lix, lx-Ixii, Lxiv, xvii.)

Coavinses. See Necker, Mr.

Darby. A constable who accompanies Mr. Bucket to Tom-all- Alone's. (Ch. xxii.)

Dedlock, Sir Leicester. Represontative of one of the great county families of England. (Ch. ii, vii, ix, xii, xvi, xviii, xxviii,

xxix, xl, xii, xliii, xlviii, liii-Lvi, lviii, xiii, Ixvi.)

Sir Leicester Dediock is only a baronet; but there is no mightier baronet than he, ‘His family ts as old as the hills, and Infinitely more respectable. He has ‘8 gonoral opinion that the world might get on without hills, but would be done up without Dedlocks. . . . He is a gentieman of strict conscience, disdainful of all Iittleness and meanaesses, and ready, on tho shortest notion, to dle any desth you please to mention rather than give occasion for the least impeachment of his integrity. He is an honorable, obstinate, truthful, high-spirited, intensely prejadiced, perfectly unreasonable man.

Bir Lelocster s twenty sears, full mensure, older than my Indy. He will never sce sixty-five again, nor perhaps aixty-six. nor yet sixty-seven. He has A twist of the gout now and then, and walks a little atifly. Ho Is of a worthy presence, with his tight gray halrand whiskers, his fine shirt-frill, his pure white ‘walateoat, and his blue coat with bright buttons always buttoned. He is cere- monious, stately, moat polite on every oceasion to my lady, aud holds her per- sonal attractions in the highest estimation. His gailantry tomy lady, which has never changed since he courted her, 1s the one little touch of romantic fancy to him.

Ledlock, Lady Honoria. Mother of Esther Summerson by Captain Hawdon, a gay rake, to whom she is engaged, but whom she never marries, She afterwards becomes the wife of Sir Lelees- ter Dedlock, who knows nothing of this portion of her history, but, fascinated by her beauty and wit, marries her solely for love, for she has not even * fami Being a proud and ambitions woman, she assumes ber new position with dignity, and holds it with cold composure, hiding in her heart, however, her disgraceful secret. She flies from home upon the eve of its discovery, and dies muserubly, from the combined effecty of shame, remorse, and ex-

| posure, at the gate of a wretched graveyard, in which the father

9

The Dickens Mictfonarp.

of her child lies buried, in one of the worst and filthiest portions of London. (Ch. ii, vii, ix, xii, xvi, xvill, xxvill, xxix, xxxill, xxxvi, xxxix-xli, xlviii, liti-lvili.)

Dedlock, Volumnia, A cousin of Sir Leicester Dedlock's, from whom sho has an annus) allowance, on which she lives slenderly at Bath, making occasional visits at the country-house of her patron. She is a young lady of sixty, of high standing in the city in which the resides, but a little dreaded elsewhere, in consequence of an indisereet profusion in the article of rouge, and persistency in an obsolete pearl necklace, like a rosary of little bird'seggs. (Ch. xxviii, x1, li, liv, Ivi, lviii, Levi.)

Donny, Miss. Proprietor of a boarding-school, called Greenleaf, at Reading, where Esther Summerson spends six years, (Ch. tii)

Flite, Miss, A halfcrazed little old woman, who is a suitor in Chancery, and attends every sitting of the court, expecting ju ig- ment in her favor. She tells Esther Sammerson, —

“There %s a cruel attraction In the place: you can't leave it, And you must expect. ... have been there many years, and I havenotioed. It"s the Xace ‘and Seal upon the table."

‘What could they do, did she think? I mildly asked her.

“Draw;" returned Miks Flite, —" draw people on, my dear; draw peace out of them, seme out of them, good looks out of them, good qualities out of them: I have felt them even drawing my rest away in the night. Cold and slittecing devils! . .. Let me see,"sald she. “E 71 tell you my own ease, Beforo they ever drew me, before I had over sven them, — what was it I used todo? Tambourine-playing? No; tambourwork, ¥ snd my sister worked at tambour-work. Our father and our brother had a builder's business. We all lived together; very rexpectably, my dear! First our futher was drawn,— slowly: home was drawn with him. In n few years he was m fleree, sour, angry bankrupt, without # kind word or a kind look for any one. Efe hal been 60 different, Fite-Jarndyoe! He was drawn toa debtor's prison: there he died, Then our brother was drawn, swiftly, to drunkenness and rags and death ‘Then my sister was drawn, Hash! Never ask towhat! Then I was fll, and lu misery, and heard, as Thad often heard before, that this was all the work of Chancery. When I got better, I went to look at the monster; und then I found ‘out how it was, and I was drawn to atay there.”

(Ch. fli, v, xi, xiv, xx, xxiv, xxxili, xxv, xlvi, xlvii, ], lx, Lev.)

George. Ses Rouncewett, Grorae.

Gridley, Mr., called “Tnx Man rom Snrorsntre.” A ruined suitor in Chancery, who periodically appears in court, and breaks vut into efforts to address the chancellor at the close of the day’s business, and can by no means be made to understand that the

chancellor is legally ignorant of his existence, after making “

desolate for a quarter of a century. He gives Mr. Jarndyce the following sccount of his case :—

'

“Em one of two brothers. My father (@ farmer) made x will, and left his farm and stock, und 0 forth, to my mother, for her life. After my mother's Geath, all was to come to me, except a legacy of three hundred pounds, that T was then to pay my brother. My mother died; my brother, some time after ‘wards, aimed his legacy. fend some of my relations rald that he had had fart of It already, in board and lodging and some other things. Now mind! ‘That was the question, and nothing else. No one disputed the will; no one Aisputed any thing but whether part of that three hundred pounds lind beec already pald or not. To settle that question, my brother filing a bill, 1 wa ‘obtigud to go into this nccarsed Chancery: E was forced there because the law forced me, and would let me go nowhere else. Seventeen people were made defendants to that almple ult. It first came on after two years. It was thes stopped for another two years, while the master (may his head rot off!) in- quired whether I was my father's son,—about which there was no dispute atall with any mortal creature. ‘Ho then found out that there were not defend- ots enough,—remember, there were only seventecn ax yet!—bat that we must have another who had beon left out, snd must bogin all over again. ‘Tha costs at that time—before the thing was begun — were three times the legacy. My brother would have given up the logacy, and Joyful, to escape more coats. ‘My whole extate left to mo in that will of my father’s has gouo In costa, ‘The suit, otill undecided, has fallen into rack and ruln wud despair with every thing else; and here I stand this day.”

Badgered and worried and tortured by being knocked about from post to pillar and from pillar to post, he gets violent and desperate, threatens the lawyers, and pins the chancellor like a bull-dog, and is sent to the Fleet over and over again for contempt of court. At last, he becomes utterly discouraged and worn out, and suddenly breaks down, and dies in a shooting-gallery, where he is trying to hide from the officers.“ In the preface to “ Bleak House,” Mr. Dickens says of this character, —

Every thing set forth in these pages concerning the Court of Chancery is substantially true, and within the truth. ‘The case of Gridley Is in no essen+ Walaltered from one of actual occurrence, made public by a disinterested person, who was professionally noquainted with the whole of the moustrous wrong from beginning to end.

(Ch. i, xx, xxiv.)

Grubble, W. Landlord of ©The Dedlock Arms,” « pleasant looking, stoutish, middle-aged man, who never seems to consider himself cosily dressed for his own fireside, withou: his hat and top-boots, but who never wears a coat except at church. (Ch. xxxvil.)

wuppy, Mrs. Mother of William Guppy; & wayward old lady, in ‘a large cap, with rather a red nose and rather an unsteady eye, but always smiling all over. (Ch. xxviii, Ixiv.)

Guppy, William. A lawyer's clerk, in the employ of Kenge

=

BLO" Ede Dickens Wietlonary.

and Carboy, Mr. Jarndyce’s solicitors; usually spoken of as“ the young man of the name of Guppy.” He conceives a passion for Esther Summerson, the heroine of the story, and declares his love (“ files a declaration,” as he phrases it) in a very amusing manner, Though refused, and greatly disappointed, he does not quits de- spair, and, on taking his leave, tells her, —

“Tn caso you should think betior—at any tIme, however distant, that's ne consequence, for my feelings can never alter—of any thing I have said, part larly what might I not do,—3tr. William Guppy, eighty-seven Penton Place, or if removed or dead (of blighted hopes or any thing of that sort), care of ‘Mrs. Guppy, three hundred and two Old Street Koad, will be sufficient.”

At a later day, on receiving 9 business call from Miss Summer- son, and discovering, that, from the effects of a fover, she has lost her former beauty, he fancies that she has come to hold him to his proposal, and becomes, in consequence, very confused and appre hensive. Although she assures him that such is not the case, ho nevertheless asks her to make « full and explicit statement, before & witness, whose name and address be carefully notes with legal precision, that there has never been any engagement, or promise of marriage, between them. (Ch. iii, iv, vii, ix, xili, xix, xx, xxiv, xxix, xxii, xxxili, xxxvili, xxxix, xliy, liv, ly, lx, Ixili, Ixiv.)

Guster (by some supposed to have been christened Avctsta). Maid- servant of the Snagbys; « lean young woman of some three or four and twenty, subject to fits. Taken originally from the work-house, sho is s0 afraid of being sent back there, that, except when she is found with her head in the pail, or the sink, or the copper, or the dinner, or any thing else that happens to be near her at the time of her seizure, she is always at work. (Ch. x, xi, xix, xxii, xxv, xlli, lix.)

Gusher, Mr. A friend of Mrs. Pardigglo’s; a flabby gentleman, with a moist surface, and eyes so much too small for his moon of a fuce, that they seem to have been originally made for somebody else. (Ch. xv.) .

Hawdon, Captain. A law-writer who lodges at Mr. Krook’s, and gives himself the name of Nemo; formerly a rakish military officer, and a lover of young lady (afterwards Lady Dedlock), who gives birth to a child (Esther Summerson), of which he is tho father. Ha dies in a garret, and is buried in the Potter's Field (set apart for strangers and paupers), at the gate of which Lady Dedlock is foun «ying lifeless, after her flight from her husband's house. (Ch. ¥,3% xi.)

Bleak Mouse a4

Hortense, Mademoiselle, Lady Dedlock’s waiting-woman, and the murderess of Mr. Tulkinghorn; intended as a portrait of a ‘Mrs. Manning, a real murderess, (Ch. xii, xwili, xxii, xxiii, xlii, siliy, liv.)

‘My indy's maid ts Frenchwoman of two and thirty, from somewhere in the southern country about Avignon and Marseilles, —a large-eyed brown woman with black hatr, who would be handsome, but for soeriain feline mouth, and general uncomfortable tightness of face, rendering the jaws too eager, and the skull too prominent. There is romerhing indefinably keen and watchful about

ohas @ watchful way of looking out-of the corners of ber

her head, which could be pleasantly dispensed with,

—capecially when she Is in an iil-humor, and near knives.

Jarndyce, John, Guardian of Richard Carstone and Ada Clare, and friend and protector of Esther Summerson. He is an un- married man of about sixty, upright, hearty, and robust, with silvered iron-gray hair; a handsome, lively, quick face, full of change and motion ; pleasant eyes; a sudden, abrupt manner; and avery benevolent heart. He affects to be subject to fits of ill- humer, and has a habit of saying, when deceived or disappointed in any perton or matter, that “the wind is in the cast;” and of taking refuge in his library, which he calls “The Growlery.” Mr. Jarndyce is one of the parties in the celebrated Chancery suit of “Jarndyce and Jarndyce,

“Of course, Esther," he aald, “ you don’t naderstand this Chancery busl- ness?

And of course I shook my head.

“Tdon't know who does,” he returned. “The lawyers have twisted It Intu such » state of bedeviiment, that the original merits of the case have long disap. peared from the face of the earth, It's about a will, and the trusts under x will,—or it was once. It’s about nothing but costs now. We are always appearing and disappearing and swearing and interrogating and filing croxe-iling and arguing and sealing and motioning and referring and report- fng, and revolving about the lord chancellor and all his satellites, and equitably waltzing ourselves off to dusty death, about costa. That's the great question, All the rest, by some extraordinary means, has melted away.!"

Bat it was, sir,” sald I, to bring him back, for he began to rub his head, * about « will? +

“Why, yes, {t was about a will when it was about any thing,” he returned, “ A certain Jarndyce, in an evil hour, made a great fortune, and made a great ‘will, In the question how the trusts under that will are to be administered, the fortune left by the will {s squandered away. the legateos under the with are re- duced to such a miserable condition. that they would be sufficiently punished, It ‘they had committed an enormous erime in having money left them and the will tteelf ls mado a dead letter. All through the deplorable causo, every thing that everybody in it, except one mam, knows already, Is referred to that only one ‘xan who don't know it, to find out; ab througn the deplorable cause, everybody ‘must have copies, over and over again, of every thing that has secumulnted

_—

B42 Ede Dickens Wictlonarg.

about it In the way of eart-loads of papers (or must pay for {em without having them, which Is the usal course; for nobody wants them); and mest go down tha saddle und up again Sheough wash wn tafernal Sovuty. dence af cost nad aa soos and sorraptlony es was ers, éryained CEA The WIN visions of m witeh's sabbath, ... And thus, through years and years, and lives and ilves, every thing goes on, constantly beginning over and over agai, and nothing ever ends. And we can't get out of tho suit on any torma; for we ‘srv made partles to {t, and must be parties to it, whether we Uke ft or not. hut Mt wou't do to think of itt And Mr, Jarndyce does not allow himself to think of H, if he can possibly help doing so. With the warning example of so many of his kinsmen, living or dead, always before him, he refuses to enter the court, or have any thing whatever, of his own accord, to do with the case; but he deeply pitics and benevolently ‘assists those of his relatives who bave thrown themselves into it, and make it the object of their lives, It is found, however, that the whole estate has been absorbed in cost; and thus the suit Ispses and melts entirely away. (Ch. i, lii, vi, vili, ix, xiii-xy, xvii, xviii, xxiii, xxiv, xxx, xxxi, xxxv—-xxxvil, xxxix, xllli-xly, xlvil, Llii, Ivi, 1x-Lsii, Ixiv, Ixy, Lxvil.)

Jellyby, Caroline, called “Cappy,” Mrs. Jellyby’s eldest daugh- ter, and her amanuensis; a pretty and industrious, but sadly neg- lected and overworked girl. Becoming heartily disgusted and tired with copying never-ending letters to innumerable correspondents, concerning the welfare of her species, she resolves that she won't be a slave all her life, and accordingly marries Prince Turvey- drop, who makes her very happy. (Ch. iv, v, xiv, xviil, xxiii, xxx, xxxviii, |, Ixv, Levi.)

jellyby, Mrs. A very pretty, very diminutive, plump woman, of from forty to fifty, with handeome eyes, though they have # curious habit of seeming to look a long way off. Sho is a lady of remarke able strength of character, who has devoted herself to an extensive variety of public subjects, at various times, and especially to the subject of Africa, with a view to the general cultivation of the cof- foo-berry, and the natives, and the happy settlement of a portion of our superabundant home-population in Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank of the Niger. Her energies are o entirely devoted to this philanthropic project, that she finds no time to consider the happi+ ness or welfare of her own family; and the result is, that her chil. drer: grow up dirty, ignorant, and uncared-for; her house is disgrace fully cold, cheerless, and untidy; and rer husband becomes a dejected and miserable bankrupt.

Bleak Mouse 343

According to Mr. Hotten in his “Life of Dickens" (p. 214), “Miss Martineau came forward in her owr person to take the cap of Mrs. Jellyby, and to scold Mr. Dickens for his allusions to ‘blue-stockingism” and ‘ Borrioboola-Gha.’” (Ch. iv, v, xix, xxill, xxx, xxxviii, 1, xvii.)

Jellyby, Mr. The husband of Mr. Jellyby ; a mild, bald, quiet gentleman in spectacles, who is completely merged in the more shining qualities of his wife. (Ch. iv, xiv, xxiii, xxx, xxviii, |, vii)

Jellyby, “ Peepy” (so self-named). A neglected and unfortunate son of Mr. and Mrs. Jellyby. (Ch. iv, v, xiv, xxiil, xxx, xxxvill, Ixvii.)

Jenny. Wife of a drunken brickmaker. (Ch. viii, xxii, xxi, xxxr, xvi, lvii.)

Jo, called “Tovoney." <A street-crossing sweeper. A stranger who has died very suddenly has been seen speaking to Jo, who is brought before the coroner’s jury.

Here he is, very muddy, very hoarse, very ragged. Now, boyt Bat stop minute, Cautlon. ‘This boy must be put through a few preliminary paces.

‘Name, Jo, Nothing else, that he knows on, Don’t know thot everybody has two names. Never herd of such a think. Don’t kuow that Jo fs short for Jongor name, Thinks \t long enough for him. He don’t find no fwult with tt, ‘Spell it? Ae can’t epell it. No father, no mother, no friends. Never been to school. What ’shome? Knows a broom is a broom, and knows it " wicked ta tella lie, Don't recollect who told kim about the broom, or about the Mo, but Knows both. Can't exactly say what'll be done to him arter he’s dead if he tolls a lie to the gentlemen here, but believes it ‘ll be something wery bad, to punish him, and serve him right. and soho "ll tell the truth.

His evidence is set aside. Questioned apart, however, and pri- vately, Jo tells hia story with directness, and a touching and simple

pathos. Ho knows—

‘That the dead man was hooted and pursued abont the streets. That one cold winter night, when he [Jo], the boy, waa shivering In a doorway near ble cross Ing, the man turned to look at him, and came back, and having questioned him, and found that he had not a friend in the world, said, “ Neither have I, Not ‘ono!® and gave him the price of a supper and a nights lodging. ‘That the max

‘and how he bore cold and hunger, and whether he ever wished to die, strango questions. That when the man had no money, he wold tng, "I am na poor as you to-day, Jo:™ but that, when he had any, he had always (as the boy most henrtily believes) been glad to give him some.

“He was wery good to me,” says the boy, wiping his eyes with hia wretched mataleere, “Wen I vee him a-layin’ so atritched out jist now, I wished ‘bo could have heerd me tell him so, He wos wery good to me —he wos!”

“a

Bah She Dickens Mlctlonarg.

‘The stranger is buried in the Potter's Ficld, unwept and unre gretted: no, not unregreited ; for—

With the night comes a slouching figure thraagh the tunnel-court to the out Mido of the tron gate, It holds the gate with ite hands, and looks in betweex the bars; stands looking in for a little white.

It thea, with an old broom it carries, softly sweeps the atep, and makes the archway cloan, It does #0 very busily and trimly; Iooks in again a little while; and so departs.

Jo, is it thou? Well, well! Though » rejected witnoss, who “can't exaolly any" what will be done to him in greater hands than men’s, thou art not quite Inouter darknoss. There s something like a distant ray of light In thy muttered reason for thia:—

“ He wos wery good to me—he wos!”

Becoming accidentally and unfortunately possessed of information which involves the secret of Lady Dedlock, poor Jo is driven away from London by officers in the service of Mr. Tulkinghorn, and is always being told to “move on,” no matter where he may seek a resting-place. Worn out at last, he steals into the city, avoiding even those who would befriend him, but is finally found and taken in charge by a kind physician (Mr. Woodcourt), who knows a portion of his story; and in the illness which follows is properly eared for. Jo desires to be laid in the strangers” burying-ground, near his unknown friend.

“He used fur to say to me, ‘Tam as poor as you to-lay, Jo,’ he set. Twante to tell Iiim that Fam ns poor as him now, and hare come there to be Inld slong with him. .. . Will you promise to haye me took there, str, and Inid along with bim?”.

“Twill, Indeed.”

“Thank’eo, sir! Thank’es, sir! They’ have to get the key of the gute afore they can take me in; forit’s allus locked. And there" a atep there, ax 1 ‘used to clean with my broom, It's turned wery dark, wir. In there any light scomin’?”

“Te ts coming fast, Jo.”

Past... . Tho rugged road {s very near its end.

“Jo, my poor fellow!”

“Thear you, alr, in the dark; but Pm a-gropin’, e-gropla’, Let me exteh hold € your hand.”

“Jc, can you say what f say?”

“Dl any any think a8 you way, alr; for knows it " good.”

“Our Farin.”

# Our father !— yes, that ’s wery good, alr.”

“ WHtCH ART IX HRAVEX.”

“Artin heaven, Is the light comin’, air?”

“This closoat hand. HALLOWED Re THY x30."

« Hallowed be—thy "—

‘The light Is come upon the dark benighted way. Deadt

Dead, your majesty. Dead, my lords end gentlemen, Dead, right reves

Bleak Mouse B15

(7Gads and wrong reverends of every order. Dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion fn your hearts. And dying thus around us every day. (Ch. xi, xvi, xix, xx, xxv, xxix, xxxii, xlvi, xlvii.)

Jobling, Tony, otlerwixe Weevix. A friend of Mr. Guppy’s, and # law-writer for Mr. Snagsby. “He has the faded of a gentleman in embarrassed circumstances; even his light whis kers droop with something of a shabby air.” (Ch. vii, xx, xxxii, xxxiii, xxxix, liv, lv, Ixiv.)

Kenge, Mr., called Conversation Kexor. Senior member of the firm of Kenge and Carboy, solicitors; a portly, important- Jooking gentleman dressed all in black, with a white cravat, lange gold watch seals, a pair of gold eye-glasses, and a large seal-ring upon his little finger. (Ch. til, iv, xili, xvii-xx, xxill, xxiv, xxxvil, xaxix, Ixli, Ixv.)

He appeared to enjoy beyond every thing thesound of his own yolee. I could n't wonslerat that; for it was mellow and full, and gave grent ituportance to every word he uttered. Me Hstened to himself with obvious xatlsfaction, and some- tines gently beat time to his own music with his head, or rounded sentence ‘with his hand,

Krook, Mr, Proprietor of a rag-and-bottleahop, and dealer in marine stores, bones, kitchen-stuff, waste-paper, &o,; landlord to Mies Flite and Captain Hawdon; and only brother to Mrs. Small- weed. He is an unmarried man, old, eccentric, and much given to the use of intoxicating drinks. In person ho is short, cadaverous, and withered ; with his head sunk sideways between his shoulders, and the breath issuing in visible smoke from his mouth, as if he were on fire within. His only companion is a large gray cat, of a fierce disposition, which is accustomed to perch on nis shoulder. With this man, Mr. Weevle (alias Jobling) has an appointment for twelve o'clock on acertain night. Going into the room at the hour agreed upon, he finds it full of smoke, the window-panes and furniture covered with a dark, greasy deposit, more of which is dis- covered lying in a small heap of ashes on the floor befure the fire. The explanation Is, that Krook has perished a victim to spontaneous combustion.

‘This incident excited snuch controversy at the time of the publi cation of “ Bleak House ,” the possbility of spontaneous combustion being vehemently denied by Mr. G. H, Lewes and others. In his preface, Mr. Dickens maintains his ground, and brings forward a umber of “ notable facts” in support uf his position, The dispute,

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346 Ebe Dickens Mictlonary.

however, as has been justly observed, “is not as Lo the facts, but me to their explanation.” Persons have undoubtedly been burned to death under ciroumstances not well sceounted for; but that the living human body ever becomes ignited, and burns like a candle, or smoulders away, until nothing but ashes or charcoal is left, is a theory, which —lowever attractive it may be to the popular mind — would be admitted by no scientific man at the present day, whose opinion is entitled to the slightest respect. (Ch. v, x, xi, aly, xixy xx, xxix, xxxii)

Lig. A brutal brickmaker’s wife. (Ch. viii, xxii, xxxi, xlvi, Ivii.)

Man from Shropshire, The. See Gruptey, Mr.

Melvilleson, Miss M. A “noted siren,” or vocalist, advertised under that name, though she has been married a year and a half, and has her baby clandestinely conveyed to the Sols Arms every night to receive its natural nourishment during the entertainments. (Ch. xxsii, xxxiii, xxix.)

Meroury. A footman in the service of Sir Leicester Dedlock. (Ch. ii, xvi, xxix, xxiii, xl, xlviil, liii, liv.)

Mooney, A beadle. (Ch. xi.)

Neckett, Charlotte, called Cuantey. Elder daughter of Mr. Noekett, an officer, “She is a womanly, self-reliant girl of about thirteen or fourteen, who, after the death of her father, goes out to work to earn a livelihood for herself and a younger brother and sister.

She is visited by Mr. Jarndyce; and the following conversation ensues: —

“Do you often go out?”

“As often as I can,” sald Charley, opening her eyes, and smiling; “because of earning sixpences and shillings.”

* And do you always lock the bables up wher you go out ?™

“To keep ‘em safe, sir; don't you see?” sald Charley. * Mrs. Biimber comes up now and then; and Mr. Gridley comes up sometimes; and perhaps TI ean run in sometimes, and they ean play,you know; and Tom aln’t afraid of being locked up. Are you, Tom?”

+ No—0," aald Tom stoutly.

“When it comes on dark, the Jamps are Nghted down In the court, and ‘hey shine up here qnite bright, — almost quite bright; don’t they, Tom?”

* Yes, Charley,” sald Tom, “ almost quite bright.”

“Then he “eas good as gold,” anid the little ereature oh, tn auch w motherly womanly way! “And, when Emma's tired, be puts her to bed; and, when bes tired, he goes to bed himself; and when I come home and Ij aod has a bit of supper, he sits up again, and has it with me, Don't you Tom?”

«Ob, yes: Charley,” said Tom. “ That i dot”

Bleak Mouse. But

And eithor in this glimpse of the great pleasure of his life, or In gratitude and leve for Charley, who was all ts all to him, he laid his face among the scanty folds of her frock, and passed from laughing into crying.

(Oh. xv, xxi, xxiii, xxx, xxxi, xxxy-xxxvii, xliv, xly, li, bei, Lxil,

Ixiv, Ixvii.)

Neckett, Emma. Infant daughter of Mr. Neckett. (Ch. xv, xxiii, Ixvii.)

Neckett, Mr., called Coavinsxs. A sheriff’s officer. (Ch. vi, xv.)

Neckett, Tom. Mr, Neckett’s only son; brother to “ Chailey” and Emma. (Ch xv, xxiii, Lxvii.)

Nemo. See Hawpon, Carrars,

Pardiggle, Mr. O. A., F. B.S. Husband of Mrs, Pardiggle; an obstinate-looking man, with a large waistcoat and stubbly hair, always talking in a loud bass voice about his mite, or Mra. Pardig- gle’s mite, or their five boys’ mites. (Ch. viii, xxx.)

Pardiggle, Mrs. One of those charitable people who do little and make a great deal of noise. She is a School lady, a Visiting lady, a Reading lady, a Distributing Indy, and on the Social Linen Box Committee, and many general committees, (Ch. vill, xv, xxx.)

Pardiggle, Alfred. Youngest son of Mr. and Mrs. Pardiggle, aged five years. He voluntarily enrolls himself in the “Infant Bonds of Joy,” and is pledged never, through life, to use tobacco in any form. (Ch. viii.)

Pardigglo, Egbert. Eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. Pandiggle, nged twelve years. He sends out. his pocket-money, to the amount of five and threepence, to the Tockahoopo Indians. (Ch. viii.)

Pardiggle, Felix. Fourth son of Mr. and Mrs. Pardiggle, aged seven years; contributor of eightpence to the “Superannuated Widows.” (Ch. vili,)

Pardiggle, Francis. Third son of Mr. and Mrs. Pardiggle, aged nine years; a contributor of one and sixpence halfpenny to the © Great National Smithers Testimonial.” (Ch. viii.)

Pardiggle, Oswald. Second son of Mr. and Mrs. Pardiggle, aged ten and a half He gives two and ninepence to the “ Great National Smithers Testimonial,” (Ch, viii.)

Perkins, Mrs, An inquisitive woman living near the Sol’s Arins; neighbor to Mr. Krook. (Ch, xi, xx, xxxii, xxxili, xxix.)

Piper, Mrs. A woman who lives near Krook’s rag-and-bottle shop, and who leads the court. (Ch. xi, xx, xxxii, xxiii, xxxix.}

Priscilla, Mrs. Jellrby’s servant-girl; “always drinking.” (Ch. iv

) a

- «7

BS Zhe Dickens BDictlonary.

Quale, Mr. A friend of Mrs. Jellyby’s; a loquacious young man with large shining knobs for temples, and his hair all brushed to the back of his head. He is a philanthropist, and has a project for teaching the coffee colonists of Borrioboola-Gha to teach the na- tives to turn pianoforte-legs, and establish an export trade. (Ch. iv, v, xv, xxiib.)

Rachael, Mrs. Servant to Miss Barbary; afterwards the wife of the Reverend Mr. Chadband.

Rosa. Lady Dedlock’s maid; « dark-haired, shy village beauty, betrothed to Watt Rouncewell. (Ch. vii, xii, xvi, xvill, xxvili, xl, xlviii, Ixiii.)

Rouncewell, Mrs, Sir Leicester Dedlock’s housekeeper at Ches- ney Wold; a fine old lady, handsome, stately, and wonderfully neat, (Ch. vii, xii, xvi, xxvili, xxiv, x1, lii, lv, lvi, lviil)

Rouncewell, Mr. Her son; an lronmaster; father of Watt Rouncewell. (Ch. vii, xxvill, xl, xlvili, Ixiil)

Rouncewell, George, called Mr. Gnorcr. Another son; a wild young lad, who enlists as a soldier, and afterwards becomes keoper of a shooting-gallery in London. (Ch. vil, xxi, xxlv, xxvi, xxvil, xxxiy, xlvii, xlix, lii, Iv, lvi, viii, Ixiii, Ixvi)

Rouncewell, Watt. Her grandson, betrothed to Rosa. (Ch vii, xii, xviii, xxviii, xl, xlviii, Lxiii.)

Shropshire, The Man from. See Gnipiey, Mr.

Skimpole, Arethusa. Mr. Skimpole’s blue-eyed “Beauty” daughter, who plays and sings odds and ends, like her father. (Ch. xliii.)

Skimpole, Harold. A protégé of Mr. John Jarndyce’s; = sen- timentalist, brilliant, vivacious, and engaging, but thoroughly selfish and unprincipled; @ genial caricature—so far as mere external peculiarities and mannerisms are concerned —of Leigh Hunt. Tho likeness was instantly recognized; and Mr. Dickens, while admit- ting that he had “ yielded to the temptation of too often making the character speak like his old friend,” felt himself called upon to declare, that “he no more thought, God forgive him! that the admired original would ever be charged with the Imaginary vices of the fictitious creature than he has himself ever thought of char ging the blood of Desdemona and Othello on the innocent Academy model who sat for Iago’s leg in the picture” (Oh. ty, vill, ix, xy, xviii, xxxi, xxxvii, xliii, xlvi, lvii, Lxi.)

‘Ue was a little bright creature, with a rather large head, but a delicaie face ‘and a sweet voice; and there was a perfect charm in him. All he said was #@

HAROLD SKIMPOLE,

‘Bleak Mouse 349

ee Nem effort, and spontanoous, and was sald with sus a captivating gayety, that ft was fascinating to hew him talk. .. . He had more of theppearanee, in all respects, of a damaged young man than a well-preserved <lderly one, ‘Thore was an easy negligence tn his manner, and even in bis dress (his alr carclessly disposed, and his neokerobfef loose and flowing. as I have seen artists faint thelr own portraits), which T could not separate from the ldeaof a roman- te youth who had undergone some unique process of depreciation.

Mr. Skimpole is constantly getting into debt, and as constantly being helped out by somebody whom he never seriously thanks, He says of himself, —

“Tam constantly betng balled out, like a boat; or pald off, like # ship # com- pany. Somebody always does \t forme, J can't do It, you know, for I never haye any money; but Somebody does it. I get out by Somebody's means. I ‘am not like the starling: I get out. If you were to ask me who Somebody Is, upon my word, I could n't tall you, Let ws drink to Somebody. God bless him”

‘Mr, Skimpole is arrested for debt. He turns the matter over to his friends, completely washing his hands of the entire affair, and smiles benevolently on them as they pay him out. His furniture is seized. He remonstrates with his landlord, informing him that the articles are not paid for, and that his friend Jarndyce will have to suffer if they are taken. No attention being paid to this, he is greatly amused at “the oddity of the thing,” not understandin, how a man can wish to pay himself “at another man’s expense.” On another occasion he tells Mr. Jarndyce, —

“My butcher aays to mo, he wants that little bill. Tt "ea part of the aneon- ‘tclous poetry of the man’s nature, that he always calla Its * bill to make the payment appear easy to both of us. I reply to the buteher, * My good friend, If you knew it, you are paid. You have n’t had the trouble of coming to ask for the little bill, You are paid. I mean it.’”

But suppose,” says [Mr. Jarndyoe,} langhing, the bill instead of providing tt

My dear Jarndyoe,” he returned, “you surprise me, You takethe bateher'« position. A butcher I once dealt with occupled that rery ground. Says he, ‘Str, why did you eat spring-iamb at elghteen-pence a pound??—* Why did ¢at spring-lamb at elghteen-pencea pound, my honest friend ?\— sald, naturally amazed by the question, ‘1 like springlamb,’ This was so fur conrincing, # Well, alr,’ says ho, ‘I wish {had meant the lamb as you mean the money !*— ‘My good follow, sald f, ‘pray let us reason like intellectual beings. How ‘could that be? It was impossible, You Jund got the lamb: Ihave not got the money. You could n't really mean the lamb without sending St inj whorens 1 an snd do really mean the money without paying it.’ He had not a word ‘There was an end of the subject.”

Bkimpole, Mrs. Wife o” Harold Skimpole; a delicate, high nosed invalid, suffering under a compiication of disorders. (Ch xu.)

je had meant tho meat in

eal oneal a

350 be Dickens Dict.onary.

Skimpole, Kitty. Mr. Skimpole's * Comedy” daughter, who sings a little, but don’t play. (Ch. xliti,)

Skimpole, Laura. Mr. Skimpolo’s “ Sentiment” daughter, who plays a little, but don’t sing. (Ch. xliiL)

Smallweed, Bartholomew, jocularly called Smatt and Cuick Weep, to express a fledgling, as it were. Grandson of Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed, twin-brother of Judy, and friend of Mr. William Guppy, from whom he sponges dinners as often as he can. (Ch. xx, xxi, xxiii, xxix, ly, Lxili-)

‘He Is a town-made article, of small stature and weazen features, bat may 68 pereelved from a considerable distance by means of his very tall bnt, ‘To be: ‘come a Guppy Is tho object of his ambition, Ile dresses at that gentleman (by ‘whom be is patronized), talks at him, walks ot him, founds himself entirely on Lim. '.. . Hels aweird changefing, towhom years are nothing. Ee stands pre- coclauily ponsessod by centuries of owllih wisdom. If he ever Iay in a eradie, ft scems as {f he must have lain there in w tall-cont. THe hasan old, old eye; . . . and he drinks and smokes in a monkeylah way; and tis neck ts stlif tn his col- Jar; and ho fs never to be taken n; and he knows all about it, whatever It is.

Smallweed, Grandfather. An old man who has been in the “discounting profession,” but has become superannuated, and nearly helpless. His mind, however, is unimpaired, and still holds, as well asit ever did, the first four rules of arithmetic, and a certain small collection of the hardest facts. His favorite amusement is to throw at the head of his venerable partner a spare cushion, with which he

J is provided, whenever she makes an allusion to money,— a subject on which he is particularly sensitive. The exertion this requires has the effect of always throwing him back into his chair like a broken puppet, and makes it necessary that he should undergo the two operations, at the hands of his grand-daughter, of being shaken up like a great bottle, and poked and punched like a great bolster. (Ch. xxi, xxvi, xxvii, xxxiii, xxiv, liv, lv, Lxifi.)

Smallweed, Grandmother. His wife; so far fallen into a childish state as to have regained such infantine graces as a total want of observation, memory, understanding and interest, and an eternal disposition to fall asleep over the the fire, andinto it, (Ch. xxi, xxvi, xxvii, xxxill, xxxiv, lxiii.)

Smallweed, Judy. Grand-daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed, and twin-sister of Bartholomew. She is so indubitably his sister that the two kneaded into one would hardly make 3 young person of average proportions. (Ch. xxi, xvi, xxvii, xxiii, xxxly, Ixilij}

Snagsby, Mr. A law-stationer in Cook's Court, Cursitor Street 4 mild, bald, timid maa, tending to meekness and obesity, with @

e BSL

shining bead and a scrubby clump of black hair sticking out at the back. Being a timid man, he is accustomed to cough with a varl ety of expressions, and so to save words. (Ch. x, xi, xix, xx, xxii, xxv, xxxiii, xlii, xlvii, liv, lix.)

Bnagsby, Mrs. ; a short shrewish woman, something too violently compressed about the waist, and with a sharp noee, like a sharp autumn evening, inclining to be frosty towards the erd. (Ch. x, xi. xix, xx, xxii, xxv, xxxili, xlil, xvlii, liv, lix.)

‘Mr. and Mrs. Sungsby are not only one bone and one flesh, but, to the neigh: ‘Dore thinking, one volce too. ‘That voice appearing to proceed from Mre, Suageby alone, ts heard in Cook's Court very often, . . » Mr, Snageby refers every thing not {n the practical mysteries of the business to Mrs. Snagiby. Se ‘manages the money, reproaches the tax-gatherers, appolota the times ang places of devotion on Sundays, loenses Mr. Snagaby's entertainments, and wo knowledges no responsibility as to what sbe thinks fit to providefordinner. . . « Rumor, always flying, batlike. about Cook's Court, and skimming tn and out at everybody's windows, does ray that Mrs. Snagsby ts Jealous and Inquisitive; nd that Cr. Suagsby fs sometimes worried out of house wnd home; and that, if he had the spirit of a mouse, be would n't stand it.

Bquod, Phil. A man employed in Mr. Georgo’s shooting-gallery.

He is a little man, with a face all crushed together, who appears, from s cer tain bine and speckled appearance that one of his checks presents, to have been blown up, in the way of business, at some odd time or times, . « . On the apro- led side of his fuce he has no eyebrow, and on the other side he has m bushy black one; which want of uniformity gives him # very singular and rather sinks- tor appearance. Every thing seems to have happoned to his hands that could possibly take place, consistently with the retention of ull the fingers; for they ‘are notched and seamed, and crumpled all over. . . . He has a carious way of limping round the gallery with bis shoulder against the wall, and tacking off mt objects he wants to lay hold of, instead of going straight to them, which has Toft & wmear all round the four walls, conventionally called “ Phil's mark.”

(Ch. xxi, xxiv, xxvi, xxxiv, xlvii, lvi, Ixvi.)

Stables, The Honorable Bob. Cousin to Sir Leicester Ded- lock. (Ch. ii, xxviii, xl, Iviii.)

Summerson, Hsther. Protégée of Mr. Jarndyce; afterwards the wife of Allan Woodcourt. She is the narrator of a part of the story, and is represented as a prudent, wise little body, a notable house-wife, a self-denying friend, and a universal favorite. Sha proves to be an illegitimate daughter of Lady Dedlock and Captain Hawdon. According to Doctor Shelton Mackenzie (Life of Dick« ens, p. 203), this character is supposed to have been drawn from real aife, and to have been intended as a portrait of Miss Sophia Isclin, author of a volume of poms puvlished in 1847. (Ch. ili-vi, viii,

Bou ede Dickens Dictlonarg.

ix, xiil-xy, xvil-xix, xxiii, xxiv, xxix—xxxi, xxxv—xxxviil, xlili<xlv xlvii, tii, liv, Ivi, Iii, lix-Lxy, Levii.)

Swills, Little. A red-faced combe vocalist engaged at the Har monic meetings at the Sol's Arms. (Ch. xi, xix, xxxil, xxxlih, ‘Xxxix,)

Tangle, Mr, A lawyer, who knows more about the case of Jan dyce and Jarndyce than anybody, and is supposed never to have read any thing elee since he left school. (Ch. i.)

Thomas. Sir Leicester Dedlock’s groom. (Ch. xl.)

Toughey. See Jo.

Tulkinghorn, Mr. An attorncy-at-law, and a solicitor of the Court of Chancery, who ia the legal adviser of Sir Leloester Dedlock.

‘The old gentleman is rusty to look at, but fx reputed to have made good thrift out of aristocratic marringe-settiements and aristocratic wills, and to be very rich. He Is surrounded by a mysterious halo of family confidences, of which ho 1s known to bo the silent deposltary. . . . Hole of whnt ts called the old school, —a phraso generally meaning any school that seems never to have been young,—and wears knee-breeches tied with ribbons, and gaiters or stockings, ‘One peculiarity of his black clothes and of his black stockings, be they silk or ‘worsted, Is, that they never shine. Mute, close, irresponsive to any glancing light, his dress [+ like himself. He never converses when not professionally consulted, He is found sometimes, speechioxs, but quite at home, at corners of dinnemtables in great country:houses, and near doors of drawing-rooms, eon- ‘cerning which the fashionable intelligence is eloquent, where everybody knows ‘him, and where half the prerage stops to say, “Mow do you do, Mr. Tulking- horn?” He reoslves these salutations with gravity, and buries them along with the rest of hilt knowledge.

Becoming acquainted with the early history of Lady Ded- lock, he quietly informs her of the fact, and of his intention to reveal it to her husband, which causes her to flee from home, and results in her death. Shortly after this disclosure, he is murdered in his room by a French waiting-maid, whom he has made use of to’ discover certain family secrets, and whom he refuses to reward to the amount she desires. (Ch. ii, vii, x-xii, xv, xvi, xxil, xxiv) xxvii, xxix, xxxiil, xxiv, xxxvi, xl—xlii, xliv, xlvii, xlvill.)

lurveydrop, Mr, “A very gentlemanly man, celebrated almost everywhere for his deportment.” Mr. Hotten (* Charles Dickens: ‘The Story of his Life,” p, 214) says that this character “ was always belioved to portray ‘the first gentleman in Europe,’ his sacred Majesty King George the Fourth;” but, according to Doctor Shel- ton Mackenzie (“Life of Dickens,” p. 206), “ Some friends of Mr. Jobn Dickens thought they recognized certain of his characteristics,

MR. TURVEVDROP AND HIS SON.

Bleak Mouse. 358

as regarded deportment, in the sketch of that eminent professor, Mr. Turveydrop." (Ch. xiv, xxiii, xxx, xxviii 1, vii.)

He was a fat old gentleman with a false complexion, false teoth, false whis- kere, anda wig. Mo bad a fur oollar, and he had a padded breast to his coat, which only wanted o star, or a broad blue ribbon, to be complete. He was pinched In, and swelled out, and got up, and strapped down, ax much ms he could possibly bear, Ifo bad such m necksloth on (puffing his yery eyes out of their natural shape), and his chia and even his cars ao sunk tnto It, that it seemed as though he must inevitably double up, if It were cast loose. Me had under his arm o hnt of grent size and welght, shelving downward from the ¢rown to the brim; and In his hand » patr of white gloves, with which be flapped it, ns he stood poised on one leg, in m high-shouldered, round-elbowed state of elegance not to be surpassed. He had a cane, he bad an eyeglass, he had rings, he had wristbands, he had every thing but any touch of nature. Ite ‘was not lie youth, he was not like age: he was like nothing in the world but « model of deporte

He had married w mook little danclng-mistress, with « tolerable connection (having never in his life before doue uny thing but deport himself), and had ‘worked her to death, or had, at the best, suifered her to work herself to death, to maintain him in those expensos which were indispensable to hile position. At once to exhibit his Deportment to the best models, und to keep the best models constantly before himeelf, he had found it necessary to frequent all publio pinces of fashionable and lounging resort, tobe seen at Brighton and elsewhere at fashionable times, and to lead an idle life Iu the very best clothes. ‘To enable im to do this, tho affectionate little dancing-miatress had tolled and Jubored, and would have tolled and labored to that hour, if her strength had lasted so tong. For, . . . fu spite of the man's absorbing selfishness, his wife {overpowered by his Deportment) had, to the last, beliered tn him, and had on her death-bed, In the most moving terms, confided him to thelr won ns one who hnd an inextinguishable claim upon him, and whom he could never regurd with too much pride and deference, ‘The son, inheriting his mother's bellef, and having the Deportment always before him, had lived and grown In the samo faith, and now, at thirty years of age, worked for his futher twelve hours a day, and looked up to him with veneration on the old imaginary planacle,

Turveydrop, Prince. His son; so named in remembrance of the Prince Rogent, whom Mr. Turveydrop the elder adored on account of his deportment. He is a little blue-eyed fair man, of youthful appearance, with flaxen hair parted in the middle, and curling at the ends all round his head. He marries Miss Caddy Jellyby. (Ch. xiv, xvii, xxiii, xxx, xxxviii, |, lvii.)

Vholes, Mr. Richard Carstone’s solicitor; a man who is always “putting his shoulder to the wheel,” without any visible results, and is continually referring to the fact that he is a widower, with three daughters and an aged father in the Vale of Taunton, who are dependent on him for their support. (Ch. xxxvii, xxix, xly, li, lxi, Ixii, Ixy.)

™

Bot Tbe Vickene Wietlonary.

[He was} a eallow man, with plnchod lips that looked as if they red eruption here and there upon his face, tail and thin, about fifty years of age, higt-shoulderod snd stooping. Dressed tn black, black-glored, and buttoned to the chin, there was nothing #0 remarkable in hin as lifeless manner and s slow, faxed way ho had of looking. » « «

Weevle, Mr. Ste Jontixo, Tory.

Wisk, Miss. A ftiend of Mrs. Jellyby’s, betrothed to Mr, Quale. Her “ mission” is to show the world that woman's mission is man's mission, and that the only genuine mission of both man and woman is to be always moving declaratory resolutions about things in general at public meetings. (Ch. xxx.)

‘Woodcourt, Allan, A young surgeon, who afterwards marries Esther Summerson. (Ch, xi, xiii, xiv, xvii, xxx, xxxy, xlvi, xlvii, L-lil, lix-Ixi, Ixiv, Ixy, Lxvil.)

‘Woodcourt, Mrs. His mother; a handsome old lady, small, sharp, upright, and trim, with bright black eyes; very proud of her descent from an illustrious Welsh ancestor, named Morgan-ap-Ker vig. (Ch. xvii, xxx, Lx, lxii, Lxiv.)

Bleak Mouse, 355

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

Cuarres L. The High Court of Chancery in session, with the galt of Jarndyce and Tamdyce; the chancellor postpones the hearing. —11, Mr. Tulkingborn reports some new procoodings in the ease to Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock ; Lady Dediock asks who copted the adidavit bereads. she swoons —IIt. Esther Summerson narrates the history of her shildbood, unde: ths ware of her godmother: she ts Informed of the staln upon her birth; she is Introduced to Mr. Kengo; Mise Narbary dios, and %sther learns she was har aunt 31r, Jamdyee's offer to educate Esther; on her Journey to Rending, Eather is roughly bo friondad by a gentiotnan in the coach; aberpends tx years in Mixw Donny"s establishment, ‘wham Mr. Jarndyoe summons her to London, as a companion for his ward; Esther meets Ada Claro and Richard Carstone, and they go before the chancellors Mim Flite bestows ‘hor bessing-—I¥. Kether, Ada, and Richard go to Mrs: Jellyby"s to speod tho night, and. find het very busy with African matters; Caddy Jellyby complains to Esther of the Afti« ‘ean business, and falls asleep with hor head on Esther's lap.—V. The young people en- eounter Stina Fiite again, who invites them to her lodging, over Mr. Krook's, to whom sho Introducos them Mr. Krook relates the story of Tom Jarndyce and his suicide: Miss Filte shows her birds; old Krook surprises Esthor by writing out “Jarndyee™ and Meak Mouse,” lottor ty letter, — VI. On the road to Bleak House the young people receive notes of welcome from Mr. Jarndyce; Kather recognizes In Me. Jarndyce her stage-coach friend of six years bofuros description of Bleak Houso; Esther receives the housekeoping keyss Mr. Sitmpole t» presented, and his character described; Skimpote ts arrested for debt, ane released by Esther and Richard, who pay the debt; Mr, Jarndyce cautions therm agwinet Mr, Skimpole’s weaknomes; Mr, Jarndyoe experiences suddon changes in the wind. — VET. Airs. Rouncewell, housckeoper at Chemey Wold, conversing with her grandson, receives ‘call om Mr. Guppy, who desires to aco the house; ho knows Lady Dedlock’s ploture, but don't know how he knows it: Mra. Rouncewell relates to her grandson and Rosa the story of the Ghost’ Walk. —VIIL. Mr. Skimpole discourses on the bees Sr. Jarndyoe tatroduces Esther to the Grumlery, and explains the Cuancery business; Esther finds her Advice sought in overy thingy Mrs. Pardigglo calla with hier fumily; she explaine her male ‘ion and her energy tn Ht; Esther and Ada accompany Mra Pardiggic on her vialt to the brickmaker's; Jonny's infant dios: sympathy of Jenny's friend, and Esther and Ada. — IX. Richard's reasoning to prove that he makes money; Me. Boythorn arrives ot Bleak Mour0y Inls account of his lawantt with Str Leicester Dediock; Mtr. Guppy ealls upon Mr. Boythorn on busitvess from Kenge and Carboy ; he asks to sco Esther alone, and “makes ‘an offer,”" which kho declines —X. Mr. Tulkinghorn calls oo Mr. Snagsby to ascertain ‘who copied an artidavit In Jarndyce and Jarndyce; Mr, Shageby conducts him to Krook"s house, where the copyiat lodges.—XI- Gaining admission to ble room, Mr, Tulkinghorn finis Lith ead from an overdose of opium: Br, Suagsby relates what he knows of the decease!) Mr. Tulkinghorn suggests a search for papers, but none are found; the coroner ‘bots axide Jo's evidence; Jo watches the dead man’s grave.—XIT. Sir Leleestorand Lady Dedlock, on the oad home from Paris, receive Mr. Tulkinghorn's message that be bad teen the person who copled the affidavit: Lady Dediock takes notioe of Rosa, which gives Hortense offencor Mr. Tulkingtiom arrives at Cheaney Wold, and gives them an account of tho dead copylat.— XIII. Mehard, choosing a profession, deoldes to become a surpeon t ‘Mr, Kenge recommends Mr. Hayham Badger, and Richard te placed with him: Esther is ‘worried by Mr. Guppy's attentions: Me, Jarndyce and his wards dino #t Mr. Hayhsin Badger's: Ada confides to Kather her engagement to Wichard; and they all consult 3M, Jarndyce. —X1Y. Michard begins w trast to the success of the wait In Chancerys Caddy ‘ellyby ealis upon Esther and Ada; sho tnforme them of her enpagoment; Eather accom panies her to Mr. Turveydrop's academy, aud is Inteoduced to Prince Turveydrop; Mr. ‘Tarveydrop, senior, exhibits hie Depo-tment;"* Caddy ahows w desire to learn house Reeping: going to Mist Fiite’s room v9 meet Mr. Jamndyoo ard Ada, Esther learns of the aicide of Se. Krook's lodgers Br. Allan Woodeourt appears aa Mina Fite's medical at Fite recelves a pension from an waikurwn sonroe; Krook repeata the irs his sitempts to teach biel tread. —3¥. Me, Sklspole's method

856 The Bichens Mictfonarp.

‘of paying his debte; he informs Eather of the death of * Cosvimes;"' the party vist Bell ‘ant to find Neokett's children; how Charley takes care of her brother wnd alstere Mire. UUnder explains the situation of the family; Mr.Gridiey's suit in Equity: Me. Bktmpole's ‘commentary on this state of things. —X¥L Jo, sweeping hls crenaing, is accented by a lady, to whom, st her request, he polnts out the places associated with the sulcid, sud te rewarded with a sovereign. XVIT. Richart becomes languld fn tho profeaion be bas chosen; he argues.to Esther that {tis of Little consequanoe, being only « kind of probation untlh their suit Ix decided; hie thinks * the law is the boy for him; Mr. Jamdyoe telle Katherall he knows of her eazly history 1 Mr. Woodcourt comos to take leave before gel to India; Caddy Jellyby beings the lowers left by Mr. Woodcourt for Rather. —XVIUe Richard shows his careless disposition ta money-matters; Mr. Skimpote’s kdes of property s they vialt Mr. Boythorn, and reosire a characterlatic welcome; Esther experienoee poowe Uar emotions on seeing Lady Dedlock {n ehurch: the same feelings return on meeting her tn a lodge where they take shelter from the ral; how th pride of Hortense wna wounded, and how she revenged heewelf—XIX. Mr.and Mra. Chadband take tea with the tnagabya; Mr. Chadband discourses; @ constable brings Jo to Mr. Snagrby's, beosuse he won't “move on;"* Myr, Guppy appears on tho scene; Jo tells the story of the lady and the sovereigns Mr. Chadtand improves the occasion, and Jo "moves on.""—XX, Me. Guppy invites his friends Smallweed and Jobling to dine with him; Mr. Gappy proposes to Job ling to apply for copying to Snagaby, and algo to take the vacant lodgings at Krook'as Bie ‘Guppy presente his friend to Krook, under the tame of Weevle, and he takes pomevaion of the room, =XXT. The Smallweed family introduced, Mr. George calls to pay the interest money on & loan from Mr. Smallweed's friend in the elty ;"t thelr talk concerning Cap- tain Hawdon; returning to his shiooting-gullory, George is received by Phil Bquot. — XXIL Mr. Snagaby, repeating to Mr, Tulkinghorn Jo's story of the sovereign, ts wurprised, to find Mr. Bucket in companys Mr. Bucket and Snagsby go to “Tomall-Alone’s ™ in search of Jo) they find Jonny nnd her friend; Anding Jo, thoy rotarn with him to Me. ‘Tulkinghorn’s rooms, where Jo recognizes the dress of the lady who bertowed the sovar- eign, but not the lady herself, In the prosence of Mademolslle Hortense, XXII. Mr. Jarndyce and his wands retarn to Uleak House; Hortense offers herself to Rather as lady's maid: Richard 1s again unsettiol, and now makes choles of the army; Caddy consulta Kathor on breaking the news of her engagement to Mr. Turveydrop and Mre Jellyby 5 Ar. Turveydrop 4x oyeroome, but soon recovers: Mrs Jellyby Ja too much absorbed i Torrloboola-Gha to show any Interest In ber daughter; Esther recurns tome, and find Charley engaged as her maid. — XXIV, Me, Jarndyce desires Itichand and Ada to eaticel their engagement before chard joins his regimont; Sr. Gidoree calle to teach Richard fencing, and thinks he has seen Eather before; Esther and Richard visit the Ceurt of Chane cory ¢ Br, Guppy Introduces Mrs. Chadband, formerly Mrx Rachael Mr. George appears {n search of Miss Flite, whom Gridley, who Is hiding al George's to avold arrest, wants to yee; Rather and Richard accompany them to Georgo'ss Mr, Bucket obtains admittance tex inquire; death of Gridioy.—XXV. Mra Suagsby becomes suspicions and Jealousy Mr, Chadband " improves a tough subjects" Jo 4s fed by Guster, and dismissed by Snageby with the gift of half a crown. —XXVL Mr. George and "tal Squod converse about the country; Phil's aceount of his early lifer Mr. George is visited ot his gallery by Geand- father Smallweed and Judy; 31. Smaliweed wants to obtain a specimen of Captain Hawe don's writing for alawyer; Me. George accompanies him to the lawyer's, who proven to be Mr. Tolkinghorn, —XXVIL. Mr. Tulkinghoru offers him a rewand for the wetting he ponseaien; 3. George declines, but proposes to take # friend’ advice; Lhe "old girl" gives Ceorpe Mr. Haguet's opinion, which condirma his own; Mr. George retame t MP Tulkinghorn’s, who uses high words to him in the presence of a clerk. —XXVELL Sit Leloester and Lady Dedlook, after thoir visitors retire, give audience to Mire Rounoewell's 6701 he xpeaks of thoattachmnent of his.aon fur Roma, and requests to be allowed to remove aer from Chesney Wold: Bir Leloestor declines; Lady Dediook invites Rosa's confidence ‘enc promiaes (o make her happy if she can.—XXLX. The young man of the mame of Guppy calls on Lady Dedloek: he mentions the remarkable resemblance Of Ksther Sum Deron to my lady, relates what hohmadiscoversl of her history, —that her real namo ie Mlawvon, sud that fe has found thar Use deceased laveowslter's was the samme; he prounises te bring wy lady Mr. Hawdon's papers, of whick ¢ all gain possession that wight, Lady

Bleak Mouse. B57

Dedlock’s secrot agony for her child. —XXX. Mra. Woodcourt visits Bleak House; Caddy Jeliyby epende threo weeks at Ieak Hones, preparing for her wedding Caddy and Wrince ‘sre married. — XXXI. Charley tnlorms Esther of the return of Jeuny and Ltt, and a sick tay with them} Esther and Charley go to Jenny's, and find Jot he Is terrified at Esther's resorablance to the lady who gave htm the sovereizn: thoy take Jo home, where they find Mr. Swimpolo, who advises turning lm into the street Todimppeare in thanlght: Esther srazres Charley through a dangerous tliness. — XXXL. And i taken with tho same disease herself; Mr. Suagaby, passing through Cook's Court at night, calle Mr, Weevie's atvention pocullar smell wbout the place: Mr. Guppy and Mr, Weevlo, waiting the appointed time for reeetving the packet of Captain Hawdon's letters from Krook, are disguated by ‘the taint In the atmosphere Keeping is appointment, they find Krook dead by spontance ‘ous combustion, —XXXIU. Mr. Snaysty i followed to tho Sol’s Arina by hie wife, who takes him home agains Mr, Guppy recommends Weovls to remain in Krvok’s house, and sep possesalon of the property; tnexpected appearance of heirs Lo the eatate In the pore ‘sane of the Smallweed family: Mr. Guppy carries the news of Krook’s death, and the probable destruction of the papers, to Lady Dediock; retiring, he meets Mr. Talkinghorn. XXXIV, George recelvos due notice of tho maturity of his loan from Grandfather Small- ‘weed; Mr. Bagnet and his wife, coming in to renew bia draft, lad Mr. George in tla dilem= tai Mr, agnot gives bis opinion, through the old girl," that they had better see Mr, ‘Bmallweed at once: Mr. Smallweed refuses to renew the loan, and breaks the pipe of peace: they goto Mr, Tulkinghorn's, where they mect Mrs Rowncewell coming outi to ree himself from Smallweed's claitos, Mr. George sells Mr. Tulkinghorn the speclmen of Captain Mawdon's writings Goorge advises Woolwich to honor hie mother,—XXXY. Eather's recovery: her frat intorview with Mr. Jarndyce; sho receives @ call from Mine Wiitoi Mise Fuito's account of hor case In Chancery, and ber warning sbout Richards the story of Mr. Woodcourt's herole bravery.—XXXVI. Esther and Charley go to Mr. Roy- thom's: Esther first sees the reflection of her (ace scarred by the disease: Eather, reating tn the wood, is met by Lady Dedlock, who owns her as her child, but tells her they mux Weror meet again; Esther’s frst meeting with Ada since her recovery, — XXXVI. Richard ‘sends for iether to meot bln at the Dediock Arma: Mr. #kimpole appears as Iichand ‘artless friend; Esther has an Interview with Richaed, who shows increasing distite for Me. Jamdsee, and increasing confidence in the early decialon of the suit; Ada writes to Rich- ard, praying hit to relinquish his hope from the suit; Eather tries to give Me. Skimpole ‘an Idea of responsibility: Mr. Vholes, lichard's new legal adviner, appears. Mtr. Skimpob ‘showing how he introduced him to Richard: Mr. Vholes informs Michsau thas bis cause 1 ‘coming on the next morning, and they return to town timmediately.— XXX FLL. Bath ‘pots to London: abo calls on Caddy Jellyby, abd dances with the apprentices: Esther and Caddy call on Mr. Guppys Lather requeste a private Interview with Mr. Guppy, nnd cures that gentleman's passion by showing her face: she requests him to give up all idea of perving bor through any discovery relating to her parontage.—XXXtX. Mr. Vhol

respectability; interview between Vholes and Richard, in which Vholes appears with “his shoulder to the wheel; Str. Guppy and Mr. Weorle go to Krook's house to remove Mr. Weevlo's offeots; they find Mr. Tulkinghorn looking on ae tho Smallweeds examine Krook’s papers; Mr. Guppy declines to explain to Mr. Tulkinghorn the business ha had with Lady Dodlock, — XL. Sir Lelocster and his retinue return to Chesney Wold; Sit Lelopater discusses with Volumuia the state of the pending election; Mr. Tulkinghorn arrives with the news of the defeat of Bir Leloester's party, and that Sir. Rouncewell and Aston ware very active in aiding that remit; Mr. Talkinghorn tells & atory bearing os ‘non's position us Lady Dediock’s maid. —XLL Me. Tulkinghorn, on retiring to his room, #rought ty Lady Dedlock; sho asks how long he has known her secret, and how fir It

‘own to others; abe informs him of her dealgn to leave Chesnay Wold at once: be coun: ‘wis her to romain Just as before in all respects and promises to take no atepe to «xpore ‘Rer without warning. —XLII. Mr, Snagsty complains to Mr, ‘Tulkinghorn of the persecur Mons of Mademoladile Hortense; Mr. Tulkinghorn threatens to have Hortense put in cox Amement if she continues her Importunities.— XLUL Esthes suygests to her guard ‘Ghat Mr, Skimpole is not » fafo advisor for Wichard; they vislt Me, Bikimpote at bis homes Mr. Skimpole introduces his family’: he returns with Mr. Jarudyoe to Ilenk House; they secoive & call from Sir Leicester Dedlock; Rather's agitation ta his’ presence; Rather teile

ci

858 Ebe Dickens Pictionary.

hor guardian of the relationship botween herself and Lady Dediovk. —XLTV, Str, Jam dyce sends Rather a letter, with her permisston, asking her to become the mistrensof Bleak Wousoy Esther destroys the flowors sent her by Mr, Woodcourt; sho answers yea to Mr. Famdyce’s letter. —XLV. Mr. Votes calls upon Mr. Jarndyen, and reports the sad state of Richard's adairs; Esther decides to go and see Richard at Deal, whore he ts stationed, and she sols out with Oharley for hereomparion; ahe dnds Iichard looking worn and haggard; Richant grows more and more angry with Mr. Jardsee as the cause of his trlala, and convinces Esther of the necenalty of his withdrawing from the mrmyi Rether recognizes Atlan Woodcourt among some gentlemen landing fron an Indiaman Just wre rived; sto has an Interview with tim, and requests him to befriend Richard, which be Promises to do.— XLVI. Going through Tomall<\tone’s, Str, Woedcourt nds Jeany with ‘a bruised head, which ho dresses for hery they purvue and overtake Jo, and Allan heart from Jonny thestory of his having becn taken in at Bleak House, and Esther catching tie disease Jo gives the reason of bis escaping from Bleak Houro, and Atlan takex charge of Wim. —XLVIL. Jo tells Allan the story of the lady in the veil; Woodcourt consults Mian Fito to find a place of refugo for Jo, and abo recommends Georges Mr, George takes tim Ing George expresses to Mr. Woodcourt his feelings toward Tulkinghorn; Jo seas a mosayge to Mr. Stagahy, who calls to a0 himy Jo makes his last request, and dies, —~ XLVI. Lady Dediock dismisses Rosa; Mr. Rouncewell calls, by Lady Dedicek's appolnt= Ment, and sho relinquishes Ross to his cares Mr, Talkinghor, who f present at the tatervlew, warns Lady Dedlock that he considers her course a departure from her promine, {and that ho shall soon undeoelse Sir Leicester, Mr. Tulkinghorn goes home to his rooms, ‘tnd in the morning (sound murdered, lying on the floor. & XLIX. Mr. Bagnet prepares ‘8 foast on bis wife's birthday: George Jolns them In dull spirits. which he accounts fur by do's death; Mr. Bucket adds himself to tho party, and makes himeelf friendly; Buckot arrests George for tho wnrder of Mr. Tatkinghorn, =I. Caddy Jellyby, who Das an tnfant, and ta Ul, senda for ¥xthor, and Mr. Jarndyce and Ada go with her to Londont Caddy recovers under Mr, Woodcourt's medical care; Esther notices a change in Ada’s manuor towards hers Mr. Woodcourt applies to Vholes for Richard's address —LA, He finds him next door: Eother and Ada visit Richart at his rooms; Ada acknowledges her ‘sworet marriage to Itichant, and Eathor returnsalono ; Rather tolls Mr. Jamdycea.—LII, Mr ‘Woodcourt tells Me, Jarndyce and Eather of the marder of Mr, Tulkinghorn and the arrost of Mr, George; the three visit him in prison George Is determined to-stand by the exact trath, and haveno lawyer: Mr.and Mre. Bagnet also coine tosee George: Georre mentions the resomblanoe of Esther to a figure ho ssw on Mr. Tulkinghorn’s stairs at the tine of the munter. —LIL, Mra. Bagnet reasons that George's mother ts allve, and sete off for Line colnsliire in search of her: Mr, Tucket watches his wife and their lodgers Bucket recelvee smonymous letters containing Lady Dedlock’s namo; he informe Sir Lelccater that he has the osse nearly worked ups— LAV, Next morning, Mr, Bucket Informs Sir Lolooster that tho case tn completes he proceeds to relate the conduct of Lady Dediock, and her fear of Talkinghorn, when they are interrapted hy the arrival of Smsliweed, the Chiadbands, and Mire Snageby, who demand to be bought off from the Rnowledge they have eulned of Lady Dediock's story: Bucket dismieses them, and admits Mademotsello Hortonso, whowa ‘ho accuses of tho murder, and shows how he bes worked up the evidence.— LY. Mew Magnet brings Mrs Rouncewell, Mr, George's mother, to London: the mother aud son ia prison; Mra. Rouncewell Informa Lady Dedlock that ahe has found her von, and appeale fo her for pity’; Mr. Guppy requests an interview with Lady Dedlock, and tnforme her that Me. Sinaltweed and others, probably, know all she would have concealed; flight of Lady Deslock.— LVI. Str Leteenter tx struck with paralysis: Mr. Bucket Interprets his slgne ‘and sets off tn pursult of Lady Dedlooky ho goes to Mr. Jarndyce’s house, and gets Rather ‘o accompany him.—LVIL Bueket tracks Lady Dedlock to the brickinaker's at #t, Alt ‘wun'ss they are told she went north, while Jenny went to London, and they follow on northward in search of or; bucket at fialt — LVL. He decides to follow tho other ane and returua to Londons what Rumor says of Lay Drsflock ; Sir Lelcostie ineixta on necting, Mrs. Rouncewell's non Georgo; they wate through the day atid aight for Lady Dodlook"s return; Kather and Me, Bucket reat London. — LIX. They trace the person they are fol ‘awing to Dr, Sungsby"s, meeting Mx. Woodcourt by the way; they Gnd o lottor for Esther veritton by Lady Dedlock; following Gustee's direotions, they Gnd Lady Dedlock lying

Bleak Mouse. 809

dead at tho gate of the buryIng-ground.—LX, Esther learns from hor guandian that Mr. ‘Woodeourt has dechted to remain in England; Mise lite makes ttichant her executor; Br. Vholes diacumes Hichard's {nterest with Kethors Ada confides her secret to Esther. EXT. Esther requests Mr. Skimpole not to go to Bichard's any more, and attempts to remonstrate with him for betraying Jo to Muckets Mr. Skimpole drops from this history: Allan Woodcourt declares his love to Esther. —LXIL. Kathor ves the day for becoming inistrese of Tilak House, Mr. Bucket introduces Mr. Smallwend, with a newly-discovered will In Jarndyce, — LXE, George makes the acquaintance of ba brother and bis family. =LXIV. Mr. Jarndyce goes to Yorkshire to look after Mr, Woodcourt’s basiness, and sends for Esther to follow hit; heahows her the huuse he has prepared for Allan, which de has named Isletk Mouse, and relinquishes her to Woodcourt: Mr, Guppy, backe t by ‘his mother and Mr. Jobing, renewa his propoml.— LXV. Jarndyce and Jarndyce Is over for good; Rishant | reconciled to Mr. Jarndyce, and “begins the world." —LXVE. Ste Laloveiat's fo at Chesney Wold. —LXVIL. Esther closes her narrative.

Hard Times.

FOR THESE TIMES,

——_

‘Tun talo was originally published in “Household Words;” the first chapter making its appearance in No, 210, for April, 1894, and the last in No. 229, for Aug 12, 1851. Tu the same year ft was brought out independently, In one octave ‘rolume of 252 poges, and was inscribed to Thomas Carlyle, In a letter to Mr Charles Knight (quoted fn his Passages of a Working Lifo™), Mtr, Dickens thas explains his design in writing this #tory:—

My satlro Is against those who see Niguresand averages, and nothing len. —the repre reutatives of the wickedeat and most enormous vice of this time; the men wh, through ong yearn fo come, will do nore to damage the really useful truths of political economy than I could do (if I tried) In my wbolo Ute; the addled heads who would take the

“average of cold tn tho Crimea during twelve months ms reukon for clothing a soldier ta rhankeon oh a night when he would be frozen to death th fur, and who would comfirt the laborer in travelling twelve miles m day to and from hie work by telling him that the avorugé distance of one inhabited place from another on the whole area of England ts not ‘nore than four miles

Let ux not lose the uso of Dickens's wit and insight," sage Mr, Ruskin ¢* Unto thle Tasi;* ch. L),"*ecanse he chooses to spenk In a clrolo of stago-re. He is entirely right nhl main drift and purpoes jn every book he has written; and allof thom, but espectally

‘land Times,*abould be studted with close and eamest eare by persons intereated In aocta questions. ‘They will nd wnach thats partial, and, because partial, apparenty unjust Dut I¢ they examine all the evidenes on the other side, which Diekens same to orerliak ewill appear, afterall thelr trouble that bls view was the Anally right ene, gromaly and sharply told."

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Bitzer, A light-haired and lighteyed pupil of Mr. M‘Choakum child's, in Mr. Gradgrind's model school; crammed full of hard facts, “but with all fancy, sentiment, and affection taken out of hin.

Lis cold cyes would hardly have been eyes, but for the short ends of lashes which, by t-inging them into immediate contrast with something paler thas 369

Mard Times. 861

themselves, expressed thelr form. His ahort-cropped hatr might hare been = ‘mere continuation of the randy freckles on his forehead and face, His akin was 0 unwholesomely deficient in the natural tinge, that he looked as though, If he ‘wore cut, he wonld bleed white.

* Bitzer,” sald Thomas Gradgrind, “ your definition of » horse.”

“ Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth; namely, twenty-four grinders, Sour €ye-tecth, ana twelve incisive. Sheds eoat in the spring; In soarshy countries, slveds tioofs too, Moots hard, but requiring to be shod with tron, Age known by rwarks in mouth.” “Thus (and much more) Bitzer.

After he leaves school, Bitzer is employed as light porter and clerk at Mr. Bounderby's Bank. When Mr, Gradgrind’s son, after robbing the bank, endeavors to escape, he starts in pursuit, ard pounces on him just as he is about to leave his father’s house for Liverpool.

* Bitzer," sald Mr, Gradgrind, broken down, and iniserably submissive to ‘him, “have you a heart?”

“The eircalation, alr," returned Bitzer, smiling at the oddity of the question, “could n't be curried on without one, No man, air, acqualated with the fucts ‘established by Harvey relating to the circulation of the blood, ean doubt that have a heart."

It uccessible * cried Mr. Gradgrind, “to any compassionate Influence?

“Te fs accessible to reason, sir,” returned the excellent young man; “and to nothing else." (Bk, I, ch. ii, v; Bk. II, ch. i, iv, vi, viii, kx, xi; Bk, Tl, ch. vii-

ix.)

Blackpool, Mrs. Wife of Stephen Blackpool. Soon after her marriage, she takes to drinking, and goes on from bad to worse, until she becomes a curse to her husband, to herself, and to all around her. (Bk. I, ch. x-xiii; Bk. II, ch. ix.)

Blackpool, Stephen. A simple, honest, power-loom weaver, in Mr, Bounderby’s fhetory. A rather stooping man, with a knitted brow, a pondering expression of face, and a hard-looking head sufficiently capacious on whic his iron-gray hair Jay long and thin. His lot is a hard one. Tied to a miserable, drunken wife, who has made his home a desolation and a mockery, and for whom he has long ceased to feel either respect or love, he finds himself unable to marry —as he would like to do—a woman (Rachael) who has been a kind and dear friend wo him for many years; and he goes to Mr. Bounderby for advice.

“ha? coom to nak yor, sir, how Imm to be ridded o? this woman.” Stepkew

infused a yet deeper gravity into the mixed expression of his attentive face. .

“What do you mean?” sald Bounderby, gatting up to lean lits back agninst

the chimneyypleoe. “ What are you talking about? You took her for better for worse.” a

-_—

362 Ebe Mickens Mictlonacy.

“Tan be ridden o her. I cannot bear % nommore, 1 ha' lived under "t +0 Jong, for that I hw’ had’n the pity and comforting words o' U1? best lass Living or dead. Haply, but for her, I should ha’ gone hottering mad”

“He wishes to be free to marry the female of whom he speaks, ¥ fear, sir,"ob- served Mrs. Sparait in an undertone, and much dejected by the {immorality of the people.

“Ido, The indy says what right, Tao, Twere coming tot. That read? th! papers that great fok (fair fuw ‘em a'! Twishes ‘em no hurt!) are not bonded toguther for better, for worse, no fast, Dut that they ean be set free fro" thelr milafort- ‘nt marriages, wn’ marry ower agen. When they dunnot agree, for that thelr tem= pers Is {il-sorted, they has rooms o one kind an* another in thelr houses, above a bit, and they can live asunders, We fok ba’ only one room, an? we can’t. When that won't do, they ha gowd an’ other cash, an’ then they aay, ‘Tha for yo, ant thot for mo;? an’ they can go their separate ways. We can't, Spite o° all that, they can be set free for smaller wrongs than mine. So I mun? be ridden o? thie woman, and I wan! t' know how.”

“No how," retarned Mr. Bounderby,

“If T do her auy hurt, str, there 'e a law to punish me?”

“OF course, there is.”

“If I flee from her, theres a law to punish me?”

"Of course, there is." if Lmarry Coother dear lass, there 'e & law to punish me?”

“Of course, there is."

“Tf Twas to live w? her, an? not marry her,—saying auch « thing could be, which lt norer could or would, an’ her so good, —there ’s ® law to punish me in tnnovent child belonging to me?"

f course, there ‘ow, a’ God's name," sald Stephen Blackpool, “show me the law to help met” Hem! ‘There ’s » sanctity in this relation of life, sald Mr. Bounderby, “ and —nnd —It must be kept up."

“No, no, dunnot aay that, sir! *T an't kep' up that way,—not that way,—PT' la np’ down that way. I’m aweaver, I were in s fuct'rs when ohilt; but I hin’ got- ten cen to see wi’, and cern to year wi'. I read in th? papers overy 'Sizes, every Seasions—and you read too: I know it!—with dismay, how th’ auppored unpos sibility ov ewer getting unchained from one another, at any price, on any terms. brings blood upon this land, and brings many common married fok to battle, murder, and sudden death. Let ua ha’ this right understood. Mine's a grievous ‘sare, an’ I want — if yo" will be #0 good —¥’ know the taw that helps me.”

“Now, I tell you what!” sald Mr. Bounderby, putting his hands im his pockets. “There ie such a law.” subsiding into hls quiet manner, and nover wandering ia his attention,

“Bur it's not for you at all. Tt costs money. Tt costs mint of money."

“How much might that be?” Stephen calmly asked.

Why, you'd have to go to Doctorw’ Commons with » sult, and you'd have to go to a court of Common Law with a suit, and you 'd have to go to the House of Lords with a anit, and you Wd have to get an Act of Parliament to enable you to avarry ngain; and {t would oost you (if It was m case of very plain malting), I sup pose, from a thousand to fifteen hundred pound,” said Mr. Bounderby,—"“ perhaps *yrico the money

“Phere 's no other In???

Certatuly not.”

SUISMVdS “SAWN GNY AWAAGNAON “WHE

Macd Slmes. 368

“hy, then, sir," sald Stophen,. . . “t is a muddle,” sald Stephen, shakins ‘his head as he moved to the door, —“t Is a? a maddie! ”

When the Coketown operatives enter into a combination against their employers, and establish certain “ regulations,” Stepben re- fuses to join thom, and they all renounce and shun him. And when Mr. Bounderby questions him about the association (styled the “United Aggregate Tribunal"), calling the members “a set of rascals and rebels,” he earnestly protests that they are acting from i sense of duty, and is angrily told to finish what he ’s at, and thea look eleewhere for work, Leaving Coketown in search of employ: ment, he falls into an abandoned coal-shaft (“ Old Hell Shaft") hid- den by thick grass, where he remains for some days, when he is acci- dentally discovered, and is rescued, alive, but dreadfully bruised, and #o injured, that he dies soon after being brought to the surface. (Bk. I, ch. x-xiii; Bk. Uy, ch. iv-vi, ix; Bk. Ill, ch. ivvi) See Gravormp, Tom.

Bounderby, Josiah. <A wealthy Coketown manufacturer, who marries tho daughter of Mr, Gradgrind. (Bk. I, ch. lil-ix, xi, xiv xvi; Bk. I, ch. -xii; Bk. IU, ch. fi-ix.) See Graponmp, Lovisa.

‘Mr. Bounderby was as near being Mr. Gradgrind’s bosom-friend as a man perfectly derold of ventiment can approach that »piritual relationship towards auother man perfectly devoid of sentiment, So near was Mr, Bounderby,—or, Af the reader should prefer it, 40 far off.

Ho was a rich man,—banker, merchant, manufhoturer, and what not; a big, loud man, with » «tare, and # metallic laugh; aman made out of a coarse mu- terial, which seomed to have been stretched to make so much of him; # man ‘with » great puffed head and forehead, swelled voins in is temples, and such & strained skin to his face, that it seemed to hold his eyes open, and lift his eye brows up; a man with a pervading appearance on him of being inflated like a balloon, and ready to #tart; aman who could never sufficiently vaunt himsele selfmade man; a man who was always proclaiming, through that brassy speaking-trumpet of a yolce of his, his old ignorance and his old poverty; a ‘nan who was the Bully of hamility.

‘Ayer or two younger than bis eminently practical friend, Mr. Bounderly looked older; his seven or eight and forty might have had the seven or eight added to It again, without surprising anybody. He had not much hatr. One might have fancied he bad talked {t off; and that what was left, all standing up In disorder, was in that condition from being constantly blown about by bis windy boastfaluess.

Bounderby, Mrs, Louisa, See Graporip, Louisa,

Childers, Mr. H. W. B. A young man, who is a member of Sleary’s Circus Troupe, and is celebrated for his daring vaulting act as the Wild Huntsman of the North American Prairies. (Bk. I, ch. vi; Bk. Il, ch. vii, viii.)

— ||

BOL The Dickens Pictionary.

Hi face, close-shaven, thin, and sallow, was shaded by a great quantity of dark Lalr brushed into a roll all round his head, and partod up the oxntre. His ngs were very robust, but shorter than legs of good proportions should have been. His chest and back were as much too broad as his legs were too short. Ho was drossed tn « Newmarket coat and tight-fitting trouser; wore a abawl round his neck; «melt of Iamp-oll, straw, orange-peel, horses’ provender, and sawdust; and looked a most remarkable sort of Centaur, compounded of the ‘stable and the play-house. Where the one began, and the other ended, nobody vould have told with any sreciston.

Gordon, Emma. A member of Sleary’s Circus Troupe, and a friend to Sissy Jupe. (Bk. I, ch. vi; Bk. III, ch. vil)

Gradgrind, Mr. Thomas. A retired wholesale hardware mer- chant. (Bk. I, ch. ivix, xivexvi; Bk. UL, ch. iniii, vii, ix, xi, xii; Bk. IY, ch. Hix.)

“THOMAS GRADGRIND, sir,—a man of realities; a man of fhots and caloula- tlons; m man who proceeds upon the principle that two mud two are four, und nothing over, and who fs not to be talked into allowing for any thing over; ‘Thomas Gradgrind, sir,—peremptorily Thomas, Thomas Gradgrind; with » rule and s pair of scales, snd tho multiplication-table always in his pooket, air, ready to welgh and measure any parcel of human nature, nnd tell you exactly whatit comes to. Itis amore question of figures, a case of almple arithmetic, ‘You might hope to get some other nousensical belief into the head of George Gradgrind, or Augustus Gradgrind, or John Gradgrind, or Joseph Gradgrind (all supposititios, non-existent persons), but into the head of Thomas Grad- grind—no, siri”™

In such terms Mr. Gradgrind always mentally introduced himself, whether to his private cirele of aequalntance, oF to the public In general,

Visiting his model school in company with a government officer of the same intensely practical, utilitarian stamp as bimself, he tells the teacher, Mr. MChoakumchild, —

“Now, what L want is facts, Tench these boys nod girls nothing but facts, Fucts alone are wanted in Life. Flant nothing else, and root out every thing else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon facts: nothing else will over be of any service to them. hia is the principle on which I Dring ‘wp my own obildren, and this 1s the principle on which I bring ap there ohill- dren. Stick to fhets, air!”

The scone was a pial, bare, monotonous vault of a schoolroom, and the apenker’s square forefinger emphasized his observations by underscoring every sentence with a line on the schoolmaster’s slecye. ‘The emphasis waa helped by the xpeaker’s square wall of a forehead, which had his eyebrows for its base; while his eyes found commodious cellsrage in two dark cares, urer- shadowed by the wall. ‘The emphasis was helped by the speaker's mouth, ‘hich was wide, thin, and hard set. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's voice, which was inflexible, dry, and dictatorial. ‘The emphasix was helped by the speaker's hnir, which bristled on the skirts of hls bald head, a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its shining surface, all covered with knobs, like the crust of a plam-ple, as if the head had searcely warehouse room tor the hand fncts stored [nside, ‘The speaker"s obstinate carriage, equare cont, «quare epm square shoulders, nay, his very necksloth, trained to take him by the throm

Mard Elmes, 365

‘with an unncsommodating grasp, ?ike a stubborn fact, as it was~-all helped the emphasis. ,

‘Mr. Gradgrind’s residence is a very matter-of-fact place, called “ Stone Lodge,” situated on = moor within a mile or two of the great manufacturing town of Coketown,

A very regular feature on the face of the country, Stone Lodge was. Not the least disguise toned down or shaded off that uncompromising fact in the landscape. A grent square house, with & heavy portico darkening the prinelpal windows, as its roaster’s heavy brows overshadowed his eyes,—m caloulated, cast-up, balanced, and proved house. Six windows on this side of the door, six ‘on that sido; a total of twelve in this wing, a total of twelve i the other wing; four and twenty carried over to the back; m Inwn and garden and an Infant avenue, all ruled straight :fke a botanical aecount-book} gas and ventilation, drainage and water-servico, all of the primest quality; fron clamps and gird- ‘ert, fireproof, from top to bottom; mechanical lifts for-the housemalds, with all their brushes and brooms: every thing that heart could desire.

Mr. Gradgrind marries his eldest daughter, according to a math- ematical plan which he has adopted, to Mr. Bounderby, another eminently practical man, who is not only twenty years her senior, but is in every respect unsuited to her. The result of this ill-ns sorted union is unhappiness not only to the wife, but to her father as well, for whom a still sharper trial is in store. His eldest son, whom he has carefully trained, becomes dissipated, robs his em-

ployer, and brings disgrace on the hitherto unblemished mame of, —

Gradgrind. In his sore trouble, Mr, Gradgrind {4 consoled and strengthened by two of the most unpractical people in the world, — Mr. Sleary, the manager of a circus, and Sissy Jupe, the daughter of a clown, both of whom he has repeatedly lectured on their utter want of worldly wisdom and practicality. Forced to admit that much of his misfortune is attributable to his own hard system of philosophy, he becomes a humbler and a wiser man, bending his hitherto inflexible theories to appointed circumstances ; making his facts and figures subscrvient to Faith, Hope, and Charity, and no longer trying to grind that heavenly trio in his dusty little mills See Suwany (Ma), and Jure (Crea).

Gradgrind, Mrs, Wife of Mr. Thomas Gradgrind, (Bk. I, ch. iv, ix, xv; Bk. IL, ch. ix.)

A little thin, white, pink-eyed bundle of shawls, of surpassing fecbleness mental and bodily; who was always taking physic without any effect; and who, whenever she showed a symptom of coming to iif, was invariably stunned by tomo weighty plece of fact tumbling on her.

Gradgrind, Adam Smith. A younger son of Mr. Gradgrind. (Bk. I, ch. iv.) ae

366 The Mickens Dietfonacy,

Gradgrind, Jane. Mr. Gradgrind’s younger daughter. (Bk. | ch. iy, xvi; Bk. I, ch. ix; Bk. Uf, ch. i.) Gradgrind, Louisa, Eldest child of Mr. Gradgrind.

‘There was an air of Jaded sullennoss in . . . the girl; yet, struggling through fire with nothing to burn, a starved fmagination keeping life is Itself somehow, which brightened its expression, —not with the brightness natural to cheerful: youth but with uncertatn, eager, doubtful dashes, which had something palm ful fn them, analogous to the changes of a blind face groplug its way.

She becomes the wife of Josiah Bounderby, who says to the guests at the breakfast-table, after the marriage-ceremony has been performed, —

“Lbave watched her bringing up, and I believe she is worthy of me, Atthe ‘same time, —not to deoelve you,—I believe 1 am worthy of her, Sot thank ‘you, on both our parts, for the good-will you have shown towards us; and the best wish I can give the unmarried part of the present company tn this: Thope ‘ovory bachelor may find #s good a wife ms I hare found; snd I hope every spinster may find as good a husband ax my wife has found.”

‘The current of their wedded life does not run smooth, however. Ctter incompatibility of temper, utter want of mutual love or sympathy, pave the way for a plausible acquaintance — a polished, easy man of the world—to approach her with insidious declara tions of love, and to propose an elopement. Resisting the tempta- tion, she flees to her father’s house, and implores him to save her. ‘He recommends to her husband to allow her to stay there for a while, that she may have the opportunity she so much needs for repose and reflection ; but Mr. Bounderby requires that she shall return to his bed and board by the next day noon; and, as she fails to do so, he refuses to have any thing more to do with her, and leaves herin her father’s charge. (Bk. I, ch. iil, lv, vi-ix, xivexwi; Bk. Il, eb. §-ili, v-xii; Bk. TIL, ch. i-ix.)

Gradgrind, Malthus. A sn of Mr. Gradgrind. (Bk. I, ch. iv.)

Gradgrind, Thomas, Mr. Gradgrind’s youngest son; a selfih, ill-natured, sensual, mercenary whelp. He is employed as a clerk in Bounderby's Bank, and, being a dissipated and extravagant Idler, robs it of some hundred and fifty pounds. Fora time, he suc ceeds in throwing suspicion upon an innocent factory-operative but his own guilt is soon established, and he flees from the country to avoid arrest and imprisonment. (Bk. 1, ch. ii, iv, vii-ix, xiv, xvi; Bk. Il, ch. i-iii, v-v ik THT, ch. ii-ix.)

Harthouse, Mr. James, A friend of Mr. Gradgrind’s, a thon ough gentleman, made to the model of the time, weary of every

Macd Tlmes. 367

thing, and putting no more faith in any thing than Lucifer. He is “five and thirty, good-looking, good figure, good teeth, good voice, dark hair, bold eyes.” (Bk. Il, ch. i-iii, v, vii-xli; Bk. IM, ch. ii, iil.) See Gnavonixp (Loursa), Jere (Crertta).

Jape, Cecilia, or Sissy. The daughter of a clown. She has

been kindly permitted to attend the school controlled by Mr. Grad+ grind; but Mr. Bounderby thinks that she has a bad influence over the other children, and advises that the privilege should be with- drawn, The two gentlemen accordingly visit the “ Arms” at Pod’s End, to inform her father of their iatention: but they find that Signor Jupe,—always a half-cracked man, — having got old and stiff in the joints, so that he cannot perform his parts sat~ isfactorily, and having got his daughter into the school, and there- fore, as he seems to think, got her wel! provided for, has run off to parts unknown, Under these circumstances, Mr. Gradgrind de- cides to take charge of the girl, and educate and support her. She accompanies him home, and makes herself very useful and companionable in his family. When Louisa is about to fall into the meshes of Mr. Hurthouse, Sissy visits that gentloman, and persuades and shames him into leaving the neighborhood; and, when Mr Gradgrind’s son is about to be arrested for the robbery of Bounderby’s Bank, she sends him to her father's old employer, Mr, Sleary, who conceals him, and gets him safely abroad. (Bk. I, ch. ii, iv-ix, xiv, xv; Bk. II, ch. ix; Bk. II, ch. {, il, iv-ix.)

Jupe, Signor. A clown in Sleary’s circus; father of Sissy Jupo,

ming dog Merrylegs” (Bk.

ii.) See Jove, Crerura.

Kidderminster, Waster, A mlberar Sleary’s Circus Troupe; a diminutive boy, with an old face, who assists Mr, Childers in his daring vaulting-act as the Wild Huntaman of the North American Prairies; taking the part of bis infant son, and belng carried upside down over his father’s shoulder, by one foot, and held by the crown of his bead, heels upwards, in the pal: of his father’s hand, accord- ing to the violent paternal manner in which wild huntsmen may be ‘observed to fondle their offspring. (Bk. I, ch. vi; Bk. II, ch. vii.)

M'‘Choskumchild, Teacher In Mr. Gradgrind’s modei school. (Bk. I, cl xiv.)

‘Ho and some hundred and forty other schoolmasters had been lately turne ‘atthe same time, fu the ame factory, on the same principles, like #0 many planoforte legs. He had been put through #n immense variety of paces, and had auswered volumes of head-breaking questions. Orthography, etymology,

368 The Dickens Mictlonarp.

syntax, and prosody, biography, astronomy, srograny and general commogra phy, the aclences of compound proportiog, algebra, land surveying aud level ing, vocal musio, and drawing from models, were all at the ends of his ten chilled fingers. He had worked his stony way into her Majesty's most Honorable Privy Couneil’s Schedule B, and had taken the bloom off the higher branches of mathematics and physteal sclence, French, German, Latin, and Greek, Ife knew nll bout the watersheds of alt the world (whatever they are), aod all toe histories of all dhe peoples, and all the names of all the rivera and moun- tains, and all the productions, manners, and customs of all the countries, and ail thelr boundarios and bearings on the two and thirty points o: the compass. ‘Abt rather overdone, M’Choakumchild. If he had only learnt a little less, how infinitely better he might have taught such more!

Merrylegs. Signor Jupe’s trained performing-dog. (Bk. I, ch. iil, yewlii; Bk. IIT, ch. viii.)

Pegler, Mrs. Mother of Josiah Bounderby; a mysterious old wo- man, tall and shapely, though withered by time, Her son, growing rich, becomes ashamed of her, and gives her thirty pounds a year to keop away from him, and not claim any relationship with him ; but the secret is at last divulged, under the most ridiculous circum- stances, through the agency of the inquisitive and superserviceablo Mrs, Sparsit. (Bk. I,ch. xii; Bk. Il,eh. vi, viii; Bk. III, olu iv, v.)

Rachael. A factory-hand; a friend of Stephen Blackpool's. (Bl. I, cb, x= Bk, I, ch. iv, vi; Bk, TI, ch. iv-vi, ix.)

Scadgers, Lady. Great-aunt to Mrs. Sparsit; an immensely fat old woman with an inordinate appetite for butcher's meat, and a mysterious leg, which has refased to get out of bed for fourteen years, (Bk. I, ch. vii; Bk. If, ch. viii; Bk. Ill, ch. ix.)

Slackbridge. A trades-union agitator and orator. (Bk. II, ch. iv; Bk. IIT, iv.)

Sleary, Josephine. Daughter of a circus proprietor; a pretty, fhirhaired girl of eighteen, noted for her graceful Tyrolean flower act. (Bk. I, ch. vi; Bk. I, ch. vii.)

Bleary, Mr. Proprictor of a “Horee-riding,” or circus; a stout ” man, with one fixed eye and one loose eye, a voice (if it can be called #0) like the efforts of a broken old pair of bellows, a flabby surface, and a muddled head, which is never sober, and never drunk. Ilo is troubled with asthma, and his breath comes far too thick and heavy for the letter “s.” (Bk. J, ch. vi, ix; Bk. TI, ch. vii, viii.)

Sparsit, Mrs. Mr. Bounderby’s housekeeper; an elderly lady highly connected, with a Coriolanian style of nose, and dense black eyebrows, Mr. Bounderby gives her a hundred a year, disguising the payment under the name of an “annual compliment.” (Bk. cb. vii, xi, xvi; Bk. II, ch. i, ili, vi, vili-xi; Bk. IU, ch iii, v, bx)

Mary Clmes. 369

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

BOOK [.—Caapren I. Mr. Thomas Gradgrind discourses on fact to the school-chie drer.—Il. Ho examines Kimy Jupe, and exprowes his disatiefuction at tho business of her Zather: Mr, Gradgrind and bis friend, addromaing the school, insist upon the xuprem= 0y Of fact. —I1T, Mr. Gradgrind’s horror at finding his children peeping ut the olreas. = TY, Mr, Bounderby gives Mra Gradgrind an account of his bringing ap; Mr. Gradgring ‘entors with tho children, and he and Bounderby decile that the preseneo of Slaay Jupo in. ‘the school has produced @ bad effect, and that she should be discharged. ~V. Mr. Gendgrind and Mz. Bounderby go to Coketown to carry out this design, when thes meet Sissy in tho ‘treot, and go With her fo the house)where hee father Is staying. — VI. Jupe is mlslng, and Simy pees In search of him; Mr. X. W. 2}, Childors anspoots Jupe hax run away, and 60 ‘explains his absence: flnding Jape does not return, Gradgrind offers Sisay a home under ‘ertaln conditions, which she accept, —VIT. Mra Sparait appears ax Mr, ounderby's ousekeeper: Me. Gradgrind completes his plan of befriending Siavy Jupe, and takes her ‘home with him to Stone Lodge. —VItl. Sympathy between Tom and Louisa, and Tom's plan of managing Bounderby through her influence. 1X. Sissy's account of her progress ia ‘school; she tells Loulsa about her father and bis occupation: Sisxy's continued disappotnt- ment at hearing nothing from ber father. —X. Stephen Blackpool, watehing for Rachael fas the hands Leave tho fuctorioa, mines hor, but afterwards orertakes heron the way ome; leaving her, be proceeds home, and finds his drunken wife come back. —XI. Stephen consults Mr. Bounderby how ho can gat rid of hile wife by law, and tx more than ‘ever convinced that it “ina' a muddle.""—XIL. After leaving Stra Bonnderby's house, Stephon encounters an old woman, who Is groatly Interested In that gontleman's welfare, —XUL Stephon finds Rachael tending his wifo; Rachael prevents her from polroning ber tolf; Rachael's tnflaence over Stephon. —X1V. Sissy Jupe Ie removed from echool: Mr. Gradgrind becomes sensible that Louisa han grown quite a young woman; Tom gives Lonlsa # hint of how she may be useful to hint, —XV. Mr, Gradgrind informs Louisa thas Mr. Boundorby has offered to make her his wife, and ahe accepts him. —XVL. Mr. Boun- derby Informs Mrs. Sparsit of his approaching marriage, and provides for her removal to the tank; Mr. Bounderby makes a apecch at his wedding-treakfust.

BOOK If, —CuarrEn I, Bitzer informs Mrs. Sparait of his susplolons of Mr. Thomas ‘Mr. James Marthouse calls at the bank to make inquiries for Str. Bounderby.—I. Mr. arthouse presents‘bis lettors of introduction to Mr. Hounderby, and Is tatroduced to Mrs, Boundorby; Mr. Harthouse, watching for something to move Loulss, finds it in th ‘sppearance of Tom. —TIL, Harthouse draws from Tom some particulars in regard to hie later and her edacation.—IV. Sinckbridge harangues tho Coketown operatives; Stephen ‘declines to enter into the proposed regulations of the workmen, and fs shuuned by all his old friends. —V. Tounderby sends for Siphon, who expresses to him and Harthouse hls ‘opinion of the action of the workmen, whom be justifies, though he does not Jon thom: Bounderby becomes angry with him, and discharges him. — V1. Stophen la surprised to meet Rachael in company with Mrs Pegler, she old woman whom he had mat before, he informs them of bis discharge, and Invites them to accompany him home; Mra. Pegler speaks of ‘tho son whom abe has lost, and shows great fear of meeting Mr. Bounderby; Louisa calls ‘upon Stephen, accompanied by Tom, to express her armpathy, and to offer him asalatance Tom, under promise of doing him n service, naks Stephen to bang about the bank exch reuing before ho leaves Cokstown; Stephon leaves Coketown in acarch of work. — VEL. Harthouso goes to Mr. Bounderty"s eountry-bouse, and finds Louisa alone: he assumes ai Aatereat in Tom for the purpose of securing an influence over her; Harthoume accuses Tom Angratitadeto his eater, and he promises amendment. VILL. The robbery of Bounderby' Bank, snd the effect of the news upon Loulssy Staphen Miackpool inxuspected of the crime oa the evidence of Mrs. Sparalt and Bitzer, by whom bo was aven hanging round the bank; Dre. Sparsit shows hor devermination to pity Bounderby, and keeps hor ¢y@ an Harthousa ‘and Loulsa; Louisa goes to Tom's room, snd begs him to confide In her.— LX. Mra Spare t's action throws Harthouse and Loulsa more together; sickness and death of Mra.

aa

870 Ede Wickens Wletfonary

Geadgrind; Mes Sparstt watches the growing tatiinacy of Harthouso with Louisa. —X. Harthouso tries to convinoe Loulsa of Blackpool's guilt. XE, Mrs Sparsit, learning trom. Tom that he has an appointment to meet Mr. Harthouxe at Coketown, suxpects this plan to keep Tom ont of the wap, while Harthouxe goes to moot Toulss alone in tho aby sence of Mr. Bounderby ; and, hastening off to the country-house, she finds them together, ‘and ovorbears Harthouse's declaration of lover Mra Sparut follows Loulas, through * drenching storm, to Coketown, and there loves slght of her.—XIL Louies goes home hhor father, tells bim her story, and begs him to sare her.

BOOK IU. —Cuarrax I. Mr. Graigrind begios to suspect some dofeet in his system of socsation; Siey comforts Loute.—IT. Mr. Marthoune, Ia doubt of what may haprea “Dext, recelves a call from Sissy Japs, who Informs him he can never see Loules again, aad ‘asks him, a9 the only reparation he can make, to leavo the place immediately, which he dooldes to do. ETI. Ses. Sparsit Informs Bounderby of her discoveries, wnd he takes her fo Mr. Gradgrind’s, whore he learns what hax bocome of Loulesy at Mr, Gradgrina’s sug ‘estion that Loulss should remain there for a time, Bounderby determines to leave her therpall tho time. —1¥, Hounderby offersa reward for tho approhonston of Stephen Back» pools Rachnel appeals to Loulas to condirm her story of Loula's visit to Stephen, and Promos that ho #hail bo there In two days; Stopheu (alls to apposr, and cannot be found. —YV. Mra Sparait captures old Mra. Pegler, and takes her to Hounderhy"s house; ahe proves to bo ounderty's mother, and alt hls storios of his ebildhood falschooda.— VI. Bisay and Rachacl, walking in tho lelds, discover Stephen's hat at the mouth ofan aban- doned coal-shafty help gathers, and Stephen ts raleed from the pit, sill ullves he recog ‘nize Rachacl, and asks Mr. Gradgrind to cloar his nase, ax his son can tell him hows Stephen dlox — VII. Tom vanishes at a hint from Stay; Louisa and Slay inform Mr. Gradgrind of thelr previous suxpicions of Tom, "wad that Sissy had sent him to Mr. Sleary to bo hiddeny Mr, Gradgrind, Louisa, and Simy go to Mr. Sleary, thon exhibiting not fr from Liverpool, and arrange for Tom's escape from the country, In disguise, whon thelr plan ts Lotarrepted by Biiser.— VILE Mr. Sleary, through the ald of hia trained horse St do, sits Tom to sesape,—EX. Men Bparlt bes eure of Mr. Benatar tae of

The Seven Poor Travellers.

([romusuxp ox “Houskionn Wonns," ox 1894.)

‘In the ancient elty of Rochester, tn Kent, is a venerable white house with this teseription over its quaint old door:

RICHARD WATTS, ESQ. BY mis Witt, Daren 2 Ava. 1570, POUNDED Hts CHARITE YOR #1X POOR TRAVELLERS, wo, Yor EEG ROGUES, ox PROCTORS, (MAT RECEIVE ORATIA YOR OXR NIGHT LODGING, ENTERTAINMENT, AND FOURVEXCE EACH.

On a certain Christmas eve, the narrator of the story —who deseribes himself ns being a traveller, and withal as poor as he hopes to be—visigs the Charity, and makes Inquiries of the matron concerning the institution and its management. He finds that the presoribed number of travellers is forthooming every night from year’s end to year's end, but that they are not lodged in the house Itself, occupying two little galleries at the back Instead; neither are they provided with entertain= tent, as might be supposed, but buy what they can with their fourpences, and prepare their own suppers, afire and cooking-uteualls belng furnished them for this porpose. OF tho whole revenue of the establishment, only about # thirtieth part ls expended for the objects commemorated Ln the inscription over the door; the rest being handsomely laid out in chancory, Isw-expenses, collectorehip, receivership, poundage, and other appendages of management highly complimentary to the im- portance of the Six Poor Travellers, and essential to the dignity of the Board of Trustees. Having ascertained these fhots, the narrator becomes desirous of treat- Ing the travellers on that night to ® supper and & glass of hot waanall at his own expense. Consent being granted, he sets before them a most substantial and ex» vellent meal, and after it fx ended tells them —

THE STORY OF RICHARD DOUBLEDICK. am

372 The Dickens Mctlonar»

OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Ben. A waiter.

Doubledick, Richard. A young man who has run wild, ana has been dismissed by the girl to whom he was betrothed. Made reckless by this well-deserved stroke, he enlists in a regiment of the line under an sssumed name, becomes more dissipated than ever, and is constantly getting punished for some breach of disci- pline. Under the influence of the captain of his company, how= ever, he becomes an altered man, rises rapidly from the ranks, and gains the reputation of being one of the boldest spirits in the whole army. At Badajos the captain falls, mortally wounded by French officer; and from that moment Doubledick devotes himself to avenging the death of his friend, in case he should, ever meet that French officer again. At Waterloo he is among the wounded, and for many long weeks his recovery is doubtful; but heis tenderly nursed by Mrs. Taunton, the mother of his lost friend, and by the young Indy (Mary Marshall) to whom he bad been engaged, and who now marries him. Three years afterwards, he has occasion to visit the South of France, to join Mrs. Taunton (who has gone thither for her health), and escort her home. He finds her the unwitting guest of the very officer who killed her son, and whose life he has vowed to have in return. But the frank and noble demeanor of the Frenchman, the innocent happiness of his pleasant home, and the warm regard which Mrs. Taunton has come to foel for him, —all combine to suggest better thoughts and feclings; and Captain Doubledick secretly forgives him in the name of the diving Forgiver of injuries.

Marshall, Mary. A beautiful girl, betrothed to Richard Double dick; afterwards estranged from, but finally married to, him.

Taunton, Captain. The captain of the company in which Priv ate Richard Doubledick enlists,

Taunton, Mrs. His mother.

The Holly-Tree.

[Pontismxp rx “ Housenotp Wore,” mx Decexmen, 1858.) er

‘Tars Is the story of « gentleman, who, imagining himself to have been sup- planted in the affections of a young lady, resolves to go stralght to America—on his “way to the Devil.” Before starting, however, he finds occasion to make « ‘vialt to m certain plaos on the farther borders of Yorkshire, and on the way thither ho gets snowed up for a week at the Holly-Tree Inn, where be finds himself the only guest, Sitting by the fire in the principal room, he reads through all the books in the house; namely, a “Book of Roads,"*a little song-book terminating in m callection of toasts und sentiments, a little Jest-book, an odd volume of “Peregrine Pickle,” and “The Sentimental Journey,” to say nothing of two or three old news- papers. ‘These being exhausted, he endeavors to while away the time by recalling his experience of inns, and his remembrances of those he bas beard or read of. He further beguiles the days of his tmprisonment by talking, at one time or anoth- ‘er, with the whole establishment, not excepting the “ Boots,” who, lingering in the ‘room one day, tells him story about a young gentleman not eight years old, who ‘runs off with a young lady of seven to Gretaa Green, and puts up at the Holly- ‘Tree. When the ronds are at last broken out, and Just as the disconsolate traveller 4s.on the point of resuming his journey, a carriage drives up, and out Jamps his (as he supposes) wuccessful rival, who is rauning away to Gretna too. Te turns put, however, that the lady he has with him is not the one with whom the traveller is in love, but her cousin. ‘The fugitives are hastened on thelr way; and the trav- el'er retraces bis ateps without delay, goes atralght (o London, and marries *he it “thom he thought he had lost forever,

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Boots. See Cozzs. Charley. Guest at the Holly-Tree Inn; » self-supposed rejected man; in love with Angela Leath. 2 m

874 Che Dickens Mictlonacp,

‘

Cobbs. The “ Boots” at the Holly-Tree Inn; formerly under-gar dener ai Mr. Walmers’s.

Edwin. Supposed rival of Charley, the guest at the Holly-Tree; betrothed to Emmoline.

Emmeline. Cousin to Angela Leath. She elopes with her lover, Edwin, and is married to him at Gretna Green.

George. Guard of a coach.

Leath, Angela, The lady-love and aftexwards the wife of Char ley (the Holly-Tree guest), who for a time delades himself inte thinking that she prefers his friend Edwin,

Norah. Cousin to Master Harry Walmer, junior, with whom she runs away from home, intending to go to Gretna Green, and be married to him. She is, however, overtaken and carried home, and long afterwards becomes the wife of « captain; and finally dies in India.

‘Walmers, Master Harry, junior. A bright boy, not quite eight years old, who falls in love with his cousin, a little girl of seven, and starts with her for Gretna Green, to get married. Stop. ping at the Holly-Tree Inn in their journey, they are recognized by the “ Boots,” who had been in the service of the young gentle- man’s father, The landlord immediately sets off for York to inform the parents of the two little runaways of their whereabouts, They return late at night; and Mr. Walmers, —

“The door belng opened, goes in, goes up to the bedside, bends gently down, and kisses the little sleeping fee; then he stands look! looking wonderfully like It (they do say he ran away wis then hie gently shakes the little shoulder.

«Harry, my dear boy! Harry!?

“ Master Harry starts up and looks at his pa,—looks at me too, Such ts the honor of that mite, that he looks at me, to see whother he has brought me into trouble,

“eT am not angry, my’ child, Youly‘want you Vo dread yourself nd sooke home.

“* Yeu pa!

“ Master Harry drosses himself quick.

“*Please, may I? (the spirit of that Ustlo oresture!), ‘please, dear pa,— may I—Kiss Norah before I go??

“*¥ou may, my child?

“So ho takes Master Harry in his hand, and I leads the way with the eanille to that other bedroom, where the elderly Indy {s seated by the bed, and poor Vittle Mrs. Harry Walmers, junior, s fast asleop. ‘There the father lifts the boy up to the pillow, and he lays his little fica down for an instant by the little ‘warm face of poor little Mrs. Harry Walmers, junior, and gently draws it te him, —a sight #0 touching to the chambermaids, who are a-peeping through the door, that ono of ther calls out, *It"%s a shame to part em!”

Ebe Mollp-Sree. 875

Finally," Boots sayy, “ that 'e all about {t. Mr, Walmers drove away tn the chaise, having hold of Master Harry's hand. ‘The elderly indy and ‘Mrs. Marry ‘Walmers. junior, that was never to be, went off next day.” In conclusion, Roots puts it to me whether I hold with him in two opinions: firstly, that there ure not many couples on their way to be married who are half as innocent as them two children; secondly, that it would be a Jolly good thing for a great many couples on thelr way to be married, if they suld only be stopped In time, ‘and brought back separate,

Walmers, Mr. The father of Master Harry; a gentleman living at the “ Elmscs,” near Shooter's Hill, six or seven miles from Lon- don. “Boots” thus describes him: —

Ae was a gentleman of spirit, and good-looking, and held his head up when he walked, and had what you may call “fire” about him. He wrote poetry, and he rode, and he ran, and he ericketed, and he danced, and he acted; and he done tt all equally besutiful. Ite was uncommon proud of Master Harry, as was ‘his only child; but he did n't spol him, neither. Ie was a gentleman that had ‘will of his own, and a eye of his own, and that would be minded,

Little Dorrit.

‘Ox the first day of December, 1856, the firat number of this tale was issued and the twentieth and last number mado its appearance in June, 187, Tho work ‘was illnstrated by Hablot K. Browne; and on its completion it was dediqated te the late Clarkson Stanfeld, the eminent landscape-painter. The main object of the author was to expose the vexatious procrastination, the Indirectuess, and the Jneptitude, of governmental routine in the transaction of the public business; ana this was done in the description of the Clreumlocution Ofice, as managed by the inefficient and supereilious Barnacle family, Another object was to call attention tothe evil effects of imprisonment for debt, particularly in the case of perrous wholly unable to discharge the claims of their creditors, orto render a full and ‘sntisfuctory explanation of all the debts and liabilities they had incurred, con- formably to the Indispensable condition of release Imposed by the Insolvent Court. A third object was to hold up to ridicule the snobbery which delights to pay home ‘age to mere wealth, like that of Mr. Merdie,

OHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Aunt, Mr. F's. See Mr. F's. Aunt.

Bangham, Mrs. A charwoman and messenger; nurse of Mra, Dorrit in the Marshalsea Prison. (Bk. I, ch. vi, vii; Bk. Il, ch. xix.)

Barnacle, Clarence, culled Bannacix, Juxion. Son of Mr, ‘Tite Barnacle; an empty-headed young gentleman employed in the Circumlocution Office. (Bk. I, ch. x, xvii, xxxiv, xxxv.)

[He] had a youthful aspect, and the fuMest litte whisker, perhaps, that ever ‘was seen. Such a downy tip was on his callow chin, that he seemed halffledged, like a young bird; .... He hada superior eyegtass dangling round his neck, but unfortunately had sueh flat orbits to his eyes, and such limp little eyelida

that it would n’t stick in when he put It up, but kept tumbling out against Ip walwicoat buttons with a click that diseomposed him very mach. Eo)

Little Dorcit. 3i7

Barnacle, Lord Decimus Tite, Uncle of Mr. Tite Barnacle , a windy peer, high in the Circumlocution Office. (Bk. I, ch. xxvii, xxv, xxxiv; Bk. Il, ch. vii, xxiv, xxviii.)

‘The Cireumiooution Office was (as everybody knows without being tolc) the ‘most important department under government. No public business of any ind could possibly be done at any time without the acquiescence of the Cireum- location Oflce. Ite finger was In the largest public ple and in tho «mullest public tart. It was equally Impossible to do the plainest right, and to undo the plainest wrong, without the express authority of the Cireumlocution Office. If ‘snother gunpowder plot had been discovered half an hour before the lightl of the mateh, nobody would have been justitied in saving the parliament until ‘there had been half a score of boards, half a bushel of minutes, several sacks of official memoranda, anda family vault full of ungrammatical correspondence, ‘on the part of the Cireumlocation Office,

‘This glorious establishment had been carly fn the field when the ane sublime principle involving the difficult art of governing a country was frat distinctly revealed to statesmen, It had been foremost to study that bright revelation, and to carry ite shining influence through the whole of the officint proceedings. ‘Whatever was required to be done, the Cireumlocution Office was beforehand with all the public departments in the art of percelying—sow Nor TO DO TH eas

The Clreumlocution Office went on mechanfeally, every day, keeping thia

wonderful, all-rufficient wheel of statesmanship, “How not to do it," in motion.

‘The Cireumlocution Office was down upon any ilbadvised public servant who

‘was going to do it, or who appeared to be, by any surprising accident, in remote

danger of doing It, with a minute, and a memorandum, and » letter of instruc

tions, that extinguished him, It was this spirit of national efficiency in the

‘Cireamlocntion Office that had gradually led to ite having something to do with

every thing. Mechaniciane, natural philosophers, soldiers, aallors, petitioners,

‘Memorialists, poople with grievances, people who wanted to prevent grievances,

people who wanted to redress grievances, jobbing people, Jobbed people, people

‘who could n't get rewarded for merit, and people who coald 2% got punished

for demerit, were all indiscriminataly tacked up under the foolssap paper of the

‘Cireumlocution Office.

Numbera of people were lost ia the Cireumlocution Office. Unfortunates with wrongs, oF with projects for the general welfare (and they bad better have had wrongs ot first than have taken that bitter Engilsh recipe for eertainly getting them), who in slow lapse of time and agony bad passed safely through ‘other public departments, who, according to rule, had been bullied tn this, overreached by that, and eraded by the other, got referred nt last to the Gir camlocution Office, and never re-appeared in the light of day. Boards sat upon them, secretaries minuted upon them, commissioners gubbled nbout them, clerks registered, entered, checked, and ticked them off, and they melted away. Zn short, all the business of the country went through the Cireumlocution Office, ‘except the business that never came out of it; and ita name was Legion,

In the great art“ How not to do it," Loré Deolmus had Jong sustained the oughest glory of the Barnacle farily; and let any itLadvised member of elther house but try how todo it by bringing in a bill to do it, that Dill wus as good ‘5 dead and baried when Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle rose up in bis place, and wlemaly said, soaring Into indignant majesty as the Circumlocution cheering

me

878 Ebe Dickens Mictfonary.

soured araand him, that he was yet to be told, my lords, that fk beboowed tim, as the minister Of this free country, to set bounds to the philanthropy, to cramp the charity, to fetter the public spirit, to contract the enterprise, to damp the independent self-reliance, of ita people.

Barnacle, Ferdinand. Private secretary to Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle; a vivacious, well-looking, well-dressed, agreeable young fellow, on the more sprightly side of the family, _ Arthur Clennam wishing to investigate Mr. Dorrit's affairs, with the view of re- Jeasing him, if possible, from the Marshalsea, inquires of Barnacle how he can obtain information as to the real state of the case:

“You "ll Gnd out what department the contract was in, and then you ‘ll find out all about ft there.”

beg your pardon, How shall I find out?”

“Why, you ’l—you ‘It ask till they tell you. Then you "ll memorialize that department (according to regular forma which you "ll find out) for leure to. memorialize this department. If you get tt (which you may; after a time), that ‘memorial must be entered in that department, sent to be registered in this de- partment, sont back to be signed by that department, sent Buck to be counter- ‘aigned by this department, and then {twill begin to be regularly before that department. You "ii find out when the business passes through each of these ‘tages by aaking at both departments til) they tell you.”

* But surely this is not the way to do the business," Arthur Clennam could not help saying.

‘This alry young Barnacle was quite entertained by his elmplicity in supposing for a moment that twas. This light-in-hand young Barnacle knew perfectly that it was not. ‘This touch-and-go young Barnacle had*‘got up” the depart ‘ment In # private secretaryship, that he might be ready for any little bit of fat that came to hand; and he fully understood the department to be m politica. diplomatico-hocus-pocus plece of machinery for the assistance of the nobs ta keeping off the snobs, ‘The dashing young Barnaclo,in @ word, was tikely to become @ statesman, and to make s figure,

“When the business fs regularly before that department, whatever it f4/" pursued thle bright young Barnacle, “ then you can watch tt from time to time through that department. When it comes regulsrly before this then you must wateh it from time to thme through this department. We shall hare to refer it right aod left; and, when we refer It anywhere, then you'll have to look it up. When It comes back to us at any thme, then you had better look te up. When Itaticks anywhero, youll have to try to give tt « Jog. When you write to another department about It, and then to this department about it, and don’t hear any thing satisfactory about it, why, then you had detter= keep on writing.”

(Bk. J, ch. x, xxiv; Bk. Il, ch. xii, xxviii.)

Barnacle, Mr. Tite, A mas of family, a man of place, and a man of a gentlemanly residence, who usually coaches or crame the statesman at the Lead of the Circumlocution Office. (Bk. I, ch. ix x, xxiv; Bk. Il, cb. xi)

Blandois. See Ricavp.

Rittle Dorrit. 879

Beadle, Harriet, -alled Tarryconam. A girl taken from the Foundling Hospital by Mr. Meagles to be « maid to his daughter Minnie, She isa handsome girl, but headstrong and passionate, Mr. Meagles takes great pains to improve her disposition and character, and always advises her, when she is not in a good temper, to “take a little time,” and to “count five dnd twenty.” She proves insensible, however, to all his goodness and kind considera tion, runs away after a time, and places herself under the pro tection of a certain Miss Wade; but in the end she returns, humble and penitent, to her benefactor’s house.

“She was called, in the institution, Harrlot Beadle,—an arbitrary name, of course. Now Harriet we changed into Hatty, and then into Tatty, because, ma practical people, we thought ren a playful name might be a new thing to her, snd might have a softening and affectionate kind of effect; don't you see? As to Beadle, that I need n’t aay was wholly out of the question. If there is any thing that l» not to be tolerated on any torma; any thing that is a type of Jack- in-office Insolence and absurdity ; any thing that represents in coats, waistooats, ‘and big sticks, our English holding-on by nonsense after every one has found it ‘out,—it is a beadie. . . . The name of Beadle belng out of the question, ‘and the originator of the institution for these poor foundlings having been &

: of the name of Coram, we gave that name to Pet's lietle maid.

wns Tatty, and at one time she was Corain, until we got into ‘way of mixing the two names together; nnd now she is always Tuttycoram.””

(Bk.1, eh. ii, xvi, xxvii, xxviii; Bk, Il, ch, ix, x, xx, xxxill.)

Bob. Turnkey of the Marshalsea Prison; godfather to Little Dorrit. (Bk. I, ch. vi, vil; Bk. I, cb. xix.)

Casby, Christopher. Landlord of Bleeding Heart Yard; a selfieh, crafty impostor, who likes to be thought a benefactor to his species, and who grads his tenants by proxy.

Patriarch wns the name which many people delighted to gire him. Varlous eld ladies in the neighborhood spoke of him as The Last of the Patriarchs. 50 gray, 0 alow, 40 quiet, so Impassionate, so very bumpy In the head, Putriarch ‘was the word for him. .. . His smooth fice had a bloom upon it like ripe wall: fruit. What with bis blooming fhce, and that hend, and his blue eyes, he seemed to be delivering sentiments of rare wisdom and virtue. In like manner, his physiognomical expression seemed to teem with benignity. Nobody could have

sald where the wisdom was, or where the virtue was, or where tho beniguity was; but they all reemed to be somewhere about hia.

(Bk. I, ch. xii, xiil, xxill, xxiv, xxxv; Bk. TL, ch. ix, xxiii, xxxil.)

Cuvalletto, John Baptist. A feliow-prisoner with Rigand at ‘Marucilles ; afterwards in Arthur Clennam’s employ, and of wee to him in discovering that person. (Bk. I, eh. i, xi, xxiii, xxv, xxix; Bk. If, ch. xii, xxii, xxiii, xxviii, xxx.)

380 The Dickens Mietlonacy.

A sunburnt, quick, lithe little man, thick-set. Rar-rings 1 hie brown cars, white teeth lighting up his grotesque brown face, ‘hair clustering about his brown throat,

Chivery, John. A non-resident turnkey of the Marshalsea Prison, (Bk. I, ch. xviii, xix, xxii, xxv, xxxi, xxxv, xxxvi; Bk. Il, ch. xviii, xxvi, xxvii, xxix, xxi, xxiv.)

Chivery, Young John. His eon; a lover of Little Dorrit.

‘Young John was small of stature, with rather weak legs, and very weak light alr. One of his eyes was also weak, and looked larger than the other, as if it ‘could n’t collect itself, Young John was gentle likewise. But he was grest of soul; poetical, expansive, faithful.

‘This sentimental youth, before ever he had told his love, had often meditated on the happiness that would result from bis marriage to Little Dorrit, and on the loving manner in which they would “glide down the stream of time in pastoral and domestic happiness.”

‘Young Jobn drew tears from his eyes by Slehing the ploture with a tomb- stone in the adjoining churchyard, close against the prison wall, bearing the following touching Insoription: “Sacred to the memory of Joux Curvcny, Sixty years Turnkey, and fifty years Head Turnkey, Of the neighboring Mar- shalsea, Who departed this life, universally respected, on the thirty-first of ‘December, One thousand eight hundred and eighty-six, Aged elghty-three years. Also of his truly beloved and truly loving wife Ascy, Whore maiden name was Donnar, Who survived his lows not quite forty-elght hourr, And who breathed ‘vor last tn the Marshalses aforesaid. ‘There che was born, There abe lived, ahere she died.”

He finally musters up courage to approach Miss Dorrit in rela- tion to the subject that is so near his heart. She, however, not only gives him no encouragement, but requests him very plainly (though with the utmost delicacy and consideration) never to refer to the matter again.

It was an affecting {tlustration of the fallacy of human projects, to behold her Jover . . . erceping along by the worst back-streets, and composing as he went the following new inscription for a tombstone tn St. George's churchyard: —

“Here le the mortal remain of Joun Ouxveny, Never any thing worth mentioning, Who died about the end of the year Ouc thousand eight hundred ‘and twenty-six, Of a broken heart, Requesting with bis last breath that the word Asr might be inscribed over his shes, Which was nooordingly directed robe done, By his aMicted parents.”

John does not easily recover from the blow he has received ; and when, long afterwards, he learns that Little Dorrit is to be married to Arthur Clennam, he is made very wretched, though he endeavors to bear the intelligence with manly fortitude. Ho cannot refrain, however, from composing on that ill-starred night the following monumental inscription :—

‘Rittle Dorest. 38L

wrTnaxornt REUPECT THE TON OF JOHN CHIVERY, Junior, WHO DIED AT AX ADVANCED AGE NOT NECESSARY TO SEXTION. WE ENCOUNTERED M8 RIVAL IX A DIRTRESSRD STATE, AND FELT INCLINED YO MAVE A MOUND WITH mIM; BUT, YOR THK SAKE OF THE LOVED ONE, CONQUERED THOSE YEELINGS OF RITTERWES® AND BECAME MAGNANIMOUS. (Bk. I, ch. xviii, xix, xxii, xxv, xxi, xxv, xxxvi; Bk. I, ch. xviii, xix, xxvi, xxvii, xxix, xxi, xxxiii, xxiv.)

Chivery, Mrs. Wife of John Chivery, and keeper of a small tobacco-shop rounil the corner of Horsemonger Lane. (Bk. I, ch. xviii, xxii, xxv.)

Cwnnam, Arthur. Reputed son, but really the adopted son, of Mrs. Clennam, He gives this account of himself to Mr. Meagles :—

“Tam the son of a hard father and mother. Tam the only child of parents ‘who weighed, measured, and priced every thing; for whom what could not be ‘weighed, measured, and priced, had no existence. Strict people, as the phrase 1s, professors of a storn religion, thelr very religion war a gloomy sacrifice of tastes and sympathice that were never thelr own, offered up #s a partof a ‘bargain for the security of thelr possessions. Austere faces, inexorable discl- line, penance in thle world and terror in the next, nothing graceful or gentle ‘anywhere, and the void in my cowed heart everywhere, —this was my child hood, if I may so misuse the word us to apply It to such a beginulng of Mie”

At the age of twenty he had been sent to China to join his father, a merchant who had been living in that country for some years, taking care of the business there, while his mother managed the business at home. Ho stays thero till he is forty, and, his father then dying, he returns to London to sce his mother; but she receives him very coldly, as her old servant and confidential adviser Flintwinch also does. Finding a young woman in the Louse, who is called “ Little Dorrit,” and who is employed by his mother to do needle-work, and feeling a growing interest in her, he ascertains her history, and is the means of her father’s release from te Marshalsea, Being afterwards unfortenate in business, he ia

* arrested for debt, and is thrown into the same prison; but he finds ‘ fast friend in Little Dorrit, and, when he at Jast gains his liberty, the marries him. (Bk. I, ch. ii, ili, v, vil-x, xii-xvii, xxii, xxiv= xxvili, xxxi, xxii, xxxiv-xxxvi; BR I cb. ii, iv, vili-xi, xiii, xx,

xii, xxiii, xxvi-xxxiv.)

882 She Dickens Wictlonacy.

Clennam, Mrs. ‘The supposed mother of Arthur Clennam, who ‘turns out, however, to have been the child of another woman, whom his father had known before marrying Mrs, Clennam. She is a hard, stern woman, with cold gray eyes, cold gray hair, and an immov- able fice. Though an invalid, who bas lost the use of her limba, and is confined to a single room, she retains the full vigor of her mind, nnd is still, as she has always been, a thorough woman of busi ness. An austere moralist, a religionist whose faith is in a system of gloom and darkness, of vengeance and destruction, she yet does not hesitate to suppress a will by virtue of which two thousand guineas were to go to Little Dorrit on her coming of age. Finding that her guilt has been discovered, and is certain to be made known, she throws herself on the mercy of the girl she has so grievously wronged, and is freely forgiven. (Bk. I, ch. iii-v, viii, xy, xxix, xxx; Bk, Il, ch. x, xvii, xxiii, xxviii, xxx, xxi.)

Cripples, Master. A white-faced boy, son of Mr. Cripples, (Bk. 1, ch. ix.)

Cripples, Mr, Teacher of an academy for “evening tuition.” (Bk. I, ch. ix.)

Dawes. A rosy-faced, gay, good-bumored nurse, who is Miss Wade’s special antipathy.

Dorrit, Amy, called Lirrte Dorarr. Daughter of Mr. William Dorrit, She becomes the wife of Arthur Clennam. (Bk. 1, ch. tii, v-ix, xil-xvi, xviii-xxy, xxvii, xxix, xxxi, xxxii, xxxv, xxxvi; Bk. Wy, ch. i-viii, xi, xiv, xv, xix, xxiv, xxvi, xxvii, xxix-xxxi, xxxiii, xxxiv.)

Dorrit, Hdward, called Tre, The brother of Little Dorrit; a spendthrift and an idler, for whom his sister is always calculating and planning, (Bk. I, ch. vi-viii, xii, xviii, xx, xxii, xxiv, xxxi, xxxy, xxxvi; Bk, IL, ch. |, iii, v, xi, xv, xix, xxiv, xxix, xxxiii, xxxiv.)

‘Tip tired of every thing. . . . Hfls small second mother (his elster Amy] got him into a warehouse, into a market-garden, into the hop-trade, Into the law agnio, into an anctloaeer's, Into & brewery, Into a stockbrokers, Into the Inw agnin, into a conch-office, into a wagon-office, into the law again, into» general dealer's, into a distillery, Into the law again, into a woo!-house, into a dry-goods= house, into the Billingsgate trade, into the foreign frult-trade, und into the docks. But, whatever Tip went into, he came out of tired, announcing that he ‘bad cut it,

Dorrit, Fanny, Daughter of Mr. William Dorrit, and elder six tor of Amy, or * Little Dorri" She is, for a time, a ballet-dancer

7

Bittle Dorrit. 383

but finally marries Mr. Edmund Sparkler, and rules him with a rod of iron. (Bk. I, ch. vi-ix, xviii, xx, xxxi, xxxv, xxxvl; Bk. II, ch. i-iii, v-vii, xi, xiv-xvi, xviii, xix, xxiv, xxiii, xxiv.)

Dorrit, Mr, Frederick, Brother to Mr. William Dorrit. (Bk. J, ch, vii-ix, xix, xx, xvi; Bk. II, ch. i, iv, ¥, xix.)

‘There was a ruined uncle fn the family group,—ruined by his broiber, the Father of the Marshalsea, and knowing no more how than his ruiner did, bat accepting the fact as an inevitable certainty. Naturally a retired and simple man, he had shown no particular sense of being ruined at the time when that calamity fell upon him, further than that he left off washing himself when the shock was announced, and never took to that luxury any more. He had beer avery indifferent musical amateur in his better days; and, when he foll with his brother, resorted, for support, to playing a clarionet as dirty as himself ing small theatre orchestra,

Dorrit, Mr. William. A prisoner for debt in the Marehalsea; a shy, retiring man, woll-Jooking, though in an effeminate style, with a mild voice, curling hair, and irresolute hands.

‘The afuirs of this debtor were perplexed by a partnership of which he knew ‘no more than that he had invested money int; by legal matters of assignment and nottloment, conveyance here and conveyance there, suspicion of unlawful preference of creditors in this direction, and of mysterious spiriting away of nd, as nobody on the fuce of the earth could be more in- item in the heap of confusion than the debtor could be made of his case, ‘To question him |, and endeavor to reconcile his answers, to closet him with accountants and sharp practitioners learned In tho wiles of insolvency and bankruptey, was only to put the case out ut compound Interest of incomprehensibility, The ir- resolute fingers uttered more and more tneffectually about the trembling lip on every such occasion, and the eharpest practitioners gave him up ax a hopeless Job.

His young wife joins him with their two children; and in a few months another child is born to them, a girl, from whom tho story takes its name. When this child is eight years old, his wife dics. Years pass by, and he becomes gray-haired and venerable, and ie known in the prison as the Father of the Marehalsea, —a title he grows to be very vain of, From an early period, his lite daughter devotes herself to the task of boing his support and protection, becoming, in all things but precedence, the head of the fallen fame ily, and bearing in her own heart its anxieties and shames. After twenty-five years spent within the prison walls, Mr. Dorrit proves to be heir-at-law to a great estate that has long remained, unknown of, unclaimed and accumulating. He leaves the Marshalsea a rich man: but that quarter of a century behind its bara haa done its york ; and he leaves it with a failing intellect, and makes himself

—

384 Ehe Dickens Mietfonary

ridiculous by his pride, by the lofty airs he gives himself, and by his unwillingness to recall at any time the old days of his poverty and confinement. He declines slowly but surely, and at last dies In a palace at Rome, fancying it to be the Marshalsea. (Bk. J, ch. virix, xviii, xix, xxii, xxiii, xxxi, xxii, xxxv, xxxvi; Bk. Il, ch. ieiii, vevii, xii, xiii, xv-xix.)

Doyce, Daniel. An engincer and inventor, who becomes the part- ner of Arthur Clennam. (Bk. I, ch. x, xii, xvi, xvii, xxiii, xxvi, xxviil, xxxiv; Bk, II, ch. viii, xili, xxii, xxvi, xxiv.)

F’s Aunt, Mr. See Mn. F's Auxt.

Finching, Mra. Flora. Danghter of Christopher Casby; a wealthy widow of some thirty-eight or forty years of age, sentimen- tal and affected, but thoroughly good-hearted. She talks with the most disjointed volubility, pointing her conversation with but commas, and very few of them, In this character Mr. Dickens has drawn the portrait of a married lady with whom, when a very Young man, he was deeply in love, and whom, as a young girl, he introduced into“ David Copperfield” as Dora, David's “ child-wife.” “The fancy had a comic humor in it,” says Forster, which “he found it impossible to resist, but it was kindly and pleasant to the last; and, if the later picture showed him plenty to laugh at in this retrospect of his youth, there was nothing he thought of more ten derly than the earlier, as long as he was conscious of any thing.”

Most mon will be found sufficiently true to thomsclves to be true to an old idea. It sno proof of an inconstant mind, but exactly the opposite, when the ade will not bear close comparison with the reality; and the contrast fs m fatal shock to It, Such was [Arthur] Clenaam’s case, In his youth he had ardently Jored this woman, and had heaped upon her all the lockedup wealth of his affection and imagination, . . . Eyer since that memorable time, though he had, until the night of his arrival, as completely dismisaed her from any wasocl: ation with his present or future as If she hind been dead (which she might easily have been, for any thing he kuew), he had Kept the old fancy of the past, un- euanged, in its old sacred place. And now, after all, The Last of the Patriarcha [Mr, Cnsby] coolly walked into the parlor, saying, in elfect, + ISe good enough to throw it down and dance upon it: this is Flora.”

Flora, always tall, had grown to be very broad too, and short of breath; but that was not much, Flora, whom he had loft a iily, had become a peony; but ‘that was not mush. Fiors, who had scemed enchanting io all she saidrand thought, was diffuse and silly: that waa a good deal. Flora, who had been spoiled xnd artless long ago, was determined to be spoiled and artless now shat was a fatal blow.

“Ok good gracions me I hope you never kept yourself a bachelor 40 long on my account!” tittered Flora; "but of course you never did why should you.

|

a

Kittle Dorit. S85

pray don’t unswor, I don’t know where "m running to, ob do tell me something about the Chinese Indies whether thelr eyes are really rolong and narrow stways putting me fn mind of mother-of-pearl tish at cards and do they really wear tail down thelr back, and plalted too or ta It only the men, and when they pall their hair so very tight off thelr foreheads don’t they hart themsetres, ‘and why do they stick Little bells all over thelr bridges and temples and hace ‘and things or don't they really do it” Flora gave him another of her old — Instantly she went on again, ss if be had spoken tn reply for some

arte ft" all true and they really do! good gracious Arthur!—pray ex» ‘suse mo— old hablt— Mr, Clennam far more proper what » country to lire an for so long a time, and with so many lanterns and umbrellas too how very dark and wet the climate ought to be and no doubt actually is, and the sams of money that must be mado by thove two trades whore oversbody carries them and hangs them everywhere, the little shoes too and the fect screwed back n Infancy 4s quite surprising. what a traveller you are!”

In this ridlcalous distress, Clennam reoelved anothor of the old glances, without in the least knowing what to do with it.

“Dear dear,” suid Flora, ‘only to think of the changes at home Arthur cannot overcome it, seems #0 natural, Mr. Clenmain far more proper—since you became familiar with the Chinese custome and language which I am por suaded you speak like a native if not better for you were always quick and clever though immensely difficult no doubt, { am sure the toa-chests alone would kill me if I tried, such changes Arthur—I am doing it again, seems 40 natural, most tmproper—ae no one could have believed, who could have ‘ever imagined Mra, Finching when I can't dmagine it myself!”

‘Is that your married name?” asked Arthur, struck, in the midst of all this, by a certain warmth of heart that expressed itelf in her tone when ho referred, however oddly, to the youthful relation in which they had atood tooue another. ¥inching?”

“Flching oh yes, is n't It a dreadful name, but as Mr. F.said when he pro- pored to me which he did seven times and handsomely consented [ must say to be what he used to call on liking twelvemonths after all, he was n't answerable Jor it and could n’t help it could he, excellent man, not af ail Like you but exeel- lent man!"

(Bk. I, ch. xiii, xxiii, xxiv, xxxv3 Bk. Il, ch. ix, xvii, xxiii, xxxiv.)

Flintwinch, Affery, An old servant of Mrs. Clennam’s; wile of Jeremiah Flintwinch. She is apt to fall into » dreamy sleep-wak- ing state, much to the displeasure of her husband, who tells her, “If you ever have a dream of this sort again, it ‘Il be a sign of your being in want of physic, and I'll give you such a dose, old woman, — such a dose!" (Bk. I, ch. ili-v, xv, xxix, xxx; Bk. I, ch. x, xvii, xxiii, xxx, xxi.)

flintwinch, Ephraim. A lunatic-keeper; Jeremiah’s “ doubie” and confederate. (Bk. I, ch. ir; Bk. TI, ch. xxx.)

Flintwinch, Jeremiah. Servant and afterwards partner of Mra Clennam. He isa short, bald o:d man, bent and dried, with a oag

sided crab-like manner of locomotion,

B36. The Dickens Wietlonary.

‘His neck was so twisted, that the knotted ende of his white cravat usually angled under one ear; his natural acerbity and energy, always with a second nature of habitual repression, gave his features @ swollen sutused look; and, altogether, be had a weird appearance of having hanged himself at one time or other, and of having gone about ever since, halter and all, exactly as some timely hand had eut him down.

(Bk. I, ch. iii-v, xv, xxix, xxx; Bk. II, ch. x, xvii, xxili, xxviil, ‘XXX, Xxxi.) General, Mrs. A widow-lady of forty-five, whom Mr. Dorrlt engages to “form the mind” and manners of his daughters.

In person, Mrs. General, including her skirts, which had much to do with tt, ‘was of a dignified and imposing appearance; ample, rustling, gravely voluml- nous, alvways upright behind the proprietios, She might have been taken —bad ‘been taken—to the top of the Alps and the bottom of Herculaneum, without disarranging a fold in her dress, or displacing w pin. If her countenance and hair had rather # fours appearance, as though from living In some trauscen- dently gentee! mil, it was rather because she was a chalky creation altogether, than Because she mended her complexion with violet-powder, oF had turned gray. If her eyes had no expreaaton, it waa probably because they had nothing to express, If sho had few wrinkles, It was because her mind hod never traced its name or any other inscription on her fuce. A cool, waxy, blowu-out ‘woman, who had never lighted well,

Mrs. General had no opinions. Her way of forming a mind was to prevent St from forming opinions. She had a little elrcular set of mental grooves, oF rails, on which she started little trains of other people's opinions, which never overtook one another, and never got anywhere. Even her propriety could not dispute that there was impropriety in the world; but Mrs. General's way of setting rid of 1t-was to pat it out of sight, and make belleve that there wax no such thing. ‘This was another of her ways of forming a mind,—to eram all articles of difficulty into cupboards, lock them up, and aay they had no exist- enon, ft was the easlost way, and, beyond all comparison, the properest.

‘Mrs. General was not to be tald of any thing shocking. Accidents, miseries, and offences were never to be mentioned before her. Passion was to go to aleop inthe presenos of Mrs, General, and blood was to change to milk and water, ‘The Uttle that was left in the world when all these deductions were made, It was Mrs. General's province to varnish. In that formation-process of hers she dipped the amalinst of brushes into the largast of pots. and varnished the surface of every object that came under consideration. The more cracked if ‘was, the more Mrs. General varnished it,

Observing that Amy Dorrit calls Mr. Dorrit “father,” Mrs General informs her that “ papa” is a preferable mode of address,

© Futher fs rather vulgar, my dear. The word ‘papay besides, gives = pretty form to the Ips. apa, potatoes, pooitry, prunes, and prism, are alf wary good words for the lips; especially prunes and prism. Yoo will find i* serviceable in the formation of u demeanor. if you yomctlmes vay to yourselt 1m company, —on entering @ room, for Instance = Tapa, potatoes, poultry prunes, and prism, prunes, and prism.”

“ Pray. my child,” said Mr. Dorrit, “ sttend to the — bum — precepts of Eire General.”

Mlttle Dorrit. 887

Poor Little Dorrit, with a rather forlorn glanee at that eminent varalsher, Fromised to try.

You say, Amy;" pursued Mr. Dorrit, “that you think you require time Thine for what?”

Another pause.

*'fo become accustomed to the novelty of my life, was all T meant.” said Little Dorrit, with her loving eyes upon her father, whom she had very nearly addressed as poultry, if aot prunes and prista too, in her desire to submit bers ‘elf to Mrs. General, and please him,

(Bk. If, ch. i-v, vil, xi, xv, xix.)

Gowan, Henry. An artist, who marries Miss Minnie Meagles. (Bk. L, ch. xvii, xxvi, xxviii, xxxili, xxiv; Bk. Il, ch. §, iif-vill, xi, xiv, xvii, xx, xxi, xxxiii-)

_ Tho Gowan farally were a very distant ramification of the Harnacles; and +++ the paternal Gowan, originally attached to # legation abroad, had been pensioued off as a commissioner of nothing particular somewhere or other,and had died at his post with his drawn salary in hix hand, nobly defending it to the last extremity. In consideration of this eminent publio service, the Barnacle then tn powerhad recommended the crowu to bostow a pension of two or three hundred a year on bis widow; to which the next Barnacle In powor had added ‘certain shady and sedate apartments in the palace wt Hampton Court, where the old lady stitl Lived, deploring the degenerncy of the times, im company with ‘several other old ladies of both sexes. Her son Mr, Henry Gowan, inheriting from his father, the commissioner, that very questionable help in life, a very mall independence, had been difficult to settle; the rather as public appolat- ‘ments chanced to be scarce, and his genius during his earlier manhood was of ‘that exclusively agricultural character which applies itself to the cultivation ‘of wild oats. At last he hnd declared that he would become a painter; partly ‘because ho had always had an {dle knack that way, and partly to grieve the souls of the Barnactes in chief who had not provided for him. So it had come to pass successively, frst, that sovernl distinguished ladies had been frightfully shocked; then that portfolios of his performances had been handed about o! nights, and declared with ecstacy to be perfect Clandes, perfect Cayps, perfect phenomena; then that Lord Decimus had bought his picture, and had asked the president ‘and oounoll to dinner at a blow, and had sald with his own magnificent gravity, “Do you know, there appears to me to be really immense merit in that work?” ‘and, in short, that people of condition had absolutely taken pains to being him {ote fashion. But somehow it had all failed. The prejudiced public had atood ‘out against it obstinately. ‘They had determined not to admire Lord Deokmuy's pleture. They had determined to believe, that in every service, except thelr ‘own, # mui must qual!fy himself, by striving, early and late, and by workicg heart and soul, might and main,

Gowan, Mrs. His mother; a courtly old lady, a little lofty in her manner. (Bk. I, ch. xvii, xvi, xxiii, xxiv; Bk. Il, ch. v, viii.)

Gowan, Mrs. Henry. See Meaotes, Mrenie,

Haggage, Doctor. A poor debtor in the Marshalsea; a hoarse, puffy, red-faced, dirty, brandy-drinking, medical searecrow, who assists Little Dorrit into the world. (Bk. J, ch. vi, vii.)

388. Ede Dickens Mictlo rary.

Jenkinson, A messenger at the Circumlocution Office, (Bk. f, ch. xy

Lagnier. See Ricaup.

Maggy. A grand-daughter of Mrs. Bangham’s, and a protégée of Little Dorrit's; afterwards an assistant to Mra. Plornish. (Bk. I, ch. ix, xiv, xx, xxii, xxiv, xxi, xxxii, xxxv, xxxvi; Bk. Il, eh. iii, iv, xiii, xxix, xxxili, xxxiv.)

Sho was about eight and twenty, with large bones, large features, large feet and hands, large eyes, and uo hair. Her largo eyes were limpid and almoat color Joes: thay seemed to be very little affucted by light, and to stand unusturally still, ‘There was also that attentive, Listening expression in her foe, which is seem in the faces of the blind; bat she was not blind, having one tolerably serviece- ble eye, Her fice was not excoedingly ugly, though it was only redeemed from deing so by & smile, —~s good-humored smile, and pleasent in Itself, but rendered pitiable by being constantly there.

When Maggy was ten years old,” sald Dorrit (to Arthur Clennam}, wateb-

{ing her fico while she «poke, “she bad a bad fever, sir; and she has never

grown any older ever since.” -

“Ten years old,” said Maggy, nodding her head, * But what @ nice hom pital! So comfortable; wasn't it? Oh, so nice it was! Such a ev’nly place!” “She had never been at peace before, sir,” anid Dorrit, turning towards

Arthur for an fastant, and speaking low, ‘and she always runs off upon that.” + Such beds there ia there!” cried Maggy. * Such lemonades! Such oranges t

‘Such diiictous broth and wine! Such chicking! Ob, ALN'r it w delightful plnce

to go and stop at!™ “80 Maggy stopped there as long a4 sho could." sald Dorrit in her former

tone of telling n child's story, the tone designed for Moggy”s ear; “ and.at last,

‘when she could stop there no longer, she came out. ‘Then, because she was

never to be more than ten yours old, however long she lived” —

* However long sho lived,” echoed Maggy. “And because she was very weak; {ndced, was so weak, that, when sbe

Dogan to laugh, she could n't stop herself, which was a great pity” —

(Maggy mighty grave of a eudden.) “ Her grandmother did not know what to do with her, and for some years

‘was very unkind to her indeed. Atlength, in course of time, Maggy began to take pains to improve herself, and to be very attentive and very industrious; ‘aud, by degrees, waa nllowod to come in and out as often as abe Uked, and got ‘enough to do to support herself. And that,’ said Little Dorrit, elapping the two great bands together again, “1s Maggy" history, as Maggy knows |”

Maroon, Captain. A horsejockey; one o° Mr. Edward Dorrit's creditors. (Bk. I, ch. xii.)

Marshalsea, Father of the. See Dornrr, Mn. Wizx1am.

Meagles, Mr. A retired banker, good-natured and benevolent. an always priding himself on being a practical man. (Bk. I, ob ii, x, xii, xvi, xvii, xxiii, xxvi-nsix, xxxiii, xxxiv; Bk. I, ch. vilis %, xxxili, xxxiv.)

Bittle Movett 389

Meagles, Mrs. [fis wife; a comely and healthy woman, with a pleasant English face, which, like her husband's, has been looking at homely things for five and fifty years or more, and shines with a bright reflection of them. (Bk. I, ch. {i, xvi, xvii, xxvill, xxxill, xxxiv; Bk. II, ch. vill, ix, xxiii, xxxiv.)

Meagles, Minnie, called Per. Their daughter; afterwards the wife of Mr. Henry Gowan. (Bk. I, ch. ii, xvi, xvii, xvi, xxviii, xxxiv; Bk. IL, ch. i, iii, ivevili, xi, xxviii, xxxii

Pot was nbout twenty,—a fiir girl with rich brown hair hanging fee In batural ringlets; a lovely girl, with a frank face and wonderful eyes, £0 lunge. #0 soft, 40 eight, set to such perfection In her kind good head! She was round and fresh and dimpled and spolit, and there was in Pet an alr of timidity ‘and dependenoe which was the best weakness in the world, and gare her the ‘unly crowning charm a girl so pretty and pleasant could have been without.

Merdle, Mr, A London banker, who, after running a remarkably successful eareer, becomes a bankrupt, and commits suicide. (Bk. I, ch. xxi, xxxiii; Bk. I, ch. y, vii, xii-xvi, xvili, xix, xxiv, sexy, xxviii.)

Mr. Merdle was immensoly rich: a man of prodigious enterprise; a Midas without the ears, who tarned all he touched to gold. He wns tn every thing ‘good, from banking to building. He was in parliament, of course. He was in the elty, necessarily, He was chairman of this, trustee of that, preddent of the other, The weightiest of men had said to projectors, “« Now, what name have you got? Have you got Merdle?" And, the reply being in the negative, had said,“ Then I won't look mt you? . . «

He was the most disinterested of men, — did every thing for soclety, and got ‘as little for himself, out of all his gain and care, asa man might.

‘That Is to say, It may bo supposed that he got all he wanted, otherwise, with unlimited wealth, he would have got it, But his desire was, to the utmost, to satisfy soctety (whatever that was), and take up all ite drafts upon him for tribute. He did not shine In company; he had not very much to say for hitn- self; he was n reserved man, with a broad, overhanging. watchful head, that particular kind of dull red color in his cheeks which {s rather stale than fresh, nd asomewhat uneasy expression about his coat-cuffy as if they were in hie oniidence, and had reasons for being anxious to hide his hands. In the tittle he said, he was # pleasant man enough; plain, emphatic about public and pri- vate confidence, and tenacious of the utmost deference belng shown by every ‘ne, In all things, to society, In this same society (if that were it which camo to his dinners, and to Mrs. Merdie’s receptions and concerts), he hnntly teemed to enjoy himself much, and was mostly to be found against walls, and behind doors, Also when he went out to it, instead of it* coming home to him seomed n littlo fatigued, and, upon the whole, rather more dispored for bed; but ‘he was always cultivating it, nevertheless, and always moving int, aud always Tnylng out money on it with the greatest Mberality.

Merdle, Mrs. His wife, and the mother of Mr. Edmund Sparkler; a very fashionable lady. a

_ ==

390 Ede Vckens Wietfonary.

‘The lady was not young and fresh from the hand of Nature, but wa young wend fresh from the hwo’ of her maid. She had large, unfeeling, handsome eyes, and dark, unfteling, handsome hair, and a broad, wnfecling, handsome bosom, and was mado the most of in every particular, Rither because she had a cold, of ‘because it sulted her face, she wore w rich white fillet tled over her head, wud under her chin. And if ever there were an unfeeling, handsome chin, that looked 4 If, for certain, it had never been, ia familiar parlance, “chuckod¥ by the hand of man, It was the chin curbed up #0 tight and clove by that laced Bridie.

(Bk. I, ob. xx, xxi, xxiii; Bk. IL, ch. iti, v, vii, xii, xiv-xvi, xix,

xxiv, xxv, xxiii.)

Mr. F.'s Aunt. A singular old lady, who ts a logacy left to Mra. Flora Finching by her deceased husband. “

‘This was an amazing little old woman, with m face liko a staring wooden doll, (too cheap for expression), and a stiff yellow wig perched unevenly on the top of her head, ax if the child who owned the doll had driven «tack through It ‘anywhere, so that it only got fastened on. Another remarkable thing tn this Hidle old woman was, that (he same clilld seemed to have damaged her fuee in two or three plnoos with some blunt Instrument in the nature of a spoon; her countenance, and particularly the tip of her nose, presenting the phenomons of acreral dints, generally answering to the bow! of that article. A further re- markable thing in this Little old woman was, that she bad no name but Mr. F.’« Aunt.

‘The major characteristics discoverable by the stranger in Mr. F-'* Aunt were ‘extreme severity and grim taciturnity, sometimes interrupted by a propensity to offer remarks, in a deep warning voice, whieh, belng totally uncalled for by ‘any thing said by anybody, and traceable to no association of ideas, confounded ‘and terrified the mind. Mr, F.’s Aunt may have thrown 1a these observations on some system of her own, and It may have been ingenious, or even subtle; but the key to t was wanted.

(Bk. I, ch. xili, xxiil, xxiv, xxv; Bk. Il, ch. ix, xxiv.) Nandy, John Edward. Father to Mrs Plornish; an old man with a weak piping voice, though his daughter considers him “a sweet singer.” (Bk. I, ch. xiii; Bk. 1, ch. xiii, xvi, xvii.) Pancks, Mr. Mr. Casby’s collector of rents.

Ho was [a short, dark man] dressed in black and rusty tron-gray; had Jete Diack beads of eyes, a scrubby little black chin, wiry black hair striking owt from his head i prongs, ke Yorks or hairping, and complexion that was very dingy by nature, or very dirty Ly art, or a compound of nature and art. Hehad dirty hands and dirty broken nails, and looked as if he had been tn the comls; ho was In m perspiration. and snorted and eniifed and puffed and blew like = little laboring steam-engine,

Though the agent of a man, who, despite his benevolent and patriarchal air, is a hard, avaricious old sinner, and though, ig accordance with his instructions, he periodically squeezes and han asses his employer's tenants, he is by no means a cruel or un

Bittle Dorrit. 391

generous man. Indeed, he is so chafod and exasperated by the disagreeable nature of his work, and by the hypocrisy of his * pro» prictor,” that he makes up his mind to seek some other occupation Meeting Mr. Casby, one day, in Bleeding Heart Yard,

Golng clase up to the moxt venerable of men, and halting In front of the bettle green waistcoat, {he} made a trigger of his right thumb nud forefinger, sppliod the same to the beim of the broad-brimmed hat, and, with singular smartness and procixion, shot Mt off the pollahed head us if it had been a large marble.

Haying taken this little liberty with the patriarchal person, Mr. Pancks further astounded and attructed the Bleeding Hearts by saying in an audible ‘voloe, “ Now, you sugary #windler, I mean to have it out with you!”

‘Me, Panoks and the patriarch were instantly tho centre of pross, all eyes and ears: windows were thrown open, and door-steps were thronged,

“What do yoa pretend to be?” sald Mr. Pancks. What’ your moral game? ‘What do you go In for? Benevolence; an’t tt? You benevolent!" Here Mr, Pancks, apparently without the Intention of hitting him, but meroly to reliove his mind, and expand his superfluous power in wholesome exercise, aimed a blow at the bumpy head, which the bumpy head ducked to avold. This singular per- formance was repeated, to the ever-incrensing admiration of the spectators, at the end of every aucceoding article of Mr. Pancks's oration.

“T have discharged myself from your service,” aald Pancks, “that I may tell you what you are. You ‘re ons of alot of Impostors that are the worst lot of all ithe lots to be met with. .., You're a driver In disguise, w screwor by deputy, a ‘wringer and squeezer and shaver by substitute! Youre # philanthropic sneak! ‘You "re a shabby deceiver!”

(The repetition of the performance at this polnt was recelved with a burst of fanghter,)

“ Aak these good people who's the hard man here. ‘They'll tell you Pancks, Ldelieve.”

‘This was confirmed with ories of “Certainly!” and “ Heart”

“But I tell you, good people, —Casby! This mound of meckness, this lump of Jove, this bottle-green amiler,—this Is your driver!" said Pancks. “If you want to peo the man who would flay you alive, here heist Don't look for him in me, at thirty shillings a week, but look for him in Casby, at I don’t know how much a year.”

“Good!” cried several voices. “ Hear Mr. Pancks!””

“Hear Mr. Pancks?” cried that gentleman (after repeating the popular per- formance), “yes, I should think sof It% mlmost time to hear Mr, Pancks! ‘Mr. Puncks has come down into the yard to-night on purpose that you should hear him. Pancks is only the works; but here ’s the winder!”

‘The audience would have gone over to Mr. Pancks as one man, woman, nd ebild, but for the long, gray, silken locks, and the brond-brimmed hat,

“Here” the stop,” aald Pancks “that sets the tune to be ground. And there & but one tune, and tts name f# Grind, Grind, Grind! Here 's the proprietor. and here’s his grabber, ., . “He provides the pitch, and I handle tt, and tt sticks to me, Now," sald Mr. Pancks, closing upon his late proprietor again, from whom he had withdrawn # little for the better display of Lim to the yard, “as Lam not accustomed to speak in pablio, and as I have made # rather lengthy speech, alt etroumstences considered, I shall bring my observations to » clos by requesting you to Ret out of this.”

‘The Last of the Patriarchs had been so welzed by assault, and required se ‘auch room to catch an ides in, end so much more room tc turn {¢ io, that he

a

B92 The Dickens Dietlo rary.

‘had Hot a word to offer in reply. He appeared to be meditating somo patrl ‘archal wny out of hls delicate position, when Mr. ancks onos more, anddenly applylug the trigger to his hat, shot ft off again with his former dexterity. Ow the preceding oocision, one or two of the Bleeding-Heart-Yarders had obrequi ourly picked ft up, and handed it to te owner; but Mr, Pancks had #o far tne pressed his audience, that the patriarch had to turn, and stoop for it himself.

‘Quick as lightning, Mr. Pancks, who for some moments had had his right hand In his comt-pocket, whipped out a palr of shears, swooped upon the putrt- arch behind, and sn{pped off short the snored locks that flowed upon his shoulders. In a paroxyam of animosity and rapidity, Mr. Pancks then the brond-brimmed hnt out of the astounded patriarch’s hand, eat tt down into ‘mere stewpan, and fixed it on the patriarch’s head,

Before the frightful results of thia desperate action Mr. Pancks himself re- colled In consternation. A bare-polled, goggleesed, big-headed, lumbering personage stood staring wt him, not In the least impressive, not in the lenxt ‘venerable, who seemed to have started outof the earth to ask what was become of Caiby. After staring ut this phantom Ia return, in silent awe, Mr. Pancka threw down his shears, and flod for a plaoe of biding, whore he might Ife shel: tered from the consequences of his crime. Mr. Pancks deemed it prudent to use all posalble despatch in making off, though he was paraued by nothing but the sound of laughter in Bleeding Heart Yard, rippling througt the alr, and making it ring again.

(Bk. T, ch, xii, xili, xxili-xxv, xxvii, xxix, xxxil, xxxiv, xxxvj Bk. II, ch. ix, xi, xiii, xvii, xx, xxii, xxvi, xxviii-xxx, xxxil, xxxiv.)

Patriarch, The. See Caspr, Canistoraer.

Pet. See Mracuxs, Mixxre.

Plornish, Mr, A plasterer living in Bleeding Heart Yard; one of Mr. Casby’s tenants, and a friend of Little Dorrit’s; a smooth. cheeked, fresh-colored, sandy-whiskered man of thirty; long in the logs, yielding at the knees, foolish in the face, flannel-jacketed, Time-whitencd. (Bk. J, ch. vi, ix, xii, xxili, xxiv, xxi, xxxvi; Bk. IL ch. iv, xiii, xxvii, xxix.)

Plornish, Mrs, His wife; a young woman, made somewhat #late ternly in herself and her belongings by poverty ; and ¢o dragwed at by poverty and the children together, that thelr united forces have already dragged her face into wrinkles. (Bk. I, ch. vi, xii, xiii, xxxi; Bk. Il, ch. iv, xiii, xxvi, xxvii, xxix, xxx.)

Rigaud, alias Buaxpors, alias Laanier. A chevalier d'industria, with polished manners, but a scoundrel’s heart, Having murdered his wife, and boon lodged in © French jail, ho contrives to effect his escape, and flees to England. Gaining a knowledge of Mre Clennam’s frauds, he tries to wring from her a very large amount of hush-money, but is killed by the sudden falling of the house ip which he is waiting for her,

Bittle Dorett. 393

His eyes, too clove together, . . . were sharp rathe: hanbright ,.. . They ‘had no depth or chango: they glittered, and they opeced nnd shut. So fr, and ‘waiving their use to himself, a clockmaker could have mate a better pair. He had a hook nose, handsome after its Kind, but too high between theeyes by probably Just as much as his eyes were too near to one another, For the rest, owas Inrge wnd tall in frame, had thin lips (where his thick mustache showed ‘them nt all), and a quantity of dry halr, of uo detinablo color in ite shaggy slate, ‘bat shot with red.

(Bk. I, ch. i, xi, xxix, xxx; Bk. If, ch. i, fil, vi, vil, Ix, x, xvil Xx, xxii, xxili, xxviii, xxx, xxi, xxiii.)

Rugg, Miss Anastasia. Daughter of Mr. Rugg. She has little nankeen spots, like shirt-buttons, all over her face; and her yellow tresses are rather scrubby than luxuriant, (Bk. I, ch. xxv; Bk. Ul, ch. xvi, xxviii.)

‘Miss Ragg was n lady of a little property, which she had acquired, together ‘with much distinction in the nelghborhood, by haying her heart severely Incor ‘sted, and ber feolings mangled. by m middle-aged baker (named Hawkins), real- ‘dont in the vicinity, against whom she had, by the agency of Mr. Rugg, found St necessary to proceed at law to recover damages form breach of promise of marriage, ‘The baker having been, by the counsel for Miss Rugg. witheringly denounced on that occasion up to the full amount of tweaty guineas, st the rate ‘of about eighteen-pence an epithet, and having boen cast In corresponding damages, still suffered occasional prosecution from the youth of Pentonville; but Miss Rugg, environed by the majesty of the law, and having her damages Anveated in the public securities, was regarded with consideration.

Rugg, Mr. A general agent, accountant, and collector of debts, who is Mr. Pancks’s landlord. He has a round white visage, —as if all his blushes had been drawn out of him long ago,—and aragged yellow head like a worn-out hearth-broom. (Bk. I, ch. Rxv, xxii, xxxy, xxxvi; Bk. II, ch. xxvi, xxviii, xxxiv.)

Sparkler, Mr. Edmund. Son of Mrs. Merdle by her first hus- band. He marries Fanny Dorrit, considering her to be “a young lady with no nonsense about her.” (Bk. I, ch. xx, xxi, xxxiii; Bk, O, ch. iii, vi, vil, xii, xiv-xvi, xviii, xxiv, xxxiil.)

‘Mrs. Merdie’s first husband had been a colonel, under whose susploes the Borom had entered tnto eompetition with the snows of North America, and ‘bad come off at little disadvantage in polnt of whiteness, and at none in point of aoldness, The colonel’s son was Mre. Merdie’* only child. He wns of a ctuckle- headed, high-shouldered make, with a general appearance of being not so much young man as a swelled boy. He had giren so few signs of reason, that a byword went among his companions, that his brain had beon frozen up in a mighty frost which prevailed at St John, New Brunswick, at the period of his birth there, and had nerer thawed from that hour. Another byword repre- sented him ax having in his Infaney, through the negligence of a nurse, fallon out of a high window on his bead, whieh had been heard, by responsible wit- nesses, to crack. It is probable that both these representations were of ex post Jucto origin; the young gentleman {whose expressive namo was Sparklor’ being ‘wonomaniacal In offering marriage to all manwer of undesirable young ladies,

>_>.

B94 The Dickens Wictlonarp.

and jn remarking of every successive young Indy to whom he tendere! a matte ‘monial proposal, that yhe was ‘a doosed fine gal, well educated too, with no Diggodd nonsense about her.”

Sparkler, Mrs. Edmund. See Dorrit, Fanxy.

Btiltstalking, Lord Lancaster. A gray old gentleman of dig nified and sullen appearance, whom the Cireumlocution Office has maintained for many years as a representative of -he Britannie majesty abroad. (Bk, I, ch. xxvi.)

‘Thi: noble refrigerator had Ioed several European courts in his time, and had doar 4, with ruch complete success, that the very name of Englishman yet struck ‘vid to the stomachs of foreigners who had the distinguished honor of remem- bering him at a distance of a quarter of a century.

Tattycoram, See Brapur, Hanater.

Tickit, Mrs. Mr. Meagles’s cook and housekeeper. She makes Buchan’s “ Domestic Medicine" her constant vade-mecum, though she is believed never to have consulted it to the extent of a singls word in her life. (Bk. I, ch. xvi, xxiv; Bk, IT, ch. ix, xxxiii.)

Tinkler. Mr. William Dorrit’s valet. (Bk. II, ch. ili, v, xv, xix.)

Tip. See Donarr, Epwarp.

‘Wade, Miss. A woman with a sullen and ungovernable temper, a self-tormentor, who fancics that wrongs and insults are heaped upon her on every side. Finding a kindred spirit in Tattyeoram, the adapted child of Mr. Meagles, she entices the girl to leave that excellent couple, and live with her, and, when she has done 80, makes and keeps her as miserable, suspicious, and tormenting as herself. But Tattycoram grows tired of such a life, and at length returns, repentant and grateful, to her old master and mistress.

‘One could hardly see the face, so stil'and scornful, set off by the arched dark eyebrows and the folds of dark hair, without wondering what its expression would be ifm change came over tt. ‘That if could soften or relent appeared next to impossible. That it could deepen into anger or any extreme of defle wuce, and that it must change in that direction, when {t ehavged at all, would have been {ts pecullar impression upon most observers. Tt was dressed and trimmed into no ceremony of expression, Although not an open face, there ‘was no pretence in it. I am self-contained and selfreliant; your opinion ts nothing to me; I hare no iaterest fn you, care nothing for you, and see and hear you with indifference, —this it raid platnly, It sald 90 ln the proud eyen, 4n the lifted nostril, in the handsome but compressed and even cruel mouth, Cover elther two of those channels of expression, and the third would have sald so still. Mask them all, and the mere turn of the head would have shows au unsubduable nature.

(Bk. I, ch. ii, xvi, xxvii, xxviii; Bk. Il, ch. ix, x, xx, xxi, xxxiii.)

Wobbler, Mr. A functionary in the secretarial department of the Ciroumlocution Office. (Bk. I, ob. x.)

Bittle Doreit 895

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

BOOK T,~Cnarren [. Rigand and Cavalletto, tn prison In Marvelltes, have thotr fon’ brought them by the Jailer and his Wttle daughters Rigaud gives Cavalletto the reason of his traprtsonment; Migand [a carried out to his trinl.—IL. Mr. Mengles is Impationt at the otention in quarantine; Mz, Mengles elves Arthar Clennam an account of Tartyeoras ‘and how they adopted her; confidence between Sr. Meagles and Mr. Clennam, ta while’ ‘some of the ciroumstances In the history of each are narrated: Miss Wade's indifference ‘as varting with hor fellow-travellers; her Influences over Tattycoram, who shows signs of discontent. 111. Arthur Clennam arrives home on & disnal Sunday evening, after an atwonce of twenty years; be fs rocelved without any emotion by the old serving-man, Jeremiah Fimtwinch, and as coldly welcomed by is mother; Affery elves Arthur some ints of the relations existing between his mother and Fllntwinch, and tells him how slve ‘exmo to inary Jeremiah; Arthurhse hie memory of an ol sweetheart revived. —1¥. Mrs. Flinewinch sees, * in a dream,” Jeremiah and his “Double,” whom be tntrusts with ax Srom box, and diaimes from the house. —V. Arthur Clennara consalte with hie mother i regard lo the business of the house; he tntimates his suspicion that his father had unbap- pily committed « wrong against some ome without making reparation she threatens to ‘enounce bin If ho ever renews the theme; Arthur relinquishes his share of the business, ‘which the widow bestows upon Jeremiah; Little Dorrit appears tn attendance on Mre Clennam; Arthar resolves to watch her, and know more of her atory.— VI. Mr. Dorrit and bis family enter the Marshalsea: Little Dorrit is born; death of Mra. Dorrit; Mr. Dorrit becomes the Father of th Marshalsea. — VIL, Little Dorrit becomes the pet of the prison, and, as she grows older, the princtpal supportof ber futher, and the head of the fallen, Saraily : Ttp, after repeated failures to socoved tn busters, comox back to the Marshalsen asaregular; Arthar traces Little Dorrit to the Marahalsoa. — VILL, He encounters Fred- ‘erick Dorrit, who takes him into the prison, and introduces hima to Mr. Derrits Me. Doreit wives him the histary of a delicate action; Mr. Clennam ts locked In, and «pends tho night In prison, — IX. Arthur sends Little Dorrit a request to meot him at her uncle's lodgings: ‘ho questions her about the family reverses in the hope of releasing Mr. Dorrit; they meet ‘Maggy In the street, and who Maggy 1s. — X. Tha Circumlocution Oaice, and ita principle of How Sor To Do Fr; Arthur Cleniam makes Inquiries at the Clreumlocation Oftee about Mr, Dorrit’s creditors, but gots no information; he encounters Mr. Meagles and Daniel Doyce; who Daniel Doyee is, and how he came in the Cireunloeution Omee; the party Bo to Bloeding Heare Yard. —XI- Rigand, released by the law, arrives in Chalons, and ‘tope at a cabaret, where he hears his character discussed, and his erlme denounced, by the ‘quests; gulng to bed, he recognizes in the man who shares bis room his old companiun, Cavalletto; Cavalletto excapos from him in the morning. — XI. Clennam finds Mr. and ara. Plorniab, friends of Little Dorrit: through Me. Plornih he compromises for Tip's Kebts, and secures his release. —XII1. Arthur renews his acquaintance with Mr. Casby; misets Mr. Pancha, Mr. Casby’s agent, and has the Flora of his early Jove and after-roooTleo ‘ons destroyed ty an interview with the actual Piora; Arthur's Introduction to" Mr. F.7s Aunt," who makes some vory pertinent remarks; Arthur and Mz, Pancks return to the olny together; leaving Pancks, Arthur encounters Cavalletto, borne on a litter, lis log broken, ‘and accompanies him to « hospital; Arthur's sorrowful meditations are laterrapted by the entrance of Little Doreit and Maggy. XIV, She tells lil Tip Is relesed, and how she ‘would thank bia benefactor if allowed to know him; her ausplclona that Filotwine® has weatctiod her, and followed er home; she begs Arthur not to bestow any gift apon her ever: Little Dorrit and Maggy spond tho wight ta the street. — XY. Mes, Plintwineh treacns again, and hears an angry conversation between her husband and Mrs Clennam. =XYVL Mr. Clennam goes to Twickenham to renew his acquaintance with the Mesglees aud overtakes Daniel Doyoo going there also; Mr. Meaglos shows them Ils house and sariotities: Arthar auctions whether ae should allow himself (o fal in love with Pet, ane

396 Che Wickens Wittlonary.

ocides ta tto repattve; Tattyeoram relates her Saterview with Misa Wades Clennam pm poses to Mr. Meaglea to recommend him ax a partner to Daniel Doyee.— XVII, Clennem meets Henry Gowag at the Ferry, and afterwards at Mr, Mengless house; Mr. tiwan proposes to tntroduce a Criends Arthur Inquires of Doyoe who Gowun is: Barnoete, Jon, appears as Gowan's friend; Arthur does not like the Intimacy between Henry Gowan and ‘Mingle. — XVIIL Young John Chivery forms an attachment for Littio Dorrit: he presente ‘littie testhnonia} to the Father of the Marshalsea; he follows Amy in her walk, and Me ‘on the point of making a declaration, when she cheeks him, and disappolnte Lis hepen— XIX. Contrast between tho brothers Willlain and Frederick Dorrity Mr. Che very's vexa- yn; Mr. Dorrit explains to Amy the cause of Chivery's vesation; he becomes despomd: ‘nt, and she comforts him. — XX, Little Dorrit seks hor sister at the theatre, whore she Se ongaged ax a dancer, during a rehearsal; Panny Inteodaces her to Mra. Merdle, the lady whu gave her a bracelet: Mra Mondle gives Little Dorrit tho elroumstances of her son's attachment to Fanny, and tho understanding she and Panny have upon thesubject.— XX1, ‘Who the Meniles were, and their position in soolety ; ® dionersparty at Mr. Merdie’s, and ‘hat gendoman’s complaint. —XXIL. Mr. Clensiain does not find favor with the Father of the Marshalsea; Mrs Chivery shows Arunr her son's despondeney, and explains the eauso; Arthur and Little Dorrit most on the bridge, and Maggy Joina them with notes from Mz. Dorrit and Tip, requesting loans. —XX11T. Clennam becomes a partner it ML. Doyoe’s business; Flora and" Mr. F's Aunt" vialt him In bie counting-room; they are followed by Mr. Casby and Pancks: Flora tnkes an interest tn Little Dorr Aunt” makes & demonstration, and is taken out by Mr. Pancks; Mr, Pancke shows an ab= ‘rorbing interest {a the Dorrit family, and quesUons Arthur about them; Mr. Panckx sor8 through Weeding Heert Tard collecting renta, but dows not eatiafy his proprietor, —XX1¥, Little Dorrit goes to work for Flora: Flora gives her the history of her old attachment to Arthur; Mr, Pancks surprises Lite Dorrit by his skill n fortune-telling; Amy tella Magay Mhostory of the beautiful princess, and the Tittle woman who had a sccret.—XXV. Me. Fancks, Mr. Rugs, and young John Chivery dine together, and appear to be engaged in & ‘conspiracy which lotorosts Litike Dorrity Mr, Pancks oalls apo Cavabletto, and Mrs. Plor nish acts aa interproter.—XX V1. Doycoand Cleunam dixcum the intimacy of Henry Gowan atmiecottage: Mr. Gowan expresses his opinion of the world: Arthur visits at her sous request, Stra. Gowan at Hampton Court; she questions hin atout the Meagleses, and be assures hee that they are not pleased by her son's attentions w Pet, and have hoped to break off an attachment. —XXVI1. Mr. Meaglos informs Clennam of Tattycoram'ssudden Aisappearanee; thelr thoughts both Farh to Miss Wade as probably the eanse: they nook Miss Wade, ond nd Tattycoram with her, but cannot Induce her to return home with Mr. Meaglen —XXVILL Mr. Clonnusn encounters Stinnle alone, and, as they walk home trough the #reUve, he anticlpates hor confidence, Invokes w blessing on her marriage with ‘Gowan, and promises to be a friend lo her father when abe lbaway Mr. Meaglea delicately Intimates to Ardar his suspicion of the hopes he once cherished tn regard to Pet. —XX1X. Mr, Pancks calling at Mra Clonnam’s, sho understands that it 1s to seo Liktle Dorrit, who Isthere: Mrs. Cleanam is unusually gentle towards Amy; Aifery, shut out tn thestreet, is accosted ty a traveller, who climbs Into the window, and opens the door for her. — XXX ‘The stranger announces himself to Jeremiah as Blandols, and produces a letter of katie accion to Clennam € Co.; Mr. Hlandols, baring dined at a neighboring tavern, retorns to bay his respects to Mra, Clennam; the visitor shows partieular interest in Mre Cleonain"s ‘vateh, with ite pecallar monogram at his request he ts shown through the old houses he Appears delighted with Lhe house, and takes singular freedoms with Jeremiah. —XXXI- Air. Jolin Edwant Nandy is introduced ; [ttle Dorrts takes bim wither to the Marshalsea, to the indignation of Miss Fanny and the grief of hor father; the Tathor becomes Teadnr tiled, and bestows his patronage apon Nandy Tip and Miss Panny show " a propor apieit * In Chotr conduct towards Arthur. —XXXIL. Arthur secures an interview alone with LIS Dornt, and contides to her tho story of the love he had overcome; he urges her to Sitrunt to him any secret griof or care atio may have; Mr. ancks appears in m state of great €x« altement, which hulf fighicns Amy, but which Cleonam understands; Mr. Wencke furparte bis discovery to Clennam. —XXXIU. Mra Merile advises Mra Gowan on the tarnts of vooloty in rogard to her son's marriago; Mre Mondie complains to her bi

Ast bo carries his business too much with him. — XXXIV. Mr. Hoary Gowan explalaa 1

‘Clennam the disap ointment he has suffered; marriage of Henry Gowan and Minnle ‘Meagles, atvended vy all the Barnaclos.—XXXV. Mr. Dorrit proves hetratlaw to a gros estate, Mr, Hancks baying traced out the clam; Pancke narrates all the particulars to Arthat, who carries the news immediately to Little Dorrit; her first thought t# of her father, and they go to tall hits emotion with which 2x, Dorrit recelvos the news of bis food fortune. —XXXVIo-Me. Dorrit and fhunlly p-epare for leering the prison, and Me. Dorrit givos on entertainment to tho oolleglans: at the moment of depsrture, the family te Gingraced by Amy, wlio has fainted In her shabby drums and Is carried to the carriage ts ‘that condition by Arthur

NOOK It.—Carrex 1. The Dorrit party, Mr. and Mra. Menry Gowsn, and Mandote Boot at the Convent of the Great St. Bernard: Mra Gowan, having recetred an injury of the ruad, faints away, and her hastand carries hor to her room; Amy seeks Minnie Gowan tu her room, and gives her letter from Clennam; leaving the room, Amy encounters ASlandols fn the dark gallery; Blsndols registers bis name under the others in the Teavel= Jers" Book. — If. Who Mex General was, and how Mr. Dorrit engaged her to "form tho imiods" of his daughters. — 111. Mr, Dorrit and Fanny aro indignant at Amy for secking

_-—tbe acquaintance of 1 friend of Clennam; the Dorrit party lexve the convent, watched in their descent by Blandols; at Martigny, Mr. Dorrit hasan altercation with the Innkeeper, ‘who has allowed oue of the rooms engaged for hin to be used by other travellors; the Aravellers prove to bo Mrs. Mordie and Mr. Sparkler, and the lady appeases Mr. Dorrit by Der apology: the party moves on to Venice. —1¥, Amy writes to Clonuam, and relatos her interview with Minnie Gowan.—V. Mr. Dorrit takes the liberty to auggoat to Aira General that there ts something wrong In Amy t Mr. Dorrit, begs Amy to accommodate hheewelf better to the clreamstanoes of her atatlon; hespeaks of the old days tn the Mar- Abalsoa, and acousos ber of always recwlllug them by hee manner) the Gowsns boing im ‘Venice, Mr. Dorrit, after consulting Mra. General, consents to recognize thelr acquaint> ance; Mr, Frederick tn moved to protest against the way In which Amy Is treated. — VI. Mr. Gawan decides to encourage the acquaintance of Iitandol, who has accompanied them to Veuloe; Panny and Amy call apon the Gowmuns; In Gowan"satudlo, Biandots is attacked hy Gowan's dogs returning bome, they are attended by Mr, Sparkler, and Fanny telle Amy how she meas to receive hiv attentions; Mr. Dorrit decides to bentow his patronage upon ‘Menry Gowan, and engages him to paint his plesure: Gownn loses bis dog. VII, Fanny nuxpects Mra. General of matrimonial designs on Mr. Dorrit; Gowan aecepts, in bis depre- ‘lating way, Mr, Dorrit’s commission; Blandols provents the confidence between Amy and Mrs. Gowan; the family foes to Rome, and Mré, Stendle renews the acquaintance" begun wt Martigny."—VLIL Doyco explains to Cleanam the Inyentiou he has eherlahed for ‘Years, and Arthur determines to urge ita claims atthe Cireamlocution Omics; the dowager Mrs. Gowan calle upon the Meayleses, and reminds them, that, considering the sacrifice ber a bas mado, “It never does" for people of auch different antecedents to try to wet together. —IX. Mr. Meagles informs Arthur of his Intention to go abroad and seo Pet, and Arthur urges him to do vo; Mrs. Tlokit eees Tattyooram; soon after, Arthur himsolt sew wor in company with Miss Wade and Biandols; Biandols Leaves them, and Arthar seos them enter Mr, Casby's house, but on gaining admission to tho house, and tkquiring for Aber, Casby gives him vague answers —X. Arthur, on the way to see his mother, is Junto in the stroet by Blandols, and is greatly astonished, on following im, to sind im soaking admittance to Mra. Cletmam's house; Arthur objects to his presence there, but Mv, Clennam informs him that Blandols has business wish thems Blandols hints darkly At tho feelings existing botwoen Clennam & Co, —X1, Little Dorrit writes again to Arti with further intelligence of the Gowans and of her own family. XIT. A dinner ts given At Mr, Mendlo's, attended by Bar, Bishop, ibe., and the Barnacles, the object being to secure n meeting for Ave minutes between Mr. Merdlo and Lore Deotmus, the consequence of which In tho appointment of Edward Sparkicr, Kaquire, as cne of the lords of the Cir rumlocution Omce.— XII. Everybody talks of Mr. Merdie and of bis enterprises; Mr Panoks oallsak Mr, Plomish’s xhop after s trying day; rlagular vestormances of Caralletio, sopsequent on his seeing Rigand, and trying towvond bia; Clennam ealls at the Plormishes’ ‘m his return home; Pancks sccompanios Ctenmain home, and argues in faror of the Mordle wterpricer, in which he has himself invested.—XI¥. How the news of Mr, Sparkler's sopnintmeus was recelved by his friends in Ttalyy Fanny “takes Ams"s advice” as to the

ct

398 Ehe Vickens Wlct onary.

‘nd of her Intoreourse with Mr. Sparkler, and decides, for the sake of seeuring « more ofined position, snd of asserting herself agninst his mother, that she will encourage him: Fanny, attended by Mr. Sparkler, informs Amy of thelr engagement, —XV. Mr. Dorrit flods Mes. Merdlo eharmed with Mr. Sparkler's choles Fanny expresses herself tired of Mrs. General; Mr. Dorrit remonstrates, and insists upon the engagement being announced to her: Fanny “tooks to Amy” for advice in regard to the time of her marriage, and. de~ ‘ides that tt ahatl be acon; Fanny is married, and teaves for Ragland; Mr. Dorrit jolus her 2 Plorenoe, and Amy and Mrs. General are left at Bome.—XYVI. Mrs. Sparkler ls estate lished in the rooms of Mra, Mentle; Mr. Merdle ealls upon Mr. Dorrit at his hotel, and coffers to asaist Mr. Dorrit in investing his mopey.—XVIL Mra inching calle upon Mr. Dorrit, and Informs tilt of the dieappoarance of Tlandols, who has never been sean ance ‘bo entered the house of Mrs. Clennam, and asks him to look out for him on his rewen to ‘Uualy; Mr. Dorrit goes to Br Clennam's to ask about Blandols; Mes. Atfery is again frightened by the noise —XVILL Young John Chivery calls 19 pay ale respects to Ar. Dorrit, much to that gentleman's lodignation: passing through Paris, Mr. Dorrit selects ‘two itt gifts for w ndy.— XIX. Mr. Dorrit arrives at Rome lave in the evening, and finds ‘his brother and Amy alone; he thinks hia brother grestly broken they recelve an invite tion to Dirk, Merdie’s farewell assembly ; Mr. Dorrit begins an important canversation with ‘Mr. General, the conclusion of which, at her request, he postponess at Mrs Mendie"« party, Mr. Dorrit's mind wanders; he fancies himself again the Father of the Marshalses, ‘and Welcomes the company to that institutions his brother and Amy get tim home, and, after ten days of wandering, Mr. Dorrit diev; Mz. Frederick Dorrit dies by the bedside of his dead brother. XX, Arthur Cleunam gains an intersiow with Miss Wade at her lodg- Ings tn Colais: he aceks news of Blandols, but she will give bim none; her hatred of the Gowann; hor influence over Tattyooram.—XXE. Mle Wade's history, as written out by herself for Mr. Cleanatn's perusal; Doyce recelves an appointment as engineer from & forelgn power, ~ XXII. Before leaving England, Clennam gives him & statement of thelr bunlneas, and Dogce cautions him againat speculating; Doyco’s departure; Clennam, unconsciously repeating the tune he had heard Blandols sing, 1s surprised to hear Cavallette. continue its Cavalletto tells Arthur where he knew Rigaud, and who he was, and Arttivr espatches him in search of the missing man,—XXIIL. Arthar informs is smother what he has heard rogarding Biandole; Arthur secures an opportunity of apeaking privately to Affory, who tells him the house {s full of mysteries, bot will aay no tore until he bids her © toll hor dreame™ before his mother and Jeremiah. —XX1¥. Mre. Sparkler passes ® long day with her husband; they receive « call from Mr. Merdle; who, on leaving, borrows ‘Fauny's penknife, —XXV. Mr. Merdio is found dead in # bath, having committed suicide with Fanny's Xnifo; the chief butler gives notice; Mr. Mendle's " complaint” proves to tho forgery and robbery. —XXVE. Clennam finds his frm ruined tyr the failure of Merdie's Bank, renigns every thing into the hands of thelr creditors, and exonerates Doyes from Dimer Arthur is arrosted, and taken to the Marehalscas young Jolin Chivery conducts him tnto the old room, but declines to shake hands with him.—XXVIL Young Joba tne Vites Arthur to take ton with him, and opens his eyes in regard to Little Dorrit's feelings

or his; young John composes his foal epitaph.—XXVUL Ferdinand Barnacle calla ‘upon Arthur in prison; Rugg calls, but tx unable to move Arthur's decision to remaln where be ts; Rigaud enters Arthur's room, followed by Cavalletto and Panes; Cavalletto relates how he found himy Rigaud gives hile reasons for disappearing ho sends a note 16 Bir. Clennam, wnming a Ume for the adjustment of thelr business; Fiintwinch comes ka porvon to anawer the note,—XXIX. Arthur's health fails in the prisons Little Dorrit comes to hime, having Just returned to Loudon, and heard of his misfortunes; she offers ‘him all hor wealth to free him from embarrassment, bat he declines, and requests her to avcld him: young John beings Littie Dorrit’s parting-message to Ardhur.—XXX. Iigand josely followed by Cavalletto and Fanicks, keeps ble appointment with Clennam & Cost Fancks calls upon Asfory in Arthur's name to tell her dreams; partly by Rigaud’ role ‘ing what he knows, and partly through Affory’s Grea," it Is told that Mrv. Clennam We mot Arthur's mothers that he i her hasband’s elild by « woman whom ho loved but ‘wus forced by his uncle to glveup; that Mre. Clennam foroed her husband to give Gp. to Ler the object of his love, whom she nso forved to rellnquiah her child, to be reared. wx, ‘sd baUover to be, Mra Clennam's own son; that Mre Cfennam had suppressed a eodlck,

Bittle Dorit. 899

to Ofidert Clennam’s will, by which Little Dorrit would have recelvel two thousand guineas; that Joremtah ba Intruated the papers establishing thao facts to his brother's keeping, and that they had fallen into Rigaud’s hands: Rigaud threatens, if his terms for silence are not accepted, to put coples of these papers m Arthur's hands; Mra Clennam ‘sunrts up regardiess of her paralytic stato, od rushes out of the house, followed by Affery and Jeremiah. XXX. Mra Clonnam’s tnterview with Little Dorrit in the prison; fall of tho old house, burying Iandols in its ruins = XXXIT. Mr, Pancks exposes his patron to the Isleeding Hearts. —XXXILL. Mr. Meagles sete himself to hunting up the box eontain~ ing the papers Rigaud had stolen: is jntorviow with Miss Wado, who deoies ail knowl- ‘edge of them; he returns to England unauccemful, but Is followed by Tattycoram, who ‘brings the missing box, and bogs to be taken back, Mr. Menglos starts off again in search of Doyee. — XXXIV. Little Dorrit informs Arthur that her father’s property was all lost ‘ty Mr, Mondle’s failure, and ho now will sbare her fortune with her: Flora’s Isat act of fricndship, and the crowning deftance of Mr. ¥.’x Aunt; Daye returns with Mr. Meaglea, fexcnerstes Arthur, and offers to renew the partnership; Little Dorrit gives Arthur ® folded paper to bara; Arthur and Little Dorrit are married.

A Tale of Two Cities.

8HORTLY before discontinuance of “Hoaswhold Words" (May 28, 1880), Mr Dickens begun the publication of a new periodienl, ntitied “All the Year Round;” and tn the first number (dated April 30) appeared the first portion of “A Talo of Two Citins.” It was concluded In No. 31, for November 26, 1830. Tt was also Issued in eight monthly parts, with two ilinstrations tn each, by Hablot K. Browne. On its completion, ft was published as an Independent volume by Chapman and Wall, and was inscribed to Lord John Russell, “in remembrance of many public services and private kindnosses” |

Of this story it has been Justly said, that it ts “so noble in its spirit, 00 grand ‘and graphic in Sts style, and filled with @ pathos so profound and simple, that i deserves and will surely take a place among the great serious works of Imagina- tion”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Barsad, John. See Pross, Sotomon.

Carton, Sydney. A dissipated, reckless drudge for Mr. Stryver + a man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, Incapable of his own help and his own happk ness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himaclf to let it eat him away. (Bk. J, ch. ii-vi, xi, xiii, xx, xxi; Bk. IIL, ch. viii, ix, xi, xii, xiii, xv.)

Ho had that rather wild, strained, seared marking about the eyes, whieh may be obserred In all free livers of hls class, from the portralt of Jeffries

downward, and which can be traced, under various disguises of art, through the portraits of every drinking age.

It had once been noted at the bar, that while Mr. Stryver was a glib mam ‘and ap unscrupulous, and a ready, and a bold, he had not that faculty ofexteaeh “0

& Tale of Two EClties.

401 Ing the essence from a heap of statements, which ts among the most striking nd necessary of the advocate’s accomplishments. But a remarkable {mprove- ‘ment came upon nim as to this. ‘The more businoss he got, the greater his power seemed to grow of getting at {ts pith and marrow; and, however late at night he aat carousing with Sydney Carton, he always had hiv polnts at his fingers’ ends in the morning.

‘Sydney Carton, Idlest aud most unpromising of men, was Stryver'a great ally. ‘What the two drank together between Hilary Term and Michaelmas might have floated a king’s ship. Stryver never tind a caso in hand snywhere, but Carton ‘was there, with his hands fn his pockets, staring at the ceiling of the court. They went the same circuit, and even there they prolonged thelr usual orgies late Into the night, and Carton was rumored to be seen at broad day, golng home stenlthily und unstendily to his lodgings like m dissipated eat, At last it began to get about among such as were Interested tn the matter, that, although Sydney Carton would ever be # Hon, be was an amazingly good Jackal, and that be rendered wult ‘snd service to Stryver in that humble capacity.

Charles Darnay having been on trial for his life on a charge of treason, and Miss Lucie Manette having been one of the witnesses in the case, Mr. Stryver, who has been the prisoner’s counsel, jokes Carton about his manifest interest in the young lady. And although Carton affects to be titterly indifferent to her, and speaks almost con- temptuously of her, he is, in fact, fascinated by her beauty, and falls more and more deeply in love with her as he comes to know more of her goodness and purity, Feeling that he is quite unworthy of her, and knowing that she is betrothed to Darnay, he seeks her for the double purpose of declaring his love, and bidding her farewell for ever.

If Sydney Carton ever shone anywhere, he certainly never shone in the house of Doctor Manette. He had been there often, during a whole year, and bad always been the same moody and morose lounger there. When he cared to talk, he talked well; but the loud of caring for nothing, which overshadowed him with such a fital darkness, was very rarely plerced by the light within him,

On aday in August, . . . Sydney's fect . . . became animated by an intent ‘snd, in the working-ont of that Intention, they took him to the doctor's door.

He was shown up stairs, and found Lucie at her work alone, She had never ‘eon quite at her ease with him, and recelved him with some little embarrass- ‘nent as he seated himself near her table. But, looking up at hls face in the iutex- ahange of the first few commonplaces, she observed « change tn It.

“J fear you are not well, Mr. Carton.”

“No. Bat the life 'Yead, Miss Manette, 1s not conducive to health. What to be expeoted of or by such protigntes ?””

“"Teit not— forgive me; T have begun the question on my lps —a plty to live ho better lifo?”

‘God knows it Is a shame!"

“Then why not change it?”

Looking gently at him aguls, she waa surprised and saddened to see that there ‘wero toare in his eyos. ‘There wero tears In his yolee too, ws ho answered, —

“Tis too late for that, T shall never de better than Tam. I shall sink lowery and be worse,”

i

2 She Wickens Wictlonacy.

‘He leaned w «elbow on her table, and covered his eyes with his hand. The table trembles it the stlenoe that followed. |

‘She had never seen him softened, and was much distremed. He knew her to be $0 without sook(ag at her, and said, —

“Dray, forgive me, Miss Manette, I break down before the knowledge of what want to say to you. Will you hear me?”

“Tf It will do you any good, Mr. Carton, if it would make you bappler, It ‘would make me very glad.”

“God bless you for your sweet compassion! "

Tie unshaded his fuce after a little while, and spoke steadily.

* Don’t be afraid to hear me, Don't shrink from any thing Tsay. I am like one who died young. Ail my life might have been.”

“No, Mr-Carton. Iam sure that the best part of tt might atl be; Tam sure that you might be much, much worthler of yourself”

“Say of you, Miss Manette; and although I know better—although in the mystery of my awn wretched heart, I know better —I shall never forget [t.”

‘She was pale and trembling. Me came to her relief with a fixed despair of himself, which made the intervlew unlike ony other that could have been holden,

“If tthad been possible, Misa Manctte, that you could have returned the love of tie man you see before you —self-lung away, wasted, drunken, poor ereature of misuse ms you know him to be—he would have been conscious this day and hour, in splte of his happiness, that he would bring you to misery, brlug you to sorrow and eepeutance, blight you, disgrace you, pull you down with him. T know very woll that you can’ bave no tenderness for me; I atk for nove; 1 am even thankful that it ean not be.”

“Without It, ean I not save you, Mr. Carton? Can T not recall you—forgire me agaln}—to a better course? Can Tin no way repay your confidence? Lknow this Is m confidence,” she modestly aald after Uttle hesitation, and in earnest tears. “T know you would say thla to no one else. Can I tara it to no good ‘account for yourself, Mr. Carton ?”*

He shook his head.

“To nou. No, Miss Manette, to none, If you will hear me through a very titde more, all you can ever do for me {x done. I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul. In my degradation I have not been so degraded, but that the sight of you with your father, and of this home (made such a home by you), has stirred old shadowa that I thought had died out of me. Since I know you T have been troubled by # remorse that I thought would never reproach me again, and have heaed whispers from old volces impelling me upward, that T thought weresilent forever. Thave had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A-dream, ‘all u dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where be Iny down; bab T wish you to know that you luspired It,

© No, Miss Manette: all through it I have known myself to be quite undesery Ing. And yet T have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish. you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, honp of ashes that Iam, Into fire, —a fire, howorer, inseparable In tts nature from myself, quickeningnoth: ing, lighting nothing, doing no service, idly burning away. ... Let ine carry through the reat of my misdirected life the remembrance that T opened my hear

> you last of all the world; aud that there was something left in me at this time which you could deptore und pity.!*

* Whish T entreated you to belleve, again and again, most fervently, with al ‘ey heart was capable of better things, Mr. Carton.” -

M& Eale of Swo Elttes, 408

“ Entreat moto believe it no more, Miss Manette, Ihave proved mysdlf, and t now better. I distress you: I draw fast to an end. Will you let me believe, when I recall this day, that the last confidence of my life was repoved In your pure and innocent brosst, and that {t Hes there alone, and will be shared by no one?”

“Tf that will be a consolation to you, yes."

“Not even by the dearest one ever tobe known toyou?”

“ Mr. Carton,” she answered, after an agitated pause, * the seeret is youry, not mine; and T promise to respect it."

“Thank you! And again, God bless yout”

He prt her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door. . .

“ My last supplication of all fs this; and with {t E will retiere you of « visitor with whom I well know you have nothing in unison, and between whom and you there fs an impassable space. It ls useless tonay it, I know; but It rises out of my soul. For you, and for any dear to you, would doany thing. If my career were of that better kind that there was an opportunity or enpacity of sacrifice in it, 1 ‘would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. ‘Try to hold me In your mind, at some quiet times, as mrdent and sincere in this one thing. The time will come, the time will not be long in coming, when new ties will be formed about you, —tles that will bind you yet more tenderly and strongly to the home you #0 adorn,—the dearest ties that will ever graco und gladden you. © Miss ‘Manette! when the little pleture of a happy father’s face looks up in yours, when you seo your own bright beauty epringing up anew at your feet, think, now and ‘then, that there is a man who would give his life to keep a life you love bealde you."

‘The words are prophetic. Her husband, Darnay, having been summoned to Puris, and, on bis arrival, arrested, thrown into prison, and condemned to death, is rescued by Carton, who greatly resembles him, and who takes his place, and dies in his stead, hav- ing faithfully promised one of the officers of the prison that he will protect him from punishment for his complicity in Darnay’s escape by submitting to be guillotined without revealing the fraud. Dar nay (called in Paris Evrémonde) is drugged, and rendered insun- sible, as he cannot otherwise be made a party to the escape; and he fw then removed, dressed in Carton’s clothes, to a carriage, the sus- picions of the guard having been lulled by tolling them that the prisoner's visitor has been overcome by parting from his friend.

‘The door closed, and Carton was left alone, Straining his powers of listening to the utmost. he listened for any sound that might denote suspicion or alarm. There was none, . . . Breathing more freely in a little while, he ant down at the table, and listened agnin until the clooks struck two.

Sounds that he was not afraid of, for he divined thelr meaning, then began to be audible. Several doors were opened in ucceaslon, and Gnally his own. A jailer, with a Hist in bis hand, looked 'a, merely saying,” Follow me, Kvrémondet" And he followed into a large, dark room at a distance. Tt was a dark winter day, avd what with the ssadows within, and what with the shadows without, he could bat dimly discern the others who were brought there to have thelr arms bound. Some were standing; some seate.. Some wore lamenting, and in restless motion; but

404 The Wickens Dictlonarp.

thero were few. The great majority wore allont and still, looking Oxedly at the und.

eA the Paris streets the death-carts rumble, hollowand harsh, Stx trbeile

earry the day’ wine to La Guillotine... .

Asthe sombre wheels . . . goround, they seem to ploogh up a long crooked far row among the populace In the streets. Ridges of faces are thrown to this side snd to that, and the ploughs go steadily onward. So used are the regular [nbab- Hants of the houses to the spectacle, that, In many windirwe Sar Se Soe and In some the occupation of the hands ix not #0 much as suspended while the ‘epGe mirroy tho fhovs In the turnbrila. . .

‘Of the riders n the tambrils, some obyerve these things, and all thiags on thet Just roadside, with nn {mpassive stare; others with m lingering interest tm the ways of life and men. Some, seated with drooping heads, are sunk in silent de spair; again, there are some so heedful of their looks, that they cast upoa the mal- titude much glances as they have seen in theatres mod in pictures. Several clove their eyes, and think, or Iry to get thelr «traying thoughts together. Only one, and he a miserable creature of « oraxed nepect, Ix #0 shattered and mado drank by horror, that he sings, and teles to dance. Not one of the whole number appeals by Jook or goature to tho pity of tho people,

‘There is a guard of sundry horsemen riding abreast of the tambetle; a8 fnoos are often turned up to some of them, and they are msked some question. I& would seem to be always she ame question; forit ts always followed by = press of people toward the third cart. The horsemen abresst of that cart

polnt out one man in itwith their swords. The leading curiosity Est ls ho: he stands at the back of the tumbril with his head bent down ‘no ourlosity or care for the seene about him... .» Here and there in the | street of 8t. Honord, eries are raised against him, Kf they more him at all, only to a quict smile, a8 he shakes his halra little more loosely about bis then. te eannot easily touch his face, his arms being bound,

On the steps of a charch, awaiting the comlog-up of the tumbrils, stands the

me?” when his fice clears as he looks into the third. “Which ls Evrémondo ?” says @ man behind him, “That. At the buck there. With his hand tn the girl's?”

8 man cries,“ Down, Rvrémondet To the guillotine all arlstoornts! Dows Evrémonde 1h © Hush, lash!" the spy entreats bin thinidly. “And why not, oltizen ?!" “ Ue is golng to pay the forfeit: it will be pald in five minutes more. Let him be at peace.” ‘man continuing to exelaim, “Down, Evrémondel” the fice of Rene

oes, the upturaing of many fases, the presatapom tsteps in the outakirts of the crowd so that it swells forward inemas, ike one great heave of water, all flashes away...

"him about the olty, that night, that Jt waa the poseefullest man? held there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophet.

SYDNEY CARTON AND THE SEMPSTRESS,

@ Cale of Two Citle: 405

* Tha portrayal of the noble-natured castaway, Sydney Carton, makes It (A Talo of ‘Two Cities} almost a peerless book in modern litenrture, and gives ita place among the Righeot examples of wit literary art. “Greater love hath no man then this, that he Ing own hia life for his friend." And yet Sydney Cartun did more; for he gave his life, not or his frlond, but to secure the worn he fondly loved a happy life with another man,

«The conception of thiastory and of this character tsaublime, and shows tn ite author ‘an {deal of magnanknity and of charity unsurpassed in the history of all titeratur ‘One alight, tender touch of the artist's band 1s too exquisite to be passed by, « ‘Tho wan and the family whose luppiness Sydney Carton dlos to wave aro in hoa Aight from Faris aa he gocs to the guillotine. Haw was so note # death to be worthily por trayed? ‘The nathor effects this by tntroductng a poor little ewort matured, alrinking, ‘dut brave-hearted milliner-gifl. who wns to be put to death, —she could net ges why, ‘As many con!d not. then, Who suiTered death as she did. She was with Errdsaonds in ‘the prison of La Force, snd, when they are onlered out to take thotr places tn the tumbrils, abe speaks to the supposed Evrémonde, who ls gotng to death with ber, Looking closely, sho sees that It le not Kvrdmonde, but a man a0 like him, that one might be taken for the other, She divines his purpose. and keops his searet. aud begs ‘hat she may hold his* brave hand ‘to the last. Mixhosrt goes ut to herin that enprome moment of thelr lives: he sustaine and comforts her; ad at last ahe naka." Ain Eto Kiss you now? Tathe moment come ?'—' Yea” She kissos bie lips, he kisses hers, and sho mounts the scaffold, He follows her, murmuring to himself, "I am the Reaurrec= tion and the Life." The end comes, and the castaway diex, thinking, “It i « fur, far ‘etter thing that I do than I have ever done: st 1s a fur, far beter rest that I go to than Thave everknown,’ Heyond that, the aublimity of simple self-sacrifice, the enthuxiaxm ‘of humanity, the parity of pathos, ean never go. Tn all literature, tn all history, there te not a grander, lovelier gare, than the self-wreakod, telf-devoted Syuney Carton." — Bionaxp Guast Ware,

Cly, Roger. An Old Bailey spy, partner of Solomon Pross, and formerly servant to Charles Darn: (Bk. U1, ch, ili, xiv; Bk. TH, ch. viii, xv.)

Cruncher, Jerry. An odd-job man at Tellson’s Bank, in London, who is also a resurrection-man. His wife, pious woman, is greatly distressed by her knowledge of the horrible nature of his nightly occupation; and, as her remonstrances prove to be unavailing, she resorts to prayers and supplications to Heaven to aid her in the reformation of her husband. ‘This is very distasteful to Mr. Crun- cher, — so much so, indsed, that he sometimes resorts to violence te prevent it,

Mr. Cruncher reposed under m patchwork counterpane, like a harlequin at home, At first he slept heavily, but by degrees began to roll and surge In bed, ‘untll he rose above the surface, with bis apiky hatr looking ns if it must tear the sheets to ribbons, At which juncture, he exclaimed in a voice of dire exaaperne too. —

Bust mo, if she afn’t at it agin!”

A woiman of orderly and industrious appearance rose from her knees In # corner, with sufficient hasteand trepidutiou to show that she was the person re ferred to.

“What!” sald Mr. Grancher, looking out of bed fora boot. “You 're at it ‘gin; are you?”

After bailing the morn with this second salutation, he threw # Boot at the

_

106 The Dickens Pictionary.

woman asa third. Tt was a very muddy boot, and may Introduce the odd stream Manoe connected with Mr. Cruncher’s domestic economy, that, whereas he often ‘eame home after banking-hours with clean boots, he often got up next morning to find the same boots covered with olay.

“What.” sald Mr. Cruucher, varying his apostrophe after missing his mark, — “what are yon up to, aggerawayter ?”

Twas only susing my prayers.” Saying your prayers! You're a nice woman! What do you menn by flopping yourself down, and praying agin me?”

*<Twne not praying against you: Twas praying for you.”

“You were n't; and, if you were, I won't be took tho Iiberty with. Mere, your mother’s a nico woman, young Jerry. going mprayiog agin your father's prosperity, You 've got a dutiful mother; you have, my son. You 've got Tellgioas mother; you have, my bay: going and flopping herself down, wa prays fog that the bread-and-butver may be snatched out of the mouth of her omly ebuiai"

Master Cruncher (who was {n his xbtrt) took this very fl, and, tarning to his mother, strongly deprecated any praying away of his personal board.

“ And what do you suppose; you conceited female,” said Mr. Cruncher with ‘unconscious inconsistency, “that the worth of your prayers may be? Name the price that you put your prayers ut.

“They only come from the heart, Jerry. ‘They are worth no more than that”

“ Worth no more than that,” repeated Mr. Cruucher: “they ala’t worth much, then, Whether or no, Lwon't be prayed agin, f tell you. I cun't afford It, I'm not a-going to be made unlucky by your sneaking. If you must go flopping yourself down, flop in favor of your husband and child, and not in opposition to 'em, If I had had any bot aunnat’ral wife, and this poor boy had had any but a uinat'ral mother, Tmight have made some money last week, instead of being counterprayed and countermined, and religiously elreumwented Into the worst of luck. Bo-u-ust met” anid Mr, Cruncher, who all this time had been putting on his clothes, 11 nln’, ‘what with piety and one blowed thing nnd another, been choased this Inst woek into as bad luck as ever a poor devil of a honest tradesman met with? ‘Young Jerry, dress yourself, my boy, and, while I clean my boots, keep @ eye upon your mother now and then, and, If you see any signs of more flopping, give me a call. For I tell you," here he addressed his wife once more, “I won't bo gone agin in this manner, I am as rickety ax a huckney-coach; I'm fs slocpy ar landanum; my lines {s strained to that degree that I should mt know, if it was n't for the pain in Yem, which was me, aud which somebody +]so; yet I?m none the bettor for It in pocket; and ft % my suspicion that you tre eon at It from morning to night to provent me from being the better for tt in pocket; and T won't put up with it, aggerawayter; and what do you say now + + = Mr.Crunchor betook himself to his boot-cleaning and his general prepar rations for business. In the mean time, his von... kept the required wateb upon his mother. He greatly disturbed that poor woman, nt interrals, by dart Ing out of his sleeping-closet, where he made his tollet, with a aupprosmed ery of, “You ars going to flop, mother!—talloo, father!” and, after ralxing thie Gctitions nlarm, darting in aguin with an undatiful grin,

Mr. Cruncher’s temper was not at all Improved when he came to his breale (it. He resented Mrs. Cruncher's saying grace with particular antmouity,

“Now, aggerawayter, what are you up to? At It agin?”

Its wife explained that #he had merely * asked a blessing.”

“Dont do it!” said Mr. Cruncher, looking about ax if he rather expeete to we the loat diwppear under the efficacy of his wife's petitions, “ain't w

@ Sale of Swo Cities, 407

folng to be blest out of house and home, Iwon't have my wittler blest off wy tabie, Keep stilt!”

Participating in the horrors of the outbreak in Paris, whither he has gono in company with Mr. Long, Jerry is so impressed with the uncertainty of human life, that he resolves to reform; and he communicates his resolution to Miss Pross in this wise: —

“Would you do me the favor, miss, to take notice o' two promises and wows ‘wot it is my wishes fur to record in this here orisis?"*

Oh, for gracious sake!” eried Miss Pross, atill wildly erying, “record them at once, and get them out of the way, like an excellent mas!"

“First,” maid Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with ‘an ashy and solemn visage, “them poor things well out o” this, uever no more will Ido it; never no more!”

“1am quite sure, Mr, Cruncher,” returned Miss Pross, “ that you never will do it again, whatever It Is; and I beg you not to think it necessary to mention — more particularly what It is.’

“No, miss," returned Jerry: “It shall not be named to you. Second, them poor things well out o’ this, and never no more will X interfere with Mrs, ‘Cruncher’s flopping; never no more!"

“Whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be,” sald Miss Pross, striv- Ang to dry her eyes, and compose herself, “I have no doubs St is beat that Mrs. -Croncher should have It entirely under her own superintendence. Oh! my poor darlings 1”

“1 go so fur as to say, miss, morehover,” proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with amost alarming tendency to hold forth as from a pulplt,—" and let my words bo took down, nnd took to Mrs. Cruncher through youreeif,—that wot my opinions ne spectin’ lopplog has undergove a change, aud that wot I only hope with all my heurt as Mrs, Uruncher may be a-flopping at the present time.”

“There, there, there! I hove she is, my dear man,” oried the distracted Miss ‘Pross; “and I hope she finds it answering her expectations.”

(Bk. I, ch. ii, iii; Bk. II, cb. i-iii, vi, xiv, xxiv; Bk, TIT, ch. vii~ fx, xiv.)

Cruncher, Young Jerry. His son and assistant. (Bk. Il, ch. 4, ii, xiv; Bk. IL, ch. ix.)

Young Jerry, while yet a mere boy, and not in the seert of his father’s night-excursions, masters the name of the business, and forms an idea of its nature,

Father," sald Young Jerry as they walked along, taking eare to keep at ‘arms-length, and to have the stool well between them, “what's m resurrection:

man?”

‘Mr, Cruncher came to # stop on the phvement before he answered, “ow should I know?”

“I thought you knowed every thing, futher,” said the artless boy.

“Mom Wels! returned Mr. Cruncher, going ou again, .. . “ho sa trades man.”

“What "s his goods, father?” asked the brisk Yocug Jerry.

“His goods," said Str, Cruncner, after turning it over tn his mind, “ts 9 bravo of scientific goods”

=

08 The Dickens Dictionary.

“Person bodies; ain't it, father?” asked the lively boy:

+ I believe it is eomethink of that sort," xald Mfr. Crancher.

up.”

se Cour ae soothed, but shook bis head fn « grave and moral way, “It depends upon how you dewelop your talents. Ie careful to dewelop your talents, and never to say no more than SP ee telling at the prevent time what you my come tobe fit for" As Young Jerry, thus encournged, went on a few yards im advance, to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar, Mr. Crancher added to himself, “Jerry, you honest trades: mas, there '« hopes wot that boy will yet be a blessing to you, and arecomyense t0 you for his mother.”

Cruncher, Mrs. Wife of Jerry Cruncher; called by him“ Ag- gerawayter.” (Bk. Il, ch. §, il, xiv; Bk. IH, ch. ix, xiv). See. Cxonouen, Jneny.

Darnay, Charles. See Sr. Evnémonpr, Cuanues.

Darnay, Mrs. Lucie. See Maxerre, Lucie.

Defarge, Madame Théres’. Wife of Monsieur Defange, and leader of the Saint Antoine rabble of women in the Revolution. She is a stout woman, with a watchful eye that seldom seems to look at any thing, a steady face, strong features, and great composure of manner, She is killed in an encounter with Miss Manctte’s maid, ‘Miss Pross, who refuses to admit her into a room in which her mis tress is supposed to be. (Bk. I, ch. v, vi; Bk. II, ch. vii, xv, xvi, xxi, xxii; Bk. II, ch. iii, ¥, vi, vili-x, xii, xiv, xv.)

Of astrong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and readiness, of great otermination, of that kind 6f besuty which not only seems to impart to Ite possessor firmness and aulmosity, but to stzike into others au instinctive recog- nition of those qualities, the troubled time would have heaved her up under any clroumstances; but, imbued from her childhood with a brooding sense of wrong and an inveterute hatred of » class, opportunity had developed her into a tigress. She was absolutely without pity. If she had ever had the virtue in her, it tind quite gone out of her.

Defarge, Monsieur Ernest. Keeper of a wine-shop in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, and ringleader of the revolutionista in that quarter of the city. At his house, Doctor Manette is tempo~ rarily placed after being released from the Bastille; and it is he who finds the record which the old man had writes and secreted In the prison, and who produces t in court against Darnay. (Bk. I, ch. y, vi; Bk. II, ch. vii, xv, xvi, xxi, xxii; Bk. HI, ch, i, iii, vi, ix, x, xii, xiv, xv.)

‘This wine-shop-keeper was a bull-necked, martial-looking man of thirty, ang he should have been of a hot temperament; for, although it was @ bitter day, he

‘wore no coat, but carried one slung orer ble shoulder, His ahirtaleeves were rolled up, too, aud his brown arms were bare to the elbows, Neither did be

& Sale of Two Cities 409

‘wear any thing more on his head thau his own erispls-curting, short dark hair. ‘He was a dark man altogether, with good eyes, and a good bold bread between them; good-humored-Jooking on the whole, but Implacable-looking 100; evie dently & man of strong resolution and w set purpose, —a man not desirable to be ‘met rusting down a narrow pass with a gulf on eltber side; for nothing would turh the man,

Evrémonde, Charles. See St. Evrémoxpe, Caarces.

Gabelle, Monsieur Théophile, A postmaster, and some other taxing functionary united. (Bk. I, ch. viii, ix, xxiii, xxiv; Bi. I, ch. i, vi.)

Gaspard. Assassin of the Marquis St. Evrémonde. (Bk. I, ch. v; Bk. Il, ch. vii, xv, xvi.)

Jacques One. A prominent assistant of Defarge in the French Revolution. (Bk. I, ch. vj; Bk. Il, ch. xv, xxi, xxiii.)

Jacques Two. Another revolutionist, who is also an. assistant of Defarge. (Bk. I, ch. v; Bk. I, ch. xv, xxi, xxiii.)

Jacques Three, An associate of Defarge, and a member of the revolutionary jury; a cannibal-looking, bloody-minded man. (Bk. Ich. ¥; Bk. Il, ch. xv, xxi-xxiii; Bk. I, ch. xii, xiv.)

Jacques Four, A name given to himeelf by Monsieur Defarge as ‘one of the Saint Antoine revolutionists, See Derarae, Monsieur Ernest.

Jacques Five. An associate of Dofarge; a mender of roads, af- terwards a wood-sawyer. (Bk. H, ch. viii, ix, xv, xvi, xxii; Bk. Ul, ch. v, ix, xiv, xv.)

Joe. Aconchman. (Bk. I, ch. ii)

Lorry, Mr. Jarvis. A confidential clerk at the banking-house of Tellson and Company, in London. He is a friend of the’ Mae nettes, and their companion during the terrible scenes of the Revo- lution in Paris. (Bk, I, ch. ii-vi; Bk. TI, ch. li-iv, vi, xii, xvi- xxi, xxiv; Bk. IIL, ch. ii-vi, vi i xv.)

‘Very orderly und methodical he looked, with a hand on each kuee, and» loud watch ticking # sonorous sermon under his Mapped walsteoat, as though tt pitted ite gravity and longevity ogninst the levity and erancsoence of the brisk fre. He bad a good leg, and was a little vain of it; for his brown stockings ‘Utted sleek and close, and were of a fine texture: his shocs and buckles. too, Hough plain, were trim. He wore an odd little sleek, erisp, flaxen wig, setting ary clove to his head; which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which looked far more a4 though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass, ‘His licen, though not of # fineness in accordance with bis stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighboring beach, or the specks of vail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea, A fuce habitually sup- presed and quleved was still iighted up unbor the quaint wig by a palr of moist bright eyes, that It must have cost their owner in years gone by, some pains to

%

=

410 Ebe Dickens Mictlonary.

rill to ‘he composed and reserved expression of Tellson's Bank. ne nad a ‘ealthy color in his cheeks; and bis face, though ned, bore fow traces of anx> fety. But perhaps the confidentia} bachelor clerks n Tellsoa’s Bank were principally occupled with the cares of other people; aud perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on,

Manette, Doctor Alexander. A physician of Paris, confined for eighteen years in the Bastille, because, in his profvssional eapae city, he had become acquainted with the secret crimes of a noble family. Released just before the outbreak of the Revolution, he goes to England, whither his wife and daughter had preceded him, and where the former had died. Restored to his child, who nurses him with tender solicitude, he gradually recovers the uso of his face ulties, which had become greatly impaired during his long impris_ onment. About this time, young French nobleman, disgusted with the tyranny of the class to which he belongs, renonnees his title and fortune, expatriates himself, and settles in England, where be passes under the name of Charles Darnay. He there becomes acquainted with and marries the daughter of Doctor Manctte, Having been summoned back to Paris, at the outbreak of the Revo- lution, to release from prison, by his testimony, an old and faithful servant of his family, he is himself thrown into La Force, immedi- ately upon his arrival, as a proscribed emigrant. His wife and her father follow him, however; and Doctor Manette, whoge popularity is very high, succeeds in securing his acquittal. Yet in a few days he is re-accused and re-arrested; the change against him being, that he is an aristocrat, one of a family of tyrants, denounced enemies, of the Republic; and the evidence against him is a paper written by Doctor Manette, when a privoner in the Bastille, and secreted byhim in a hole in the chimney of his cell. ‘This document, which had been discovered at the capture of the prison, recites the story ‘of the good doctor's sufferings, details the abominable iniquities of the St. Evrémonde family (to which Durnay belongs). and enda by denouncing them and their descendants, to the last of the race, ta tho times when all such things shall be answered for. Darnay is condemned to death; but, through the heroic self-devotion of Sydney Carton, he is snved from such a fate, and is taken to England by bis wife and her father, where they all Jead a peaceful, prosperous, and happy life, and pass at lastto a tranquil death. (Bk. I, oh. fi-vi, Bk. II, ch. ii-iy, vi, ix, x, xii, vi-xxi, xxiv; Bk, ILI, ch. ti-vii ix-xil, xiv, xv.)

Manette, Lucie. His daughter; afterwards the wife of Charler

M&M Cale of Ewo Cities. 411

Darnay. (Bk. I, ch. iv-vij Bl. Il, ch. ti-vi, ix-xiti, xvi-cxal, xxiv; Bk. TU, cb. iii-vi, ix-xil, xiv, xv.)

A young Indy of... a short, slight, pretty figure, « quantity of golden hate, © palr of blue eyes... and a forehead with m singular capacity (remember- Ing how young nnd smooth it was) of Iifting and knitting itself Into an expres lon that was not quite one of perplexity or wonder oF alarm, or merely cfm bright fixed attention; though ft Included all the four exprese’ons,

Mender of Roads, The. See Jacques Five.

Monseigneur. A great lord in power at the French court, (Ik. I, ch. vii.)

Monseigneur. A personification of the French nobility. (Bk. Ii, ch, xxiii, xxiv; Bk. Ill, ch. ii.)

Prison Sheep, The, See Pros, So.ompx.

Pross, Miss. Miss Lucie Manette’s maid; sister of Solomon Pross. She is a grim, wild-looking woman, with red face and hair, brawny arms, abrupt manners, and singular habits; yet, —

Beneath the surface of her eccentrlelty, one of thoaw unselfish ereatures — found only among women—who will, for pure love and admiration, bind themselves willing alaves, to youth, when they have lost it, to beauty that they never had, to accomplishments that they were never fortunate enough to gain, ‘to bright hopes that never shone upon their own sombre lives.

‘When the Manettes escape from Paris, Miss Pross remains behind toconceal their flight, and, in trying to do o, gets involved in a hand- to-hand conflict with Madame Defarge, a ruthless and desperate woman, who is on their track. In the struggle, Madame Defarge draws a pistol, and attempts to shoot her antagonist; but Miss Pross strikes at it at the moment of firing, and the charge takes effect on the French woman, killing her instantly. Miss Pross hurries from the house, closely veiled; takes a carriage which has been in wait Ing for her; and succeeds in escaping safely to England. (Bk. I, ch. iv; Bk. I, ch. vi, x, xvil-xix, xi; Bk. III, ch. ii, iii, vii, viii, xiv.)

Progs, Solomon, called also Joux Bansap, and nicknamed “Prion Surxr.” A heartless scoundrel, who strips his sister of every thing he possesses, as n stake to speculate with, and then abandons her in her poverty to support herself as she ean. He beromes a spy and secret informer in the service of the English government, and afterwards a turnkey in the Coneldrgerie in Paris. (Bk. I, ch. iii, vi, xiv, xvi; Bk. II, ch. viii, ix, xi, xili-xv.)

Bt, Evrémonde, Marquis. Uncle of Charles Darnay; twin- brother, joint inheritor, and next successor of the elder marquis (Bk. I, ch. vil-ix; Bk. HE, ch. x.) See p. 545. *

—_— =

412 She Dickens Dletlonarp.

‘He wasn mao of about sixty, handsomely dressed, haughty fa manner, and with a fice, tke a fine mask, —a face of a tranyparent paleness; every feature in At clearly deiined; one set expression on it, The nose, beautifully formed other- ‘wise, was very slightly pinched at the top of each nosteil. In those two com pressions, or dints, the ouly Little change that the fice ever showed resided. ‘They peralated In changing color sometimes, and they would be occasionally dt tuted and contracted by something like a {aint pulsation; then they gave a Took of treachery and cruelty to the whole countenance, Examined with attention, its capacity of helping such a look was to be found tn the lino of themouth and the Jines of the orbits of the eyes, betng much too horizontal and thin; still, im the effect the face made, It was a handsome face, and a remarkable onc,

8t. Hvrémonde, Marquis, ‘Twin-brother-of the younger mar quis, and father of Charles Darnay. (Bk. ILL, ch. x.)

St. Hvrémonde, Marquise. His wife; a young Indy, hand- some, engaging, and good, but not happy in her marriage. (Bk. IL, ch. x.)

St. Bvrémonde, Charles, called Cuantxs Danwax. His son; a French émigré, afterwards married to Lucie Manette. (Bk. Il, ch, li-vi, ix, x, xvi-xvili, xx, xxi, xxiv; Bk. TIL, ch. i-vii, ix—xy.) See Maxerte, Doctor ALEXANDER.

St. Evrémonde, Lucie, His daughter. (Bk. Il, ch. xxi; Bk. TIL, ch. ii, tii, v-vii, xi, xiii, xiv.)

Btryver, Mr. A London barrister; council of Charles Darnay, and patron of Sydney Carton. (Bk. Il, ch. ti-v, xi, xxi, xxiv.) See Canton, Sypyey.

Aman of little more than thirty, but looking twenty years older than he was; stout, loud. red, bluif, und free from any drawback of dellesey; [with) a pustiing way of shouldering himself (morality sod physically) into compantes and conversations, that argued well for his shouldering his way up i life,

Tellzon and Company. An old and eminent banking-firm in London. (Bk. 1, ch. iii, iv; Bk. Il, ch. i iii, vii, ix.)

‘Tellson’s Bank. by Templo Bar, was an old-fashioned place, even In the year fone thousand seven hundred und elghty, It was very «mall, very dark, very: ugly, very Incommodious. It was an oldfashioued place, moreover, in the mora} attribute that the partuera ia the house were proud of Ite «mallnons, proud of its darkness, proud of its ugtiness, proud of its Incommodiousness. ‘They were even bonstful of its eminence fo those particulars, and were fred by an oxpross convlotion, that, if it were less objectionable, {t would be less respeet= able. This was no passive belief, but an active weapon, which they flashed mt more eonventent places of business. ‘Tellsou’s (they eaid) wanted no elbow room; Tellson's wanted no light; Tellson"s wanted no embellishments. Noakes and Co.’ might; or Snooks Brothers’ might ; but Tellsou’s, thank Hearen!—,. After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with weak rattle tn ite throat you fell Into Tullson’s, down two steps, and came to your senses in a miserable Little shop, with two little counters, where the oldest of men made your check shake as if tho wind rustled it, while they examined your siguature by the ata

& Tale of Swo Citles. 41S

stost of windows, which were always under ashowerbath of mud from Fleet ‘Street, and which were made the dingler by their own tron bars proper, and the heavy shadow of Temple Itar. If your business necessitated your sooing “the Houso,” you wore put Into a spectes of condemned hold at the back, whore you meditated on a misspent Ifo, uatil the House eame with Its hands tn ite pocksts, and you could hardly blink at {tin the dismal twilight. Your money came out of, or went into, wormy old wooden drawers, particles of which flew up your nose and down your throat when they were opened and «hut. ‘Your bank-notes had a musty odor, as If they were fist decompoting Into rags again. Your plate was stowed away among the neighboring cesspools, and evil ‘communications corrupted ite good poliah ina day oF two. Your deeds got into ‘extemporized strong roams made af kitchens and scullories, and fretted all the fat out of thelr parchments into the bunking-house air,

Tom. Coachman of the Dover mail, (Bk. I, ch. ii.)

Vengeance, The. One of the leading revolutionists among the Saint Antoine women; lieutenant to Madame Defarga. (Bk. 1, oh. xxii; Bk. IIL, ch. ix, xii, xiv, xv.)

a4 The Mckens Dietlonacs,

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

BOOK L = Cnarran I. Social condition n1T15.—I1T. The Bove ‘mail climbing Shooter's tll; = momenger overtakes It with = Tapas for Mr, Jarvis ‘Lorry: ho recelves a very singolar mossgo to carry backs his perplexity over t— ILL. Mr. Lorry’s dream ax he rode through the might.—T¥. Mow he looked, and what he die ‘M“The Royal Georgo,"* at Dover; Miss Manette comes; ho tells her, ns “a matter of ‘duaines,” that hor fathor, whom sho aupposed dead, hae been imprisoned many soars, Dut bs now freo at Paris: she Is stannod by the Intelligence. —V. A wine-cask barsts In Salat Antoino.and a crow try to eecure the wines “Mfunger" te blazoned oa all the dwellings, shops, and people of Saint Antoine; Defarge, the wine-sbop keeper, leads Mr. Larry and ‘Miss Manotto to tho parrot where hor tathor is making shoes, —~ VT. Doctor Manotte"« ap= pearance and voleos how he come to understand shoemaking ; Lucie tries to recall to his ‘mind long-forgotten incidents; they take him from the garret, and out of France.

BOOK 1L.—Cuarren L Tellson's Bank a triumph of inconvenience; Jerty Cruncher athomos ts grostly Mlsturbed by Mrs. Cruncher'e" flopping; with young Jorry gone te js station near Tollson’s, and chews atraws til called to go on an errand. —II. He la sont to the Old Batley. whore Charles Darnay Is put om trial for treason, — EIT. The kenoral’s apecch; testimony of John Barsad and Roger Cly, of Mr. Lorry, of Mim Mae notto, of Dootor Manette; strane likoneesof Sydney Carton to the prisoner the onse give to the Jury; Damay is acquitted. —1¥. Recelves his fiends’ congratalations; Carton and Danny dinocogether.—V, Stryvor ws Hon, and Carton ax Jackal; Carton works up" two cages for Stryror.—VI. Doctor Manotte’s houne near Soho Square; Mr. Lorry goes there ona. fino Sunday ; talks with Miss Pross) te dovtor and Laole oome home: Mr. Damay calls, and tells of a curious fact he heard while confined in the Tower, by which the doctor ie uch startied ; Carton calls thiele conversation before and during @ thunder-storm, — VEE. Mansolgneur, a French lord, takes his chocolate; character of the people who frequented tuls rooms; Marquis Saint Evrémande drives over and kills Gaspard’s child: Defarge comes, and a stout woman, knitting. — VIII. ‘Tho marquls goes to hils country-seat; the poverty atricken village near it; 9 road-mender tells tho marquis of seeing a spestralooking rom swinging by the carriage drag; & poor woman, Whoo husband hax died of want, petitions the marquis for a bit of stone or weed to mMAFK his grave, —TX. He reaches the ehiitens, ‘and soon his nephew, Charles Darnay, comes; their conversation; the aloeping night and

(waking morning: the margals ia found aaassinated.—X. Charles Darnay texches in Finglund ; tells Dootor Manette his lore for Lucie. — XE. Conversation betweon Stry wer and Carton about Stzyver"s plan to marry Min Manotte— XIL Stryver, on his way to tell her his fntention, stops at Tellson's, communioates his plan to Mr. Lorry, who advises him ‘not to doit; Mr. Lorry, after seelng Miss Manctto, relterates his advice, und Is astounded hy the nonchalance of Stryvor.—XIIL. Sydney Carton confesses to Miss Manette that sha Is tho last dream of hls 1ifo, and that even her influence exunot redeem htm from the eae tie has brought on his earoer and character, —XAV, The funoral of Roger Cly, fret fole lowod, then managed, by a florce mob; Jorry, having notided his wife that he atial! ‘work " her for flopping," IC Ill success attend his efforts, goes out ™ Ssbing" after mide night; young Jorry follows; sees lin, Joined by two other men, enter a graveyards they alse & oft, and young Jerry flees home tn deadly fear, fhucying himeei€ closely pursued by the coffin; Cruncher, returning unsuccestful, takex Iie wife to task for It; neXt morte mug, on thele way to'Tellson's, young Jorry aaks his father about tho business of @ “resuit roctlon-rnaa." XY. Winedrinking at Defurge’s, madame Keeping shop; Deterge aid the fead-mender enter, and seon follow the three Jacques to the garret once coupled Wy Doctor Manotto; the rond-mender tella of Gaxpand, the asain of Marquia Saint ved: tmoudes bie arreat eleven months after the marders his imprisonment tn the marquis tastiog bis execution; Defargo and madamo go with the road-mender on Sunday to Fee anillea toaee the king and nobility’; Uke foademender ls enthnsiastio In bis loyal temo wWraons— XVE Defaryo tells madame that John Barvad has bess commbaloned at

A Sale of So Cltles. 415

Forernment-spy for Saint Antoine, and dosoribes him; madame reassures Defange’s falling tourage; Barmd comes to the wine-shop; madame pats arose tn her halr, and the ous tomers all go out, leaving him talking with hor; he felgns muck prmpathy for Gaxpacd: Addrestes Defanee — who comes in —as Jacyuer, bot Is corrected: ho velle them that Miss ‘Stanetto Is going to marry Charles Darnay.— XVII. Doctor Manette and Luclo under the plane-tree the evening before her marriwe; he assures her of his entire satisfaction that ‘the ts to be married: telle her the thoughts and fancies ho had of her while In prison, — XVIII. Mr. Lorry gives her his parting bacholonblessing: the marriage; Darnay and Lucie leave for Warwickshire; something Darnay bad told the doctor Just betiro the marriage brings back his old bewilderment, and he roturns to making shots; expedienta Adopted by Mr. Lorry to restora tim, and not to mar Lacle"s wedding-tour. XIX. The tenth morning, Mr. Lorry flads the doctor recovered; has a ong conversation with him um Whe caaso of his malady, and obtalns hie consent to romove the ahoemaker’s bench and tools Goring his absence, XX. Carton sake and obtains permission of Darnay to come to his house ocemslonally; Lucle tells Darnay that Carton is better at hoart than he ‘seems, and bogs for kind And generous treatment of hit, — XXL Echoes of tittle feet in Lucte's tif; Carton's manner when vielting the Darnays; Stryver shoulders himself Into ‘wealth, marries a rich widow, Lakes her three sons to be taught by Damay, who declines the patronage; Mr. Lorry calla at Darnay’s, ane Saly evening, quita irritated by hls an- ‘usual day's work; the same day the people of Saint Antoine rise to revolution; Detarge leads them In repeated furious asauite on tho Iastiliey when It 1s taken, tio forces the tarnkey to conduct him to North Tower, where Doctor Manette had beon confined ; appar fitly fads nothing; the governor Is stabbed by tho mob, and Madame Defargo hews of his head. — XXL Foulon, who had once told the famiahed people to eat grass, is taken, briefly tried, and ewiftly hanged XXILL A grim, shaggy man comes where the roade ‘mender i at work, learns the location of the marquis's castle, then fills asleep; that night, ‘the castle is burned; the villagers refuse to ald In extingutahing the fire, bat ring che bell, ‘and illuminate thelr houses. — XXIV. Monselgneur, ropresentattre of the French nobility, escaped from Paris, at Tollvon's; Mr, Lorry announces to Darnay his plan of going to Paris to secure from Tellson’s Parla Baik some important books and papera; Darnay seet letter addressed to him by his roal name (Evrémonde); the depreciatiag cemarks of Monselgneur, and the coarse bullying remarks of Stryver; letter from Gabello In prison at aris, finploring Darnay’s wsalstauoo; Darnay resolves to go to Parle; sees Mr. Lorry off, writes leiters to Lacle and Doctor Manette, and next night atarta on his Journey. BOOK II. —Cuarrxn 1, He meets obstacles constantly rom citixenepateiotss nally t» furnished with escorts; Just excapes with life from the mob at Beauvals; arrives at Paris; Isatonce consigned to the prison of La Fores; Defarge accompanies him. aaking sone ques tions, but declaring that he witldo nothing for hina; at the prison, a company of refined and ‘courteous prisoners welcome him: be Is put iu aell, and left to his maddening thoughts — Hi. Tetiton's Hank at Paris; Doctor Manetto and Lacie rash Into Mr. Lorry"s room, to tle ‘utter surprise: Iv tells Lucio that he knows of no harm having befallen Darnay pute her In a mafer room, then looks out of a window with Doctor Manctte on a yard whore scores at fleree men and women are grinding Weapons dulled by mundering prisoners: Doctor Ma- nett, sxfo becansn he has been & Hastifie prisoner, rushes into the crowd, makes himsclt known, and ts hurried away to La Foreo to save Darnay.—IIL. Me. Lorry procures lodg> ngs for Lucio, bor daughtor, and Miss Troms; Defargo britgs him a note from tho doctors Mating that Darnay is safe; Madame Dofarge and The Vengeance look carefully wt Lucha, ‘and bor child, but give tittle hoed to her ploa for kindness te Darnay 1 whas the doctor sald and heard while trying to Arve him; hls pe-fect welf-pomession and resolution; the sharp fomnle oXled La Guillotlae, Lucie's steady devotion to her household duties. —¥- ‘She goes dally 4> a xpot where tho doctor had told her Darnay could see her, though she could not see hia: the horrible dance of the Carmagnole,—VI. Daruay ts summoned before the Tribunal; hixanewort; the testimony of Gabelle, Doctor Manotte, and Mr. Lorry ¢ ‘te Us nequitted; the crowd carry himn hore In triumph. — VIL Miss Prose and Craneher ‘prepare for an unusually elaborate marketing im honor of the release of Darnay's bole agrin arrosted on the accusation of Defarge, Madame, and another. —VIEE, Mie Hrory marketing with Jerry, meets her brother Solomon in The Good Republican Brutus of ‘Antiguity;" he goes with ber into the street, and is Just getting rid of ber, when Jorry

s aa

416 Ede Dickens Dlotfonarp.

halfrecogntzes his, and Sydney Carton eaile him by name, “ Rarsady"* by @ alt Lures Carton induces Barsad to go with him to Mr. Lorry’s; convinces him that he kitows ¥0 much of hls villany as to have bln in his powers Bard declares Cly dead, and Jenny ‘vohomontly denies It-—~1X. Mr. Lorry questions Jerry as to bis Knowledge of Cys teing silve, and learns that Jerry la an“ Agricultoorol characters" Carton tells Mr, Larry he hne arranged with Darsad, To tn ono of the turnkeys at the Conclérgerte, to be adinitted ta Darnay ouce if it ahold go Lil with hims they talk of Lusle, of the days when they were children at their mothers" knees; Carton talks with a wood-tawyer abont the guillotine; Frocures some drugs from a chemist; walks the streets all night, repeating again and ‘syain tho words road at his father's grave; Daruay again before tho Tribunal; the prose ulor states that Darnay ts denoonced by Monsieur and Madame Defarge, also by Doctor ‘Manette: the doctor, denying the statement, In stopped, and obliged to alt down; Defarge tenlifles to having found tn North Tower a paper, written by Doctor Manette in prison tn 1167, in whieh the doctor states, that in December, 1767, he was overtaken by two men was compelled to with them tos countey-seat two miles out of Parla, where he found « pationt, a young Woman, who in her delirium, #t regular intervals, shrieked, snd anid, “Sy husband, my father, and my brother.” then counted twelve; administered medicines ‘with little effect; another patient, ® bay of roventeen, dying of a swont-woundt he Vella she doctor, in the presence of the wo unfecling brothers, how brutally these nobles treat ‘Miele tonants: that the delirious young woman is his sisters that her husband wes worked todeath tn oriter that the younger brother might have her; that he had hidden tia younger ‘ister, then tried to kill tho younger noble, and was mortally wounded: the young woman lea; the doctor writes all the circumstances to the minister; the wifo of Marquis St. Eyrémondo calls on the doctor, and expresses her great desire to do what she ean to atone for the grom wrongs of her husband and his brother; the doctor ts imprisoned; on this testimony, Darnay Is awiftly condemned to die within twenty-four hourk—XL. Darnay ‘and Lacie meet & few moments in the court-roomy Carton earrries Lucie to @ carriage ‘hence to her room; arranges to have Doctor Manotte make another effort to mare Darnay, ‘and meet him at Mr. Larry's at nino o'slock that tiight XXL, Carton goos to Defarge’s wine-shop; hears Madame Defange, Jacques Three, and The Vengeance arge the utter ex- termination of all the family of Evrémonde; Defare opposes thir, for the doctor's wake : Madaine dectares herself the younger slater of the woman and boy Killed by the Rvnd mondes; at midnight, the doctor enters Mr. Lorry" room crazy, demanding his benoh again; Carton fads a passport tn his case; tells Mr. Lorry what ho heant Madame De farge say; arranges with him to havo evry thing ready to start for Englwod next day ak two, #.a6.3 then bida him" Good-by.”"— X11. Damay's last night tm the Conclérperie; he becomes composed ; Writes Ietters to Lucio, Dootor Manette, and Mr. Lacry: dreams of hia ‘happy homo near Soho Square; wakes, and counts the hours calmly ; wonders how the gull- lotine ts mado; at one, r.6., Sydney Carton comes in; Carton diotates for Daraay to write, ‘and, with drugs procured at the chemists, renders him unconscious; changer clothes with him: then Barsad carries him out as tf overcome wish grie(y Carton meets a sweet-faced seamatreaa in the hall whore the day's victims aro gathered, and promises to hold bar hhand as they ride to exeeution: the earriage. with Mr. Lorry, Doctor Manette, Damay, La 19, and the child, reaches th Barrler; the papers are éxamined; they drive ms fast ws they dare, not to exaite suapiclov, Dut are not pursuedl.—XI¥. Madame Defarge, The Veu rance, and Janques Three determine that Lucie shall bo denounced; haring directed The Vengeance to reserve for hor a seat at the exeoution, Madame Welarge yoes 10 see Laci to bo able to bear witness that she lmpeached the Justice of the Iepublic; Jerry and Mina Pros consult as to the best place for them to start from: Jerry goes: Madame Detarge futers the house, and demands to see Lacie; Mis From atterly deflant; neither ander ‘atauds a word the other says; wt last they grapple, and in the struggle Madame Is shot by her own pistols Mflsa Irom locks the door, throws the key Into the river, Joins Jerry, ‘and they start for England, the erash of tho platolahot raging In her ears, and to eta there for ever. XV, Sydney Carton's ride in a sumbril to the guillotine; The Vengeance greatly excited because Madame Defurge does not come; Carton cheera and comforte the scarnstreas, they kiss, and are executed the prophotic thoughts Carton may have bat WC *he futers, experience of bs friends and foe.

Hunted Down,

os

ams tale was written spoclally for “The New-York Ledger,” <n which paper It ‘4ppenred in the numbers for August 20 and 27 and September 3, 1869 (Vol, XV, No. 24-26), Mlustrated with seven woodeuts. It was republished In 1900 tn “AMT the Year Round,” 4th and 1ith of August (1st rerles, No, 07 and 8.)

OHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Adams, Mr, Clerk in the lift-assurance office of which Mr. ‘Sampson is the chief manager.

Banks, Major, An old East India Director, who assists Mr, Sampson in rescuing Miss Niner from the toils of Mr. Julius Slinkton.

Beckwith, Mr. Alfred. See Mrxtuam, Mn.

Meltham, Mr. Actuary of the Incstimable Life-Assurance Com-

* pany. He falls in Jove with one of Mr. Julius Slinkton's nieces, a lovely girl, whose lifs is insured in his office, She soon dies from the effects of a slow poison gecretly administered to her by her uncle; and Mr. Meltham, having become thoroughly assured of tho villain’s guilt, devotes himself thenceforth to the single object of hunting him down. Resigning his situation, he causes a report of his death to be put into circulation ; assumes the name of Mr, Alfred Beckwith; takes rooms in the Middle Temple, opposite those of Mr. Slinkton,—to whom he is personally unknown, — wnd makes them a trap for him, Affecting to be a confirmed ine- briate, he deludes the murderer into thinking that it would ke an easy thing to obtain an insurance on his life for two thousand pounds, and then to do kim to death with brandy, or, brandy not

az

Pit Ede Mickens Wictlonarp.

proving quick enough, with something quicker. Tho plotting, however, into which Slinkton is led, is well understood all along, and is counterplotted all along. The fitting time having arrived, he is confronted with the evidences of his guilt, when, finding him self brought to bay, he swallows tome of the powerful poison he always carries with him, and falls down a dead man,

Niner, Miss Margaret. Mr. Slinkton’s niece, She is savea from falling a victim to the wickedness of her uncle by the efforte of Mr, Sampson and Major Banks, who reveal to her his real character, and induce her to leave him for ever.

Sampson, Mr. Chief manager of a life-assurance company, and narrator of the story, in which he is also one of the actors.

Slinkton, Mr. Julius. A gentleman, educated, well bred, and agreeable, who professes to be on the point of going into ordera, but who is, in reality, a consummate hypocrite and villain. He effects in insurance for two thousand pounds on the life of Mr. Alfred Beckwith, and then attempts to poison him in arder to get the money ; but, being foiled in his object, he destroys bimself.

In this character, Dickens has drawn a portrait, only slightly idealized, of Thomas Griffiths Wainewright, well known as a cox- combical writer for “The London Magazine,” under dre pseudonym of Janus Weathercock. ‘This monster actually poisoned a number of pertons whose lives had been insured for lange sums (among them his wife's step-sister and her mother); and in some instances he succeeded in obtaining the money. He was arreeted, at last, on a charge of forgery, and sentenced to be transported to Van Diemen’s Land, where he died of apoplexy, in 3862, at the age of fifty-seven. Lord Lytton has introduced hiw into bis powerfa novel of “ Lucretia; or, the Children of Night.”

Uncommercial Traveller.

‘Ix December, 1800, teventeen papers, on « variety of toples, which had previ ‘tnaly appeared at intervals in All the Year Round,” were published In @ collee- tire form, under the above title, by Chapman and Hall. A second edition, with Mlustrations, In which the number of sketches was increased to twenty-eight, was brought out in the latter part of 1808. “There is present” in them, says m recent critic, “a wonderful delicacy of detail colored bya pleasant gayety. . . - It [would not) be ess to analyze the special charm of these cabinet gems. If wit, as wo huyo been told over and vrer again, conelsts in the surprise that arises from the Aiscovery of a relation between ideas which have not the leat slmilitude, there in an abondance of wit present in these essays, ut there Is m good-humored tone of modulated satire, and a charming grotesqueness, without (he least violence, which, elther by suggestion or shape, link the thourand material objecty about us to our mental sympathies, and delightfully bridge over the space between mind and matter.”

‘The Uncommereial Traveller Introduces himrelf to the render in these words :—

“Tam both a town-traveller and « country-traveller, and am always on the road. Figuratively speaking, I travel for the great house of Human Interest Brothers,and have rather a large connectioz. in the fancy goods way. Literally ‘speaking, I am always wandering were and there from my rooms in Covent Garden, London,—now about the city streets, now about the country by-ronds, —reelng many little things, and some great things, which, because they interest me, I think may interest others.”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Anderson, John. A tramp, whose only improvidence appears to have been that he has spent the last of kus little “all” upon soap

XL. Tramps. 49

_

20 Ebe Wickens Mictfonacp.

‘Anieroott, Mrs, His wife; a woman spotless to behold XL

ips

Antonio, A swarthy young Spanish guitarplayer. V. Poor Mercantile Jack.

Battens, Mr, A virulent old pensioner at Titbull’s, XX VIL Tis | bull's Almshouses.

Bones, Mr. Banjo. A comic Ethiopian minstrel, with a black- ened face and a limp sugar-loaf hat. V. Poor Mercantile Jack, Bones, Mrs. Banjo. His wife; = “professional” singer. V.

Poor Mercantile Jack. :

Carlavero, Giovanni, Keeper of a small nice tion, 1 Meera small Italian town on the Mediterranean. He had been a political offender, sentenced to imprisonment for life, but was afterwards released through the zealous intervention of a generous English nobleman (Lord Dudley Coutts Stuart), Desirous of testifying his gratitude to his benefactor, whom he has not seen since his liberation, he sends him by Mr. Dickens an immense demijohn of wine, the first produce of his little vineyard. With infinite difli- culty this frail and enormous bottle, holding some half-dozen gale lone, is safely carried to England; but the wine turns to vinegar before it reaches its destination. Yet “the Englishman,” says Mr. Dickens, “told me, with much emotion in his face and voice, that he had never tasted wine that seemed to him so sweet and sound; and long afterwards the bottle graced his table”. XXVIIL The Italian Prisoner.

Chips, A shipwright, who sells himself to the Devil for half a ton of copper, a bushel of tenpenny nails, an iron pot, and a rat that can speak. He gets disgusted with the rat, and tries to kill it, but does not succeed, and is punished by being subjected to a swarm and plague of rata, who finally compass his destruction by eating through the planks of a ship in which he has been “ pressed” for a sailor, XV. Nurse's Stories.

Cleverly, Susannah. A Mormon emigrant; a young woman of business. XX. Bound for the Great Salt Lake.

Cleverly, William. Her brother, also » Mormon emigrant, XX. Bound for the Great Salt Lake.

Dibble, Mr. Sampgon. A Mormon emigrant; a very old man who is stone-blind. XX. Bound for the Great Salt Lake,

Dibble, Mrs. Dorothy. His wife, who accompanies him. XX Lound for the Great Salt Lake.

Ancommerclal Eravelter. 421

Face-Maker, Monsieur the. A corpulent little man with a comical face. He is heralded as “the great changer of counte- nances, who transforms the features that Heaven has bestowed upon him into an endless succession of surprising and extraordinary vie ages, comprehending all the contortions, energetic and expressive. of which the human face is capable, and all the passions of the human heart, as love, jealousy, revenge, hatred, avarice, derpair.’ XXV. Jn the French-Flamish Country.

Flanders, Sally. A former nurse of the Uncommercial Trav eller, and widow of Flanders, a small master-builder, XXV}. Medicine-Men of Civilization.

Flipfield, Mr. A friend of the Uncommercial Craveller’s, XIX. Birthday Celebrations,

Flipfield, Mrs, His mother. XIX. Birthday Celebrations.

Flipfield, Miss, His elder sister. She is in the habit of speak- ing to new acquaintances, in pious and condoning tones, of all the quarrels that have taken place in the family from her infancy. XIX. Birthday Celebrations.

Flipfield, Mr. Tom, called Tar Lona-Losr. A brother of Mr. Flipficld’s, After an absence of many years in foreign parts, he returns home, and is warmly welcomed by his family and friends; but he proves to be “an antipathctical being, with a peculiar power and gift of treading on everybody’s tenderest. place ;” and every- body wishes that he could instantly be transported back to the foreign parts which have tolerated him so long. XIX. Birthday Celebrations.

Globson, Bully. A schoolmate of the Uncommercial Traveller's; a big fat boy, with a big fat head, and a big fat fist. XIX. Birth day Celebrations.

Grazinglands, Mr. Alexander, A midland county gentleman, of a comfortable property, on a visit to London. VIL Refreshments for Travellers.

Graginglands, Mrs. Arabella. His wife; the pride of her division of the county. VI. Refreshments for Travellers.

Head, Oakum. A refractory {male pauper, who “would be very thankful to be got into a place, or got abroad." ILL. Wapping Workhouse.

Jack, Dark, A simple and gentle negro sailor. V. Poor Men eantile Jack.

Eo

- ©

ee Ede Micke's Wictlonacp

Jack, Mercantile, A representative of the sailors employed ‘the merchant marias. V. Poor Mercantile Jack.

Jobson, Jesse, Number Two. A Mormon emigrant; the — pa ce le, ol XX. Bound for the Great Salt

Eins Horace. An inmate of the King’s Bench Prison, where be dics. XIE. Night Walks.

‘He was u likely man to ook at, In the prime of life, well to do, ax clever aa he needed to be, and popular among many friends, He was suitably married, and had healthy and pretty children ; bat, like some falr-looking houses or falr- looking ships, ho took the dry rot... . Thoso who knew him had not done saying, “So well offt eo comfortably established! with such hope bim!"—.. . when, lof the man wns all dry rot and dust.

Kindheart, Mr, An Englishman of an amiable nature, great enthusiasm, and no diseretion, XXVI. Medicine-Men of Civiliza tion,

Klem, Mr. A weak old man, meagre and mouldy, who is never to ‘be seen detached from a flat pint of beer in a pewter pot. XVI Arcadian London.

Elem, Mrs. His wife; an elderly woman, laboring under a chronie sniff, and having a dejected consciousness that she is not justified in appearing on the surfuceof the earth. XVI. Arcadian London.

Klem, Miss, Their daughter, apparently ten years older than either her father or mother. XVI Arcadian London.

Mellows, Mr. J, Landlord of the “ Delphin’s Head.” XXTL An Old Stage-Coaching House.

Mercy. A nurse who relates diabolical stories to the Uneommercial Traveller, when a child, with a fiendish enjoyment of his terrors, XV. Nurse's Stories.

Mitts, Mrs, A pensioner at Titbull’s ; a tidy, well-savored widow, with # propitiatory way of passing her hands over and under one another. XXXVI. Tithull’s Almshouses,

Murderer, Captain. A diabolical wretch, admitted into the best society, and possessing immense wealth. His missior is matrimony, and the gratification of a cannibal appetite with tender brides, XV. Nurse's Stories.

Nan. A sailor's mistress. V. Poor Mercantile Jack.

Onowenever, Mrs. Mother of a young lady (the Dora Spenlow of “David Copperfield," and the Flora Finching of “Tittle Dor rit") ardently loved by the Uncommercial Traveller in his youth XIX. Birthday Celebrations.

Gncommerclal Sravelier. 425

It Isunnecessary to name her more particularly. Sho was older than f, and had y*-vaded every chink xud crerice of my mind for three or four years. I had held , fumes of Imaginary conversations with her mother om the subject of ‘our union; and T had writtes letters, more In namber than Horace Walpole’, to that discreet woman, soliciting her danghter’s hand in marriage, I had nerer had the remotest intention of sending any of those lettera: but towrite them, nod, after a fow days tear them up, had been & subline occupation.

‘An official friend of the Uncommereial Traveller's, lineally descended from the learned doctor of the same name, who was tutor to Candide, WIIL The Great Tasmania's Cargo,

{un hls personal character, he {# as hamane and worthy a gentleman as any T know; In his official capacity; he unfortunately preaches the doctrines of his renowned ancestor, by demonatrating, on all occasions, that we live in tbe best of ull possible official worlds.

Parkle, Mr. A friend of the Uncommercial Traveller's. XIV.

¢ Chambers.

wickear. A policeman. V. Poor Mercantile Jack.

jainch, Mrs, The oldest pensioner at Titbull's; a woman who

has “totally lost her head.” XCXVIL. Tibull's Almshouses,

‘Refractory, Chief. A surly, discontented female pauper, with a

voice in which the tonsils and uvula have gained a diseased ascend-

ency. III, Wapping Workhouse.

Refractory, Number Two. Another pauper of the same charac ter. II. Wapping Workhouse.

Saggers, Mrs, One of the oldest pensioners at Titbull’s, who has split the small community in which she lives into almost as many parties as there are dwellings in the precinct, by standing her pail outside her dwelling. XXVIL Tithull's Almshouses,

Baloy, P., Family. A troupe of dramatic artists, fifteen in num- ber, under the management of Monsicur P. Salcy. XXV. In the French-Flemish Country.

Sharpeye. A policeman. V. Poor Mercantile Jack.

Specks, Joe, An old school-fellow of the Uncommercial Travel- ler; Afterwards # physician in Dullborough (where most of us come from who come from a country town). XII. Dullborough Town.

Bpecks, Mrs. His wife, formerly Lucy Green; an old friend of the Uncommercial Traveller's. XII. Dullborough Town.

Bquires, Olympia, An old flame of the Uncommercial Travel- ler’'a, XIX. Birthday Celebrations.

Olympia was most beautiful (of courte); and I loved her to that degree,

that I aaa cla 3 ek cot tthe ba tne aigh, empeennty be to Solitude, “O Olympia Squires 1”?

| —_ _.

424 The Mickens Mlctlonary. Btraudenheim. A shop-keoper at Strasbourg; a lango-l

pear-noged old man, with white hair and keen Spee eh ay sighted. VIL Travelling Abroad. 3

Sweeney, Mrs. A professional laundrees, in figure extremely like an old family umbrella. XIV. Chambers.

Testator, Mr. An occupant of a very dreary set of chambers, in Lyon’s Inn, which he furnishes with articles he finde locked up in one of the cellars, and having no owner, so far as is known to any one. He is afterwards visited, late at night, by a man considerably

sodden with liquor, who examines every article, claims them all

as his own, and promises to call again the next morning, punctually at ten o'clock, but who fails to do so, XIV. Chambers. ‘Whether he was a ghost, or a spectral {ilusion of conscience, oF a ‘man who had no business there, or the drunken, rightful owner of the: ‘with a transitory gleam of memory; whethor he got safe home, orhad no: to get to; whether he died of liquor on the way, or lived fn liquor ever ‘wards, —he never was heard of more.

Trampfoot. A policeman. V. Poor Mercantile Jack.

Ventriloquist, Monsieur the. A performer attached to a booth at a fair. He is a thin and sallow man of a weakly aspect. XXYV. In the French-Flemish Country.

Victualler, Mr, Licensed. Proprietor of a singing-house fre quented by sailors; a sharp and watehful man, with tight lips, and & complete edition of Cocker’s arithmetic in each eye. V. Poor Mercantile Jack.

Wackley, Mr. A coroner; a nobly patient and humane — XVIII. Some Recollections of Mortality.

‘Weedle, Anastasia, A pretty Mormon emigrant, elected ® universal suffrage the beauty of the ship. XX. Bound for the Great Salt Lake,

Wyss. A simple, fiesh-colored firmlaborer, of eight and

. XX. Bound for the Great Salt Lake. 5

Great Cxpectations.

‘Tu tale originally appeared fn “Al (he Year Round;” the first chapter betng In the number for December 1, 1800, On its eomplotion, fn 1861, it was hed by Chapman and Hall, fn three volumes, with iustrations by Mareus was “affectionately {nseribed to Chauney Hare Townshend.”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Aged, The. See Wemmicx, MR, senior. Amelia. One of Mr. Jaggers’s clients. (Ch. xx.) Avenger, The. See Perrzr. Barley, Clara. Daughter of Old Bill Barley; a very pretty, slight, dark-eyed girl of twenty, or s0, of natural and winning man- ners, and a confiding and amiable disposition. She is betrothed to Herbert Pocket, whom she afterward marries, (Ch. xlvi, ly, lviii, lix.) Sarley, Old Bill. A bedridden purser; a sad old rascal, always inebriated, and tormented by the gout in his right hand—and everywhere else. (Ch. xlvi, Iviii.) Biddy, An orphan; second cousin to Mr. Wopsle, being his “great- aunt's grand-daughter.” She is a good, honest girl, poor in purse and condition, but with a wealth of true womanliness which makes Joo Gargery, whose second wife she becomes, very rich indeed. (Ch. vii, xviexix, xxxv, | ) Brandley, Mrs. A widow-lady at Richmond, with whom Estella is placed by Miss Havisham. (Ch. xxviii.) Camilla, Mr. John or Raymond. A reiat ve of Miss Havi- sham’s; a toady and a humbug. (Ch. xi, xxv.) uo ¢

a ..

fhe Dickens Mictfonary.

Mrs. His wife; sister to Mr, Pocket. She great deal of love for Miss Havisham, and calls on her husband to testify that her solicitude for that lady is gradually undermining her to the oxtent of making one of her legs shorter than the other (Ch. xi, xxv.)

Clarriker. A young merchant or shipping-broker. (Ch. li, Iviil.)

Coiler, Mrs, A toady neighbor of Mr. and Mrs. Pocket’s; a widow lady of that highly sympathetic nature, that she agrees with every body, blesses everybody, and sheds smiles or tears on everybody according to circumstances. (Ch. xxiil-) .

Compeyson. A convict, and “the worst of scoundrels.” He Proves to be the man who professed to be Miss Havisham’s lover Mogwitch gives the following account of him to Pip: —

Compey took mo on tobe his man snd pardner, And what was

4 business In which wo was to go pardners? Compey’s businoss was

dling, handwriting forging, stolen bank-note passing, and such like,

of traps as Compey could set with bis head, and keep his own lege oat

j got the profits from, and let another man in for, was Compey's q { ho more heart than @ fron file; ho was as cold as death, and had the

j

}

Devil. . . . Not togo Into thethings that Compey planed, and I done, ‘ad take a week,—Ill simply say to you, dear boy, . .. that that man auto uch nots ws made mo hie black rhave. Iwas always in debt to him, under his thumb, always a-working, always @gotting Into danger. He way younger than mo; but he 'd got craft; and he '1 got learning; and bo orermatebed mo five hundred times told, and no merey, He is at length committed for felony, is sentenced to seven i and is finally killed in « steuggle with Mage v, xlii, xlv, xlvii, |, liii-lvi.) Drummie, Bentley, called Tux Sriprn. A sulky, old-looking young man of a heavy order of architecture; idle, proud, reserved, und suspicious. He is a fellow-boarder with Pip at Mr. Pocket’s, and his rival for the hand of Estella, whom he marries, and treats with great cruelty. (Ch. xxiii, xxv, xxxviii, xliii, xliv, xlviii, Hatella. The adopted daughter of Miss Havishamn, and the herokia of the story. She proves to be the daughter of Abel Magwiteh (or Provis), Pip's benefactor, Her foster-mother tells Pip that she had wished for a little girl to rear, and to save from her own fate (see Havisiast, Miss); and that Mr. daggers had accordingly brought Rer such a child,—an orphan of about three years. + When sho first came to me, I meant to save her from misory Uke my own At frst, I meant no more.” “Well, well!" sald I, “I hope so." "But as she grow, and promised to bo wery beautiful, T gradually ald

Great Bepectations 427

‘snd with my praises, and with my Jowels, nud with my teachings, and with this figure of myself always befure her, —a warning to back and point my lewous,— Tatole her heart away, und pat fee fn its place.”

Not content with moulding the impressionable child into the form. that ber own wild resentment, spurned affection, and wounded pride finds vengeance in, she marries her to an ill-tempered, clumsy, con- temptible booby (Bentley Drummle), who has nothing to recommend, him but money and a ridiculous roll of addle-headed predecessors After leading a most umhappy lif, she separates from her husband, who subsequently dies from an accident consequent on his ill-treat- ment of a horse. Some two years after this event, she happens to mect Pip (who has always loved her) on the very spot whore their first meeting had been when they were children.

Ttook her hand fn mino, and we wont out of the ruined place; and as the morning mists had risen long ago, when I first left the forgn, so the exening mitta wore rising now; and, 1a all the brond expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw tho shadow of no parting from her.

(Ch. vil, ix, xi-xvi, xviil, xxil, xxvii, xxix, xxx, xxxii, xxiii, xxxvill, xxxix, xliii, xliv, xlviii-l, Ivi. Ivil, lix.) *

Flopson. A nurse in Mr. Pocket’s family. (Ch. xxii, xxiii.) Gargery, Joe. A blacksmith; married to Pip’s sister, who is an out-and-out termagant.

Joo was a fatr man, with curls of flaxen bair on each side of hix #mooth face, and eyes of such very undecided blue, that they seemed to have somehow got mixed with thetr own whites. Ie was n mild, good-natured, sweet-tem-

pered, easy-going, foolish, dear fellow, —n sort of Hercules in strength, acd asso in weakness,

“When Pip is a small boy, he is harshly treated by his sistor (with whom he lives, both of his parents being dead); but his kind-hearted brother-in-law _b Is _him as much as is possi- Yle, dnd makes quite a companion of him. In the course of conver sation, one night, when they happen to be left by themselves, Joo gives him some account of his carly history, of the circumstances

attending his marriage, and of the principles on which he regulates

his domestic conduct.

Did w't you ever go to school, Joe, when you were as little as me?

“No, Pip.”

* Why did n’t you ever go to school, Joo. when you wore as litle ax mo?”

“Well, Pip,” ald Jon, taking up the poker, and settling himself to his usual ocen pation, when he was thoughtful. of slowly raking the fire between the lower bars, “T'llte 1 you. My father, Pip,—ne were given to drink; and, when be were orertook with drink, he hammered away at my mother most onmerciful. ‘Ie wore a'most the only hammering ne did, indeed, *xcepting st myvelf; and

alls

4 The Wickens Mlctlonarp,

‘ho hainmored at mo with s wigor only to be equalled by the wigot with which be did n’t hammer at his anwil. You *re alistening and understanding, Pip?™

“Yes, Joo."

“Consequence; my mother and me, we ran away from my father several Mmes; and then my mother, she'd go out to work; and she “d say, ‘Joe, abe say, ‘now, please God. you aiall have some schooling, elfld;? snd she 4 pat me toachool. Hut my father were that good in his hart, that he could n't abear to be without us: so he ‘d come with a most Sremenjons erowd, and make much a row at the doors of the houses where we was, that they used to be obligated to have n6 more to do with us, and to give ua upto him, And then he took ns home, and hammered us; which you see, Pip,” sald Joc, pausing tn his meditative raking of the fire, and looking at me, “ were a drawback oa say learning."

Certainly, poor Jor?

“Though mind you, Pip,” sald Joe with s judicial touch or two of the poker on the top bar, “rendering wnt ving equal jastion Ratwixt man and man, my father wore that good In hls hart; don’t you eee?”

I didn’ neo; but K did n’t eay #0.

“Well,” Joe parsued, “somebody must keep the pot s-biling, Pip, or the pot ‘won't bile; don’t you know ?””

Tanw that, and said so,

“ Consequence: my father 4id n't make objections to my golug to work: 10 T ‘went to work at my present calling, which wero his, too, if he would hare followed it; and I worked tolersble hard, Tmssure you, Pip. In time, I were able to keep him; and I kep him till hewentoffinapurpleleptie ft. And it were my intentions to bavo hed put upon bis tombstone that Whateumeter the failings on his part, Remember, reader, lie were that good in his hart.”

Joe recited this couplet with such manifest pride and careful perspieuity, that T asked hit if he had made tt himself.

mado it,” sald Joe, “my own velf. T made tt in» moment. Itwns like striking out m horse-shoe complete in ® single blow. never was so much ster prised in all my life,—could n't credit my own ed: to-tetl you the truth, tmrdly believed It was my own ed. As Twas saying, Pip, it were my intentions to have liad It eut aver him: bat pootry costs money, cut ft how you will, amall or Iargey and it were not done, Not to mention bearers, all the money thnt could bespared were wanted for my mother. She were in poor elth, and quite broke. She were n't long of following, poor soul; and her share of peace come round at last.”

Joe’ bine eyes turned a tittle watery: he rubbed first one of them, and then the other, jm a most uncongenial and uncomfortable manner, with the round knob an the top of the poker.

“It were bat lonesome then,” sald Joo, “living here alone, and T Rot moquninted with your elster. Now, Pip,” Joe looked firmly at me, as if he knew I was not golng to agree with him, “your alster is a fine figure of a woman.”

t could not help Joking at the fre in an obvious state of doubt.

T could think of nothing better to say than “I am giod you think 40, Jon”

“So min I," returned Joe, catching meup. “Sam gind Tthink so. Pip. A tle redness, or a littiematter of bone here or there, —what does it signify to me?”

T angneonsly obwervod, if tt did n't algaify to him, ¢o whom lit tt wigalfy?

“Cortalaly!” assented Joe. “That *s it. You ‘ro right, old chap! Whea « gt acqualnted with your slater, it were the ta" how eho was bringing you up by

Great Brpectatfons, 429

hand. Very kind of her, too, all the folks ¢ald, and T sald along with all the folks. As to you,” Joe pursued with # countenance expressive of socing some- thing very nasty indeed, “if you could have been aware how small and flabby and mean you was)—dear me, you 'd have formed the most contemptible opinions of yourself!®

‘Not exactly relishing this, I sald, “ Never mind od

“But 1 did oo i tc a a “When I offered to your sister to keep company, and to be asl such times: as she was willing and ready to come to the forge, I sald to ber, “And bring the poor little child. God bless the poor Little child!” K sald to your sister: ‘there's room for him at the forge,’ *

I broke out crying, and begging pardon, and bagged Joe round the neck, who dropped the poker to ug ine, ahd to.ay, “esr ie beak of friendas aa'tun, Pip? Don't

‘When this little interruption was over, Joe resumed, —

“Well, you ace, Pip, and here we arc! That ’* about where it lights: here we ‘are! Now, when you take me fn hand in my learning, ip (and I tell you beforo- hand f am awful dull, most awful dull), Mrs. Joe must n’t see too much of what we 're up to. It must be done, as X may say, on the aly. And why on the sly? 10) tell you why, Pip.”

‘He had taken up the poker aguin, without which, I doubt If he could have pro- cceded in his demonstration,

“Your sister is glen to government.”

“Given to government, Joe?” I was startled; for I had some shadowy idea (snd Iam afraid I must add hope) that Joe had divorced her tn favor of the lords of the admiralty or treasury.

“Given to government," sald Joe,—“ Which I meantersay the govrerument of you and mywelf”

“on

“And she an’t over-partial to having scholars on the premises,” Joe contin ued, * and in partikler would not be over-partial to my belng scholar, for fear as I might rise, —like a sort of rebel; don’t you see?”

Twas going to retort with an Inquiry, and had got #0 fur as * Why” — when Joe stopped me.

“Stay abit. I know what you 're golng to aay, Pip: stay abit! I don't deny that your sister comes tho Mogul ofer us now and again, I don’t deny that she do throw us falls, and that she do drop down upon us hes Atsuch times as your alster is on the ram-page, Pip,” Joe sank his volce to a whisper, and glaoced ‘st the door, “ candor compels fur to admit that sho is a Buster.”

Joe pronounced this word as if it began with, at least, twelve capital B's.

“Why don’t I rise? That were your observation when I broke it off, Pip?”

“Yes, Joo.”

© Well,” said Joe, passing the poker into his left hand, that he might feel his whisker; and I had no hope of him when he took to that placid occupation: * your sleter "6 a master-mind, —® master-mind.”

“What "s that?” I asked, in some hope of bringing him toastand. Bat Joe was readier with his definition than I had expected, and completely stopped me by arguing circularly, avd avewerlng with a fixed look, ** Her.”

“ And I an't a mastersmind,” Joe resumed, when he had unfixed his look, and got back to his whisker. “And, last of all, Plo,—and thie I want to aay very serous to you, old chap, —I see so much in my poor m« vod slaving, aud breaking ber honest heart, and never getting no peace in her

4

|

430 Ebe Dickens Mictlonarg,

Pip; I wish there warn't no ‘on myself: epee mee Tas ig | and Thope you MN overlook short-comingy.””

After the death of his wife, Joe marries Biddy, a sweet-tempered woman, who makes him an excellent wif, and with whom be lives happily for many years, ever doing the duty that lies before him with a strong hand, a quiet tongue, and a gentle heart, (Ch. ii-vil, ix, x, xli-xx, xxvii, xxxv, Ivii-lix.) See Garcery, Mrs. Jon

Gargery, Mrs. Georgiana Maria, His wife; sister to Pip, and

3 thorough shrew.

Myatster . . . was more than twenty years older than f, and had established ‘great reputation with herself and the neighbors because ahe had brought me

by hand.” Having at that the to find out for myself what the expression meant, and knowing hor to have a hard and henry hand, and to be much in the habit of laying it upon her husband, as well as upon me, I supposed that Jow Gurgery and 1 were both brought up by hand.

Bhe was not a good-looking woman, my sister; and hod a general tmpres ston that she must have made Joe Gargery marry her by hand. . . «

With black hair and eyes [she] had such a prevaiting redness of skin, that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible she washed herself with « hutmeg-grater instead of soap, Sho was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and hare ing # square, impregnable bit in front that was stuck full of pins and needles, ade itn powerful merit in herself, and a strong reproach ugalust Joe, that she wore his apron #o much, . . «

‘Joe's forge odjolned our house, which was a wooden house, as many of the dwellings in our country were—most of them —at that time. When Tran home from the churchyard, the forge was shut up, and Joo was altting alone In the kitchen, Joe and I being fellow-snfferers, and huving confidence as such, Jew {imparted m confidence to me the moment I raised the latch of the door, sod peeped in at him opposite to It, altting fn the chimney-corner.

“Mra. Joe has been out a dozen times, looking for you, Pip; and she" out inking it a baker*s dozen.”

1d Joo; “and, what worte, aho" got Tickler with her.”

At this dismal intelligence, I twisted the only button on my waisteoat roand ‘and round, aud looked in great depreasion at the fire. ‘Tickler was a wax-ended

slece of eane, worn amooth by collision with my tickled frame,

* She sat down,” said Joc; “‘and she got up; and she made a grab at Tleklers and che ram-paged out. That’s what she did,” said Joe, slowly clearing the Aire between the bars with the poker: “she ram-paged ont, Pip.

“Has sha been gone long, Joe?” I always treated bim ns u larger spectes of child, and as no more than my equal

“ Well,” said Joe, looking up mt the Duteh clock, “she "s been on the ram. page, thie last spell, about five minutes, Tp, She" mcommg! Get behind the oor, old chap, and have the jack to wel betwixt you."

I took the advice, My sister Sire, Joe, throwing the door wide open, and

a 3)

ently said, *Joo’ ngain, and once, ‘pardon?

¥

Great Bz pectatlons. 43h

finding m obstruction behind it, tmmediately divined the cause, and applied ‘Tickler to further investigation. She concluded hy throwing me—I oftex served ‘her a# a connublal missile—at Joe, who, glad to get hold of me on any terme, passed my on into the chimney, and quietly fenced me there with his great legs.

When Pip grows up, he goes out into the world, and his ex- periences of his sister's tender mercies come to an end; but poor Jow continues to bear his ¢ross with exemplary patience, until death relieves him of it by opening a grave for Mrs, Gargery.

“She had been In one of her bad states —though they had got better, of Inte, rather than worse—for four days, when she came out of it in the evening, Just ‘at teatime, and said quite platnly, ‘Joe.’ As she bad never sald any word fora Jong while, F [Biddy] ran and fotcbed in Mr, Gargery from the forge. She mado slgus to me that she wanted him to eit down close to her, and wanted me to put her arms around his neck. So T pat them round his neck and she laid er head down ou his shoulder quite content end ratified. And x0 she pres nd once, ‘Pip? And £0 she nerer lifted her head up any more; and it was Just an hour later when we laid {t down on her own bed, because we found she was gone."

(Ch. ii, iv-vii, ix, x, xii-xviii, xxiv, xxv.) See Onniex, Done.

Weorgiana. A cousin of Mr. Pocket's, and a relative of Mrs. Havi- sham's; an indigestive single woman, who calls her rigidity reli« gion, and her liver love. (Ch. xi, xxv, !vii:)

Havisham, Miss, Estella’s foster-mother. In her youth she had been a beautiful heiress, and looked after as a great match. She was pursued in particular by a certain showy man (Compeyson), ‘who professed to be devoted to her.

She had not shown much «usceptibitity up to that time; But all she porsexsod certainly came out then, and she passionately loved hitn there is no doubt that who perfectly idolized him, He practised on her aifection in that systematic way, that he got great sums of money from her; and he induced her to buy ber brother out of mabare In the brewery (which had been weakly left him by hls father), at an immense price, on the plen, that, when he was her husband, be must hold and manage It all. ... The marriage-day was fixed, the wedding. dresses were bought, the wedding-tour was planned out, the wedding-gueste ‘were invited. The day came, but not the bridegroom.

She received a letter from him, however, when ahe was dress ing for church, that most keartlessly broke the marriage off. When the recovered from a bad illness that she had, she laid waste the whole place where she resided (Satis touse), stopped all the clocks at twenty minutes to nine,— the time of her receiving the letter, — ‘and nover afterwards looked upon the light of day. Pip, who way invited to her house when a small boy, thus describes it and it inmate :—

r —

482 She Dickens Mictfonarp.

Tentered ..., and found myself ina pretty large room well lighted with wax-candies. No gllmpye of daylight was to bo seen in It, Tt was a dresving- room, as I supposed from the furniture; though much of it was of forms and ‘ase then quite unkuown tome. But prominent in it was a draped table with '&® gilded looking-glass; and that I made out, at first sight, to be a fine lady's dressing:table,

‘Whether I should have made out this object 10 soon, if there had been no fine lady sitting at it, Teannot say, In an arm-chalr, with an elbow reating on the table, and her hend leaning on that hand, eat the strangest Jady I bave ever ‘teen or shall ever see.

‘Sho was dreased In rich materials, —satins and Ince and silks, —all of white, Her shoes were white; and she had a long white veil dependent from her hair; and she had bridal fowers ta her hair: but her hair was white. Some bright jowels sparkled on her neck and on her hauda; and some other Jewels lay sparkling on the tablo. Dresses loss splendid than the dress she wore, ‘and halfpacked trunks, were scattered about. She had not guite finished dressing; for she had but one shoe on (the other was on the table nenr her hond); her yell was but hatfarranged, her watch aud chain were not put ‘on; and some Ince for her bosom lay with those trinkets, and with her handker- hief and gloves, and some flowers, and a prayer-book,—all confusedly heaped about the looking-ginss.

Ii was not in the first minute that I saw all these things; though T saw more ‘of them in tho Hrat minute than might beaupposed, But I saw that every thing ‘within my view which ought to be white had been white long ago, and had lost {ts lustre, and was faded and yellow. Teaw that the bride within the bridal dress bad withered Like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no brightness Jef but the brightness of her sunken eyes. saw that the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of # young woman, and that the figure upon which Is now hung loose had shrunk to skin and bone,

Filled with bitterness towards all mankind, Miss Havisham adopts a beautifal orphan-girl (Estella), and rears her in the midst of all this desolation, educating her to steel her heart against all tenderness, but to lead young men on to love her, that she may tweak their hearts. (Ch. viii, ix, xi-xiv, xix, xxii, xxix, xxxvili, liv, xlix, Iwi) See Esrecua.

«Satis House,’ the residence of Atiss Havisham, iles w little to the west of Boley House, near Rochester. and derived its peculiar name from the fact of Tichandl Watts entertaining Queen Elizabeth in It, when on her Journey round the coust of Sussex and Kent, in 1573. Here she staid some days; nd, on her Tearing, Watts apologized for the stnallaess of the house for 40 great & queen, She merely replied, * Sats,’ signifying she was well content with her sceommo= | dation." — Hotten's Lifeof Dickens, p. 264, |

Hubble, Mr. A wheelwright, who isa friend of Mrs. Joe Gar gery’s; a tough, high-shouldered, stooping old man, of a sa fragrance, with his legs extraordinarily wide apart. (Ch iv, v xxxv.)

Hubble, Mrs, His wife; a little, sharp-eared persomy

Great Gypectations. 433

aconventionally javenile position, because she married Mr, Hubble when she was much younger than he. (Ch, iv, ¥, xxxv.)

Jack. A grizzled, slimy man, with a slushy voice, who is employed on a little causeway on the Thames. (Ch. liv.)

Jaggers, Mr. A criminal lawyer of Little Britain, employed by Pip’s unknown patron to inform him of his “great expectations,” and to act as his guardian until be comes into full possession of his fortune.

‘He was a burly man of an exceedingly dark complexion, with an exceedingly large head and a correspondingly large hand. .. . Ie was prematurely bald 00 the top of his head, and had bushy, black eyebrows that would n° lie down, but stood up bristling. His eyes were set very deep In his head, and were die- agreeably sharp and suspicious. He had » very large watch-chain, and very poss gee his beard and whiskers would have been if he had let

Mr. Jaggers has an air of authority that is not to be disputed, and a manner expressive of knowing something secret about every- body that would effectually do for euch individual, if he chose to disclose it. His clerk tells Pip that it always seems to him as if his master had set & man-trap, and was watching it. When he is not biting his large forefinger, he is in the habit of throwing it, in a half bullying sort of way, at the person be is talking with, He noyer Teagbas but he wears great bright creaking boots, and in poising

‘self on these, with his large head bent down, and his eyebrows joined together, awaiting an answer, he sometimes causes the boots to creak as if they laughed in adry and suspicious way. (Ch. xi, xviii, xx, xxi, xxiv, xxvi, xxix, xxxvi, xl, xlviii, xlix, li, Ivi.)

Magwitch, Abel, alias Paovis. A convict who escapes from the Hulks, and, meeting Pip, terrifies the boy into supplying him with food anda file to enable him to file off his fetters. Though very soon captured, and transported to New South Wales, he retains a grateful remembrance of Pip, and after some years, growing wealtly in the business of shecp-farming, scts him up as a gentleman, making Mr. Taggers his guardian and banker. He does this privately, however: and Pip supposes himself to be indebted to Mies Havisham for his good fortune, —a mistake which that lady, for reasons of her own. does not trouble herself to correct. Magwitch at last returns to England under the assumed name of Provis, and makes himself known to Pip, who endeavors to save his benefactor from recapture, but in vin. In spite of everv precaution, Magwitch is discovered

2

‘a

iH Ebe Wickens Mictlonarp.

and taken ; but he dies in prison, and thus escapes execution. (Ch i, tii, v, xxxix-alii, xlvi, liv-lvi.)

Mary Anne, A neat little girl whois Wemmick’s servant. (Ch. xxv, xlv.)

Mike. A one-vyod client of Mr. Jaggers, (Ch. xx, li)

Millers. A nurse in Mr. Pocket’s family. (Ch. xxii, xxiii.)

Molly. Mr. Jaggers’s house-keeper, and a former mistress of Abel Magwiteh, by whom she is the mother of Estella. (Ch. xxiv, xxvi.)

Rather tall, of a lithe, nimble figure, extremely pale, with Jarge blue eyes and a quantity of streaming light halr. I eaunot say whether any dixensed affection of the heart caused her lips to be parted as If xhe were panting, and her fuoe to bear # curious expression of suddenness and flutter; but T know that I had been to see Macbeth at the theatre a night or two befure, and that hor face looked to me as if it were all disturbed by tery alr, Uke the fxoes I hud soon rise out of the ealdrun.

Orlick, Dolge. A journeyman employed by Joe Gangery. He secrotly strikes a blow, which results in the death of Mrs. Gargery ; and he afterwards attempts the life of Pip. (Ch. xv-xvil, xxix, xxx, lili.)

He was a brosd-shouldered, loose-timbed, swarthy fellow, of great never In ahurry, and always slouching. He never even seemed to come to hls work on purpose, but wonld slouch in as if by mere accident; and when he went to the Jolly Bargemen to cat his dinner, or went away at night, be would slouch out like Cain oF the Wandering Jew, —as if ie had no idea where he was ‘going, and no intention of ever coming back. He lodged at a slufce-keeper’s, out on the marshes, and on working-days would come slouching from lis her- mitage, with his hands in his pocket, and his dinner loosely tied in @ bundle round his neck, and dangling on bis back. On Sundays, he mostly lay all day om slaice-gates, or stood ngainst ricks or barns, He alwnys slouched, with bis eyes on the ground; and when accosted, or otherwise required to raiee them, he looked up in a half-resentful, halfpuzzied way, as though the only thought he ever had was, that it was rather an odd and injurious fact that be should never be thinking.

Pepper, called Tne Avenoer. Pip's boy. (Ch. xxvii.)

T got on so fast, of inte, that T had even started « boy in boots, — top-boots, =» in bondage and slavery to whom F mighthave been sald to pass my days. For after I had mado my monster (out of the refuse of my washorwoman's family), and had clothed him with # blue coat, canary waistcoat, white cravat, 2reamy breechos, and the boots already mentioned, I had to find him a little todo and a great deal to eat; and with both of those horrible requirements he haunted my existence.

Pip. See Prrnw, Prouire.

Pirrip, Philip, called Pir. The narrator and the hero of the story5 “a good fellow, with impetuosity and hesitation, boldness snd diffe dence, action and dreaming, curiously mixed in him”

Great Brpectations, 4385

‘My fathor’s family namo being Pirrip, and my Chrittian name Philip, my Infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip: 20 Tealled myself Pip, and came to be ealled Pip.

His father and mother being dead, Pip is brought up “by hand ™ by his sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, who is more than tweuty years older than himself, She is something of a shrew, and does not treat him very kindly; but her husband, being a fellow-suiferer, makes an oqual and companion of him, and they are “aver the best of friends.” When Pip is old enough, he is apprenticed to Joe to learn the blacksmith’s trade; but, befare he is out of his time, he is informed, that, through the generosity of an unknown friend, he will one day come into a handsome property; and in accordance with the wish of his benefactor he removes to London to be brought upasagentleman. Elated by his good fortune, he looks down upon the humble friends of rlier d i i kindness when he sees them, which is but seldom. At last, to his astonishment and disgust, he discovers Lis patron to be a convict for whom he had done a favor when a child, Transported for crime, this man (Abel Magwitch) has retained a grateful sense of the kind- ness Pip had shown him, and, accumulating wealth, bas determined to educate and provide for him, and ultimately to make him his heir. ‘Though sentenced for life, such is his desire to seo the gentleman ha has made, that he rans the risk of detection, returns to England, makes himself known to Pip, and avows himself his benefuctor. ‘This declaration is a staggering blow to Pip, who has always sup- posed himself to be a protégé of Miss Havisham's, and the intended husband of her adopted daughter, Estella, with whom he jg deeply in’ , wove. The young lady, however, is married to another; and, toadd® of. to his troubles, Magwitch is recognized, denounced, arrested, tried," and sentenced to death, Fortunately for himself, he dies in prison o) sefore the day of execution arrives. His possessions being, under the

aw, forfeited to the crown, Pip finds himself suddenly reduced to

overty, and arrested for debt. He is on the point of being thrown ” Into jail, when he is seized with a malignant fever, becomes delirious,

and suffors greatly. When he begins to recover, he finds bis old

friend Joe by his bedside.

After I had turned the worst peint of my Illoese, I began to notice, that, while all ts other features changed, this oue consistent feature did not change. Whoever samo about me still settled down into Joe. I opened my eyes in the aight, and T smw [1 the great chair at the bedside Joe. I opened my eyes in the day, and slt- Aing on the window-seat, smoking bls pipe in the shaded open window, still I saw "oe. I anked for cooling drink, aud the dear hand that gave it me waa Joe's. 1

——

66 She Wickens Oictlomarg ,

*aak back on my pillow afler drinking. and the face that looked #0 hopefully aad tenderly epos me wae the face of Joe.

At last, one day. I took courage, and said, “Js it Joo?”

‘Asdthe dear obd bome-roice answered, “ Which it alr, old chap”

“0 Joe! you break my heart, mw of my ingratliade. Dow't be so goad to me!™

Vor Joe bet actually tal is head dows o= the pillow at my side, and pet

bie arm roand my neck, Im bis Joy that I knew him,

“Which dear old Pip, off chap,” eid Jor, “roo and me was ever friends, ‘And when jos re well nage tego out fr acide— want laia™

After which, Joe withdrew to the window, aad stood back toward me, wiping bis eyes, And. as my extreme weakness prevented me from get Ung up and going to Mm, I bay there, penitently whispering, “QO God, Bless him! © Goa, bless this gentle Christian man!”

When he gets about again, Pip sells all he bas, pats aside as much as he can for a composition with his creditors, becomes a clerk, and, after some years, a partner, in the house of & Co,, and finally marries Estella, who has been left a widow, = whom suffering has bent and broken into a better than her former

shape. Pocket, Herbert. A son of Matthew Pocket’s, who becomes a

warm friend of Pip’s. He has “great expectations” as well as Pip, whom he quite astonishes with the grandeur of his ideas and his plans for making money.

‘We were very gay nnd sociable; and I asked him, tn the coarse ef converse tion, what be was. He replied, “ A capltatist, an insurer of ahips™ ..

I had grand ideas of the wealth and importance of tneurers Of ships ta ‘te city,... . But, ... there came upon me, for my rellef, that odd fmpres sion that Herbert Pocket would never be very auceessful or rick.

“T shall not rest satisded with morely employing my eapital tn whips: Ishall bay up rome good lifeasurance shares, and cut into the Dine tion. I shall also do @ little {n the mining way. None of these things will interfere with my chartering a few thousand tons on my own seeount. 1 think I phall trade," #ald he, leaning back in his chatr,“*to the Kast Indios for silky, shawls, «plows, dyes, drags, und precious woods. It's wn interesting trade*

“ And the profits are large?" said 1.

“Tremendous! ™ aad he.

I wavered again, aud began to think here wore greater expectations than my own.

“Think I shall trade also,” sald he, puttiog ble thumbs in Bis walateoat pockets, to the West fudles for «ugar, tobaceo, and rum. Alo to Ceylon spe ‘dally for elephunta’ tu:

* You will want « good many ships," sald T.

A perfect fleet," raid he.

Quite overpowered by the magnificence of theve transactions, I asked bis whore the ships he fusured mostly traded to at present.

“T have n't begun Insuring yet," be replied. “ f am looking about me”

Great Srpectatlens, 437

Somehow, that pursuit seemed more to keeping with Barnard’s Tun. I said Una tone of conviction), Ab-h1”

“Yes, Tam Ina counting-house, and looking about me.” -

«£5 u counting-house profitable? "" I waked,

“To—do you mean to the young fellow who ’s init?” he axked in reply.

Yes: to you.”

“Why, neno} not to me,” Ie sald this with tho air of one carefully reckoning ep, and striking a balance. “Not directly profitable. That is, {t does n't pay me any thing. aud Thave to—keep myself."

‘This, cortainly, had not ® profitable appearance, and I shook my head ss if 1 would imply that {t would be difficult to lay by much accumulative eopital fom much a source of Income,

But the thing 4s," sald Herbert Pocket, “that you look about you. That's the Bund thing. You are in a counting-house, you know, and you look about you.”

It atruck me as a singular tmplication that you could n't be oat of a countings house, you know, and look about you; but I silently deferred to hls experience.

“Then the time comes,” said orbert, “when you see your opening. And you go In, and you swoop upon ft, aud you make your eapital. and then there you aro! When you have once made your capital, you hare nothing to do but employ it.”

Pip’s lavish habits lead Herbert into expenses that he cannot afford, corrupt the simplicity of his life, and disturb is peace with anxieties and regrets,

At Startop’s suggestion, we put ourselves down for election into a club called « The Finches of tho Grove; "the object of which Institution I havenever divined, {Fit were not that the members should dine expensively once a fortnight, to quar- rel among themselves as much as possible after dinner, and to eause six waiters to get drank on the stairs. I know that these gratifying social ends were so invari- ‘ably accomplished, that Herbert and I understood nothing else to be referred to 4u the first standing toast of the society, which ran, “ Gentlemen, may the pres ent promotion of good feeling ever reign predominant among the Finches of the rove!”

In my confidence ip my own resources, I would willingly have taken Herbert ‘expenses on myrolf; but Herbert was proud, and I could make no such proposal to him: so he got Into diMoutties in every direction, and continued to look about him. When we gradually fell into keeping late hours and late company, T noticed. that he looked about him with a despondent eye at breakfast-time; that he began: to look about him more hopelessly about mid-day; that he drooped when he came 4u to dinner; that he seemed to descry capital ta the distanos, rather clearly, after dinner; that ho all but realized capital, and banked {¢ toward midnight; and that, at about two o'clock In the morning, be became so deeply despondent again as ty talk of buying a rifle, and going to America, with a general purpose of compelling buffaloes to make his fortune. .. .

‘We spent as much money as we could, and got ns little for ft as people could ‘nuke up their minds to give us. We were always more or less miserable; and wort of our acquaintance were In the same condition. Thore was a gay fletion among us that we were constantly enjoying ourselves, and m ekeleton truth that ‘wo never did. To the best of my belief our case was, [0 the lust aspret, a rather *ommon one,

At certain times, — meaning st uncertain thmer* for they depended on our fnumor,—T would say to Herbert, as if it wore a remarkable discovery, ~

me

—

438 The Dickens Wicttowary.

“My doar Herbert, wo aro getting on badly.”

My dear Handel,” Herbert would say to me in all sincerity, “if yor wil believe me, those very words were on my lips by a strange coincidence.”

“Then, Herbert," I would respond, * lvt ux look into our alfulrs.!*

We always derived profound satisfaction Crom making aa appointment fo} this purpose. T always thought myself, this was business, this was the way tt ‘confront the thing, this was the way to take the foe by the throat, And I know Herbert thought so too.

‘We generally ordered something rather special for dinner, with m bottle af ‘something similarly out of the common way, in order that our minds might bt fortitied for the occasion, nnd we might come well up to the mark, Diane) ‘over, we produced a bundie of pens, a copious supply of ink, und a goodly snow ‘of writing and blotting paper; for there was something very comfortable i having plenty of stationery,

‘I would then take a sheet of paper. and write across the top of it, in « nes) hand, the heading, “ Memorandum of Pip's Debts,” with Barnard’s Inn aud the date very carefully added, Herbert would also take a sheet of paper, and write across It, with similar formalities, “* Memorandum of Herbert's Debts!"

Each of us would then refer to a confused heap of papers at his aide, which ‘had been throws Into drawers, worn into holes {n pockets, half-burned ta Hight Ing candles, stuck for weeks Into the looking-ginss, nd otherwise damaged, ‘The sound of our pens going refreshed us exceedingly, insomuch that T some times found fr difficult to distinguish between this edifying busiaeasproceeding and actually paying the money. In polot of meritorious character, the twa things seemed aboat equal. .. .

When 1 had got all my responsibilities down upon my Hat, T compared ech with the bill, and ticked {t off. My scl€approval when I ticked an entey waa Almost a lnxurious sensation. When f had ao more ticks to make, I folded all my Dilla up uniformly, docketed each on the back, and tied the whole Into 9 symmetrical bundle, Then I did the same for Herber: (who modestly eald he had not my administrative genius), and felt that I had brought his alfairy Anto a focux for him.

My business-habits had one other bright feature, which I called “leaving a murglaw” For examplo; aupposing Herbert's debts to be one hundred and sixty-four pounds four and twopence, I would ray, * Leare m margin, wud pat them dows at two hundred.” Or, supposing my own to be four times as miueh, T would leave a margin, and put them down at seven hundred. Thad the high: est opinion of the wisdom and prudence of this samo margin; bat fam bound to acknowledge, that, on looking back, I deem ft to hare been an expensive devion; for we always ran into new debt Immediately, to the full extent of thee margin, and sometimes, In the sense of freedom and solvency It imparted, got pretty far ou into another margin.

Ata later date, Herbert becomes a partner in the house of Clare riker & Co, through the kind assistance of Pip, which is secretly rendered, and is not discovered for many a year, He marries Clara Barley, (Ch, xi, xxi-xxvill, xxx, xxxl, xxxiv, xxxvi-xli, xiv-xivil, xlix, 1, lli-ly, lviil.)

Pocket, Alick. One of Mr. Pocket’s children, who makes ar: rangements, while still wearing a frock, for being married to » suitable young person at Kew. (Ch. xxii, xxiii.)

Great Bppectatlons. 439,

Pocket, Jane. A little daughter of Mr. Pocket’ mere mite, who has prematurely taken upon herself somo charge of the oth- ers, Her desire to be matrimonially established Is so strong, that she might be supposed to have passed her short existence in the perpetual contemplation of domestic bliss. (Ch. xxii, xxiii.)

Pocket, Joe. Another child. (Ch. xxiii.)

Pocket, Fanny, Another child. (Ch. xxiii.) :

Pocket, Mr. Matthew. A relative of Miss Havisham's, living at Hammersmith, with whom Pip studies fora time. Ho is. a geu- tleman with a rather perplexed expression of face, and with his hair disordtred on his head, as if he did n't quite see his way to putting any thing straight. (Ch. xxif-xxiv, xxxiii, xxix.)

By degrees I learned, and chiefly from Herbert, that Mr. Pocket had been educated at Harrow and at Cambridge, where he had distinguished himself; Dut that, when he had bad the happtess of marrying Mra. Pocket very early 1n tif, he had impaired his prospects, and taken up the calling of grinder, After grinding a number of dull bindes (of whom ft was remarkable that thelr fathers, when Influential, were always going to help him to preferment, but always forgot to do it when the blades had left the grindstone), be had wearied ‘of that poor work, and come to London. Here, after gradually falling to Jofiier hopes, he bad “read" with divers who had lacked opportunities, or negleoted them, and had refurbished divers others for special occasions, and had turned his asquirements to the account of literary compilation and correc: Vion, and on such means, added to some very moderate private resources, still annintained the house T saw.

Pocket, Mrs, Belinda. His wife. (Ch. xxii, xxiii, xxiii.)

Mire, Pocket was the only daughter of # certain quite accidental decensed Anight, who had Invented for himself a conviction that his deceased father ‘would have been made a baronet, but for somebody's determined opposition, arising out of entirely personal motives (I forget whose, if I ever knew, — the sovercign’s, the prime-minister's, the lord-chancellor's, the Archbishop of Canterbury’, anybody's), and had tacked himself" on the nobles of the earth, in right of this quite supposititious fact. I believe he had been knighted uim= aclf for storming the English grammar at the polnt of a pen in a desperate ‘address, engrossed on vellum, ou the oceaston of the laying of the first stone of some building or other, and handing some royal personage either the trowel or the mortar. Be that as it may, he had dirested Mrs. Pocket to be brought up from her cradle as one, who, in the nature of things, mast marry a title, and ‘who was to be guarded from the acquisition of plebelan domestic knowledge. Bo successful a watch and ward had been established over the young lady by ‘this judicious parent, that she had grown up highly ornamental, but perfectly helpless and uscless. With her character thus happily formed, fo the first bloom of her youth she tind encountered Mr. Pocket, who was also 1n the first Boars of youth, and not quite decided whether to mount to the woolsack, or te root ‘lmself in with & mitre. As hie doing the one or the other was a mere question of time, ho and Mrs. Pocket liad taken time by the forelock (at a vonson when,

a0 Ede Dickens Mictlonary.

to Judge from Its length, It would seem to have wanted cutting), and hed mar ried without the knowledge of the judicious parent, ‘The Judictons parent, haying nothing to bestow or withhold bat lis blessing, had handsomely settled that dower upon them after a short struggle, and had Informed Mr, Pocket that his wife was *s treasure for ® prinos." Mr, Pockst had invested the prince's treasure in the ways of the world ever since; and it was supposed to have brought him in but indifferent interest. Still, Mra. Pocket was, in general, tie object of a queer sort of respectful pity, because she had not married s tities while Mr. Pocket was the object of a queer sort of respectful reproach, because he had never got one.

Pocket, Sarah. "A relative of Miss Havisham; a little, dry, brown, corrugated old woman, with a blandly-vicious ae small face that might have been made of walnut-shells, ‘a large mouth like a cat’s, without the whiskers. (Ch. xi, xv, xix, xxix.)

Potkins, William, A waiter at the Blue Boar, (Ch, Iviii.)

Provis. See Maowrren, ABEL,

Pumblechook, Uncle. A well-to-do corn-chandler and seeds- man; uncle to Joo Gargery, but appropriated by Mra. Joc. Ho is a large, hard-breathing, middle-aged slow man, with a mouth like a fish, dull, staring eyes, and sandy hair standing upright on bis head; so that he looks as if he had been choked, and had just come to. Pumblechook is the torment of Pip’s life. While a mere boy, the bullying old fellow is in the habit of coming to Mrs, Gare gery’s house, where Pip lives, and discussing his character and prospects; but this he can never do without having the child before him to operate on.

He would drag me up from my stool (usually by the collar) when T was quiet in a corner, and putting mo befare the fire, as if T were going to be evoked, would begin by saying, Now, mum, here is this boy,—here ts this boy whlch you brought up byl Hold up your head, boy, and be for ever grateful unto them which ao did do. Now, mum, with respeetions to this boy.” And then he would rumple my hal the wrong way (which, from my earliest remem- Drance, . . . [have in my soul denied the right of any fellow-areature to do), and would bold mo before him by the sleeve, a spectacle of Imbecility only to be ‘equalled by himself.

When Pip comes, most unexpectedly, into property and “great ‘exnectations,” and is about departing for London, the obsequious ness of Pumblechook is equal to his former assumption of an- thority.

“My dear friend,” raid Mr. Pumblechook, taking me by both hands, ... @¥ sive you Joy of your good fortune. Well deserved, well deserved!”

‘This was coming to the polat; and I thought it m sensible way of expressing

himself. «To think," aaid Mr. Pumblechook, wfter snorting admiration at me for some

PUMELECHOOK AND WOPSLE,

Great Srpectations. 441

‘moments, “that I should have been the humble instrument of leading up to this, f # proud reward.”

T begged Mr, Pumblechook to remember that nothing was to be ever sald or hiinted on that point,

“ My dear young friend,” sald Mr. Pumblechook, “if you will allow me to calf you 10 —

I murmured, “Certainly; and Mr, Pumblechook took me by both hands again, and communicated » movement to his walsteont, that had an emotional appear. ‘ance, though {t was rather low down. “My dear young friend, rely upon my doing my little all in your absence, by keeping the fact before the mind of Joseph Joseph!” sald Mr. Pumblechook, in the way of m compassionate adjuration. Joseph, Joseph!” ‘Thereupon he shook lis head and tapped It, expacestng hit senso of deficiency tn Joseph.

“But my dear young friend,” said Mr. Pumblechook, “ you must be hungry, you must beexhausted. Be seated. Here is a chicken had round from the Boar: here {sa tongue bad round from the Boar; here’ ono or two little things that I hope you may not despise, But do 1," sald Mr, Pumblechook, getting up again the moment after he had sat down, “seo afore me him as I ever sported within his times of happy infancy? And may I,may 12”—

‘This may I” meant, might he shake hands? Koonsented; and be was fervent, ‘end then aat down again.

+ Hore ts wine,” sald Mr, Pumblechook. “Let us drink, ‘Thanks to Fortune; and may she ever pick ont her favorites with equal Judgment!? And yet I cane not," «ald Mr. Pumblechook, getting up again, “see afore me one, and likeways drink to one, without again expressing — May f, may 1?"—

I said he might; and he shook hands with me again, and emptied his glass and turned ft upside down.

‘When Pip is reduced to poverty by the death of his patron, Mr. Pumblechook again changes his manner and conduct, becoming as ostentatiously compassionate and forgiving as he had been meanly servile in the time of Pip's new prosperity.

“Young man, I am sorry to see you brought low; but what else could be expected? What eine could be expected? . . «

“This is him . . . as T hare rode in my shay-cart; this ts him as T have seen brought up by hand; this fs Lim uatoe the slater of which Iwas uncle by mar- singe, ns her name was Georgiana M’rla, from her own mother, Let him deny it ihecant...

“Young man,” said Pumblechook, screwing his head at mein the old fashion, you alr a-golng to Joseph, What does It matter to me, you ask me, where you air a going? I say to you, air, you air egoing to Joseph. ... Now I will tell you wuat to any to Joseph. Says you, ‘ Joseph, Thave this day seen my eure Hest benefactor and the founder uf my fortun’s. I will name no names, Joreph; but so they are pleased to call him up town: and I have seen that man!”

“Tewear I don't ae> him here," said I.

“Say that, Ukewiae," retorted Pumblechook, “Say you sald that; and eren Joseph will probably betray surprise”?

“There you quite m’stake him," sald f “I know better.”

‘Says you,” Pumblechook went on, “‘ Joseph. I have seen that man; and that man bears you n0 malice, and bears me no malice. He knows your charncter, *sueph, aad is well acquainted with your plg-hesdedness and ignorance; and he

— os

442 Ebe Wickens Dlctlonary.

Amows my character, Joseph, and he knows my want of Joseph, says you,” — here Pumblechook shook bis head and knows my total deficiency of common human gratitoode. Ee! ae You do not know it, Joseph, having no eall to know it man ifr ncie ibs wa aly sane cor ba et ats a , talk thus to mine.

“Saye you, ‘Joseph, he gave me a little perp eee ek

‘i was, that, in my being brought low, ho saw the ogre Revie

Juowed that Sager when he aaw it, Joseph; and he saw it plain. Tt

thie writing, Joseph; Hewand of ingratitoode to hls earliest

founder of fortun’s. But that man said that he did not repent. done, Joseph, Notatall. It was right to do it, it was kind benevolent to do It; and he would do it again)”

(Ch. iv-ix, xiii, xv, xix, xxxv, lviii.)

Skiffins, Miss, A lady of an uncertain age and a Appearance, but “a very good sort of fallow.” anaes sesved of “ portable property,” which is eo strong & in the eyes of Mr. Wemmick, that he makes her his wife. (Ch. xxxvii, Iv.) Sophia. A housemaid in Mr. Pocket’s service. (Ch. xxiii.) Spider, The. See Davwa«tx, Bexteer. Startop, Mr, A lively, bright young man, with a woman’s deli- cacy of feature, who is a fellow-boarder with Pip at Mr. Pocket's, (Ch. xxili, xxv, xxvi, xxxiy, lii-liv.) Trabb, Mr. A prosperous old bachelor, who is a tailor and an un- dertaker in the quiet old town where Pip lives during his boyhood. (Ch. xix, xxxv.) ‘He has a shop-boy who is one of the most audacious young fel- Jows in all that country-side. When Pip comes into a handsome property, and people stare after him, and are excessively polite if he happens to speak to them, the only effect upon Trabb’s boy is, tomake him more independent and impudent than before. As Pip: is returning, on one occasion, to the Blue Boar from Satis House, to take the coach back to London, fate throws him in the way sal “that unlimited misereant,

Casting my eyes along the street at a certain point of my progress, 1 beta ‘Trabb’s boy approaching, Inshing himself with an empty blue bag. Deeming that e serene and unconscious contemplation of him would best beseem me, fund woud be most Ukely to quell his evil mind, X advanced with that expres: slon of countenance, and was rather congratulating myself on my ‘when mddenly the knees of Trabb's boy smote together; lis hate emp fell off; he trembled violently in every limb. staggered out fn the road. Ball exylng to the populace, “Hold me! I'm so frightened!” felgned to be In a par ‘exysm of terror and contrition, occasioned by the dignity of my appearance —

Gceat Grpectations. 442

As T passed hilm, Nix teeth loudly chattered In his head; and, with every mark ‘of extreme humiliation, he prostrated himself In the dust.

‘This wan a hard thing to bear; but this was nothing. I had not ndranced another two hundred yards, when to my Inexpressible terror, amazement, and indignation, I again beheld Trabb’s boy approaching. He was coming round « narrow corner. His blue bag was slung over his shoulder; honest Indoxtry beamed In his eyes; a determination to proceed to Trabb's with cheerful brisk ‘peas was indicated in his gait. With a shock he became aware of mo, and waa severely visited #4 before; but this time his motion was rotatory, and he stag: g0red round und round me with knees more affiieted, and with uplifted hands, ‘as if beseeching for meroy. Ils eufferings were hailed with the greatest Joy by ‘knot of spectators; and I felt utterly confounded.

Thad not got as much farther down the street as the post-office. when ‘agaln beheld Trabb’s boy shooting round by a back-way. This time, be was entirely changed. He wore the blue bag in the manner of my great-cout, and ‘wae strutting along the pavement toward me on the opposite aide of the street, attended by a company of delighted young frends, to whom be from time to time-exclaimed, with a wave of his hand," Don't know yah!” Words cannot state the anount of aggravation and injury wreaked upon me by Trabti's boy, ‘when, passing abreast of me, he pulled up bis shirt-collar, twined his alde-halr, stuck an arm aklmbo, and smirked extravagantly by, wriggling his elbows and body, and drawling to his uttendants, “Don’t know yah; don’t know yah ‘pou my soul, don't know yah!” ‘The disgrace attendant on bis immediately ufter~ ward taking to crowing, and parsning me acroes the bridge with crows na from ‘an exceedingly dejected fowl who had known me when I was a blaskemith, cul- minnted the disgrace with which I left the town, and was, #0 to speak, elected by it {nto the open country. (Ch. xxx.)

‘Waldengarver, Mr. See Worstr, Mr.

Wemmick, Mr. John. Mr. Jaggers’s confidential clerk. He is a dry man, rather short in stature, with a square wooden face, whose expression stems to have been imperfectly chipped out with a dull-edged chisel. He has glittering eyes, —small, keen, and ‘Jack, —and thin, white mottled lips, and has had them, apparently, ‘tom forty to fifty years. His guiding principle, and bis iovariable advice to his friends, is, to take care of portable property, and never on any account to lose an opportunity of securing it. Although his business relations to Mr. Jaggers are of the most intimate nature, their acquaintance and fellowship goes no further, and each pre- tends to the other that he is made of the sternest and fintiest stuff. But notwithstanding their hard exterior and their fear of showing * themselves to one another in a weak and unprofessional light, they are kindly men at heart, — Wemmick especially, who has a pleas ant home at Walworth, where he devotes himself to the comfort of bis venerable fether, and refresbes his business life In many pleas an‘ and playful ways, the latest and most important of them being the transformation: of Mies Skiffins into Mrs. Wemmick. (Ch. xx,

—_

a Fhe Pickens Mectlonaep.

xxi, xxiv-xxvi, xxxil, xxxvi, xxxvii, xlv, xlvill, I, Iv.) See Seem xs, Miss.

‘Tho district of Walworth . . . appeared to be » collection of back lanes itches, and little guniens, and to present the aspect of a mighty dull retire mont. Wemmick's house was a little wooden cottage In the midst of plota of garden; and the top of {t was cut out wnd painted like a battery mounted with

guns. “My own doing," aald Wemmick. “Looks preity; don't it?” Thighly commended it. I think tt was the smallest house I ever saw, with the quecrest Gothic windows (by far the greater part of them sham), and a Gathlc door, almost too small to got In at. “There "6 # real flag-sta, you see," sald Wemmick; “and on Sundays I rom up areal fag. ‘Then look here. After I have crossed this bridge, I holst lt up, —*0,—and cut off the communication.” ‘The bridge was a plank; and [t crossed a chaam about fotir fort wide and two deep, But it was very pleasant to see the pride with which he holsted it ‘up, and made it fast; smiling, ws be did so, witha relish, and not merely mechnne |

“At nine o'clock every night, Greenwich time,” sald Wemmick, “the gum fires, There he is, you see; and, when you hear him go, I think you "ll say he’s stinger.”

‘The plece of ordnance referred to was mounted Into a separate fortress Lightly constructed of lattice-work. It was protected from the weather by an Angenious little tarpaulin contrivance in the nature of am umbrella.

“ Then, at the back,” said Wemmick, “out of «ight, #0 as not to Impede the dea of fortifications — for it's ® principle with me, if you have an ides carry it out, and keep it up. Edow’t know whether that ’s your opinion” —

Taald, “ Decidedly.” |

“At the back there *s 8 pig, and there aro fowls nod rabbite; then I knock together my own little farm, you see, and grow cucumbers; and youl Judge at supper what sort of « salad I can raise, So, alr," said Wemmick, smiling ‘again, bat rather seriously too, “if you can euppose the little piace besieged, it woold hold out # devil of a time in point of provisions.”

‘Then he conducted me to a bower about a dozen yards off, bat which wax

4 approached by such Ingenious twists of path, that It took quite ® long time to got at; and in this retreat our glasses were already set forth, Our punch wax ‘cooling in an ornamental lake, on whose margin the bower was raised. This yilece of water (with an Island in the middle, which might bare beon the salad for supper) was of a circular form; and he had constructed a fountain in it, which, when you set a little mill golng, and took a cork out of a pipe, played to that powerful extent thnt it made the back of your hand quite wet.

“Tamm my own engineer, aud my own carpenter, and my own plumber, and my own gardener, and my own =Jack of all trades,’ said Wemmick in acknowledging my compliments. “Well, t's @ good thing, yoo know, It brushes the Newgate cobwebs away, and pleases the Aged.”

‘Wemmick, Mr., senior, called Tun Acrp. Mr, John Wem- mick’s father; a very old shan, clean, cheerful. comfortable, and well cared for, but intensely deaf. (Ch. xxv, 5 as xly, xiviii, i, WW

i] a

Great Grpectations 445

Wemmick, Mrs. See Sxurrixs, Miss,

Whimple, Mrs. A lodging-house keeper at Mill Pend Bank, Chinks’s Basin; an elderly woman of a pleasant and thriving appearance, who is the best of housewives. (Ch. xlvi.)

William, See Porxixs, WittiaM.

Wopsle, Mr. A friend of Mrs. Joe Gargery's; at first, parish clerk, afterwards an actor in London under the stage-name of Mr. Waldengarver.

‘Mr. Wopsle, united to a Roman nose and a large bald forehead, had & deep sonorous volce, which he was proud of; indeed, it was understood among hin ncquaintanco, that, if you could only give tlm his end, he would read the clergy man Into fits. He himself confessed, that if the Church was “thrown open,” meaning to competition, he would not despalr of making his mark In It. The Church not belug “thrown open,” he was, as I have eald, ourclerk, But he finished the amens tremendously; and when he gaye out the psalm, —always ‘giving us the whole verse, — he looked all round the congregation first, as much ‘as to say,“ You have heard my fHend overhead: oblige me with your opinion ‘of this”

His success as an actor is not particularly brilliant or encoura- ging. Pipand Herbert go to the small theatre where he is engaged, to witness his impersonation of Hamlet,

‘Whenever that undecided prince had to ask s queation or state a doubt, the public helped him out with it. As, forexample, on the question, whether ‘was nobler In the mind to suffer, some rosred, Yes; sud some, No; and some, inclining to both opinions, sald, “Toss up for ft; and quite a debating society arose. When ho asked what should auch fellows as he do crawling between earth and heayen, be was encouraged with loud erles of, “ Hear, hear!" When Ae appeared with his stocking disordered (ite disorder expressed, according to waage, by one very neat fold In the top, which I suppose to be always got op ‘with a flat-ron), a conversytion took place in the gallery respecting the paloness ‘of his leg, und whether {t was occasioned by the turn the ghost had given him. ‘On his taking the recorders,— very like # litte black fute that had just been played in the orchestra, und handed outst the door, —he was called upon, unanl- mously, for “ Rule Britannia." When he recommended the player not to saw the air thus, tho sulky man esld,“‘ And don’t you do it, neither: you're « dead ‘worse than him!" And I grieve to add, that penls of lnughter greeted Mr, ‘Wopzle on every one of these occasions,

(Ch. iv-vii, x, xiii, xv, xviii, xxxi, xlvii.) =

446 She Dickens Wictlonary.

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

Cuarren 2, Tip, 1n the chorebyard, ts frshtened by the appearance of a fearful mem ‘with. great tron on his leg, who mukes him promise to bring him, the next morning, @ Ble and some food.— 11. Pip, with some difMculty, conceals tho food Mrs Joe gives him for ‘upper, and, early tn the morning, robs the pantry, and runs for the marhes.—TiT. Pip ‘ments sconvict, whois not the one he seeks, and afterwamts finds the right one, whoeagerly Seroure his food. TV. Mrs Joe's preparations for Christmas: Pip's sudlerings during the Christman dinner for fear bis theft should be discovered; Pip Marts to ran away, and Fane Into a party of solfiers at the door, —V. Joemends a pair of handeutfs for the sergeant, snd. ‘ho party start In aearch of the recaped convicts on the marshes; they find the twe cone ‘viets struggling together in & ditch, aod Pip's conviet claims tohave taken and giver up ‘tho other one; Pips convict confesses to having stolen the food taken by Pp from Ire, Gangery's pantry.— VI. Eipia fear afconfising taloc, ~ VIL Pip's education is attended to, and he Inditera letter 10.300 ; Joo"e delight at finding his name tn print; Joe aaceoustt of ‘his father's goodness of heart, and of tis marriage to Pip's sister; P{p goes to play at Misa Tixhhamn’x—VIIT. Mp breakfasts mt Mr. Pumblechook's, and proceeda to Mine Hiavishsin’s, ‘where he Is sevelved hy Estelia; singular appearance of Miss Havisham, «nd of every ‘thing around her; Estelia and Pip play cards for Miss Uavisham’s amusement; Zatella ‘tonite Pio honio, IX. Pip gives his alster and Pumblechook an acount of Mist Havir wham's ond bis visit there, tho falsity of which Uo afterwards acknowledges to Jor. — X. Pip som to" The Threo Jolly Barpemen™ to meet Joo, and sce there a stranger, byw Algn from whom he knows he has seen bis conviett the stranger gives Pip shilling, ‘wrapping tin two one-pound notes. —X1. Pip goes again to Miss Havisham’s, and finds hor Meads have come ¢ se her on her birthday: Fip meets the pale young man. who shallonges him to fight, and, being victorions, hoa pesanlod ta klaa fro Estelle. — XT, Pip having grown old enough to be apprenticed to Joo, Miss Havisham sends for Joe, to ‘whom she gives twenty-five guineas as a premiam with Pip.— XIIL. Jon gives the money to his wife, with # message from Miss Havisham, and Pip is “bound out of band" by Mire ramblechook.— XIV. Mip desires to go and see Misa Haviaham, and Jos gives tlm and Orlick w halfholiday.—XV. Orllok calls Mrs. Gargery names, und ts ‘besten ty Joes Tip goes to Miss Havisham’s in the hope of econ Datalla.but le dissapointed; Mire. Guryery recelves a severe injury from an unknown hand.- XVL Pip form a theory in ‘Tegand to thoassallant of his sister, and is eurprived that she does not denounce Orlick, — XVIL. Pip makes an anoual visitto Miss Havisham on his birehdsy s P) 2:

‘who hus become Joe's housekeeper, his dosire to be x gontloman. —:

reading at “The Threo Jolly Bargemon " the account of a muntor, ts crom-questioned hy Mr, Jaguers: Jaggore requests « private conference with Jopand Pp, snd informs thor ‘hat Mp hae Gaxar Kxrectatios, and must henceforth be bronght up ax a-geatiernan ‘Yarpere Informs them that tho conditions Imposed are, that Pip aball always bear thas ‘nae, and Ut he ts nover to ask or seek 9 know thenaine of hla Denefuetor; Jaggers ad ‘vines Pip what to do, and offers Jos eompermaition for the Toms of p's ‘he re: Sasos; Joo tells tho news at home. XIX. Diddy gives Pip her Kea ‘nannerss Walts upon Mr, Trabb, and orders his new clothes; Mr. Pumblechook entertains Pip, ane tmeracilates him on his good furtune, of which he claims to be the Instruments Pip takes u float Joare of Mies Havisham; Mp atarta on his Journey to London. Arriving in London, Pip calls on Mr, Jaggors, and witnesses that gentiowan's manne. of bullying hiscllents; Wemmick accompanies Mp from JagRers's office to young Mr Voeket's, — XXI_ Pips impressions of Bamard’s Inn Pip ts weleomed tis Herbert Poekist, In whom he recognizes the pale boy he had fought with st Miss Mavisham's—XXIL Herbert Informs Pip of

Appointments Herbert gives Pip the nme of Handel; Pip learns trom Herbert Gistory uf Silat Havisham, (otersperse. with sume binte fur the improvement of

Great Brpectatlons. aT

yen mannors: Pip Is tnteoduced to Me. Matthew Pocket nnd his family. —XXI1T. Some wccount of Mr. and Mra Pecket, thelr lodpers, and thelr domestic tmiemanagement — XXIV. Pip begins to do business with Mr. Jargers, and iexhown that gentleman's office ‘Arrangements by Mr. Weminick. —XXV. Pip aceompanies Wemnmick homme to Walworth, where he ts introduced to the Aged, und spends the night, —XXVI. Pip and bis friends: dine with Mr. Juggera; alngular appearance of that peatleman's housekeeper: quarrel be- tween Bentley Drammie and Pip, at Mr. Jaggees"s table. —XXVIL Pj

frum Judd, announclos-a rit frm loa. and AOU Aas Aum #ironi Me Iter sham vendfword by Joo that Estelia bas returned, and woul ad to 900 T Ipomm XXVIIL Wp pres wn tothe ld towh; Uy alage and Tecogalae, Ts couTet WES Ts Belzg earried to the bulks, the man from whom he had reeelved the twv ane-pound notes. — XXIX. Pip is surprised to f1nd Orlick ocoupying the place of porter nt Miss Hwlaham'sy ‘meeting of Yip and ¥atella, and thelr walk topether tn Miss Havisham”s wae and the sudden appearance of We Juggets in the Foor, — How Trabb's boy mot Iip In the stroet, and attended him from the town; Tip se:

ner edaas tg Rass his locator Ralalia and Diasienbia of arct minis Bets Herbert re tarns the confidence by taforming Pip of his own onghgemont. —XXXI. Mr. Wopale’s ay pearance ms Hamlet; Pip recelves a note from Estells informs

‘vit to London. —XXXII. Ite accompanies Wemmick to Newgate, wid the

extimation ta which Jaggers ts held {a that tnstitation. — XXXIIL Mp receives Eatella on

‘hor arrjval, and ¢¢corts har to her dostinatjon at Richmond, — XXXIV. Effect produced i upon Pip by his expectations, and the way In which he and Worbert “locked into their ar atfaire:"* Pip receives notice of the death of his sister, and goos down to attend the funeral,

—XXXV. He has a converastion with Iiddy, who understands tim betzer than he under-. es stands himeclf,—XXX¥T. Tein SoaPSTONS Pip oe Hl coe p on ils coming of age, and presents: ow ay him with five bundred pounds from hls unknown benefactor, but dows not disclose the Sf name of the person, —XXXVIL Wemmick makes a distinction between his optntons in tho

office and at Wasworth; Pip spends Sunday ut Wemmick"s and witnesses bis caro of his

aped parent, and his attenllons to Min Skifing; Mp, with Wemmick's amslstince, ote

‘Werbert up In dusiness —XXXVIIE. Pip pay freqnentvisite to Eatolla, ak Dey Brasid

Joy's, and escorts her | ‘to Misa Havisham’s; some harsh wordsarg exchanged between

Mies Haviaham and Estella; Drumunle offends Pip tu toasting Katelias Pip rouncnatrades

with Entells for encouraging Drummmle's atientionn —XXXIX. Mp, eiting alone in bie

room ot # late hour of the night. ts {nterrupted by a atmunge visitor, 1a whom he rezog-

nizea hls convict, and from whom ho learns that this man biraself ts the unknown patros

whose money he has boen spending; he also lotrna the rlak at which the convict hus ro-

turned to England. 4X. Pip stumbles over a man on his stalrease, and learae from the

Watchman that his convict was fullowed by another person; satisfaction of Peoria tn

seeing“ the gontleman ho has made; "" Pp engages rooms for Pravis, whom he representa

“asia uncle: Pip vertties, by reference to Me. Jaguers, bis knowledge that Provis is tule tole benefactor. —XLI. Herbert returns, and, taking the oath demanded by Provis, ls told ‘tho whole seuret of is connection with Pip; aversion of the young men for Pip's patron =XLI, Frovia zclates the story of is lio, and his connection with Compeyson, the other ‘couviet whe had been retaken with hit oa the marslies; Herbert recogniaes In Compeye ‘son {he man who professed to be Miss Havisham's lover, —XUIIE. Having decided to g¢ Abroud with Provis. Pip goes down to aoe Miss Havlsham and stella before leaving Rng land; he enoounters Bentley Drummle at the Blue Boar. —XLIV. Pip calls upon Atte Havistam, informe her of hls discovery that she ix not bis patron, as ho had slways «up oved, andl begs her to continue to Herbert the assistance he had begun to render; he ‘teases to Xxtelln his love for her, and learns th: 4x soon to be married to Drummie returning t London, Pip a warned by Wernick not t goloms. XLV. Pip pier dew to Warwick to consult Wommick, aud earns from him that Provis and himealf had been, yatehed, that Conpeyvon is in London, and that, with Herbcet's assistance, Provis had ‘noon taken to x place of grestor mafety.—XLVI. Pip accompanies Herbert to Mra. Whia: Wels, mioeta Clara Barley, and becomes acquainted with the pocullarities of ol@ Itt Barley; they arrengo a plan for the esoape of Magwitch by water. —XLVIL. Pip seeks Wo divert his mind by polng to the play, and after the performance learns from Wopale that ‘We ofhes Of the Ewo conv te Of homarshes was in the audience, —XLVILL. Pip receives

ae She Mickhens Mctlonary.

through Jazeera. mowage from Miss Fisvisham, requesting to see bios - Se Pip goes down again to

coe hud auked for tarbertt he contre his ballet thae Selly ithe mother ut Estella; Pip walks round the place before leaving, and, returning to Miss Havishom's room, ses her clothes tn flames, and rescues her. — I. Mp earns from Herbert that portion: of Provis's history relating to some trouble he hnd had with s womag, and Inows fev tho facts that tho convict, Is Tqtella’s father. —Lt. Mp Informs Jagpere of hls discovery of Eetoila's parentage Taggers and Wemmick discover something unprofessional tn each ‘other's charactor. — LIL. Pip receives notice from Wemunick that the attempt to get Trovis off may safely be made, and arranges accorlingly: he also recelves & singular letter, requesting his presence by night at the ime-kiin on the olf marsbex— LIK. ‘Obeying this cail, he goes to the place dealgnated, where he Is set upon and bound by old Ortick, who fe about to RII him, when he is rescued by Herbert and Startops how Mere ‘bert came to reicue Pip.—LIV. Pip, Herbert, and Startop take Provia down the stver in order to get bim aboard foreign steamor; as they are aboas to secomplish this purpose, another boat Jolns them, and they are summoned to surrender Magwiteh ; as the two Boats Mio #ido by side, Magwiteh gresps Compesvon, who Is in the oMcor's dost: they are run down by the approaching ateamer, Compeyaon drowned, and Magwitch severely injured. LY. Herbert loavos London to take abarge of « branch house of his business tn Calro ; Wemumick's regrot at the sacrifice of Magwitch's “ portable property; marriage of hese and Miss Skisins — LVI, bp and aparietien, ot ag eco! ge cat

ENTE Dolirousilineas af Pip, from b forms bia of Miss Havishamn's death and tho conditions of hor will; Vip recovers Dis serongth, and Joe leaves him. — LVLIL, Pip resolves to retam £0 the forge and to after himself to Biddy; Fumblechook puts tn hia claim to bo the founder of Mp's fortune, for the last timo; Pip goes to the forgo In search of Hiddy and Joe, and finds them

Abetrwedaing-tay| Vip Joins Herbert, and romaine abrosd cleven years, at the end of which thm

‘Somebody's Luggage.

[Postisnep mm “ALL THE YEAR Rouxp,” Dacemmxst, 1802.)

‘Tux Christmas-tale published under this name contains an amusing description, given by a head waiter named Christopher, of the struggles, trinks, and ex+ periences of the class to which he belongs, and also an account of his purchns- ing a quantity of luggage left more than alx years previously in Room 4B by & strange gentleman who had suddenly departed without settling his ill, which amounted to £2 10s, 64. Christopher pays Somebody's bill, and takes possession ‘of Somebody's Inggage, consisting of a black portmanteny, w black bag, © desk, a dressing-case, a brown-paper parcel, a hat-box, and an umbrella strapped to a walklug-ttick. ‘These articles are in great part Glled with manuscripts. “There ‘wos writing in hls dressing-case, writing in his boote, writing among his shaving- tackle, writing in his hat-box, writing folded away down among the very whale- bones of his umbrella.” ‘The writing found in the boots proves to be « very pretty story; and it is disposed of, together with the other documents, to the conductor of “All the Year Round” (Mr. Dickens), on the most sutlsfuctory terms. ‘The story is put in type; and a young man {s vent with “rie rxoors" to Christopher, who does not understand that they are intended to receive any corrections be may wish to make, but supposes that they are the proof of his haying Mlogally sold the writings. In a few days, the strange gentleman suddenly reappears at the eoffee-house; and Christopher, overcome with terror and remorse, makes a full ‘confession of what he has done, lays THe PROOFS " before him, and offers any gradual s¢ttlement that may be possible, To his amazement, the unknown grasps Uuls hand, presses bit to hils breaat-bone, calls bit “ benefactor” and “phitanthroy ist,” forces two ten-pound notes upon him, and explains, that, “from boyhood’s aour,” he has “unremittingly and unavailingly endeavored to get Into print.” Sitting down with several new pens, and all the inkstands wel! fled, he devotes ‘himself, the night through. to the task of correcting the press, and is found, the ‘ext morning, to have smeared himself and the proofs to that degree, that * few

could have sald whick was them und which was him, and which was blots” 5° oo

zz:

The Dtkens Dictionary.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Bebelle (a playful name for Ganrretie). A hutle orphan-gir, ‘very pretty and very good; the protégée of Corporal Théophile and afterwards adopted by Mr. Langley.

A.mere baby, one might eall her, dressed tn the close white linen eap which small French country-children wear (like the children in Duteh nd in a frock of homespun blue, that had no shape, except where it was tied round her little fat throat; so that, being naturally short, and round all over, ‘he looked behind as if she had been cut off st her natural walst, and had had ‘hor head nently fitted on tt,

Bouclet, Madame. Mr. Langley’s laudlady; a compact little woman of thirty-five, ar so, who lets all ber house overlooking the place, in furnished flats, and lives up the yard behind.

Christopher, Head waiter at a London coffee-house; born as ‘well as bred to the business. He dedicates his introductory essay on “wuitering” to Joseph, “much respected head waiter at the Slamjam Coffee-House, London, E.C., than which, a individual more eminently deserving of the name of man, or a more amenable honor to his own head and heart, whether considered in the light af ‘a waiter, or regarded as a human being, do not exist.”

Englishman, Mr., The. See Lanaiey, Mr.

Gabrielle. See Brsecrr.

Langley, Mr., called Mz. Tae Enoutsuman. A lodger at Madame Bouclet’s, in the Grande Place of a dull old fortified French town,

In taking his appartement, — or, as one might say on our side of the channel, his vet of chambers, — (he} liad given his name, correct to the letter, LANGLET. But as he had a British way of not opening his mouth very wide on forelgm ‘coll, except at meals, the Brewery (Madame Bouclet and her family) had been able to make nothing of {t but L’Anglals, So Mr. the Englishman he ‘ad bee come, and he remained.

He isa very unreasonable man, given to grumbling, moody, and pomewhat vindictive. Having had a quarrel with his erring and disobedient daughter, he has disowned her, ana gone abroad to be rid of her for the rest of his life. But becoming acquainted with Co-poral Théophile and his orphan charge Bebelle, and wit

Somedoup's Duggage. 451

their strong affection for each other, and the deep grief of the child at the death of her friend, his heart is penetrated and softened. He adopts the forlorn little one as a trust providentially committed to him, and goes back with her to England, determined on a reconcili- ation with bis daughter.

Martin, Miss, A young lady at the bar of the coffee-house where Christopher is head waiter, who makes out the bills.

Mutuel, Monsieur. A friend of Madame Bouclet’s; a French- man with an amiable old walnut-shell countenance.

A rpeotacled, annify, stooping old gentleman in carpot-sthoes, and a cloth-cap ‘with peaked shade, « 1oo8e blue frock-eont reaching to his heels, a large limp. white shirt-frill, and cravat to correspond: that 18 to any, white was the ‘natural color of his linen on Sundays; but it toned down with the week.

Pratchett, Mrs. Head chambermaid at the coffee-house where Christopher is head waiter; “a female of some pertnoss, though acquainted with her business.” Her husband is in Australia; and his address there is “The Bush.”

Théophile, Corporal, A brave French soldier, beloved by all his comrades; friend and protector of little Bebelle.

‘Tho corporal, » emart figure of a man of thirty, perhaps a thought under the middie size, but very neatly made,—n sunburnt corporal with a browa peaked beard,... . Nothing was amise or awry about the corporal. A Uthe and nimble corporal, quite complete, from the sparkling dark eyes under hia knowing uniform cap to his «parkling white gniters. ‘The very image and yre- scutment of a corporal of his country’s army, in the line of his shoulders, the Une of his waist, the broadest line of his sSloomer trousers, and thelr narrowest Une at the calf of his leg.

Mirs. Lirriper’s Lodgings.

(Poucisep ox “Aut rie Year Rouwn,” ne Deokscsen, 1863.)

‘Tit Christmastale parports to bo the reminiscences of = Mrs. Lireipor, « lodging-house keopsr of No. 51, Norfolk Street, Strand. Iteets forth the etream- stances under which she went into the business, and the manner ta which sive haw carried it on for eight and thirty years, including her trials with servantgtrls, and her troubles with an opposition establishment ‘The chief interest of the story, however, contres around the child of Mrs, Kdson, « delicate young woman, whe Jn cruelly deserted by her husband within a few weeks after thelr marriage. She dies, heart-broken, in giving birth to a little boy, who is adopted by Mrs, Lirriper, ‘aod who le brought up under the joint guardianship of hereelf, and her friend and lodger, Major Jemmy Jackman,

OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Bobbo. Friend and school-fllow of the hero of am extravagant story that Jemmy Lirriper tells his grandmother and godfather.

Edson, Mr. A gentleman from the country, who takes lodgings for himself and wife at Mrs. Lirriper’s, and, after staying there for three months, cruelly deserts her under pretence of being suddenly called by business to the Isle of Man, See further in “ Mra. Lirri- por's Legacy.”

Edson, Mrs. Peggy. His wife; a very pretty and delicate young lady. When she discovers that her husband has abamdoned her she attempts to end her own life and that of her unborn infant by throwing herself into the Thames; but she is prevented by Mrs

42

Mes. Direlper's Zongings. 453

Lirriper and Major Jackman, who watch and follow her, but con ceal their knowledge of her intention. Desolate and heart-broxen, however, she dies, not long afterwards, in giving birth to a little boy, who is adopted and brought up by Mrs. Lirriper.

Jackman, Major Jemmy. A gentleman who leaves Miss Wo- zenbam’s lodging-house in a rage, because “ she has no apprecia- tion of a gentleman,” and takes the parlors at Mrs. Lirriper’s. He becomes warm friend of his new landlady, who reciprocates his regard. She describes him as, —

A most obliging lodger and punctual ia all respects excopt one irregular which I need not particularly specify, but made up for by his being a protection ‘and at all times ready to fill In the papers of the assessed taxes and juries aod that, and . .. ever quite the gentleman though passionate. ... Though he Is far from tall ho seers almost a0 when he has his ehirt-frlll out and his frock-coat om snd his bat with the curly brims, and in what service he was I eaninot truly tell yon my dear whether militia or foreign, for I never heard him even name himself ax major but always simple “Jemmy Jackman” and once soon after he came when I felt it my duty to lot him know that Mise Wozeuham had put {t about that he was no major and I took the liberty of adding“ which you are sir” bis words were “ Madam at any rate Iam not a minor, and sufficient for the day is the evil thereof ” which cannot be denied to be the sacred truth, nor yet hia military ways of having bis boots with only the dirt brushed off taken to him in the front parlor every morning on a clean plate and varnishing them ‘himself with a little sponge and a saucer and a whistle in a whisper so sure ax ever bin breakfast Is ended, and so neat his ways that it never olla his linen which is scrupulous though more in quality than quantity, neither that nor his mustachios which to the best of my belief are done at the same time and which are as black and shining a¢ bis boots, his head of halr being a lovely white.

‘The major becomes the godfather af Mrs. Edson’s little boy, who is named for him; and he takes it upon himself to cultivate his mind on a system of his own, which Mrs. Lirriper thinks “ought to be known to the throne and lords and commons.”

But ploture my admiration when the major golng on almost as quick as If ‘we was conjuring sets out all the articles he names, and says, “Throw suuce- pans, an Italian fron, a hand-bell, a toastingfork, a nutmeg.grater, four povlids, '8 sploo-box, two egg-cups, and # chopping-board.—how many?” and whea that mite instantly cries * Tifteen, tat down tive and carry ler 'toppin-bourd,” ‘and then claps his hands draws up his legs and dances on his ehair!

‘My den with tho same astonishing ease and correctness him and the major added up the tables chairs and sofy, the plcters fender and fire-trone thelr ‘own selves mo and the cat and the eyes In Miss Wozenbam’s head, and whea~ ever the sum was done Young Roses and Diamonds claps his hands and deaws ‘up his legs and dances on bls chatr,

‘The pride of the major! (“Here's a mind, ma'am!” ho says to mo bebind ‘his hand.)

it The Dickens Mietionacy.

‘Then he says aloud, “ We now come to the next elementary rule, ~wilel te

small picklo-jar, two lemons, one pepper-caitor, & binckbectle-trap, and ® Taos of tho dresser-drawor: what romaine?” ‘Toatin’fork!” ories Jemmy,

“In uombers how many ?” aays the major.

“Que!” cries Jommy.

(** Here's a boy, ma'am!" anys tho major to me, behind tile band.)

‘Then the major goes on: —

“We now approach the next elementary rule, which ts entitied *—

“‘Tiokleloation,” orles Jerusmy.

“ Correct," says the major.

But iny dear to relate to you fu detall the way ia which they snultiplied four toon aticks of firewood by two bite of ginger and a larding-needie, or divided pretty well every thing else there was ou the table by the heater of the Italian Iron and a chamber candicstick, and got a lemon over, would make my head ‘pla round and round wod round as it did at the time,

Jane, A housemaid in Miss Wozenham's service.

Lirriper, Jemmy Jackman. The eon of Mrs. Edson, who dies in giving birth to him. He is named for Mrs. Lirriper, who adopts him, and for Major Jackman, who becomes his He grows up to be a bright, blithe, and good boy, delighting the hearts of both his guardians, who agree that he “has not bis like on the free of the earth.” See Epson, Mrs. Peco.

Lirriper, Mrs. Emma. The narrator of the story; a lodging~ house kooper at No, 81, Norfolk Street, Strand, “situated midway betweon the city and St. James's, and withia five minutes’ walk of the principal places of public amusement.”

Certainly ! ought to know something of the basiness Raving been i at 40 Jong, for It was eazy tn Ube sooond year of my married fife that I hort may poor Lzriper aud I sot up at Islington directly afterwards aud afterwards came here, Deing two houses and eight and thirty years aed some losses aad « deal of experience,

See introductory remarks, p. 452; also Ensox (fas. Pesos), Jackman (Mazon Jmwxy), Limeirer (Jemuy Jaccmax), and the noxt story, “Mra. Lirriper’s Legacy."

Maxey, Caroline. Ono of Mrs Lirriper’s servantgirls; a good looking, black-eyed girl, with a high temper, but a kind and gratefis heart.

Perkinsop, Mary Aune, A girl in Mrs. Lirriper’s services, whe

b

Mes. Aieclpec'’s Dovgings. 455

Is enticed away by an offer from Miss Wozenham of one pound per quarter more in the way of wages. Mrs. Lirriper regards her as “worth her weight in gold” for overawing lodgers, without drive ing them away.

Beraphina. The heroine of an extravagantiy fanciful story related ‘by Master Jemmy Jackman Lirriper to his “ grandmother” and his godfather. She was a schoolmaster’s daughter, and the moss beautiful creature that ever was secn.

Bophy, called Wittsxc Soruy. A poor, half-starved creature, whom Mrs. Lirriper takes into her house as a servant, and who is “down upon her knees, scrubbing, early and late, and ever cheerful, but always smiling witha black face.”

I saya to Sophy, “Now Sophy my good girl have ® regular day for your Moves and keep tho width of the airy between yourself and the blacking aud do not brush your halr with the bottoms of the saucepans and do not meddle with the snuffs of the eandles and {t stands to reason that it ean no longer be” yet there if was wnd always on her nose, which turning up and being broad st the end seemed to boast of It and cansed warning from a steady gentleman and ‘excellent Jodger with breakfast by the week but a little Irritable and ure of a sitting-room when required, his words belng “ Mrs, Lirrlper T have arrived at the polnt of admitting that the Black is a man anda brother, but onlyin # natar ral form and when tt can't be got off."

Wozenham, Miss. A lodging-house keeper in Norfolk Street, not far from Mrs. Lirriper’s, but on the other side of the way. There is considerable rivalry between the two establishments ; and ‘Mrs. Lirriper conceives a strong dislike to Miss Wozenham, on account of her advertising in Bradshaw’s “ Railway Guide,” her systematic underbidding for lodgers, her enticing servant-girla away by the offer of higher wages, and her doing various other ill- aatured and unfriendly acts. See “Mrs. Lirriper’s Legacy.”

(Pumutamep os Ant rie YRan Rounn,” Dromencn, 1964.) = ‘Tis fe a sequel to“ Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings ”* (published In 1863), which ‘with a very warm reception from the publle, and excited a general desire to know

‘more of the old Indy's experiences. ‘The legnoy is left to Mrs. Lirriper by the ‘Fason who fx fntroduced in the former part of the story ax deserting hia young wife shortly after marrying her, and who dies, repentant, many years wftery hs ‘France, whither she goes to take care of him in his last moments, y is son Jemmy (whom he has never scen), aud by her frlend and adviser, Major Jackman. ‘The benevolent conduct of this good soul to her; brotherin-law, Doctor Joshua Lirriper; to the obnoxious collector of taxes, Mr. Buille, on the night when his house Is burnt down; snd to Miss We ham, whon that lady was in danger of having her chattels taken from her sation, —forms the subject of the remalnder of the story.

OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Buffie, Mr. Collector of the assessed taxes, His manners when engaged in his business are not agreeable; and he has a habit looking about, as if suspicious that goods are being rempved in dead of night by a backdoor. Major Jackman kuocks bis hat his head twice for keeping it on in Mrs. Lirriper’s presence, bee! he calls at hor house in the discharge of his regular daties. Bi when his house catches fire, and burns to the ground, he and hie family are taken by the major to Mrs. Lirriper's for shelter 5 frow this kindness an intimacy springs up between the two ho a

Mes, Declpec's Degacy, 457

holds, which is very agreeable to all partics, Mr. Buffle 2ven going so far as to call the major his “ preserver” and “ best friend.”

Buffle, Mrs. His wife; a woman who gives herself airs because her husband keeps “ a one-horse pheayton.”

Buffle, Miss Robina. Their daughter; a thin young lady with a very small appetite, She favors her father’s articled young man, George, in opposition to the wishes of her parents; though they finally give their consent to the match.

Bdson, Mr, A former lodger at Mrs. Lirriper's, and the husband ‘of a young woman whom he cruelly deserted after living with her for afew months, Years pass by; and ho is taken dangerously ill at a town in France, Finding that bis recovery is impossible, he Jeaves all that he bas to Mrs. Lirriper, who had been very kind to his poor wife, and who has brought up their child as if it were her own. On learning from the French consul in London that an un- known Englishman is lying at the point of death in Sens, and that her name is mentioned in a communication to the authorities, which is found among his papers, she sets out at once for that place with her adopted child and her friend Major Jackman. Recognizing Mr, Edson in the sick stranger, and finding him truly penitent for the grievous wrong he had done, she forgives him, and causes the boy—who docs not know who the dying man is—also to say, “May God forgive you!"

George, A rather weak-headed young man, articled to Mr. Bufile, and enamoured of his daughter,

Gran, Mrs, (ie, Mus. Linmiven). A highly respected and be loved lady who resides within a hundred miles of Norfolk Street and who figures in Jemmy Lirriper’s imaginary version of the story of Mr. Edson’s life.

Jackman, Major Jemmy. A lodger at Mrs. Lirriper’s; her warm personal friend, and the godfather of her adopted child Jemmy. See Linmren (Jeaay JACKMAN) and “Mra, Lirriper’s Lodgings.”

Lirriper, Doctor Joshua, Youngest brother of Mrs. Lirriper’s jeveased husband. He is a d:ssipated ecapegrace, and a systematic -ponger upon his benevolent and ansuspecting sister-in-law.

Doctor of want I am sure it would be hard to eay unless liquor, fo: neither physlonor music nor yet law does Joshua Lirriper know « morsel of exoept eon tinunlly being aummonod to the county court and having orderé made upon hina frhieh he rune away from.

Os Ede Wickens Wictl

ih?

Josbun Lirriper bas his good feelings snd shows them in being always se troubled In his mind when he cannot wear mourning for his brother. Many = long year have I left off my widow’s mourning not being wishful to intrude, the tender point fn Joshua that I cannot help a little yielding to bs when ‘writes “ One single sovereign would enable meto wear a decent suit of mours fing for my much loved brother. E vowed at the time of his lamented death: ‘that I would ¢ er wear sables in memory of him but alse how shortsighted fe ‘mao, how keep that vow when penniless! It says good deal for the strength of bis feclings that he could n't have been seven year old when my poor Lirrlper died and to have kept to It ever since is highly creditable, But we know there ’s good in all of us,—if we only know where itwas in some of us, — and though it was fur from delicate In Joslua to work upou tho dear child's feelings when first sent to school and write down into Lincolnshire for his

, Pocket-money by return of post and got it, still he is my poor Lirriper’s own Youngest brother and might n’t have meant not paying his bill at the Sallabary Arms whea bis affection took him down to stay a fortnight at Hatield charets yard-and might have meant to keep sober bat for bad company.

Lirriper, Mrs. See introductory remarks (p. 456), Epson (Mr.), Wozenwam (Mts), and “ Mrs. Licriper’s Lodgings.”

Lirriper, Jemmy Jackman. Son of Mr. Edson, adopted by ‘Mrs. Lirriper, and brought up under the joint guardianship of her- self and Major Jackman, who is at once his godfather and his “companion, guide, philosopher, and friend." As he develops a taste for engineering, the major assists him in the construction and. management of a railway, which they name The United Grand Junction Lirriper and Juckman Great Norfolk Parlor Line,” which is kept on the major's sideboard, and dusted with his own hands every morning,

“ For” says my Jemmy with the sparkling eyes when it was christened, “we ‘must hare whole mouthful of name Gran or our dear old pablie™and there the young rogue kissed me, “won't stump up.” So the public (Mrs. Lirriper) took the shares — ten at alnepence, and Immediately when that was speotiwelve preference at one and sixpence—and they were all signed by Jemmy and countersigned by the major, and between ourselves much better worth the money than some shares I have paid for in my time. In the same holidays tise Hine was made aod worked and opened and ran excursions and had colilslons and burst its bollers and all sorts of accidents and offences all most regular cor rect and pretty.

‘Tho young gentleman accompanies Mrs. Lirriper to Sens, and is present at the death of Mr. Edson; though he does not know him to be his futher, and is ignorant of the facts in regard to his eruel desertion of his wife soon after marriage. Being in the habit of composing and relating stories for the amusement of his “ grand- mother” and godfather, and his mind dwelling on the death-bed scone he has witnessed, he frames an imaginary version of his fathor's history, which is wofully unlike the fact, and in which,

Fics. Dleriper's Begacy 459

to all revorsos, whether for good or evil, the words of Mr. Edson to the falt young partnor of his life were,“ Unchanging love and truth will carry ua througt all”

Madgers, Winifred. A servant-girl at Mra. Lirriper’s; a “Plym- outh sister,” and a remarkably,tidy young woman.

Rairyganoo, Sally. Onc of Mrs. Lirriper’s domestics, suspectot. to be of Irish extraction, though professing to come of a Cambridge family. She absconds, however, with a bricklayer of the Limer'ek persuasion, and is married to him in pattens, being too impatient to wait till his black eye gets well.

‘Wozenham, Miss. A neighbor of Mrs. Lirriper’s in Norfolk Street, and the keeper of a rival lodging-house. For many years, ‘Mrs. Lirriper kas been strongly prejudiced against Miss Wozenham; but on hearing that she has been “sold up,” she feels so much sym~ pathy for her, that she goes to her without delay or ceremony, ex~ presses her regret for the unpleasantness there has been between them in the past, and cheers her up with truc womanly tact and kindliness,

T says “My dear if you could give me a cup of tea to clear my muddic of « hoad I should better understand your affuire.” And we had the tea and the affairs too and after ull {t was but forty pound, and— ‘There! she" as indus trious and straight a erecter as ower lived and has paid back half of it atready, and where '* the use of saying more, particularly when it ain't the point? For the point 1s that when she waa akissing my hands and holding them tn hers and kissing them again and blesting blessing blessing, T cheered up at last and Taays © Why what a waddling old goose I have been my dear fo take you for fomething so very difforent!" ‘Ah but I too” says ahe “how have J mls

me for goodness’ sake tell mo” I says" what you thought

# she “I thought you had no feeling for such a hard

hand-to-mouth iife as mine, and were rolling in allloence.” anys shaking my

sides (and very glad to do it for I hnd been a-choking quite long enough) * Only

Jook at my figure my dear and give me your opinion whother if I was fu aftuence

I should be likely to roll int!” That did it, We, got ss merry as grigs (whnt-

‘ever they aro, If you happen to know, my dear—T don’t) and I went home te

my blessed bore as happy and as thankful as could be,

Our Mutual Friend —

‘Lixz most of its predecessors, this novel made its Srst appearance In twenty ‘monthly parts, The first part was tasued May 1, 1804, and the Inst In November, 1869, ‘Tho LMlustrations were on wood from drawings by Marcus Stone, Om its completion, the work was published in two octavo volumes, by Chapman and Hall, with w dedication to the late Sir James Imerson Tennent,

‘The story, though not very popular with most readers, and thougl its plot ix marred by some improbabillities, 1s considered by the erities to be a very Enge niously-planned and well-executed work. Tho title 1s unfortunately chosen, and has given a wide currency to the low vulgaris which calls a common friend « “mutual " friend.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Akershem, Miss Sophronia. An acquaintance of the Veneer ings; a fast young lady of society, with raven locks, and a com- plexion that lights up well when well powdered. She marries Mr Alfred Lammle. (Bk. I, ch. li, x, xi; Bk. Ul, ch. iv, v, xvi; Bk, TH ch. v, xti, xiv, xvil; Bk. IV, ch. ti, vill.) See Lamune, ALPRED.

Blight, Young. A dismal boy, who is Mr. Mortimer Lightwood's. clerk and office-boy. (Bk. I, ch. viii; Bk. II, ch. xvii; Bk. IV ch. ix, xvi)

Boffin, Mrs. Henrietta. Wife of Mr. Boflin; a.stout lady of a rubieund and cheerful aspect, deseribed by her husband as “a high-flyer at fashion.” (Bk. I, ch. v, ix, xv-xvii; Bk. II, ch. villi *, xiv; Bk. IT, ch. iv, vy, xv; Bk; IV, ch, ii, xii-xiv, xvi.)

400

} +

| Our Mutual Priend, 461

Boffin, Nicodemus, called Noppy, also Tux Gotoen Dostaran. A confidential servant of the elder Mr. Harmon, who at death leaves him all his property, in case his son refuses to marry a cers tain young lady namwed in his will. This son has quarrelled with Jus father, and parted from him, and, at the time of Mr. Harmon's death, 1s a resident.of Cape Colony. Ho returns to England on hearing of that event, but disappears immediately on his arrival ; and a body, supposed to be his, is subsequently found floating in the Thames in an advanced stage of decomposition, and much injured. Mr. Boflin, therefore, as residuary legatee, comes into possession of the whole property, amounting to upwards of one hun- dred thousand pounds standing in the books of the Bank of Eng- land. As sole executor under the will, he has occasion’ to visit ‘Mortimer Lightwood, Esquire, and, in the course of conversation, he gives the following account of his late master and of his master's ton: —

«The old man was a awful Tartar (saying it, 7m sure, without disrespect to his memory); but the business was m:plessant one to look after, from before day- light to past dark. It" a’most a pity,” said Mr. Boffin, rubbing his ear, “ that he ever went and made so much money. It would have been better for him if ho had n't #0 given himeclfup to tt, You may depend upon it" making the discovery all of a sudden, " that he found it a great lot to take care oft”

Mr. Lightwood coughed, not convinced.

“And speaking of satisfactory," pursued Mr. Boffin, “why, Lord «ave ust ‘when we come to take it to pieces, bit by bit, where ’s the satisfuctorinoss of the money as yet? When the old man does right the poor boy afier all, the ‘poor boy guts no good of It, He gets made away with at the moment when he ¥s lifting (as one may say) the cup and earver to his lips, Mr, Lightwood, I will ‘now name to you, that, on behalf of the poor dear boy, me and Sirs, Boflin bave stood out agalnst the old man times out of number, till he has called us every mame he could lay his tongue to, Dhnve eeen him, efter Mrs. Boffin has given him her mind respecting the claims of the uat/ral uffections, entch olf Mev. Bot

é fin’s bonnet (she wore, In general, @ black atraw, perched, at a matter of con- ‘venience, on the top of her head), snd send-it spinning across theyard. L have indeed. And once, when he did this {n a manner that amounted to personal, I should have given him a rattler for himself, if Mrs. Boflln had n't thrown ber- welf betwixt us, and recalred fuah on the témple, Which dropped her, Mr. Alghtwood, — dropped her”

Mr. Lightwood murmared, "Equal honor, — Mes. Boffin's head and heart”

“You understand I name this,” pursued Mr. Itoflin, “to show you, now the affairs are wound up, that me and Mrs. Boffin have ever stood, as we were in ‘Christian honor bound, . . . the poor boy"s frlend; me and Mrs. Bodin up aud faced the old man when we momently expected to be turned out for our pains. As to Mrs, olin,” said Mr. Hotlin, lowering hls volo, "she might n° wish it mentioned now she's fashionable; but she went so far as to tell him, If my ‘presence, bower # filnty-hearted rascal. .. Woll, lr, 80 Mrs. Boffin and

Your young man up at this present chopping wi dow-sill with his penknife, and I give him a*Hoy!? uot thea having the pleas lure of your moquaintance, and by that means come to gwin the honor.

You, and the gentleman in the uncomfortable neckeloth under the little arch ‘way in Salut Paul's Charehyard” —

“1 understood it was another name,” said Mr. Botta, pausing: “but you know best. ‘Then you and Doctor Scommons, you go to work, and you do the thing that 's proper; and you and Doctor 8, take ateps for finding out the poor boy: and mt Inst you do find out the poor boy, and me and Mre. Bofln often ex- ehango the observation, «We shall see him again under happy circumstances? Hut It wns never to bes and the want af satisfactoriness ts, that, afer ally te ‘money never gots to him,”

‘Mr. Boffin closes his interview with Mr. Lightwood by authorizing him to offer a reward of ten thousand pounds for the arrest of the murderer of John Harmon, the younger. John Harmon, however, is not dead; though he has but barely escaped being murdered Learning of tho condition in lis father’s will under which: be lites inherit, it occurs to him to take advantage of the false report of his death to make the acquaintance of the young lady (Miss Bella Wile for), and, if he likes her, to try to win her without disclosing himself, ‘He accordingly assumes the name of John Rokesmith, and hires a room at her father’s house, which gives him an opportunity of thus secing and speaking to her. He also succeeds in making an engage- ‘ment to act as secretary and man of business to Mr, Boffin, who shortly afterward adopts Miss Wilfer, who is thus brought daily into contact with Mr, Rokesmith, She treats him with great disdain; but he comes, in time, to love her devotedly. At last his features, which have long attracted and puzzled Mrs. Boflin, betray him; and he is forced to acknowledge the trath about himself. The discovery is kept a profound secret from Miss Wilfer, however; and Mr, Boflin comes to Harmon's assistance, and endeavors to win her love for hina by first exciting her sympathy. He therefore pretends to become very miserly, and grows so anxious about the management of his estate, that he shamefully abuses his factotum for not taking better eave of it. Tn the ead, this strategy proves successful, and Bella mar ries the poor secretary, who still retains the name of Meanwhile, Mr. Boffin has discovered, secreted in an old

Our Mutual Pelend 463

bottle, a later will than the one he has proved, and under which he has entered upon possession of the estate. By this document, every thing is given to him absolutely, excluding and reviling the son by name. But, with rare disinterestedness and munificence, Mr. Boffin transfers the entire property to the rightful heir, reserving for hinw self only the house occupied by his late master, which is powu larly called “Harmon's Jail," on account of his solitary manner ef life, or “ Harmony Jail,” on account of his never agreeing with anybody ; but which Mrs. Boflin renames “Boffin's Bower.” ~

With respect to his personal appearance, Mr. Boffin is described —

A broad, round-shouldered, one-sided old fellow . . . dresod in ® pea over- cont, and carrying large stick. He wore thick shoes, and thick leather gaiters, ‘and thick gloves like a hedger's. Both as to his dress and to himself, he was of an overlapping, rhinoceros build, with folds in hia cheeks, and hie forehead, and bis eyelids, and his lips, and his ears, but with bright, eager, childishiy. inguiring gray eyes under his ragged eyebrows and broad-brimmed hat. A ‘very odd-looking old fellow altogether,

‘Theso two igoorant and anpollshed people [Mr. and Mrs. Rofin] had guided ‘Themselves . . . a0 far in thelr journey of life by « religious sense of duty and desire to do right. Ten thousand weaknesses and absurdities might have been detected in the breasts of both; ten thousand vanities additional, possl- hly,{n the breast of the woman, ut the hard, wrathful, and sordid nature that ad wrung ax much work out of them as could be got in thelr best days for as Hittle money as could be pald to hurry on thelr worst bad never been s0 warped but that it know their moral stralghtnoss, and respeoted It. In its own despite, ina constant conflict with itself and them, it had done so. And this is the eternal law. For evil often stops short at itself, and dies with the doer of Its but good never.

(Bk. I, ch. v, viii, ix, xv-xvii; Bk. Il, ch. vii, viii, x, xiv; Bk. I, ch. iv-vii, xiv, xv; Bk. IV, ch. ii, ili, xii-xiv, xvi.) See Han- mon (Jon), Weoo (Sinas).

Boots, Mr. } Fashionable toadies; friends of the Veneerings,

Brewer, Mr.) (Bk. I, ch. fi, x; Bk. TI, ch. iii, xvi; Bk. IMT, ch. xvii; Bk. IV, ch. xvi.)

Cherub, The. See Wiirer, Reotnacp.

Cleaver, Fanny, called Juxxx Wnrex. A doll's dressmaker. Lizzie Hexam, after her father’s death, has temporary lodgings with her ; and one day her brother calls to see her.

‘The boy knocked at a door; and tho door promptly opened with # spring and click. A parlor-door within a small entry stood open, and disclosed « child,

a dwarf, a gir), a tomething, sitting on a little low old-fashioned arm-sinln ‘which had a kind of Little working-bench before it.

_- 86

“ Zoe Bictess Stctizszre

Lat om a a Ge Oe <tc oy bee ek eet or en ee pee eee

=f wasnt oe ow cer cme ™ “Tey pang oes tere Geen” eecoet Ge Gk ~ Cove mom ‘The geen Bate igre end Gee goes bet = opty Ee See wee ee OX rm wert rp Set Se eee of Se Se ot ee E Letng tarsed out of Gat muni, mnet be cher = Hirsem be my mame” ~ AS, inden” aad the perce af the hemee ~ 5 Goenght might be.

Headstone.

~ Me, bet What ebse Gol make? You 're s schoolmaster; bet you can't or

You do something.” be retersed, pointing to = corner of the Itile “with straw; but I don't keow what.”

= Dinner-mate

© A schoolmaster, and says dinaeranate! Ill give you melew to my trade goune of forfeits. love my lore with a B because abe beautiful; Thate my vith » B deca Drazen; I took her to the sign of the Bine Moar, tweated ber with bonnets; ber came "s Bouncer, and ahe lives in Bedlam. what Go fmake with my straw?”

* Ladle’ bouseu?”

Jell's dressmaker.’ “1 bope it" ® good business?” ‘The person of the house shregged her shoulders and shook her bead, 1:

Our Mutual Prlend. 465

Poorly pald. And I'm often 20 pressed for time! I had m doll married last week, and was obliged to work all night. And It ’« not good for me, on account of my ‘buck being 60 bad, and my Lega so queer."

‘They looked at the little creature with a wonder that did not diminish; and the

schoolmaster raid, “I am sorry your fine Indies are so inconsiderate” It % the way with them,” «ald the person of the house, ahrugging her shoulders again, “And they take no care of thelr clothes; and they never keep to the same fashivos a month. I work for a doll with three daughters. Bless you, she" ‘enough to muta her husband!”

‘The person of the house gave a weird little laugh here, and gave them another Jook out of the corners of her eyes. She had an elfin chin that was capable of great ‘expression; and, whenever she gaye this look, she bitched this chin up, as 4f her ‘eyes and her chin worked together on the same wires,

“ Are you always as busy as you are now

“Busler. Em slack Jast now. I finished & large mourning order the day before yesterday, Doll I work for lost s canary-bird." The person of the house gave another Uttle laugh, and then nodded her head several times,as who should moralize, “Ob, this world, this world!”

Aro you alone all day?" saked Bradley Headstone. “Don't any of the nelgh- boring children?” —

“Al, lud!” eried the person of the house with a little scream, as if the word hind pricked her. © Don’t talk of children. Loan't dear children. Z know their tricks and thefr manners." She said this with an angry little shake of her right “iat clone before her eves.

Verhaps it seareely required the teacher-habit to perceive that the doll's dress- aauker was Inclined to be bitter on the difference between herself and other children; but both master and pupll understood it 40.

“Always running about and screeching, always playing and fighting, always skipskip-skipping on the pavement, and chalking It for their games. Ob! Fknow thelr tricks and their manners!” Shaking the little fistas before. “And that's not all, Kverso often calling names in through a person’s keyhole, and Imitating a person's back and legs. Oh! Zknow their tricks and thelr manners; and Ill tell you what 1° do te punish "em. ‘There's doors under the church in the square, — biack vors, leading Into black vaults. Well, I'd open one of thase doors, and IM eram ‘vin all in, and then IM lock the door, and through the keyhole 174 blow fn pep- per”

+ What would be the good of blowing in pepper ?” asked Charley Hexam.

“To vot ‘em sneezing," sald the person of the house, “and make thelr eyes ‘water; sad, when they were all tneezing and Inflamed, I'd mock "em through the keyhols, Just ax they, with thelr tricks and thelr manners, mock a person throug ‘8 person's keyhole!”

An uncommonly emphatic shake of hee little Gat close before her eyes seemed Yo ense the mind of the person of the house; for she added with reoorered com- porure, “No, no, no! No children for me. Glvo me grown ups."

Tt was dificult to guess the ago of this steange creature; for her poor figure fur+ ‘alshed no clew to It, and her face was at once 40 young and 40 old. ‘Twelve, oF, at the most, thirteen, migh..be near the mark.

(Bk. Ti, ch. i, i, v, xi, xv5 Bl. IN, ch. vili-xi, xv.)

iii, x, xiif Bk. TV, ch.

466 Ebe Dickens Dictionary.

Cleaver, Mr., cailed Mr. Doxzs. Her father; a good workman ar his trade, but a weak, wretched, trembling ecreatare, falling to pieces, and never sober. (Bk. II, ch. ii; Bk. IIL, ch. x, xvii; Bk.

Dolls, Mr. See Curaven, Mn.

Fledgeby, Mr., called Fascixatiox Fixpoxny. A dandified young man, who isa dolt in most matters, but sharp and ight enough where money is concerned.

‘Young Fledgeby had a peachy cheek, or a cheek compounded of the peast and the red red red wall on which It grows, and was an amall-eyed youth, exceeding slim (his enemies would have sald Junky), and prone to self-examination in tho articles of whisker and mustache. While {feeling for the whisker that be nnxiously expected, Flodgeby underwent remark- able ductuations of spirits, ranging along the whole #cale from confidence to despair. ‘There were times when he started, ns exclaiming “ By Jupiter, here its nt Inst!” There wore otter timos when, being equally depressed, he would ‘bo so0n to uhako bis head, and give up hope, To see him at those perlods, lean- ing on a chimney-piece, like as on an Urn containing the ashes of his ambition, with the cheek that would not sprout upon the hand on which that cheek Td forced conviction, was a distressing slght. -. «

In facetious homage to the amallness of his talk and the Jerky nature of his manners, Fledgeby's farnillars had agreed to confer upon him Cbebiind his back) the honorary title of Puscination Fledgeby.

He is an acquaintance of Mr. Lammle, who endeavors to marry him to Miss Georgiana Podsnap, Fledgeby having given him his note for one thousand pounds in caso he effects the arrangement. Fledgeby is a money-broker, and has an office, which is kept by an aged Jew in his service, and is known under the firm-name of Pubsey & Co.'s. Under the pretence of using his influence with Pubsey & Co., he often strolls into the counting-house with some unfortunate acquaintance,and pleads with the Jew for an extension on their overdue bills, The old man often watches his face for some sign of permission to do so, which is never given; yet Fledgeby habitually reviles him and his race “oe not granting the accommodation that he has himself foreed him to

y. (Bk. If, ch. iv, v, xvi; Bk. II, ch. i, xii, xiii, xvii; Bk. TV ch. viii, ix, xvi.) See Rran, Mr. Glamour, Bob. A customer. at the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters

(Bk. I, ch. vi; Bk. 1, ch. Gliddery, Bob. Pot-boy at the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters

(Bk. I, ch. vi, xii; Bk. TH, ch. iii)

Golden Dustman, The. See Borrrx, Nicopzmus,

Our Mituat Prlenv. 467

Greenwich, Archbishop of, Head wajter at a hotel in Green- wich; a solemn gentleman in black clothes and white cravat, ook- ing mach like a clergyman. (Bk. TV, ch. iv.)

Gruff and Glum. An old wooden-legged pensioner at Green- wich. (Bk. IV, ch. iv.)

Handford, Julius, See Hanmon, Joux.

Harmon, John, alias Jutrvs Haxprorp, alias Joux Rox smirn. Heir of the Harmon estate. On the death of his father, he returns to England from South Afiiea, where he has been living fora good many years. On his arrival, he is inveigled into a water- side inn by a pretended friend, named George Radfoot, with whom he has made the passage, and is drugged, robbed, and thrown into the Thamos. This pretended friend had previously changed clothes with Harmon, at the request of the latter, who desired to avoid recognition until he had seen a certain young lady whom he is required by his father’s will to marry. ‘The would-be assassin falls into a quarrel with a confederate over the money obtained by the robbery, and is himself murdered, and thrown into the river. The cold water into which Hurmon is plunged restores him to consciousness, and, swim- ming to the shore, he escapes. ‘The body of his assailant is found by aboatinan named Hexam, and is taken in charge by the authorities. The clothes and the papers on the body having been identified, it is supposed that the body itself is that of young Harmon, who, finding himself reported dead, resolves to take advantage of the circumstance to further his own plans, and assumes the name of Juntes Haxp- FORD, which he afterwards changes to Jom~ Roxesmirn. (Bk. I, ch. ili, ix, xv-xvii; Bk. II, ch. vii-x, xii-xiv; Bk, TL, ch. iv, v, ix, xv, xvi; Bk. IV, ch. iv, v, xi-xiv, xvi.) See Borrns, Nicopemvs.

Harmon, Mrs. John. See Witren, Miss Betxa.

Headstone, Bradley. A master in a school in that district of the flat country tending to the Thames, where Kent and Surrey mect.

Bradley Headstone, in his decent bilack cont and walsteoat, and decent white shirt, and decent, formal black tie, and decent pantaloons of pepper and salt, with his decent silver watch in his pocket, and its decent halrgoard round his neck, looked a thoroughly decent young man of «ix and twenty. He was never ween In any other dress; and yet there was a certain stifoss In hie manner of wearing this, as it chere were # want of adaptation between htm and It, re calling some mechanics Iu thetr holiday clothes. Hehad acquired mechapically

‘Sgrent store of teacher's knowltdge. He could 4o mental arithmetic mechan Sealy, sing at sight mechanically blow var’-us winJaastruments mechani wally,

a

Ebe Dickens Dictionary.

strained manner over and above. and of what wes Sery (thoogh smouldering),

that. if young Bradley Headwtone, whee 4 pan;

Off for the sea, be wold not wre been the lart man in a ship's orew. ing that origin of his, be was proud, moody, aad sullen,

otten. And few people knew of It.

He falls passionately in love with Lizzic Hexam, and, that she favors Mr. Eugene Wraybarn, dogs his footsteps, and a tempts to kill him. Believing that he has dome #0, be flies, but followed by one Riderhood, a desperate character, who has witnessed tho assault, and who compels him to pay liberally for keeping tu secret, At last, Riderhood's demands and persecution become so un endurable, that Headstone determines to get rid of him omce for all.

settlement, 1 aa: a-going along with you wherever you go."”

Whhoat a word of reply, Bradley passed quickly from hiss over the wosden bridge on the tock-gates. “Why, theres even less sense Is this move than U other.” sabd Riderhood, following. “The welr "s there; aed you "Il hawe to ‘como back, you know."

Without tnking the Sesst notice, Dradley leaned his body againat @ post, tn resting attitude, and there rested with his eyes cast dows, “Belng brought here," ssid Riderbood gra My, “Ill tarn {t to some use by pean: - my gates” With a rattle and a rash of water, he then swung tothe losk-pstes that were

ling open, before opening the others: so both sets of gates ware Bee

1d better by far bo reasonable, Iimdley Headstone, master," wad Tider bood, passing him, “or I‘) drain you all the dryer for lt when we do seitie. —

Bradiey had canght him round the body, He seemed to be girdled with an iron ring. They were om the brink of the lock, about midway between the two wots of gates.

“Let gol" said Riderhood, “or I ll get my knife out, and slash you wher ever I cau cut you. Let got"

Bradley wns drawing to the lockedge, Iiderhood wat drawmg sway from

Our Mutual Pelend, 469,

It. Ttwae n strong grapple and a flerce struggle, urm and leg. Bradley got him round, with hfs back to the lock, and still worked him backward.

++ Lat got” sald Riderhood. “Stop! What are yon trying at? You can't drown me, Ain't I told you that the man as has come through drowning ean never be drowned! can’t be drowned !"*

“1 can be!® returned Bradley in m desperate, clinched roles, I am re- solved to be. Tl hold you living. and Ill hold you dead. Come down!"*

Riderhood went over {nto the smooth pit backwards, and Bradley Headstone upon him. When the two were found, lying under the ooge and scum belvind one of the rotting gates, Riderhood's hold had relaxed, probably 1n failing, ‘and lls eyes wore staring upward; but he was girdied still with Bradley" Iron Hing, and the rivets of the [ron ring held tight.

(Bk. TI, ch. , vi, xi, xiv, xv; Bk. IIT, ch. x, xi; Bk, TV, ch. §, +i, vii, xi)

Hexam, Jesse, called Garren. A Thames “waterside charac ter;” a strong man with ragged grizzled hair and a sun-browned face. He is falsely accused of the marder of John Harmon, (Bk. I, ch. §, ili, vi, xil-xiv, xvi.) See Hexaor, Lizzre.

Hexam, Charley. His son; a pupil of Bradley Hoeadstone’s, and a curious mixture of uncompleted savagery and completed civiliza- tion, He is tenderly loved and cared for by his sister, but renoun- ces her because she refuses his friend Headstone. Always utterly selfish and empty-hearted, und always bent on rising in the social scale, and increasing his “ respectability,” he renounces Headstone ‘with equal readiness, when he finds good reason to think him guilty of the murder of his sister’s favored lover, Eugene Wrayburn, and that his own name is therefore likely to be dragged into injurious notoriety. (Bk. I, ch. iii, vi; Bk. Il, ch. i, vi, xv; Bk. IV, ch. vii!

wie Lizzie. Daughter of Jesse or “Gaffer” Hexam. She is in the habit of rowing with her father on the Thames, and on ‘one occasion, while thus engaged, they find the body of a man, afterwards identified as John Harmon. ‘Through the jealousy of Rogue Riderhood, suspicion is cast upon her father; and the officers undertake to arrest him as being concerned in the murder, but they find him in the river drowned, and attached to his own boat by a cord, in which he had apparently become entangled when he fell over- board. A young lawyer, Eugene Wrayburn, who accompanivs the aflicers, becomes interested in the daughter, manifests much sym- pathy with her in ber afffiction, and aids her in obtaining an edu- cation. Her brother's teacher, Bradley Headstone, falls deeply in love with her, and makes an offer of marriage. ‘This she refases, and to escape his importunitics, and also to save Wrayburn from

“

=

\er

70 Che Dickens Mietfonarp.

his vengeance (for Headstone believes him to be the enase of Hite rejection), she leaves London, and obtains employment ina paper- mill in the country. After much fruitless search for her, Wray= burn ascertains where she is, and follows, bent on having an interview with her. He is, in turn, followed by Headstone, who comes upon them while they are engaged im ccnverssticn. Waite ing until they part, the schoolmaster stealthily follows his rival, and deals him a murderous blow as he stands fora moment looking into tho river. Lizzie hears the blows, a faint grosn, and a fall into the water. Brave by nature and by habit, she rans towarde the spot from which the sound had come. Secing a bloody face turned up to the moon, and drifting away with the current, sie jumps into a boat near by, puts out into the stream, and, when she has rescued the suffurer, finds that it is her lover, She tenderly nurses him through the dangerous illness that follows. When con- sciousness returns, ho asks to be married to his preserver without delay, though no hope of his recovery is entertained by any one. Lizzie becomes his wife, and he grows stronger and better by slow degrees, and is at last restored to perfect health. (Bk. I, ch. xiii, xiv; Bk. II, ch. i, il, v, xi, xiv-xvi; Bk. TE, ch i ii, viii, ix; Bk. 1V, ch. v, x, xi, xvi, xvii.) Bigden, Mrs, Betty. A poor woman who keeps a “minding- school," and also a mangle, in one of the complicated back settle monts of Brentford.

‘She was one of thove old women, .. . who, by dint of an indomitable par- pore and w xtrong constitution, fight out many years, thoogh each year hak come with ite new knook-down blows frosh to the fight against her weacled by ft; an active old woman, with a bright dark eye and o resolute face, yet quite s tender creature too; not a logically-reasoning woman. Bat God ix good; and hearts may count in heaven we high ax heady.

Betty is haunted by a constant fear that she shall die inan alms house,

“Do Inever read in the newspapers." said the dame, ... “God help me ‘and tho like of me!—how the worn-out people thi driven from post to pillar and pillar to post a-pur never road how they are put olf, put off pat of; how they are grudged, gradged, grudged, the dhelter, or the doctor, or the drop of phyele, oF the Bit aif

ver rea how chey grow heartsick of It, and give It =p, after ‘Saving let themselves drop-so low, and haw after all, die out for want of help? Then Isay, I Lope 1 tun ei ax well as another; and 7 dic without tha. agro.”

Absolutely impossible, my lords and gentlemen and honorable boards, by stretch of begislative wisdom to set these perverse people right tu thelr loglal

(Bk. I, cb. xvi; Bk. Ul, ch. ix, x xiv; Bk. II, cb. viii.)

Our Mutual Peter, 471

, Mr. A police-officer who examines into the Harmon murder, (Bk. I, ch. iil; Bk. IV, cb. xii.)

Joey, Captain. A bottle-nosed regular customer at the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters. (Bk. I, ch. vi; Bk. Hl, ch. iii.)

Jonathan, A customer at the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters. (Bk. T, ch. vi; Bk. TI, ch. iii.)

Johnny. An orphan, grandson of Betty Higden. The Boflins propose to adopt him; but he dies before the plan is carried inte effect. (Bk. I, ch. xvi; Bk. , ch. viii, ix, xiv; Bk. Tl, ch. ix.)

Jones, George. A customer at the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters (Bk. L ch. vi)

Kibble, Jacob. A fellow-passenger of John Harmon's on his voyage from Cape Colony to England. (Bk. Il, eh. xiti; Bk. IV, ch, xii.)

Lammie, Alfred. A mature young gentleman with too much nose in his face, too much ginger in his whiskers, too much torso in his waistcoat, too much sparkle in his studs, his eyes, his buttons, his talk, and his teeth. He is an adventurer and a fortune-hunter ; and he marries Miss Sophronia Akershem, supposing her to be a Jady of wealth, while she marries him for the same reason; each being deceived by Mr. Vencering, who really knows next to noth- ing about either of them. This precious pair of entrapped impos- tors determine to revenge themselves on Veneering for his part in ‘the matter, but fail in their plans, and after an attempt (which Is also a failure) to supplant. Rokesmith in the house of Mr. Boflin, they leave the country. (Bk. I, ch. Bk. Il, ch. v, xvi; Bk. IH, ch. i, v, xii, xvii; Bk. IV, ch.

Lammie, Mrs. Alfred. See Axersuex, Miss Sorunomta.

Lightwood, Mortimer, A young solicitor and attorney em- ployed by Mr. Boflin, He is an intimate friend of Eugene Wray- burn. ii, x, xii, xvi; Bk. II, ch. vi, xiv, xvi; Dk. IT, ch. x, ; Bk. IV, ch, ix-xii.)

lary Anne. ‘Miss Poocher’s asalstant and favorite pupil, #0 im- bued with the class-custom of stretching out an arm, as if to hail a cab or omnibus, whenever she finds she | has an observation on band to offer to Miss Peecher, that she often does it in their domestic ro mtions, (Bk. I, ch. i, xi; Bk. IV, eh. vii.)

Milvey, Mrs. Margaretta. Wife of the Reverend Frank; a pretty, bright little woman, something worn by anxiety, who has re- pressed many pretty tales and bright fancies, and substituted, in

——_

472 The Dickens Mctlo

>

their sted, schools, soup, flannel, coals, and all the weekday cares and Sunday coughs of a large population, young and old. (Bk. 1, ch. ix, xvi; Bk. II, ch. x; Bk. IM, ch. ix; Bk. IV, ch. xi.)

Milvey, The Reverend Frank, <A young curate. (Bk. I, ch ix, xvi; Bk. II, ch. x; Bk. II, ch. ix; Bk. IV, ch. xi.)

Heo was quite a young man, expensively educated and wretchedly pald, with quite & young wite, and half dozen quite young children, He was under the necessity of teaching, and translating from the classics, to eke out Dix scanty means, yet was generally expected to havo more time to spure than the iflest person I the parish, and more mouey than the richest. He accepted the neod- Jess inequalities and inconsistencies of his life with a kind of conrentionas submission that was almost alayish; and any daring layman who would hare adjusted such burdens as his more decently and graciously wonld hare nd smafl help from him.

Mullins, Jack. A frequenter of the Six Jolly Feliowship Porters. (Bk, I, ch. vi.)

Peecher, Mies Emma. A teacher in the female department of the school in which Bradley Headstone fs a master. (Bk. I, ch. xi, xv; Bk. If, ch. xi; Bk. IV, ch. vil.)

Small, shining, neat, methodical, and buxom wax Miss Peecher; cherry. cheeked and tuneful of voice, A little pincushion, a little housewife, a litle book, a little work-box, a little set of tables and weights and measures, and » ttle woman, all in one, She could write a little essay on any subject, exactly alate long, beginning at the left-hand top of one side, and ending at the right hand bottom of the other; aud the easay should be strletly according torule, If ‘Mr. Bradley Headstone had addressed a written proposal of marriage to her, she would probably have replied in a complete little essay on the theme exactly & alate long; but would certainly have replied, Yes,” for she loved him, ‘The decent halr-guard that went round his neck, and took caro of his decent silver watch. was an object of envy to her: so would Miss Peecher have gone round hia neck, and taken care of him,— of him, insenstble, because he did not love ‘Mins Poecher,

Podsnap, Miss Georgiana. A shy, foolish, affectionate girl, of nearly eighteen, in training for “society.” (Bk. I, ch. xi, xvily’ Bk. Il, ch. iv, v, xvi; Bk. IU, ch. i, xvii Bk. IV, ch. ii.)

She wns but an undersized damsel, with high shoulders, low spirits, chilted elbows, and a rasped murfuce of nose, who seemed to take occasional frosty peeps out of childhood [nto womanhood, and to shrink back agaln, overcome

jother’s head-dress, and her father from head to foot, crushed by the ‘weight of Podsnappery.

‘A certain Institution tn Mr. Podsnap's mind, which he called “the young person," may be considered to have been embodied in Mtiss Podsonp, | bs danghe ter. It was an incouyenient and exacting fnstitution, as requiring every thing

in the universe to be filed down and fitted to it, The question about every thing was, Would {t bring blush Into the cheek of the young person? Ane the inconvenience of the young person was, that, necording to Mr. Podsnap, she soomed always liable to barat into blushes when there was no need at all

Our Mutual Prlenv. 473.

‘There appeared to be no lino of demareation between the young perso 1's exoess 4ve Innocence nnd another person’s guiltiest knowledge. Take Mr. Podsnap's word for It, and the soberest tints of drab, white, lilac, and gray. were all fam= tng red to this troublesome ball of a young person. .. . Mies Podenap’e life hind been, from her first appearance an this planet, altogether of a shady order; for Me. Podsnap’s young person wns likely to get little good out of association with other young persons. and had therefore been restricted to companionship with not very congenial older persons, and with massire farnitare. Miss Pods sunp’s early views of lifo bolng principally derived from the reflectfons of it in her father’s boots and in the walnut and rosewood tables of the dim drawiag- rooms, and in their awarthy giants of looking-xlasses, were of a sombre cast and it was not wonderful, that now, when she was on most days solemnly tooled through the park by the side of her mother ina great tall custard-colored phaeton, she showed above the apron of that vebicle like a dejected young per- sonasitting up In bed to take a startled look at things in general, and rery strongly desiring to get her head under the counterpane ngain.

Podsnap, Mr. John, Her father; a member of * society,” and a pompous, self-satisfied man, swelling with patronage of his friends and acquaintances. (Bk. I, ch. ii, x, xi, xvii; Bk. II, ch. xvi; Bk. 10, ch. |, xvii; Bk. IV, ch. xvii.)

Mr. Podénap was well to do, and stood very high In Mr. Podrnap’s optal ‘Beginning with @ good taheritance, he bad married a good inheritance, and had thriven exceedingly in the murine Insurance way, and was quite satisfied. He never could make out why everybody was uot quite satisfied, and he felt ‘conscious thit he set a brilliant social exatple in being particularly well satls- fled with most things, and, above all other things, with himself.

‘Thus happily aoyuainted with his own merit and Importance, Mr. Podsnap acttled, that, whatever ho put bolind him, he put out of existences, ‘There was a Aiguified conclusiveness, not to udd a grand convenience, in this way of get ting rid of disagreeables, which had done much towards establishing Mr. Pod- snap in hils lofty place in Mr. Podsnap's satisfaction. “I don't want to know about it; I don’t choose to discuss it; 1 don't admit it!” Mr, Podsnap bad even amuired a peculiar fourish of his right mem in often clearing the world of ite most difficult problems by sweeping them behind him (and consequently sheer ‘away) with those words and flushed fuoo; for they affronted him,

Mr. Podsnap’s world was not a very large world morally, no, nor even geo t, although his business was sustained apon commerce ho considered other countries, with that Important resare of their manners and customs would conclusively jot Roglish!” when veysro! with a flourish of the arm aud ® flush of the fice, they were awept away. Elsewise, the world got up at eight, shaved close at a quarter-past, breakfasted at ning, went to the city at ten, came home at half-past dine, atid dined at scven.2fr. Podsnap's notions of thearts in thelr Integrity night tiare been #tsted thus» Literature: large print, respectfully deseriptive of geieimgup at eigh2,slumelngelove at » quarterpast, weakfasting at nine, golng to thaveiby ap fer ome at halfpast Ave, and dining at seven, Kaincing and scalpt=res models nud portralts, represent: tng professors of getting up at wight, shaving-tiove at a quarterpast, break fasting at nine, going 10 toe clty at tex, comlng Nome at half-past five, and ding at seven, Muslo: a respectable prrformauce (without ya>ations) ou oe

474 Tbe Wickens Wietlonary.

stringed and wind instruments, sedately expressive of gotting up at eight shaving close at a quarter-past, breakfasting at nine, going to the elty at ten coming home at halfpast fire, and dining at seven. Glaeednentin mitted to those samo vagrants the arts, on pain of excommunication, Noth

ing else to be—unswhere!

‘Asa 50 emineotly respectable man, Mr. Podsnap was sensible of Ite betoe required of him to take Providence under his protection: consequentiy he always knew exacily what Providence meant. Inferior and bess respectable men infght fall short of that mark; but Mr. Podsnap was always ug te it. And ‘It was very remarkable (and must have been very comfortable) that what Provi- dence meant was Invariably what Mr, Podsasp meant,

‘These may be said to have been the articles of faith of m school whieh the present chapter takes the Hberty of calling, after ite representative mast, Pod- ‘snappery. They were confined within close bounds, as Mr, Podsnap’s own head ‘was confined by his shirt-collar: and they were enunciated with a sounding pomp that smacked of the creaking of Mr. Podsnap’s ows boots.

Podsnap, Mrs, His wife; a" fine woman for Professor Owen, quantity of bone, neck and nostrils like a rocking-horse, hard features,” and a majestic presence. (Bk. I, ch. ii, x, xi, xvii; Bk, II, ch, iii, iv; Bk. TI, ch. i, xvii; Bk. IV, ch. xvii.)

Poddles. The pet name of a little girl in Mrs, Betty Higden’s “minding-school.” (Bk. I, ch. xvi.)

Potterson, Miss Abbey. Sole proprietor and manager of a well-kept tavern called the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters; a woman of great dignity and firmness, tall, upright, and well-favored, though severe of countenance, and having more the air of a schoolmistress than mistress of a publicchouse. (Bk. I, ch. vi, xiii; Bk. II, ch. ii, Hii; Bk. TV, ch. xii.)

‘The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters, .. . as a tavern of a dropsleal ape pearance, bad long wettled down into a state of hate infirmity. In its whole coustitution it had not @ straight floor, nnd hardly a straight line; but tt Lind outlasted, and clearly would yet outlast, many a better-teimmed many & xprucer publichouse, Externally, it was w narrow, lopsided, wooden. Jumble of corpulent windows heaped one upon another, as you might heap ws ‘many toppling oranges, with a crazy wooden veranda tmpending over the water: Indeed, the whole house, Inclusive of the complaining flagstaif of the roof, impended over the water, but seemed to have got into the cendition of # fulnt-hearted diver, who has paused so long on the brink, that he will never ga in ft at all.

This dereription applies to the riverfrontage of the Six Jolly Pellowsitp Porters. ‘The back of the establishment, though the chief entrance was there, #0 contracted that it merely represented, in Its connection with the frout, the handle of aflatiron eet upright on ite broadest end. ‘This handle stood at the Dottom of a wilderness of court and alley, whfoh wilderness pressed xo hard wud ¢lose upon the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters as to leave the hostlery not an ime

‘ound boyond its door... « bar of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters was 4 bar to soften the humar vreast. The available space in It was not much larger than &

Our Mutual Prien. 475

‘ut no one could have wished the bar Bigger, that space was yo girt io by core pulent ietle casks, wnd by cordisibottlos radiant with fictitious grapes tm ‘Dunches. and by lemons in nots, and by bisouits in baskets, and by the polite ‘beer-pulls that made low bows when eustomers were served with beer, and by the cheese In a snug corner, and br the landlady's own small table tn ® snugger orner near the fire, with the cloth everiastingly laid. This haven was divided from the rough world by a glass partition and a half-door with w leaden «fill upon tf for the conventence of resting your Nquor; but over this halfdoor the bar's snngness 50 gushed forth, that, albelt customers drank there, standing In a dark and draughty passage, where they were shouldered by other customers passing In and out, they always appeared to drink under an euchantng delu- tion that they were In tho bar itself.

For the rest, both the tap and parlor of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters pave upon the river,and had red curtalas, matching the noses of the regular ‘customers,

Potterson, Job. Her brother; steward of the ship in which John Harmon is a passenger. (Bk. I. ch. iii; Bk. I, ch. xiii; Bk. IV, ch. xii.)

Pubsey and Co. The name of a fictitious firm of money-brokers in Saint Mary-Axe, used by “Fascination” Fledgeby to conceal his sharp practice In “shaving " notes,

Riah, Mr. An aged Jew. of venerable aspect and a generous and noble natare, who befriends Lizzle Hexam, and obtains employment for her. He is the agent of “ Fascination ” Fledgeby, who directs all his proceedings, while keeping himself in’ the background. (Bk. OL, ch. v, xv; Bk. OY, ch. i, ii, x, xii, xiii; Bk. IV, ch. viii, ix, xvi.)

Fascination Fledgeby took another seratch at his intellectual head with bbe ‘hat [and sald), Who but you and I ever heard of a poor Jew?

‘The Jews," said the old man, raising his eyes from the ground with his former smile. ‘They hear of poor Jews often, and are very good to them.”

“Bothor that!" roturned Fledgeby, “You kuow what Tmean. You'd pers ‘sundo me, if you could, that yon are a poor Jew. Iwish you'd eonfess how much you really did make out of my late governor. I should have a better ogirion of you.”

‘The old man only bent his head, and stretched out his hands as before,

“Don't govon posturing like a deaf-and-dumb sebool,” sald the ingentous Fiodgeby, “but express yourself Wke a Christian, —or ax nearly ax you can.”

“Thad tied sickness and misfortunes, and was xo poor," sald the old man, “ax hopelessly to owe the father principal and interest. The son inheriting ‘was so merciful as to forgive mo both, and place me here”

He made w little gesture as though Je klaved the hem of am tmaguury gar ment worn by the noble youth before him, Itwas humbly done, but plature esquely, and was not abasiog to the doer.

* You won’t ay moro, f moe," sald Flodgeby, looking at him as If he would Uke to try the effect of extricating m double-tooth or two, “nnd so its of no ‘use my putting It to you. But confess this, Xiah: who believes you to be poor now?”

476 Ebe Dickens Wietfonary.

“No ono,” ral the old man-

«There you ’re right,” assented Fledgeby.

“No ond," repeated the old man with a grave slow wave of hiy head. “AL teout it asa fable, Were I to vay, “This litte fancy batines Ie not mined * with a lithe «weep of his easily-turning hand around him to comprehend the various objects ou the shelves, “*it is the little business of a Cheistian young gentleman, who places mo, hls servant, in trast and charge here, and to whom Tam accountable for every single bead,’ they would inugh. When, in the Anrgor money-business, I tell the borrowers” —

“Tay, old chap!" interposed Fledgeby, “I hope you mind what you do (et tem?”

“Sir, I fell them no more than Tam about to repent. When T tell them, «T ¢annot promise this, Teannot answer for the other, I must see my prinelpal, T hare not the money, I am s poor man, and it does not rest with mo," they are 20 unbelieving and so {mpatient, that they sometimes curse me in Jehovah's name.”

“ And at other times they say, ‘Can It never be done without these tricks, Mr. Rlah? Come, come, Mr. Kish, we know the arts of your people? — My people!—'If the money Is to be lent, fotch It, feteh 1; If tt te not to be ent, keep If and say so.’ ‘They never believe mo”

“They say,*We know, Mr. Riah, we know. We hare but to look at you, wend we know?”

“Oh! a good ’un are you for the post,” thought Fledgeby, “and m good um was I to mark you out for it! I may be alow; but I am precious sure.”

‘Not a aylluble of this reflection shaped tteelf In any scrap of Mr, Fledgeby’s Dreath, lest it should tend to put his servants price up. But, looking at the old man ax he stood quiet, with his head bowed and his eyes east down, he felt, that to relinquish an inch of hie baldness, an tnch of his gray halr, au inch of his eoat-skirt, an Inch of his hatbrim, an Inch of his walking-statf, would be to relinquish hundreds of pounds.

“Look here, Binh,” sald Fledgeby, mollified by these selfapproving eonald- erations, “I want to go a little more into buying up queer bills, Look out ts that direation

“Sir, it shall be done”

“Casting my eye over the accounts, I find that branch of business pays pretty fuirly, and Tam game for extending it. I lke to know people's aifaira Mkewise: #0 look out.”

“Sir, T will, promptly.”

* Put it about in the right quarters, that you ‘ll buy queer bills by the lump =Dby the pound-weight, if that 's nll,—aupposing you see your way to m fale chance on looking over the parcel. And there *s one thing more. Come to me with the books for perlodical Ingpection, as usual, at eight on Monday mors ing.”

Tah drew some folding tablets from his breast, and noted it down.

‘That's all I wanted to #ay at the present time,” coutinued Fiedgeby in grudging vein ns he got off the stool.

Riderhood, Pleasant. Dauyhter of Roger Riderhood ; finally married to Mr. Venus, after rejecting him more than once. (BE I, ch. xii, xifi; Bk. II, ch. iv, vii; Bk. IV, ch. xiv.)

Our Mutual Pelend. MT

Uyon the smallest of small seales, she was an unticensed pawnbroker, keop- tng what was popularly called a leavingshop, by lending insignificant sume ‘a9 insigniiicant articles of property deposited with her as seourity. In her four and twentieth yenr of Iifo, Peasant wns already in her fifth year of this way of trade.

‘Why christened Pleasant, the late Mrs. Riderhood might possibly hare been at some time able to explain, and possibly not. Her daughter had no informa+ tlon on that point: Pleasant she found herself, nud she could wt help it. She had not bren consulted on the question, any more than on the question of ber coming into these terrostrial parts to want ® namo, Similarly she found her- aclf possessed of what is colloquially termed a swivel eye (derived from ber father), which she might perhaps have declined if her sentiments on the sub- Ject hud been taken. Sho was not otherwise positively illlooking, thong anx= fous, meagre, of a muddy complexion, and looking as old again as she really was.

An some dogs livre it in the blood, or are tratned, to worry certain creatures to acertaln point, so—not to make the comparison disrespectfully — Pleasant Riderhood had it {a the blood. or had been trained, to regard seamen, within certain limits, as her prey. Show her aman ina blue Jacket, wnd, figuratively speaking, she ploned him Instantly. Yet, all things considered, she was not of an evil mind of an wokindly disposition,

Riderhood, Roger, called Roove. A desperate “waterside character,” in whose house an attempt is made on John Harmon's life. Quarrelling with Gaffer Hexam, who had been his partner, and anxious to obtain the reward offered by Mr. Bollin forthe arrest of the supposed murderer, he goes to Mortimer Lightwood's office, and accuses Hexam of having done the deed. Search being made for Hexam, he {s discovered drowned; and the reward is conse- quently not paid. Riderhood finally becomes a deputy lock-keoper at Plashwater Weir Mill, and is cognizant of Bradley Headstone’s attack on Eugene Wrayburn. He uses his knowledge as a means of extorting money from Headstone, and at last, by his continued demands, drives him to desperation, A quarrel ensues, which results in the death of both. (Bk. I, ch. i, vi, xii-xiv; Bk. Hl, ch. xii-xiv, xvi; Bk. I, ch. ii, iii, vili, xi; Bk. IV, ch. 4, vil, xy.) See Heapstonr, Brapier.

Rokesmith, John. See Harmon, Jonn.

Rokesmith, Mrs. John. See Hanmox, Mrs, Jom.

Sampson, George. A young man who is very intimate with the Wilfer family. At first he ho~ers around Miss Bella, but, on her be.rothal to Mr. John Harmon, transfers his affections to her sister Lavinia, who keeps nim — partly in remembrance of his bud taste in having overlooked her in the first instance —under a course of Mtinging discipline. (Bk. J, ch. iv, ix; Bk. I, ch. xiv; Bk. ID, ch. iv, xvi; Bk. IV, ch. vy, xvi.)

78 Ebe Dickens Mictlonacg.

, A love-child, found in the street, brought up in the poor house, and adopted by Betty Higden, who keeps him employed in turning a mangle. He is afterwards taken into Mr. Boffin’s sere vice. (Bk. I, ch. xvi; Bk. HU, ch. ix, x, xiv; Bk. Ill, ch. ix; Bk. TV, ch. iii, xiv, xvi.)

Of an ungainly make was Sloppy, —too much of him longrelse, too little of him broadwise, and too many sharp angles of him anglewise. One of those «humbling male human creatures. born to be indiscreetly candid in the revela- tion of buttons; erery batton he had about hbn glaring at the public to « quite breternatural extent, A considerable capital of knee and elbow, and wrist and aakle, had Sloppy; and he did n't know how to dispose of it to the best mivantage, but was always investing It 1a wrong securities, and eo getting uimself Into embarrassed circumstances, Full-private Number One in the Awkward Squad of the rank and file of life was Sloppy, and yet had his glim- inéring notions of standing true te the colors,

Snigsworth, Lord. First cousin to Mr. Twemlow; a nobleman with gout in his temper. (Bk. I, ch. ii, x; Bk. Il, ch. iii, v, xvi; Bk. IV, ch. xvi.)

Sprodgkin, Mrs. A portentous old pnrishioner of the Reverend Frank Milvey, and the plague of his lift. She is constantly wish« ing to know who begat whom, or wanting eome information eon- cerning the Amorites. (Bk. IV, ch. xi.)

She was n member of the Reverend Frank's congregation, and made & pont of distinguishing hervelf in that body by consplenously weeping at every thing, however cheering, sald by the Reverend Frank in his public mlnistea- tion; also by applying to herself the various lamentations of David, and eom- plaining, in n personally injured manner (much n wrrear of the clerk and the rest of the respondents), that her enemies were digging pitfalls about er, and breaking her with rods of Iron. Indeed, this old widow discharged herself of ‘that portion of the morning and evening service as if she ware lodging m com> plaint on oath, and applying for a warrant before a magistrate. But this was nother most inconventent characteristic: for that took the form of an impression, usually recurring in inclement weather, and at about daybreak, that she had something on her mind, and stood in immediate need of the Reyerend Frank to come and take ft off. Many a time had that kind creature got up and gone ont to Mrs, Sprodgkin (such was the dixclplo’s name), supproasiog & strong ¢onee of her comicality by his strong senso of duty, and perfectly knowing that nothing but # cold would come of It,

fapkins, Mrs. A fashionable woman who calls at the door of the “eminently aristocratic” mansion to which the Boffins remove from the “Bower,” and leaves a card for herself, Miss Tupkins, Mis Frederica Tapkins, Miss Antonina Tapkins, Miss Malvina Tap kin id Miss Euphemia Tapkins; also the card of Mrs, Henry George Alfred Swoshle, née Tapkins; also a card, Mrs. Tapkins at home Wednesdays, Music, Portland Place. (Bk. 1, ch. sevike)

Our Mutual Petenv. 479

Tipping. Lady. A friend of the Vencorings, and a momber of society :”” relict of the late Sir Thomas Tipping, knighted, by mis- take, for somebody élse by his Majesty, King George the Third. She is & charming old woman, with an immense obtuse, drab, ob- Tong face, like a face in a tablespoon, and « dyed Jong walk up the top of her head, as a convenient public approach to the bunch of false hair behind. She affects perennial youth in her dress and manners, and exerts herself to fascinate the male sex, especially the unmarried portion of it. (Bk. I, ch. ii, x, xvii; Bk. Ul, ch. ili, xvi; Bk. III, ch. xvii; Bk. IV, ch. xvii.)

A grisly little fiction conceruing her lovers 1s Lady Tippins’s point. She ts always attended by a lover or two; and she keeps a little list of her lovers; and she Is always booking a new lover, or striking out an old lover, or putilog a sorer in her black list, or promoting » lover to her blue list, or adding up her twvers, oF otherwise posting her book.

Toddles, Th pet name of a little boy in Mra. Betty Higden’s “minding-schoul.” (Bk. I, ch. xvi.)

Tootie, Tom, A frequenter of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters, who is on the point of being married. (Bk. I, ch. vi; Bk. TL, ch. ii, ii)

Twemlow, Mr. Melvin. A friend of the Veneerings, and a member of “society,” He is poor, and lives over a livery-stable- yard in Duke Street, St. James's; but, being first cousin to Lord Snigsworth, he is in frequent requisition, and at many houses may be said to ropresent the dining-table in its normal state. His noble relative allows him a small annuity, on which he iives; and takes it out of him, as the phrase gocs, in extreme severity ; putting him, when he visits at Snigsworthy Park, under a kind of martial law; ordaining that he shall hang his hat on a particular peg, sit on a particular chair, talk on particular subjects to pirticular peo- ple, and perform particular exercises, —such as sounding the praises of the family varnish (hot to say pictures), and abstaining from the choicest of the family wines, unless expressly invited to partake (Bk. I, ch. x, xvii; Bk. I, ch. iii xvi; Bk. IM, ch. xiii; Bk IV, ch. xvi, xvii.)

Veneering, Mr. Hamilton. A parvenu, tolerated by “ roci- ety” on account of his wealth. Formerly traveller or commission agent of Chicksey and Stobbles, draggista, but aRterwards admitted into the firm, of which he becomes the supreme head, absorbing both bis partners. He is a man of forty, wavy-haired, dark, tend- ing to corpulence, sly, mysterious, filmy,—a kind of sufficiently

480 The Dickens Mictlonarp.

well-looking veilod prophet, not prophesying. By a liberal esi iture of money, he gets himself returned to the House of Commone from the borough of Pocket-Breaches. (Bk. J, ch. ii, x, xi, xvii; Bk. WI, ch. iii, xvi; Bk. UY, ch. xvii; Bk. IV, ch. xvii.)

Mr. and Mre, Veneering wore bran-new people in a bran-new houre In a dran-new quarter of London. Every thing about the Venoerings was span-new. All thelr furniture was new; all thelr friends were new; all thelr servants were new; thelr plate wns new; thelr carriage was new; thelrharnesa ‘was new; their horves were new; thelr pictures were new; they themselves wore now; they were as newly married as was lawfully compatible with thelr hariog ‘& bran-new baby; and, if they had set up m great-grandfather, he would hare come home fn matting from the Pantechnicon, without a scenteh upon him, French polished to the crown of his head. For in the Veneering establishment, from the hall-chairs with the new coat of arma to the grand pianoforte with the ‘new notion, and up stairs again to the new fire-eseape, all things were in m state of high varnish and polish. And what was obsereable in the furniture was observable In the Vencerings,— the surface emelt « little too much of the work- shop, and wns a trifle sticky.

Veneering, Mrs, Anastasia, His wife; a fair woman, aqui- Tine nosed and fingered, not so much light hair as she might kaye, gorgeous in raiment and jewels, enthusiastic, propitiatory, conscious that a corner of her husband's veil is over herself, (Bk. & ch. ii, x, xi, xvii; Bk. IL, ch. iii, xvi; Bk, I, ch, xvii; Bk. TV, ch. xvii.)

Venus, Mr. A preserver of animals and birds, and articulator of human bones. He becomes a confederate of Mr Wegg’s in his plan of blackmailing Mr. Boffin; but being, on the whole, a very honest man, and repenting of what he has done, he makes amends by confidentially disclosing the whole plot. His shop in Clerken- well, his personal appearance, and the nature of his occupation, are described in the following extract :—

In a narrow and adisty atreot . . ., Mr. Woggaeleots ane dark shop-window, with a tallow-candio dimly burning in St, surroonded by & muddle of objects ‘vaguely resembling pleces of leather and dry atiek, but among which nothing tx resolvable into any thing distinct, sre the candle itelf in ita old thn candle atiok. and two preserved frogs fighting asmallsword duel, Stamping with fresh ‘vigor. he goes fn at the dark, greasy entry, pushes o little grensy, dark, re luotant side-door. and follows the door nto the litte dark, greasy shop. Tt fx sc dark, that nothing can be mado out in it, over # Hetle counter, but another taliow-candle in another old tin candlestick, clove to the face of » man stoopling Jow ina chalr.

Mr. Wegg novs to the face, Good-erening!"

‘The fuce looking up fs a sallow fnce, with weak eyes, surmounted by a tangle of reddish, dusty halr, ‘The owner of the face has no cravat on, and has opened is rumbled ehirt-collar to work with the more ease, For tho samo reason, he tens 00 coat on: only a loose waisteonr over bis yellow linen. His eyes aré like

Our Mutual Prlenv. 481

the overtried eyes of an engraver; but he fx not that: his expression aud stoop are like those of a ahioemaker; bur he is not that,

“ Good-erening, Mr, Venus! Don't you remember?”

‘With slowly-dawning remembrance, Mr. Venus rises, and holds hie candle over the little counter, and holds it down towards the legs, natural and artid- lal, of Mr. Were.

“To be sure!” hovays then. “How do you do?”

“ Wegg, you know," that geatleman explalns.

* Yea, yor." says the other, “Hospital amputation 2”

“Just 30,” says Mr. Weg.

“Yes, yes.” quoth Venus. “How do you do? Sit down by the fire, and warm your—your other one, ... My tes is drawing, snd my muffin fs on the aobb, Mr. Wegg: will you partake?"

It being one of Mr. Wogg’s guiding rules In life always to partake, he says be will, But the Httle shop ts #0 excessively dark, 4s stuck so full of black shelves and brackets and nooks and corners, that he sees Mr. Venus’s cup and ‘aucér only becauso It is close under the candle, and does not see from what mysterious recess Mr. Venus produces another for himself, until {t ts under his nose. Concurrently, Wegg perceives a pretty little dead bird lying on the counter, with Ita head droopiag on one side against the rim of Mr. Venus’s saucer, and & tong, sti wire plercing its breast,—as if It were Cock Robin, the hero of the ballad; and Mfr. Venus were the sparrow. with his bow and arrow; and Mr. Werg wero the fly with his littleeye. . .. As the muffins disappear, little by little, the biack shelves and nooks und corners begin to appear, and Mr. Wegg gradually acquires an imperfect notion that over against him, on the ehimney-plece, t* 4 indoo baby In w bottle, curred up, with his big head tucked ander him, as thongh he would instantly throw a summersault if the bottle were large enough. . .

At thls moment the greasy door {s riolently pushed (award; anda boy follows It, who says, after having let it ¢lam,—

“Come for the stuffed canary.”

“1% three and ninepence,” returns Venus,“ Ilave you got the money?”

‘The boy produces four shillings. Mr. Venus, always in exceedingly tow spirita, ‘and making whimpering sounds, peers about for the stuffed canary. On his taking the candle to aasiet hia search, Mr. Wogg observes that he has a conventent little shelf near his knees, exclusively approprinted to skeleton hands, which have very much the appearance of wanting to lay bold of him. From these Mr. Venus reseues the canary in a glass ease, and shows it to the boy,

“There!” he whimpers, “There ‘* animation! On « twig, making up La mind to hop! Take care of him: he's @ lovely speclmen.— And three ts four.”

‘The boy gathers up his change, and has palled the door open by » leather strays ‘tailed to it for the parpose, when Venus cries out, —

“Stop him! Come back, you young villain! You "ve got a tooth smong them Aalfpence.”

“How was Tto know I'd got it? You give it me. I don’t want none of your teath: I've got enough of my own.” So the boy pipes as he selects It from hia ehange, and throws it on the counter.

“Don't sauce me in the wicious pride of your youth?” Mr. Venus retorts pathet: Jeaily. Don't hit me because you see I?m down. I’m low enough without that. 16 roped into the till. T suppote, ‘They drop into every thing, There was two In ‘the eoffee-pot at lrenkfust-time,— molars.”

“Very welt, thon,” argues the boy, “ what do you call names for?”

‘To which afr. Venus only replies, shaking his ehock of dusty halr, and winking

“

(a

482 She Wickens Wictlomary.

his weak eyes, “ Don’t sauce me in the wistoas pride of your youth; don’t it me decause you see Im down. You've no dea tow small you Mt come out if 1 had the articulating of you."

‘This consideration seems to have its effect on the boy; for he goes out grum- bling. “Oh, dear me, dear me!” sighs Mr. Venus heavily, enufllng the candle, “the ‘world that appeared so flowery has sensed to blow! You ‘re casting your eye round the shop, Mr. Wegg. Let mo show you alight. My working-bench. My young man’s bench. Awice. Tools. Bones, warlous, Skulls, wartous, Dre werved Indian baby, African ditto, Bottled preparations, warious. Every thing within reach of your hand In good preservation. ‘The mouldy ones a-top. ‘What ’s in those hampers over them again, T don’t quite remember. Say, hu man warious, Cats. Artloalated English baby. Dogs. Ducks. Glass eyes warious. Mummied bird. Dried cuticle, warious. Oh, dear met That % the ‘general panoramic view.”

(Bk. I, ch. vii; Bk, Il, ch. vii; Bk. IM, ch. vi, vil, xiv; Bk 1V, ch. iii, xiv.)

Wegg, Silas, A ballad-monger, who also keeps a fruit-stall, near Cavendish Square.

Assuredly this stall of Silas Wogg’s wns the hardest little stall of all the ster- Me little stalls in London. It gave you the face-ache to look at his apples, the stomach-ache to look at his oranges, the toothache to look st his nuts. Of the latter commodity he had always a grim little heap, on which lay a little wooden measure, which had no discernible inside, and was considered to represent the penn'orth appointed by Magna Charts. Whether from too much east wind or no, —it was au easterly corner, — the stall, the scock, and the keeper were all ma dry as the desert. Wegg was a knotty man, and a close-gralned, with w fhoe carved out of very hard material, that had Just ax much play of expression as a watchman’s rattle, When he laughed, certain Jerks occurred In ft, and the rattle sprung. Booth tos 8 90 wooden a min. that he seemed to hare ‘taken his wooden Jeg naturally, aud rather ruggested to the finolful observer, that he might be oxpectid —If his development received no untimely eheck — to be completely set up with a pair of wooden legs in about six months,

Mr. Boffin thinking himself too old “to begin shovelling and sifting at alphabeds and grammar-books,” and wanting to engage some one to read to him, is attracted by Mr. Wegg's collection of ballads displayed on an unfolded clothes-horse. He enters into con- versation with the proprietor, and, when he finds that “all print is open to him,” is filled with admiration of him as being “a literary maa with a wooden leg.”

“why, teuly, sir,” Mr. Wegg admitted with modesty, “T believe you could 2% show mo the plece of Kngllah print, that I would n’t be equal to collariiyt and throwing.” Ou the spot ?” ald dr. Bofin, mn the spot.” “T knowl it! ‘Then consider this. Here am I, man without @ woodes d yet all print is shut to me” “

Our Mutual Helend. . 483

“Indeed, tir?™ Mr. Wegg returned with an tnoreasing self-complacency. ™ Education neglected?”

“Neglected! * repeated Boffin with emphasis, “That afn’t no word for it. 2 don't mean to say but what, if you showed me a B, I could so fur give you change for It as to answer Bom

“Come, come, sir." sald Mr. Weg, throwing in » little encouragement," that's vomething too.”

“It %e something,” answered Mr. Boffin; “but Til take my oath tt alse much.”

After some further conversation, and some ciphering, Mr, Bolin offers Mr. Wegg half a crown a week to read to him two hours every evening.

Yotntingto this result as a large and satisfactory one, Mr. Bolin smeared It out ‘with his moistened glove, and sat down on the remains.

+ Half a crown," ald Wegg, meditating, “Yes, (It alo't much, sir.) Hatta ‘erown!”

“Wer week, you know.”

“Per wook, Yes. As to tho amount of strain upon the Intellect now. Was you thinking at all of poetry?” Mr. Wegg inquired, musing.

“ Would It come dearer?" Mr. Boffin asked.

“It would come dearer,” Mr. Wegg returned; “for, when ® person comes to grind off poetry night afer night, it is but right he should expect to be pald for its ‘weakenIng effect on his mind.”

“To tell you the truth, Wegg," sald Boflin, "Twas n°¢ thinking of pootry, ex- ‘copt inso far as this: If you wag to happen now and then 10 feel yourself in the mind to tip me and Mrs, Goffin one of your ballads, why, then, we should drop Ante poetry.”

“F follow you, sir,” sald Wegg; “bat, not being a regular musieal professional, Tshould be loath to engage myself for that; and therefore, when I dropped into poetry, I should ask tobe considered so fur in the light of @ friend?

At this Mr. Boffin’s eyes sparkled; and he shook Silas earnestly by the band, protesting that It was more than ho could have asked, and that he took It very kindly indeed.

“What do you think of the terms, Wegg?” Mr. Hoffin then demanded with wiconcealed anxiety.

Silas, who had stimulated this anxtety by his hard reserve of manner, and who had begun to understand his man very well, replied, with an alr us if he was ange ing something extraordinarily generous and great,—

Mr. Bolin, T never bargain.”

«So - whould have thought of you," sald Mfr. Boffin admiringly.

“No, wir, Tnover did ’aggle, and I never will Yaggle. Consequently I meet you at once, free and fulr, with: Done for double the money!

Mr. Boffin seemed a little unprepared for this conclusion, but assented, with the remark, * You know better what it ought to be than I do, Wegg,” and again shook hands with him upon it,

Could you begin to-night, Wom *” he then demanded.

Yes, sir,” said Mr. Wegg, careful to leave all the eagerness to him. “Tee ho difficulty if you wish It, You aro provided with tho needful Implement,—s ook, oir?”

“ought him at asale," sala Mr. Bolla. “Eight wollumes, Red and gold

454 . be Dickens Dictlonarp.

urate ri0bon tn every wollume to keep the place where you lames sf; Does “The book's name, str?® inquired Silas.

Hoffin weat over these stones slowly and with mach cation.) Ay, todeod!" sad Mr. Wegg, modding his esd with an alr of friendly recog: altion.

= You know him, Wegg?™ “1 have ot been ot to aay Fight slap throagh him very Istely,” Mr. Weat employed, Mr. Botts. But kuow him?

Bot so high as your stick. Ever sisce my eldest brother left cur cottage to tato the army, Ov which occasion, a the ballad that was made about ft d=

(= Beebe that coctage<teor, Mr. Beta, A grt wae on ber Raewe: She bed slot a swewy meant, str, WRB (my eldest brother sotiord) Gattered te the Brees ‘She breathed prayer fer Rem, Mr. Beilin; A prayer be coudd wot hears ‘And my cident brother inané agen tis eword, Mr Retin, And wiped away 6 teen” Much Impressed pifemaberrntpeirapepectp mt tition of Mr. Wegz. a1 cxemplised In hit so seou dropping lito poetry, Mr. Def fo again shook hands with that ligneoge sharper, and besosght him to mame his hosr. Mr. Weg named eight © 1 shall expect you, Weg,” aald Mr. Bota, capping him on the shoulder with: the greatest enthusiasm,“ most Jorfally. T shall hare Do peace OF patlenee fil you come. Print ls now opening abead ef me. This ight, a tersry mam, with Sweetes ing." —he bestowed as ebetring look epee that (@reatly cobasced the relied of Mr. Wegg’s sttainments, —~ will begin to lead ae evew life My @st again. Wegg: morsing, morning, morning? ™

When night comes, Mr. Weg stumps it to the Bower, according to appointment. After introduction to Mrs Bolin, and a little prelim’ nary conversation, Mr. Boffia inquires, —

“Now, what "ll you read on?”

~ Thank you, sir," retarned Weeg. as if there were nothing mew in Bis ecmdling Stati. + Igenerally do it op gin aml water.”

+ Keeps the organ moist, does Ic, Wegg 1” ankel Mr. Beds with lamonent eager Bese

Nowa sir." repli Wegg coolly: 1 shook bantiy deweribe It 0 alr. Zahoat ear meiers tt. Mens & bs the word | stonh empley, Mr. Be@ia” . . now, Mr, Weg a2 length . . . pat on bis eprctactes; amt Mr. Batis. oe Pipe. sod looket with beaming eyes (sto thee epraiag work! betters Bien; amd Mes, Bots rectiord ts a farhincabir cuaseer ow ber ova, as one whe wanhd be peste? We ne Leave Lf she faced phe could emt woell go bu sleep If sbe foead she eoahs ee

* Wom!” degen Wegg. “This, Mr. Bodin and Laity. ls Che Siret Srvt wolleme of * The Dectioe and Fat ot *'— bere be looked hand ot ther Ie bed meyyed.

@ur Mutual Priend. 485

“What %s the matter, Wegg?”

“Why; It comes into my mind, do you know, str,” said Wegg with an alr of foxinuating frankness (having first again looked hard at the book), “that you made a little mistake this morning, which I had meaut to set you right in, only tomething put it out of my head. Ithiak you sald Rooshan Empire, sir?”

“Itts Roshan; ain't It, Wegg?”

No, sir. Roman, Roman."

“What's the difference, Wega?”

“The ditterence, sir?” Mr. Wegg was faltering, and in danger of Breaking down, when a bright thought flashed upon him. “The difference, alr? There you place me in a difficulty, Mr. Boffin, Suffice it to observe, that the difference 4s best postponed to some other occasion, when Mrs. Bolin does not honor us with her company. In Mrs. Boflio’s presence, sir, we bad better drop tt.”

‘Mr. Wegg thns camo oat of his disadvantage with quite chivalrous alr; and ‘not only that, but by dint of repeating with » manly delicacy, “In Ms. Bosh’s presence, sir, we had better drop ft,” turned the disadvantage on Bothn, who felt that he had committed himself in a very painful manner,

‘Then Mr. Weg, ino dry, unflinching way, entered ou his task; going atralght across country at every thing that came before him; taking all the hard words, Diographical and geograptical; getting rather shaken by Hadrian, Trajan, and

ud supposed dy Mr. Bofia to be a Roman virgin, and by Mrs. Boffin to be responsible for that necessity of dropping It); heavily unseated by Titus Antoninus Pus; up again and galloping smoothly with Augustus; Gually, getting over the ground ‘well with Commodus, who, under the appellation of Commodious, was held by Mr. Botlin to have been quite unworthy of his Kuglish origin, and “ not to have acted up to his name” in his government of the Roman people. With the death of this personage Mr. Wegg tarminated bis first reading.

‘Mr, Wegg turns out to be a raseal. Not resting satisfied with the salary which he receives from Mr. Boflin, he tries to better his condition by knavery. Prying everywhere about the premises, he at last discovers a will in which the elder Mr. Harmon leaves all his property to the crown. Ascertaining that this will is of later date than the one in Mr, Boffin’s favor, which has been admitted to probate, he conspires with an acquaintance (Mr. Venus), either to oust Mr. Boffin, or to compel him to buy them off. He finds, to his astonishment, however, thut there is a still later grill in the posses- sion of Mr. Boffin, who has suppressed it because it leaves him all the property ; while the one which has been proved leaves it. to the ‘testator’s son on the condition of his marrying Miss Bella Wilfer. Discomfited and ecrestfallen, the avaricious Wegg returns, perforce, to his old trade of selling ballads, gingerbread, and the like. (Bk. I, ch. v, vil, xv, xvii; Bk. I, ch. vii, x; Bk. IIL, ch. vi, vii, xiv; Bk. TV, ch. ii, xiv.)

Wilfer, Miss Bella. Daughter of Reginald Wilfer, and protégée of the Boffins: afterwards the wif of John Harmon. (Bk. I, ch

>_>

486 Ebe Dickens Wletfonary.

iv, ix, xvi, xvii; Bk. IT, ch. vili-x, xiii; Bk. IIT, ch. iv, y, wi, ix xy, xvi; Bk. IV, ch, iv, v, xi-xlli, xvi.) See Borrrx, Mu. Nico DEMUS.

Wilfer, Miss Lavinia. Youngest of Mr, Wilfer’s children; a

ary, saucy, and irrepressible girl. (Bk. I, ch. fv, ix; Bk. WJ, che

i, ix, Bk. U1, ch. iv, xvi; Bk. IV, ch. ¥, xvi.)

Wilfer, Reginald, called Tux Curncn. A pour olerk in the drug-house of Chicksey, Veneering, and Stobbles.

Bo poor a clurk, though having a limited salary and an unlimited family, that the had never yet attained the modest otject of his ambition, which was to wear a complete new sult of clothes, hat and boots included, at one time. His biel hak ‘was brown before ho could afford a coat; his puntaloons were white at the seauss ‘and knees before he could buy a pair of boots} his boots had worn out before be could treat himself to new pantaloons; and, by the time he worked round te the hat again, that shining modern article roofedn an ancient ruin of warteus periods,

If the conventional Cherub could ever grow up and be elothed, he might bo photographed ns a portralt of Wilfer. pearance was a renaon for his being al was not put down. A stravger entering his own poor house at about tea a clock, P.94., might have been surprised to fad him sitting up to supper. So bey Jeh was he in is curves and proportions, that his old schoolmaster, meeting him in Cheapside, might have been unable to withatand the temptation of caning him on tho spot... «

‘Ile was shy, and uowilling to own to the name of Reginald, as belng too ae pirlng and selfassortiveaname, Tn his slgnatare, be used only theletter It..amd imparted what it really stood for to none but chosen friends, under the seal of confidence. Out of this, the facetious habit had arisen, fu the nelghbarbood sure rounding Mincing Lane, of making Christian names for him of adjectives and participles beginning with It, Some of these were more or less sppropriate, as Rusty, Retiring, Ruddy, Kound, Ripe, Ridiculous, Ruminative: others derived thelr poing from thelr want of application, ae Raging. Hattling, Roaring, Taf fish, But his popular name was Rumty, which, kn a moment of inepiration, fad been bestowed upon him by » gentleman of convivial habits councoted with the

beginniug of a social chorus, his leading part fa the exeor led this gentleman to the Temple of Fame, and of whieh te whole expressive burden ran— « Trurnty, iddity, row dow dow, Sing toodlely, veedtaly, bow wow wow.”* ‘Thus he was constantly addressed, even in minor notes on business, as Dest Rumty,” In answer to which he sedutely algued himself,“ Yours truly, 1% Witter. (Bk. I, ch. iv; Bk, If, cb. viii, xiii; Bk. IIL, ch. iv,xvig BE. TV ch. iv, ¥, xvi.) Wilfer, Mrs. Reginald. His wife; n tall, angular woman, very stately and impressive. (Bk. I, ch. iv, ix, xvi; Bk. Il ch, ie

xill; Bk. IIL, ch. iv, xvi; Bk. IV, ch. ¥, xvi.)

Our Mutual Pefend 487

Hor lord being cheruble, she was necessarily majestic, acconting to the prin- ‘iple which matrimonlally unites contrasts, She was much given to tying up her head fn m pocket-handkerehief knotted under herchin. ‘This head-gear, tm ‘conjunction with « pair of gloves worn within doors, she seemed to consider ‘as at once a kind of armor against miafortune (invariably assuming tt when ia Jow spirits or difficulties), and as a species of full dress.

Williams, William. A frequenter of the Six Jolly Fellowship Porters. (Bk. I. ch. vi; Bk. TI, ch, iii.)

Wrayburn, Eugene. A briefless barrister, who hates bis profes fon. He is a gloomy, indolent, unambitious, and reckless yonng man.

~Ediots tatk," said Eugene, teaning buck. folding his arms, smoking with is eyes abut, and speaking slightly through hie nose. “of energy. If there is ‘8 word in the dictionary, under any letter from A to Z, that I abominate, tt In

It is such s conventional ition! such parrot gable! What

‘the deuse! — Ath I to rush out into the street, collar the first man of a wealthy

that I meet, shake him, and say,‘ Go to law upon the rpot, you fog, and retain me, or I'l be the death of you?” Yet that would be en- orgy."

Becoming interested in Lizzie Hexam, he assists her to obtain an education; and, though he seeks her society, he does so with ‘no definite aim in view. He tells his friend, Mortimer Light- wood, —

“There fs no better girl in all this London than Lixaie Hexam, There ts no better among my people at home; no better among your people.”

“ Granted. What follows?”

“There,” sald Eugene, looking after him dublously as he paced mway to the ‘other end of the room: “you put me again upon guessing the riddic that 1 hare given up.”

“ Eugene, do you design to capture and desert this girl?”

“My dear fellow, no.”

“Do you design to marry her ?*

“My dear fellow, no.”

“Do you design to pursue her?”

* My dear fellow, Ldon't design any thing. I hare no design whatever. 1 ‘nm incapable of designs. If I conceived a design, T should speedily abandon it, exhausted by the operation."

“O Bugons, Rogeno!”

“ My dear Mortimer, not that tone of melancholy reproach, Tentreat. What ean I do more than tel! you all I know, and acknowledge my ignorance of all 1 don’t know? How does that little old song go, which, under pretenes of being eheerful, is by far the most Iugubrious 1 ever heard in my life?

‘Away with melancholy, ‘Nor dolefal changes ring On life and human folly, ‘Bat merrily, merrily sing, Pal lat* Don't let mo sing Fal Is, my dear Mortimer (which 4 comparatively unmeam ng), but let us sing that we give up guessing the riddle nltogether.”

__ lla, |

488 Sde Wickens Dierks

“Are you fo communication with this girl, Ragene? and ts what these people way true?” concede both admissions to my honorable and learned frleud”

‘Then what t# to come of it? What arm you doing? Where are you ing?”

“My dear Mortimer, . . . you are raffled by the want of another cigar. Take one of these, I entreat. Light it at mine, which ts in perfect order, 801 Now do me the justice to observe that I am doing all f own townandy selfimprovement, and that you have @ ight thrown oa those household im« plements, which, when you only saw them as in « glass darkly, you wore hastily—1 must ray hastily—inctined to depreciate, Sensible of my deficien- eles, I have surrounded myself with moral influences expresaly meant to pro mote the formation of the domestic virtues. ‘To those inilueuces, and to the {mproving society of my friends from boyhood, commend me with your best wishes."

“Ah, Eugene!" sald Lightwood aifectionately, now standing near him, #0 that they both stood In one Uttle cloud of smoke: “I would that you mnswered my three questions, What is to come of it? What are you doing? Where aro you going?”

“And my dear Mortimer,” returned Eugene, lightly fhnning away the smoke with his hand for the better exposition of his frankness of fhee and manner, “ dellevome, I would answer them Instantly If T could. Bat, to enable me to do 90, I must first have found out the troublesome conundrum long abandoned. Here it is; Eugene Wrayburn” Tapping his forehead and breast. “* Riddle- me, ridddleme-rée, perhaps you can’t tell me what this may be?? No, upon my life f can't. I give it up.”

Lizzie saves Wrayburn’s life with wonderful energy and ad- dress, nurses him tenderly through a long and dangerous sick ness, is married to him, and finds that, transformed by the power of Jove, he has 8 mine of purpose and which he turns to the best account. (Bk. I, ch. ii, ili, x, xii-xiv; Bk, Il, ch. i, tii, vi, xi, xiv-xvi; Bk. I, ch. x, xi, xvii; Bk. IV, ch. §, vi, Ix-ul, xvi, xvii.)

Wrayburn, Mrs. Eugene. See Hexam, Lizare. Wren, Jenny, See Creaver, Faxxr.

Our Mutual Prlewr. 489

PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS.

BOOK L.--Cuarran I. Jewe Hexam and his daughter find. « body in the Thame; Derejects Ridsthood's offer to xhare his tack, —If. Description of the Veneering dinner, ‘Whore Mortimer Lightwood relates the story of John Harmon and his will, and receives ‘tho news of the death of the heir by drowning: TIT, Mortimer and Eugene go to Mex ‘arm's house to muke inquiries about the body, and encounter Mr. Jullus Bandfont; they ‘sll goto the pollee-station to view the body, and Mr, Hand(ord lays himself open to sur plolons Lizale Mexam shows Charley the pictures In the fire; verdict of the coroner's Jury. —1¥. John Rokennith enpages lodgings at the house of Mr. Wilfer. ~¥. Silas Were tending bis stall at the streetoorer, 1s nocosted by Mr. Bodin, and Mr. Nom engages ‘him to read "Tho Decline and Fall ;"" Mr. Wee visits Bottin's Bowor, and commences Nix readings —VI. Miss Abbey Potterson forbids Rogue Riderhood to visit the Bix Jolly Fel lowship Porters; Mint Abbey informe Eizele Mexam of the euspletons against her father, ‘and counsels her to leave him; Lizele refuses to do this, and Mise Abbey forbids ihm a0 the houen: Charley Hexam leaves homo for school without bis fither's knowledge, — FIT, (Mr. Weeg calls upon Mr. Venus to look after himself; "* Mz. Venus puts alow value on the ‘amputated leg of Woxs. and also explains to that gentleman the reason of bis low apirite. —VIIL. Mr. Boftin visits Lightwood at his office In the Temple, and tnstructs hien to offer a reward of £10,000 for the discovery of the murderer of Harmon: he la introduced to Rupee Wrayburn; John Mokosmith appltes to Mr. Hon for the sitaation of seoretary, —IX. Mr. and Mrs. Boftin in consuitation: decide to“ goin atrong “for faahon, to Invite ‘Miss Tella Wilfer to live with them, and to adopt an orphan-cbiid and give bin John Marmon’s namo; Mr. and Mra Boftin vistt the Rev. Frank Milroy in arareh of an orphan, ‘and also the Witfers to tender thelr invitation to Miss Bella: Mr. fokemmith's agitation at unexpectedly hearing John Marmon’s name —X. The Venoerings plan the taarrtsgo of Mr, Alfred Lammmie and Misa Sophronia Akersham, and Twemlow giver away the brid Anding they havo beon mutually (mposed upon, they enter tuto a new * marrlage-con tract," to deceive the world.—XI. What constitutes “ Podsnappery;"* Mr.and Mra. Todsnap give & party on Miss Georgiana's birthday: Mrs. Laromle begins her friendship with Georglana.— XI. Ridorhood goes to Lightwood's office, and accuses Hexam of the Harmon mander: Lightwood, Wrayburn, and the inspector go to the Fellowship Porters, while Ridertiood tracks Wexam.—XIEE. Kagene discovers Lizxi Hexam through the window, watching by the fire. —XIV. They find Hexam's boat and his drowned body. —XY, John Rokesmith enters upon his duties ax Mr. Botin's secrotary ; Mr. Hoftin places ‘Woes in chargo of the Bower: Mrs Boffin aces the fhoos of the old man and the children Rokonmith objects to meoting Mr. Lightwood.—XVI. Mre. Wortin and the secretary go % seo the orphan at Netty Mizden's.—XVII. Charley Itexam asking permimion to goand ‘00 his slater, his schoolmaster decides to xo with him.

NOOK U1. —Cwarten 1. Miss Poecher catechtses Mary Anne on her parte of speech Charley Hexam and Bradley Headstone make the acquaintance of Mise Jenny Wren, who gives them an account of her oocupation; firet meeting of Hradley Headstone aud Lizzie Hexam; leaving Lizele, they encounter Weaybura.—{1. Eagenocallaupon Lizzie, ‘and persuades her to recelve Instruction at his expenso; Jenny" fancies Jenny's fasher ‘tots home intoxteated, and sho reprimands him. —IIL. Veneering’s frlends " rally rount hhim,"' and he is elected to parliament. IV, The Lammles improve the nequalntance of ‘Misa Georgiana Podsnap, and introduce her to Fascination Fledgeby.— V. Mr, Lamm breakfasts with Fledyeby at his rooms and, not liking that gentleman"smanner, threatens to pull his nose: Fledgehy apologizes, and resoneliiation follows: Fledgeby goes to the house at 8 Mary Axe, where he does basirvm ander the name of Pabsey & Co., and meets Riah, bie Jowish agent) Riah shows tim Elxsle Mexam and Jonuy Wren on the ousetop.— VL. Hurene and Mortimer, In thel* private chambers, are vialted hy the mhovlmaever and Charley Maxam; Hoxam reproachos Kugene for his atteations te

aa

490 She Wickens Pictlo:

TE.

‘Tirxle; Eageno exsaperates them by Dis coolness, and gives up Mortimer's riddle, “ What te to come of it?" —VIT. Mr. Wegg snd Mr. Venua enter into a "friendly move ™ in te fant to the dust-mounds. —VIIL. Miss Bella Wilfer visits ber father's house: Mr. Bottin sends her m purse containing £90, and she spends 1t for the bonefit of ber Gsther—TK= Sickness of Johuny the adopted orphan; hls removal to the Children’s Tospltal, whore do“ rakes hie witl,"*and diet —X. Mr. and Mra. Boma decide to provideror Sloppy. —XIe Bradley Headstone uppests to Lizale Hexam to renounce Wrayburn's attentions; Lizzie tells Jenny what the Indy "in the hollow dawn by the flare " says of Eugene. —XIT

Rokoarnith, In disgtise, goes to Rogue Riderhood"s house; hts interviews, firat with Mim Pleasant,and then with her ther. —XITL, Rokesmith removes bis disguise, and repeats ta Iimacif the circumstances attending the supposed death of John Harmon, and decides sii! to retain his amurmod character; as the secretary, he offers himself to Bela, and le telooted. —XIV. Betty Higdon develops to the secrotary her plan forrunning mway4 Rokermith completes his plan of forcing from Riderhood a recantation of his testimony ‘Ogainst Hexnm, and sends the same to Lizzlox and otty Ht)gden completes her arrange ments for running away.—XV. Bradley Headstone, seconded by Charley Hexam, seeks Lizzie again, offers himself, and is rejected: Charley's tndignation, and renanetation of his slater; Lixeio ts met by Mah, and afterwards by Kazene, who take her home, —XVT- ‘The Lammies celebrate the arrntversary of thelr wedding by a breakfast; Lightwood eon loves hisatory by relating the dissppearance of Lizzie Maxam Mrs. Lammlo begs Twem= Jow to warn Podanap against Fiedgeby.

HOOK T11.—CuarreeL. Blah goes to Fledgeby's chambers; Lammte also calle there, and tnfonms Pledgeby that thelr game ts upi Pledgeby cautions Lauale ageinat Ria, sxnd trios to draw from Mish the secret of Lizale Hexam’s retreat.—I1. Mahand Jenny ‘Wren go to tho Six Jolly Fellowship Porters to show Miss Abbey Potterson Riderhood's Aeclaration of Hoxam's innocence of the Harmon murder; Miderhoed ts run down by a ateamor, and —I11. ts barely saved from drowning. IV. Mr. and Mra. Wilfer celebrate thokt ‘wedding-anntversary : Bella tells ber father four secrets. —V. Mr, Boffin dofnes Roke- smith’s porttion; be begins to collect ™ The Lives of Minors; "* Mra. Lammile Improves Bella's acquaintance, and Bella contides to her the eeoret of the secretary's proposal. — ‘VL. Wogg and Venus, dlacussing thelr friendly move at the Bower, are visited by Mr. Hof ‘in with a toad of books on tmlsers; Mr. Boffia, with s dark lantern, makes the tour of the mounds, the friends watching him; he digs up and carries away x glass bottle — VIL. Weer tmparts to Venus the secret of his having found a will of the lateJohn Harmon in the pump) they carry this will to Mr. Venas's place to examine #t, and Venus insists upon keeping tts they discuss the course to be pursued. — VIII. Betty Higden on her travels; ber falnting-At in the markat-place and the second one, in which she Ss relleved by Widerhood, serving ax deputy tock-keeper; her dlacorery by Lizzie Mexam, and her Acath.—IX. Ligale tells Bella her story, and tho reason of her concealment: Bella and *honscrotary on better terms; Fageno Wrayburn triew unsuccessfully to obtain Lizzio's address from Jéeany Wren. —X. Mr. Dolls promises to odtatn the direction for bien; Engeno informs Ll ghtwood of his being watched by the achoolmaster, and they indulge Int tho pleasuresof thechase. — XI. Headstone and Riderhood meet at the Temple gate. — XE. Mr.and Mre. Lammie, having broken down in thetr scheme against the Podsnaps, tarm theirattention tothe Bonne; Mrs. Lammalo begs Fledgeby to use his tntuence with ah, —XIIL. Ho nots accordingly: Fledgehy also intercedes for Twomlow, and opens the eyes of Jonny Wren.—XI¥. Venus makes known to Mr. Boma the (rendly move of Sila ‘Woes: Me. Boffin, conooalod by Venus, hears Weaz"s plan of bringing his nose to the grindstone; Interriew betwoen Mra. Yammie and Mr. Boftin. — XV. Mr. Thoffin Menouncos Tokeanlth, and sees Bella rightod; Bella's indignation at Mr. Bothn, and her apology to he secretary Bella rolingulahes all abe has recetved from the HoMins, and secretly Teaved the house.— XVI. She gocs to her father's office, where Rokearnith follows her, whona Jore"sho ncw nccopte —XVIT. Mra. Lammle reminds Twomlow of their confidence Air. Dolls brings Wraybarn the deslred addrens.

BOOK LV.—Cnarren f, Eugene in his bost passos the Plashwater Welr MDI Lock Lept by Riderhood; he Ie followed by Bradley Headstone tn the disguise of & bargeman Bradley witnesses the meoting of Eugene with Lingle Hexam, end retums to she ‘Riderhood confirms his suspicion that the schoolmaster ix copying his dress tn hile

Our sau

‘=I1. Mr. and Mra, Carumlo breakfast with the Bomins: thelr plot ls understood, and their Plans frustrated. —I1L, Wegg “drops down" on Mr. Hofin, and, after ahowing him the will, sees him home.—I¥. John Rokennith and Bells aro married; how Mrs. Wilfor rrcolved the news. —V. Bella's housekeeping. —VI. Xugene and Lizzie moot by eppotat- ‘ment on the river-bank:: he urges his sult, bat Lizzie finmly declines to exteourage him, 08 account of the difference of their poxitions in socloty, and bega him to leave her; Eugene, ‘walking by the river after their loterview, is axsrulted by Headstone, and hia body thrown, Into tho waters ho ts rescued by Lixzie.— VIL. Hradley Headstone retums to the locke house; he ts dogged by Riderhood, who sees him resume his own dress, and throw hie Aisguieo into the river, Charley Mexam upbralds Headstone, and drops his acquaintances Rogue Kiderhood catches his Osh. — VIII. Pledgeby attempts to learn from Jenny Wrest he placo of Lixaio Hexam’s retreats Fledgeby is caned by Lammle, and bas his wounds Grosset by Jenny —1X, Jenny comes to an understinding of Wah's true charac Fledgeby sonds Riah Lis discharge: death of Jenny's father; Mortimer desires Jenny’ presence at the bedalde of Rugene.—X Jeuny dlvines that Eugene wishes to marry Lizzie. XI, Bradley Headstone's meeting with Rov. Mr, Milvey, end agitation at the news of zzio’s approaching marriage; the marriage of Eugene and Lizsie.—XIt, Nokeamith encounters Lightwood, and Is recognized as Julians Handford: John goes with the in- apector of police and Hella to the Fellowship Porters on a matter of identification; Jolin ‘ukes Bella to thelr new home in London, —XIIL. Mra. Boil relates to Bella the story of ‘her husband's identity, how she had found him out, and how they had planned to tert her Jove for him. — XIV, Weg fiuds Venus in improved spirits, aud appotnta a time for bring Ing Lottn tothe grindstone; Were finds his friendly move checkmated, and tx finally di- posed of by Sloppy.—XV, Ridorhood visits Headstone In his school: Headstone goos to Tiderhood’s lock, and refuses hia demands; finding he cannot get rid of him, he setzes him, forees bisa Into thelock, aad both are drowned, — XVI, Mrs. Wilfor, with Mise Lavinis ‘and Georgo Sampson, visit Bolla in her now home; Arst Intarviow between Sloppy and Jonny Wren; Mr. and Mra Weayburn visit Mr. and Mrs John Harmon. —XVIL Mor Aimer takes & final look at wostety.

1 Prienv. 491

Doctor Marigold.

‘OnsONNALLY published ns part of the collection of tales entitled “ Doctor Mart gold’ Prescriptions," which formed the regular Christmas number of “All the ‘Year Round" for 1865. ‘Tho story takes its name from » * Cheap Jack," or travel Lng auctioneer, who relates In a most natural and entertatuing way the history of his fe,

OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Joskin, A chuckle-headed country-fellow, who volunteers a bid of twopence for Doctor Marigold’s sick child, when he appears with her on the foot-board of his cart.

Marigold, Doctor. The narrator of the story. He describes him- self us “a middle-aged man, of a broadish build, in cords, leggings, and a sleeved waistcoat, the strings of which is always gone behind,” with a white hat, and a shawl round his neck, worn loose and easy. He isa “ Cheap Jack,” or itinerant auctioneer, born on the bigh- way, and named “ Doctor” out of gratitude and compliment to his mother’s accoucheur. He marries, and has one child, a little girl, but loses both daughter and wife, and continues his travels alone. Coming across a deaf-and-dumb child, however, who, he fancius, resembles his lost daughter, he adopts her, and sends her to a school for deaf-mutes, to be educated ; but she falls in love with a young man who is also deaf and dumb, and he is forced to give her up. She sails for China with her husband, but returns, after an absence of a few years, bringing with her a little daughter who can both hear and talk; and the measure of the Doctor's happiness is ones more full.

Doctor Maclgold. 493

Marigold, Mrs. Wife of Doctor Marigold; a Suffolk young woman whom he courted from the footboard of his cart.

She wasn'ta bad wife; butshe had a temper. If whe could hare parte? with that one article at a sacrifice, I would n't have ewopped hor away in ex ‘ebange for nay other woman tn England, Not that I ever did #wop her away; for we lived together til! she died. and that was thirteen year. Now, my lords sand Jadies and gontlefolks all, 1 Il let you into @ secret; though you won't be Ueve it, ‘Thirteen year of temper in a palace would try the worst of you; but ‘thirteen year of temper in a cart would try the best of you. You are kept so ‘very close to ft ina cart, you see, There ’s thousands of couples among you getting on like sweet ile upon a whetstone in houses five and #lx pairs of stairs high, that would go to the Divorce Court in cart. Whether the jolting makes it worse, T don't undertake to decide; but In a cart It doca come home to you, and atick to you. Wiolence In acart is 40 wiolent, and aggrawation in.« cart Is so aggrawating,

Wemight hare had such a pleasant life! A roomy cart, with the large goods nung outside, and the bed slung underneath it when on the road, an Iron pot and & kettle, w fireplace for the cold weather, a chimney for the smoke, a hang- ing-whelf and a cupboard, a dog. and a horse: what more do you want? You draw off upon a bit of turf In a green lane or by the roadside; you hobble your ‘old horse, and turn him grazing; you light your fire upon the ashes of the last ‘visitors; you cook your stew; and you would n't call the emperor of France your father, But have a temper in the cart, flinging language and the hardest goods instock at you; and where are you then? Put a name to your feelings.

My dog knew as well when she was on the turn ax I did. Before she broke ‘out, he would give a howl, and bolt. Mow he knew It was a mystery to mo: but the sure and cortain knowledge of it would wake him up out of his soundest sleop; und he would give a howl, and bolt. At such times £ wished I was him.

At such times, she does not spare her little daughter, but treats her with great cruelty. When, however, the child dies, she takes to brooding, and tries to drown remorse in liquor; but one day, see ing a woman beating a child unmercifully, she stops her ears, runs away like a wild thing; and the next day she is found in the river.

Marigold, Little Sophy. Their daughter; a sweet child, shamefully abused by her mother, but dearly loved by her father, to whom she is quite devoted. She takes a bad low fever, and dies in his arms, while he is convulsing a rustic audience with his jokes and witty speeches,

Marigold, Willum. Doctor Marigold’s father; a “lovely one, in his time,” at the “ Cheap Jack " work.

Mim. A showman, who is a most ferocious swearer, and who has avery hoarse voice. He is master to Pickleson, and step-father to Sophy, whom he disposes of to Doctor Marigold for half a dozen pairs of braces.

Pickleson, called Ruxatpo pr Vetasco An amiable though

«

is The Dickens Mictlonacp.

timid giant, let out to Mim for exhibition by his mother, who spends the wages he noceives.

‘He was «languid young man, which I attribute to the distance betwixt his extremities. He had a little head, and leas fn it; he had weak eyes and weal knoes; and altogether you could n't look at him without feeling that thero war greatly too much of him both for his joints and his mind.

Bophy. A deafand-dumb girl adopted by Doctor Marigold after the death of his own daughter Sophy. She becomus greatly attached to her new father, who loves her fervently in return, and is very kind and patient with hor, trying at first to teach her himself to read, and then sending her to an institution for deaf mutes, to be educated. She subsequently marries a man. afllicted like herself; goes abroad with him; and, after an absence of over five years, returns home with a little daughter, Doctor Marigold thus describes their meeting : —

Thad started at a real sound; and the sound was on the steps of the cart. It was the light, burried tread of m child coming clambering up. ‘That tread of ‘aohild had once been so familiar to me, that, for half s moment, I believed £ ‘was a-golng to see a little ghost.

But the touch of # real child was la{d upon the outer handle of the door, and ‘the handle turned, and the door opened a little way, and & real child peeped in, —a bright little comely girl with large dark eyes.

Looking full at me, the tiny creature took off her mite of a straw hat, and w= quantity of dark carls fell all about her fuce. ‘Then sho opened her Ups, and aid In a pretty voice,

* Grandfather!”

“Ah, my God!” Tories out. ‘She can speak!”

“Yes, dear grandfather. And Iam to ask you whether there wns ever any ‘one that I remind you of?”

In o moment, Sophy was round my neck, ws well as the child; and her tins band was a-wringing my hand with his fuce hid; and we all had to shake our- selves together before we could got orer It. Aud when we did begla to get ‘over it, and I saw the pretty child a-talking, pleased and quick, and «ager aud busy, to her mether, fa the signs that I had first taught her mother, the happy ‘and yot pitying teare fell rolling down my face,

Barbox Brothers,

BARBOX BROTHERS AND CO.

‘Turis story —tor “Barbox Brothers and Co.” is merely s pendant or seqae to“ Barbox Brothers "—ts one of a number of tales included in Mugby Juno Hon," tho extra Christmas number of “ All the Year Round" for 1908, ‘The her of the story, who i also the narrator of it, is at first a clerk in the firm of Barbe Brothers, then @ partner, and finally the firm itself. From being a moody, sett contained, and unhappy person, made so by the lumbering cares and the accumn- tated disappointments of long monotonous years, he Is changed, under cireum- Mances that awaken and develop his better nature, {nto a thoroughly cheerful man, with oyes and thoughts for others, and hand ever ready to help those who need and deserre help; and thus, taking, as {t were, thousands of partners Into the solitary firm, he becomes “« Barbox Brothers and Co.”

OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Barbox Brothers. See Jackson, Mr.

Beatrice. A careworn woman, with her hair turned gray, whom * Barbox Brothers” had once loved and lost. She is the wife of Tresham. See Jackson (Mn.); TResHant

Tackson, Mr. A former clerk in the public notary and bill-brok- ing firm of Barbox Brothers, who, after imperceptibly becoming the sole representative of the house, at length retires, and obliter ates it from the face of the carth, leaving nothing of it but its name ‘on two portmantcaus, which he has with him one rainy night when he leaves a train at Mugby Junction.

‘Aman within fire years of fifty, eltber way, who had turned gray too soon, ke a neglected fire; s man of pondering habit, brooding carriage of the head, 495

196 The Dickens Mictlonary.

and suppressed Internal voloe; aman with many indications on him of having been mnch alone,

With a bitter recollection of his lonely childhood, of the en- forced business, at once distasteful and oppressive, in which the best years of his life have been spent, of the double faithlessness of the only woman he ever loved and the only friend he ever trusted, his birthday, as it annually recurs, serves but to intensify his evar present sense of desolation; and he resolves to abandon all thought of a fixed home, and to pass the rest of his days in travelling, hoping to find relief in a constant change of scene. It is after three o'clock of a tempestuous morning, when, acting on a sudden impulse, he leaves the train at Mugby Junction. At that black hour, he cannot obtain any conveyance to the inn, and willingly accepts the invitation of “Lamps,” an employé of the railway company, te try the warmth of his little room for a while. He afterwards makes the acquaintance of “ Lamps’s” daughter Phebe, a poor bed- ridden girl; and their happy disposition, strong mutual affection, peaceful lives, modest self-respect, and unaffected interest in those around them, teach him a lesson of cheerfulness, contentment, and moral responsibility, which the experience of years had failed to impart.

On a visit, one day, to a distant town, he is suddenly accosted by a very little girl, who tells him she is lost. He takes her to his hotel, und failing to discover who she is, or where she lives, he makes arrangements for her staying over night, and amuses him- self with her childish prattle, and her enjoyment of her novel situa- tion, Tho little one’s mother at last appears, and proves to be the woman he had loved, and who had so heartlessly eloped with his most trusted friend years before. She tells him that she bas had five other children, who are all in their graves; that her husband is very ill of a lingering disorder, and that he believes the curse off bis old friend rests on the whole household. Will Mr. Jackson forgive them? ‘The injured man —now so changed from what he once was — responds by taking the child to her father, placing her in his arms, and invoking a blessing on her innocent head. “ Live and thrive, my pretty baby!" he says, —“live and prosper, and become, in time, the mother of other little children, like the angels who behold the Father's face.”

Lamps.” A railway servant employed at Mugby Junction father of Phoebe. He is a very hard-working man, being om‘

Barboy Brothers. 497

fourteen, fifteen, or eighteen hours a day, and sometimes even twenty-four hours at a time. But he is always on the bright side and the good side. He has a daughter who is bed-ridden, and to whom he is entirely devoted. Bosides supplying her with books and newspapers, he takes to composing comic songs for her amusement, and —what is still harder, and at first goes much against his grain —to singing them also.

Phosbe. His daughter; crippled and helpless in consequence of a fall in infancy. She supports herself by making Ince, and by teach ing a few little children. Notwithstanding her great misfortune, she is always contented, always lively, always interested in others, of all sorts. She makes the acquaintance of Mr. Jackson (“ Bar- box Brothers”); and her pure and gentle life becomes the guiding star of his.

Polly. Daughter of Beatrice and Tresham; a little child found by “ Barbox Brothers” in the streets of a large town. See JACKSON, Mr.

Tresham. A former friend of * Barbox Brothers,” who advances him in business, and takes him into his private confidence. In return, Tresham comes between him and Beatrice (whom “ Barbox Broth- érs" loves), and takes her from him. This treachery after a time re~ ceives its fitting punishment in poverty, and loss of health and chil- dren; but “Barbox Brothers," whose awakened wrath had long seemed inappeasable, is made better at last by the discipline and experience of life, and generously forgives those who had forced him to undergo so sharp a trial.

The Bon at Mugby.

‘Tris tale, as originally published, formed the third portion of“ Magby Juso Mon," the extra Christmas member of “All the Year Round” for 1808 Ittsa satirical description, by a young waiter, of the ordinary Rogtishs rallway refresh. ment-room, with ft» eswdart eandwiches, tte state cake and pastry, ite wretched tea and coffve, and Its abominable butterscotch, as compared with the exonllent provision made tn France for the entertainment and comfort of travellers. ‘The Proprictress of the Refreshment-Room at Mugby Junction crosses the Chamnel for tho expross purpove of looking into the French method of conducting suet: esta Ushments,

* Potting every thing together," sald our mists, “ French refreshmenting comes to titi and. oh, I comes toa nlce total! Firs, estable things to eat, ant Grinkable things ke viens"

A groan from the young ladies, Rep' up by ma.

“Second, convenience, and eren elegance."*

Another groan from the young ladies, kep" up by me,

“Third, moderate charges."

‘This time « groan from mo, kep’ up by the young Indies,

Fourth, —and bere," says our minis, "I claim your angriet armpathy,— attention, ‘eommon etvitity, nay, even politeness t ** :

Mo and tho young ladles regularly raging mad all together.

“And Teannnot, in Concluaton,” says our miss, with hor spitaftiliest «ner, “ give you ® comploter pletur of that dosplesble nation (after what X have related), thas masuring you that they would n't bear our constitutional ways and noble Independence at Mughy Jonction for @ single month; and that they would turn us to the rightetowt, and pat nother ayntem in oUF places as soon as look at us, — perhaps sosoer, for do Bot -eMere they have thie "ood taste 10 eare to look wt ua twice.”

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Bxekiel. “Tho boy at Mugby;” an attendant in the Refreshment Room at Magby Junction, whose proudest boast is, that “It never yet refreshed a mortal being.”

tos

L

Ede Boy at Mughy 499

‘Up ina corner of the Down Refreshment-Room at Mugby Junction, in the ‘height of twenty-seven croas draughts (I *ve often counted ’em while they brush tthe first-class halr twenty-seven ways), behind the bottles, among the glasses, ‘bounded on the nor'west by the beer, stood pretty fur to the right of m metallio ‘object that °s at times the tea-nrn, and at times the soup-tureen, nocording to the nature of the last twaug imparted to {ts contents, which are the ame ground- work, fended off from the traveller by a barrier of stale aponge-cakes erected stop of the vounter, and Instly exposed sideways to the glare of our missis's tye,—you ask a boy so sitiwated, next time you stop In a hurry at Mugby, Sor any thing to drink; you take particular notice that he "ll try to seem not to ‘near you; that he ‘Il uppear in w absent manner to survey the ine through « transparent medium composed of your head and body; and that he woo't serve fou as long as you can posalbly bear It. ‘That ’s me,

Puff, Miss. One of the “young Indies” in the eame Refreshment- Room.

Sniff, Mr. “A regular insignificant cove” employed by the mis tress of the Refreshment-Room.

He looks arter the aawdust department {n a back-room, and ts sometimes, ‘when we aro very hard put to {t, let behind the counter with a corkscrew, but never when it ean be helped; his demeanor towards the public being disgusting tervile, How Mrs. Salif erer como x0 fur to lower herself us to marry him, I don’t know; bat I suppose he does and T should think he wished he did n't, for he leads a awful life, Mrs, Sniff could n’t be much harder with him if he was publie.

Sniff, Mrs, His wift; chief assistant of the mistress of the Re- freshment-Room.

She's the one! She % the one as you ‘Il notice to be always looking another ‘way from you, when yon look at her. Sho ’s the one with the small walst buckled In tight fn front, and with the lace cuff at her wrists, which she buts on the edge of the counter before her, and stands asmoothing while the cublie foams. This «moothing the cuffs, and looking another way while the public foums. Is the last accomplishment taught to the young ladies ax come to ‘Mugby to be finished by our mlssis; and It" always taught by Mrs. Sniff

‘When our missis went away upon her journey, Mrs, Sniif was left n charge. She did hold the public in check most beautiful. In all my time, I never seo half so many cups of tea given without mili to peop.e as wanted It with, nor half so many cups of tea with milk given to people as wanted it without. When foaming ensued, Mrs, Sniff would say, “Then you Mt better settle it among yourselves, and change with one another.” It was a most highly delicious lark.

Whiff, Miss, An attendant in the Refreshment-Room.

Two Ghost Stories.

———

1, THE TRIAL FOR MURDER.

‘Taw first of the two stories reprinted under he above title wat originally pub: Mshed ax @ portion of * Dootor Marigold’s Prescriptions,” the extra Christmas number of “All the Year Round” for 1865. It was the «ixth of the “ Prescrip: tions,” and was labelled “To be takon with a grain of ealt.” Its felgned to hava been written by “a Ilterary character” whom the doctor discovers fn travelling about the country, and to have been Intonded (as well aa the tales accompanying It) for the amusement of his adopted deafand-dumb daughter Sophy. It purports to be an account of circumstances preceding and attending a certain noted trial for murder, The narrator, who is summoned to serve on the Jury, is haunted, frou the time he first hears of the deed until the close of the trial, by the apparition ofthe murdered man, Though seen by no one else, it mingles with the Jory and the officers of the court, looks at the judge's notes over his shoulder, confronts tha defendant's witnesses, and stands at the elbow of the counsel, invariably caasing some trepidation or disturbance on the part of each, and, a It wore, dambly and darkly overshadowing thelr minds.

Pinally the Jury retamed tnto court at ten minates past twelve. ‘The muntered max ‘tt that timo stood direotly apposite the Jary-box, on the other wide of the court. ART took my place, his eyes rented on me with great attention: he seemed antiated, and slowly shook great gray veil, which he carried on his arm for the frst time, over his head and whole form. As I gave in our verdict, “Gullty,” the vell collapsed, all was gone, and his place was empty.

Bealdes those abore mentioned (the names of none of whom are given), the following are the only

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED,

Derrick, John. Valet to the haunted juryman. Harker, Mr. An officer in charge of the jury, and sworn to hald them in safe-keeping. 00

Swo Ghout Stories. bot

IL THE SIGNAL-MAN,

‘Tax second Ghost Story ts sn account of an incident oocurring on one of the branch Ines leading from Mugby Junction. It forms the fourth division of the ‘extra Christmas number bearing that name, which was published {n 1806, tn con nection with All the Year Round." It Is supposed to be related by “ Barbox Brothers,” who makes a careful study of the Junction and its victaity, and eommunt- cates tc hls poor bedridden friend Phmbe the substance of what he sees, hears, oF otherwise picks upon thematn Iine and Its fiye branches, Exploring Branch Line No. 1, he visite a aignal-man who Ja stationed in a deep cutting near the entrance of a tunnel, Ie ts a cool, vigilant, clear-headed, and educated man, who had been, when young, a student of natural history, and had attended lectures, but had run wild, misused his opportunities, gone down, and never risen again. Notwith: standing his tntelligence, and hts freedom from any taint of superstition, he ts cous tinually haunted by astrange apparition, which, just before any Mural accident, stands ty the red light at the mouth of the tunnel, and with one hand over Ite eye, ax Af to abut out the frightful scene about to take place, cries Ffotloa! Below there! Look out! For God's ake, clear the way!" ‘Twice has this occurred, and been followed by accident and death; and now the figure has been seen and heard again. The visitor goes away. hardly knowing how he ought to act in view of bis knowledge of the man’s state of mind; but he finally revolves to offer to acoom- pany him to awive medical practitioner, and to take his opinion.

Next ovening was a lovely evening, and T walked out early to onjoy tt. Tho mun was ‘not yet quite down when I traversed the field-path near the top of the deep cutting. £ ‘would extend my walk for an hour, I sald to myself,—half an hour on, and halfan hour ‘back,—and it would then be time to go to my signal-man's box.

Before parvulag my stroll, I stepped to the beink, and mechanteally looked down from the point from which K had first woon him, T cannot deworibe tho thrill that sstzed pom ‘te, when, close at the mouth of the tunnel, I saw the appearance of a man, with his left Aleove across his eyes, passionately waving his right arm,

The nameless horror that oppremed mo pamed in a moment; for fa a moment I exw that this appearance of & man was a man indecd, and that there was a Little group of cher men, standing at a short distance, to whom he seemed to be reboarstiy the gesture he made. Tho dangertight was not yet lighted. Against its shafi, a littie low but, ene tirely new to me, had been made of some wooden supports and (srpaulin, It looked ne ‘oigier than a bod.

‘With an trroniatiblo senso that something was wrong,—with « flashing, self-ropronch~ ful fear that fxtal mischief isd come of my leaving the man there and cauxing no one to bo sent to overlook or correct what he did,—J descended the notebed path with all whe speed T could make.

™ What {a the matter?” T asked the men,

» Signalman Killed thls morning, als."

__,

Ede Wickens Olctlonary.

502

“Not the man belonging to that box? “Yom ne” | “Not the man I kaow? * ;

“ You will recognize him, alr, if you Knew him," ald the man who spske for tt others, solemnly uncovering bis own head, and raising an end of the tarpauliny “for B {ce Is quits composed." i

“Ohi how did this bappen? how did this happen?" T asked, tursing from one | ‘ssocher, as the butclosed in again.

“Ho was cut down by an engine, alr, No man In England knew his work bettet Dut, somehow, he was not clear of the outer rail, Ts was Just wt road day. He ha track the Light, and had the lamp iu bis hand. As the engine came out of the tanne ‘is back was towards her, and she cut him down. ‘That man drove her, and was showia Row ithappened. Show the gentleman, Tom." . . «

“Coming round tho eurve in the tannel, sir,” ho auld," saw him af the end, 1k fs If T asw him down % perepectivegians There was no time to check spend: nd new him to be vory careful, As he didn't seem to take hood of the whistle, f abut | ‘¢0f when we were running down upon him, and called to him as loud we E eould eal."

™ What did you may #"*

"-Teald, ‘Below there! Look outf Look out! For God's sake, clear the way f°"

Ttarted.

“ANI {twas a dreadful time, alr. I never left off eailling to him. I put thie an Defore my eyes not to wee} And I waved thie arm to the inst: but It was x0 men”

Holitan Romance.

‘Tris exquisitely humorous story was written expressly for “Our Young Folks" (a Juvenile magazine Issued by the publishers of this volume), {a which J appeared during the months of January, March, April, and May, 1808, INustrated ‘with four full-page woodcuts from designs by John Gilbert. It was also brought out In England, in Mr. Dickens's own periodical, “AN the Year Round,” in Jan- uary, February, and March of the same year. ‘The story is in four parts, of which the first, supposed to be written by a young gentleman of eight yeats of age, ex- plains “how what comes ufter came to be written.” It contains wn ncoount of two ‘small boys, who “ make believe ” that they are married to two little girls, and that they are all high and mighty pervonages, with relatives and friends of the same stamp. Finding, however, that the“ grown-up people won't do what they ought to do,” nod refuse to allow thelr claims, they agree, that, during the approaching holidays, they will “educate the grown-up people” by hinting to them how things ought to be, yelling their meaning under s mask of romance. They accordingly write three amusingly absurd stories, in which the children act the part of men snd women, while the men and women are treated as if they were children. In relation to this charming piece of nonsense, Br. Dickens thus wrote to his frlend nd publisher, Mr. James T. Fields: —

“Thope the Americans will see the Joke of * Holiday Romance.” ‘The writing nooms to mo #0 Like children's, that dull folks (on any side of any water) might, perhaps, rate it no- tordingly. Ixhould like to be beside you when you read It, and particularly * The Pirate 8 ‘tory.’ It made me laugh to that extent, that my people here thought 1 was out of -ay ‘wits, until I gave It to them to read, when they did ikewise."*

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED. Alicia, Princess, ‘The heroine of Miss Alice Rainbird’s romance;

eldest child of King Watkins tho First, and god-daughter of the good fairy Grandmatina, who gives her a magic fth-bone, which SOL

504

‘ean only o¢ used once, but which is warranted to bring her, that ‘once, whatever she wishes for, provided she wishes for it at the right time. The princess is a notable housewife, and is also avery motherly girl, taking sole charge of her eighteen brothers and six ters, She has great good sense, and-refrains from ating her magie Present until some great exigency shall arise. But when, at last, her father informs her that his money is all gone, and that he has no means of getting any more, though he has tried very hard, and has tried all ways, she thinks the right time must have come for testing the virtue of her god-mother’s gift, and she therefore wishes it were quarter-day; and immediately it is quarter-day, and the king’s quarter's salary comes rattling down the chimney, More- over, her god-mother appears, changes the coarse attire of the princess into the splendid raiment of a bride, and whisks her off to. church, whore she is married to Prince Cerfainpersonio, after which there is a magnificent wedding-feast.

‘When Grandmnrinn had drunk herlove to the young couple, and Prinoe Certainpersonio had made a speech, and everybody lind oried, * Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!" Grandmarina announced to the king and queen, that, fn future, thers Would beelght quarter days In every your, except in leap-yenr, when there would be ten. She then turned to Certalapersonio and Alicia, and sald, “ My dears, you will have thirty-five children, and they will all be good and beautiful Seventeen of your children will be boys, and eighteen will be girls, ‘The hair of the whole of yourchildren willeurl naturally. ‘They will never have the measles, and will have recovered from the whooplig-cough before being born”

Alicumpaine, Mrs, One of the characters in Miss Nettie Ashe ford’s romance; a little friend of Mr. and Mrs. Orange, whom she invites toa small juvenile party” of grown-up people, See Asn rorp, Miss Nerrre.

Ashford, Miss Nettie. A child of seven; pretended bride of William Tinkling, Esquire (aged eight), and author of @ romance, the scene of which is laid in “a most delightful country to live im,” where “the grown-up people are obliged to obey the children, and are never allowed to sit up to supper, except on their birthdays” See Tixxtixa, WitcraM, Esquire.

Black, Mrs. One of Mrs, Lemon's pupils in Miss Nettio Ash- ford’s romance, She is a grown-up cbild, who is always at play, or gadding about and spoiling her clothes, besides being “as pert and as flouncing minx as ever you met with in all your days.”

Boldheart, Captain. Hero of Master Robin Redforth’s romance He is master of the schooner “Beauty,” and greatly distinguishes lumself by various valiant exploits, notably his capture of “The

Bichens Mictlonarp.

Mollvay Romance 505

Scorpion,” commanded by an old enemy, the Latin-grammar Mas ter, whom he turns adrift inan open boat, with two ours, a compass, 4 bottle of rum, a small cask of water, a piece of pork, » bag of biscuit, and a Latin grammar. He afterwards finds him on a lonely island, and rescues him from the hands of the natives, who are cannibals; but, when he subsequently discovers him plotting to give him up to the master of another vessel (“ The Family"), he incontinently hangs the traitor at the yard-arm.

Boozey, William. One of the crew of “The Beauty,” reseved from drowning by Captain Boldheart, and ever afterwards his de- voted friend.

Brown. A vicious (grown-up) boy, greedy, and troubled with the gout, in Miss Nettie Ashford’s romance. See Agnronp, Miss Nettie.

Certainpersonio, Prince. A young gentleman who becomes the husband of the Princess Alicia, See Anrcra, Parxcrss.

Drowvey, Miss. A schoolmistress in partnership with Miss Grimmer. The opinion of their pupils is divided as to “which is the greatest beast.”

Grandmarina, Fairy. God-mother of the Princess Alicia. See Atiora, Princess.

Grimmer, Miss. A schoolmistress. See Drowvey, Miss.

Latin-Grammar Master, The. An old teacher and enemy of Captain Boldheart. See Borpneanr.

Lemon, Mrs. The proprietress of a Preparatory Schoo! for grown- up pupils, who figures in Miss Netti Ashford’s romance. See Asn- vorp, Miss Nerrim.

Orange, Mr. James, The “husband” of Mrs, Orange.

Orange, Mrs, A character in Miss Nettio Ashford'’s romance; “a truly sweet young creature,” who has the misfortune to be sadly plagued by a numerous family of grown-up “ children,” include ing two parents, two intithate friends of theirs, one god-father, two god-mothers, and an aunt. See Astrorp, Miss Nerrm.

Peggy. Lord-chamberlain at the court of King Watkins the First, in Miss Alice Rainbird’s romance.

Pickles. A fishmonger in th same story.

Rainbird, Alice. The “bride” of Robin Redforth, and the author of the romance of which the Princess Alicia is the heroine, See Arica (PRixcras), and Reprorta (Ligorexaxt-Coxo- wet Ronr),

es

606 Ede Dickens Dictlonary.

Redforth, Lieutenant-Colonel Robin. Cousin to William Tinkling, Esquire. He is a young gentleman aged nine, whe assumes the part of a pirate, and affects to be peculiarly lawless and blood-thirsty. The romance which contains the story of Cap- tain Boldheart is from his pen, See Bo-pusant, Cartan.

Tinkling, William, Esquire, Author of the introductory por tion of the romance, and editor of the other portions. He is eight years old; and to him Miss Nettie Ashford is “married " in the right- hand closet in the corner of the dancing-school where they firet met, witha ring (a green one) from Wilkingwater’s toy-shop. His bride, and the bride of his friend, Lieutenant-Colonel Robin Red- forth, being in captivity at the school of Drowvey and Grimmer, the two young gentlemen resolve to cut them out on a Wednesday when walking two and two. The plan fails, however; and Tink- ling’s bride brands him as a coward. He demands «court-martial, which is granted and assembles ; the Emperor of France, the Presi= dent of the United States, and a certain admiral, being among the members of it. The verdict of “not guilty” ison the point of being rendered, when an unlooked-for event disturbs the general re- joicing. ‘This is no other than the Emperor of France’s aunt eatch- ing hold of his hair, ‘The proceedings abruptly terminate, and the court tumultuously dissolves.

Tom. Cousin to Captain Boldheart; a boy remarkable for bis cheekiness and unmannerliness.

‘Watkins the First, King. A character in Miss Alice Rain- bird’s romance; the manliest of his sex, and husband of a queen who is the loveliest of hers.

‘They had nineteen children, and were always having more, Seventeen of these children took care of the baby; and Alicia, the eldest, took care of them all. Tholr ages varied from seven years to seven months,

See Auicra, Parxcess.

White. A palo bald child (a grown-up one) with red whiskers

who is a pupil in Mrs, Lemon’s Preparatory School.

George Silverman's Cxplanation.

‘Tus tale was written expressly for “The Atlantic Monthly,” and was published th that magazine in the months of January, February, and March, 1868, It wae republished, the same year, in “All the Year Round.”

“ OHARAOTERS INTRODUCED.

Fareway, Adelina. Pupil of George Silverman, who falls in love with her, and finds his love reciprocated, but resigns her to another out of pure self-depreciation and unworldliness,

Fareway, Lady. Her mother; widow of the late Sir Gaston Fareway, baronet; a penurious and managing woman, handsome, well-preserved, of somewhat large stature, with a steady glare in her great round eyes. She presents Mr, George Silverman to a living of two hundred a year, in North Devonshire, but imposes the condition that he shall help her with her correspondence, accounts, and various little things of that kind, and that he shall gratuitously direct her daughter’s studies.

Fareway, Mr. Her second son; a young gentleman of abilitios much above the average, but idle and luxurious, who for a time reads with Mr. Silverman.

Gimblet, Brother. An elderly drysalter; a man with a erabbed face, a lange dog’s-eared sbirt-collar, and a spotted blue neckerchief, reaching up behind to the crown of his head. He is an expounder in Brother Hawkyard’s congregation.

Hawkyard, Mr. Verity, of West Bromwich. George Silver man’s guardian or patron; a yellow-faced, peak-nosed man, who is an exhorter in a congregation of an obscure denorination, among

wr

608 Fhe Wickens Wietlonary.

whom he is ealled Brother Hawkyard. He is given to boasting, and has a habit of confirming himself in a parenthesis, as if, know- ing himself, he doubted his own word. ‘Thus he tells his ward, —

“Tama servant of the Lord, George, and I have beon a good servant to hilm {1 have) these five and thirty yearn: the Lord haa had @ good servant tn me, ‘snd he knows it.”

From the first [says George Silverman), I could not Itke this farniiiar knowledge of the ways of the sublime, luscrutable Almighty, on Brother ‘Hawkynrd’s part. As I grew a litte wiser, and #till n little wiser, I lked i lets and less. . . . Before the knowledge became forced upon me, that, outnde thelr place of meeting, these brothers and elaters were no better than the rest of the human family, but ou the whole were, to put the case mildy, ‘as bad as mont, in respect of giving short welght in thefr shops, and not spealke Ing the truth. —T aay, before this knowledge became forced upon mo, thelr prov ix addresses, thelr inordinate coneelt, thelr daring {ignormnee, thelr Investment of the Supreme Ruler of heaven and earth with their own miserable mean ‘nesses and littlenesses, greatly shocked me.

Bilverman, George. Tho narrator of the story; bass a cellar in Preston. He thus describes his parents :—

‘Mother hud the gripo and clutch of poverty upon her fhee, upon her figure, ‘and, not least of all, upon her voice. Her sharp and high-pitched words were ‘aqueesed out of her, ax by the compression of bony fingers on w leathern baggy and she had o way of roiling her eyes about and about the cellar, as she scolded, that was gaunt and hungry. Father, with his shoulders rounded, would sit it the empty grate, until she would pluek: the stool from under lim, aod bid hhn go bring some money home. ‘Then he ‘would dismally ascend the steps; and I, holding my ragged shirt and trousers together with a hand (ty only braces), would felnt and dodge from mother's porsuing grasp at my hair,

“4 worldly little dovit” was mother's usual name for me. Whether I erted for that Twas in the dark, oF for that {t was cold, of for that Twas hungey; or whothor I squeezed myself into a warm corner when there was a fire, or mto ‘voraciously when there was food,—she would still say, *“O yon worldly little devil!” And tho sting of st was, that T quite well kuew myself to be a worldly Uttle devil; worldly ax to wanting to be honsed and warmed; worldly mx to wanting to be fed; worldly as to the greed with which I inwardly compared haw much I got of those good things with how much father and mother got, when, rarely, thore good things were gotng,

While still a small child, George loses his father and mother, who die miserably of a fever ; is taken from the cellar in a halfstarved, state; and is handed over by the authorities to Brother Hawkyard, who, a8 it seems, has accepted a trust in behalf of the boy from a rich grandfather who has just died at Birmingham, After disinfected, comfortably fod, and furnished with new clothes, ho sent to an old farm-house at Hoghton Towers, where he remains for a considerable timo, and where he begins to form a shy disposition

George Alloecmau's Brplanatlon, 509

to be of a timidly silent character under misconstruction, to have an inexpressible and even a morbid dread of becoming sundid or worldly. He is afterwards put to school, told to work his way, and, ‘as time goes on, becomes a Foundation Boy on a good foundation, and is preached at on Sundays by Brother Hawkyard and other ex- pounders of the same kidney. Working still harder, he nt last obtains scholarship at Cambridge, where he lives a secladed lift, and studies diligently. Knowing himself to be “unfit Sor the noisier stir of social existence,” he applies his mind to the clerical profession, and at laut is presented by Lady Fareway to a living worth two hun- dred a year, Adelina, the only daughter of Lady Fareway, pur- sues her studies under his direction; and a strong but undeclared affection springs up between them. But the young clergyman, conscious that her family and fortune place him far beneath her, and feeling that her merits are far greater than his, resolves upon. self-sacrifice, and quictly sets to work to turn the current of her love into another channel. For this purpose, he introduces to her Mr. Granville Wharton, another pupil of his, and contrives, in various ways, to interest them in each other. The object is accom- plished, and, in little more than a year, they eowe before him, hand in hand, and ask to be united in marriage, As they are both of age, and as the young lady has come into possession of a fortune in her own right, he does not hesitate to do so; but the conse- quences to himself are disastrous. Lady Pareway has had am- bitious projects for her daughter, and indignantly charges George Silverman with taking a percentage upon Adelina’s fortune as a bribe for putting Mr. Wharton in possession of it, With the old ery of,“ You worldly wretch!" she demands that he should resign his living, contumeliously dismisses bim from her presence, and pursues him for many years with bitter animosity. But Ade- lina and her husband stand by him, and at length he obtains a colloge-living in a sequestered place, lives down tho suspicions and calumnies that have dogged his steps, and pens his * Expla- aation.”

Bylvia. A girl at the farm-house of Hoghton Towers, where George Silverman is placed by Mr. Hawkyard, after the death of his father and mother,

Wharton, Mr. Granville. Pupil of George Silverman, and married by him to Adelina Fareway.

“

New Uncommercial Samp)

(Postisuso or ALL Tas Year ROUND, 1x 1600.)

—

A SMALL STAR IN THE EAST.

John. A boiler-maker, living in tho Stepney, who obtains employment but fitfully and forced to live on the work of his wift.

Poodles, A comical mongrel dog, found starving at the “East London Children’s Hospital,” and taken in since which he has made it his home, On bis neck collar presented him by an admirer of his mental en bearing the legend, “ Judge not Poodles by external a]

A LITTLE DINNER IN AN HOUR. Bullfinch, A gentleman, who, having occasion to go to th resort of Namelesston with a friend for the transaction business, proposes that they should dine at the it accordingly drive to that house, and order a little diner, to be ready punctually in one hour, ‘They return prom

the conclusion that no such ill-terved, ill-appointed, il nasty little dinner could be got for the money snywhere the i

Netw Ancommerclal Samples, Daa

Limeelf in all sorts of aspects and under all kinds of disguises; so named from an all-knowing tutor in Thomas Day's juvenile story of “ Sandford and Merton.”

ON AN AMATEUR BEAT.

Poodles. A mongrel dog attached to the “ East London Children’s Hospital.” See“ A Small Star in the East.”

T find him making the round of the beds, like @ house-surgeon, attended by another dog, —a friend, — who appears to trot about with him in the character ‘of his pupll-dresser, Poodies ix anxious to make me known to « pretty little girl, looking wonderfully healthy, who has had a leg taken off for cancer of the knee, “A difficult operation,” Poodles Intimates, wagging his tall on the coun- terpano, “but perfectly successful, as you see, dear sir” ‘The patient, pasting Poodles, adds, with a amile, “The leg was so much trouble to me, that T am glad it's gone.” I never saw any thing in doggery finer than the deportment of Yoodles when another little girl opens her mouth to show pecullar enlarge- ‘ment of the tongue. Poodles (at that time on # table, to be on a level with the occasion) Jooks wt the tongue (with his own sympathetically out) #0 very gravely and knowingly, that I feel inclined to put my hand on my walstoost poeket, and give him a guines, wrapped in paper,

The Mystery of Edwin Drood.

AB | who shall Lift that wand of magie power, - And the loot claw regain > ‘The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower ‘Pufintshed must remain. Toxoraniow,

‘Tux first number of this work, which closes the sertes of Dickens's novels, was fasued by Messrs, Chapman and Hall, on the Ist of April, 1870, with two {tins trations on wood from drawings by S. [.. Fildes. ‘The story was to be completed in twelve monthly parts; but the third part had been published only a few days when death stopped the writer's hand forever. ‘Three additional numbers, how= ever, were left in manuscript, making just one-half of tho entire story.

‘What Dickens wrote of Thackeray's unfinished novel (“Denis Duval”) ts true, also, of his own, —that Its “very and. . . in ft evidences of matared designs never to be accomplished ; of intentions begun to be executed, and destined never to be completed; of careful proparation for long roads of thought that he was never to traverse, and for shining gonls that he wns never to reach.” “In respect of earnest feeling,” he added, fur-scetng purpose, character, incident, and a eer tain loving ploturesqueness blending the whole, I belleve It to be much the bert of all bis works.” If this high praise cannot be awarded to“EAwin Drood,” « place among the beat of his works may at least be neslgned to It. Yet It eannot be said of Dickens, nx he anid of Thackeray, “that he was in the healthiest vigor of his powers when he wrought on this last labor: on the contrary, he eom= plained that his thoughts did not flow #0 freely ax formerly, and that ovmpoaltion was a task which tired and worried him. Besides this, he was troubled by = fear, that, In the early numbers, he had too plainly foreshadowed the conclusion of the story. Thero was, however, fio mpproach to completeness {n the fmgment aa he eft it; and it was rumored that the tale would be uixhed by Mr. Wilkie Collin, until Messrs, Chapman and Hall announced, in» letter to “The Times” that no other writer could be permitted by them to complete It. Stil a sequel has been published in the United States, without thelr authorization, or that of Mr, k- ‘en's family, entitled “John Jaspers Seeret.” The writers (Mr. Henry

ou

Ede Mystery of Sowin Droov. 513

‘and others) nseert, that hints had been unwittingly supplfed by Mr. Dickens for |& mach closer estimate of the bearings of thove portions remaining anwrltten than he could probably have believed while in life; and they elaim to have enr- ried out, however feebly, whnt they have fully traced and identified as the inten: tion of the writer, every Intrinsio and extrinsto fact and int belng earefully com sidered. .

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Buzzard, Mr. Clerk to Mr. Grewgious, over whom he possesses a strange power. He is a pale, puffy-fuced, dark-haired person of thirty, with big, dark eyes wholly wanting in lustre, and with a dis- satisfied, doughy complexion, that seems to ask to be sent to the baker’s, The secret of his influence over Mr. Grewgious fs thus explained by that gentleman in a conversation he has with Miss Rosa Bui

“We were peaking of Mr. Baszard, ... What do you think Mr. Baxeard has dono?”

“Oh. dear” eried Rosa, drawing her chair a ttle nearer, and her mind reverting to Jasper, — “nothing dreadful, T hope?"

“Ho has written » play," sald Mr. Grewglous in # solemn whisper, —“ a tragedy.

Koan seemed much relieved.

“ And nobody,” pursued Mr. Grewgious in the same tone, account whatever, of bringing it out.”

Rosa looked reflective, and nodded her head slowly, as who should 4a things are, and why are they?”

“Now, you know,” said Mr. Growgious, “ J could n’t write a play.”

“Nota bad one, sir?” asked Rosa innocently, with her eyebrows again in action.

“No. If was under sentence of decapitation, and was about to be Instantly decapitated, and an expreas arrived with « pardon for the condemned convict Grewgious, if he wrote a play, I should be under the necessity of reauming the Dlock, and begging the excoutioner to proceed to extremities, moaning,” sald Mr. Growglous, passing his hand under bis chin, “the singular number, and ‘this extremity.”

Rosa appeared to consider what she would do ff the awkward supposititious ease were hors.

“Consequently,” sald Mr. Growglous, “ Mr. Bazzard would have a sense of my Inforlority to himself under any circumstances; bat when I am his master, you know, the caso is greatly aggravated.”

Mr, Growgtous shook ‘is hend seriously, as if he felt the offence to be a little too much, though of his own committing

How came you to be lit master. air?" asked Rosa,

“ A question that naturally follows," sald Mr. Grewgious, Let Ye talk, Mr. Raszard’s futher, being a Norfolk farmer would have furious'y twid about him

‘will hear, on any

“Sach

‘with « fall, » pitchfork, and every seteien lee eee

Che Mickens Mlctlonacg.

put him tn peril of starvation, and that he was not formed for If."

For pursuing his genius, sir?”

© No, my dear,” sald Mr. Grewgious,—"for starvation. It was tmpossible te ‘deny tho potition that Mr. Bazzard was not formed to be starved; and Mr. Bax ard then polnted out that it was desirable that I shoold stand between him sand a fate so perfectly unsuited to his formation. In that way, Mr, Baxzerd Decame my clerk, and he feels {t vory much."

“Tam glad he ts grateful," «aid Rosa,

“T did n't quite mean that, my dear. Tmean that ho feels the tegradation, There are some other geniuses that Mr. Baxzard has beoome noquainted with, who have also written tragedies, which, likewiso, nobody will, on any account ‘whatever, hoar of bringing out; and these cholee spirits dedicate thelr plays to ‘one another in a highly panegyrical manner. Mr. Bazxard has been the sub: Ject of ono of these dedications, Now, you know, Znever had a play dedicated tome!”

Towa looked at him as if she would have liked him to be the recipient of = thousand dedications.

“Which again, naturally, rubs against the grain of Mr. Buzzard," sald Mr. Grewglous. “Mo ts vory short with me somotimes, wnd then £ feel that be ts meditating, ‘This blockhend is my master!—n follow who could w% write = tragedy on pain of death, and who will never have one dedicated to him with the most complimentary congratulations on the high position he has taken ia the eyes of posterity.’ Very trying, very trying. However, in glring him directions, 1 reflect beforehand, * Perhaps he may not like this,! or, * He might take it {Il If I asked that;* and 60 we get on very well, — indeed, better tha Teould have expected.”

“Ys the tragedy named, slr?” asked Rora,

“ Striotly between ourselves,” answered Mr. Grewglous, “It has a dreadfully ‘appropriate name. It {a called ‘The Thorn of Anxiety’ But Mr. Boxzrd Hopes, nnd E hope, that It will como out wt last.”

(Ch, xi, xx.)

Billickin, Mra. A widowed cousin of Mr. Bazzard’s, who lets furnished lodgings in Southampton Street, Bloomsbury Square. Personal faintness and an overpowering personal candor are the distinguishing features of her organization. (Ch: xxii,

With this lady Mr. Grewgious obtains rooms for his ward, Mise Rosa Bud. Having concluded the bargain, he writes and signs = few lines of agreement, and requests Mrs. Billickin to put her #igge nature to the document also, “ Christian and surname” in full.

“Mr, Grewglous." said Mre. Billickin In a new barst of candor ‘no, sie + You must excuse the Christian name.” Mr. Grewgious stared at her. The doorplate is used ws x protection,” sald Mrs. Billickin, “and wets such; and go from it I will not” Mr. Growgious stared at Ross,

The Mystery of Gowln Droov. 515

“No, Mr. Grewgious, you mast exeuse me. So long as thiy "ouse li kuown fn- definite as Billlokin's, and so long as It le adoubt wich tho riif-ralt where Billiekin may be hidin’ near the stroet-door or down the alry, wnd what bia weight and sine, so long f foel safe. But commit myself tow solitary female statement — no, miss! Nor would you for a moment wish," sald Mrs. Billickin, with a trong sense of injury, “to take that advantage of your sex, if you wax not brought to At by Inconsldernte example,’

Tosa, reddcuing us if obe had made some disgraceful attempt fo overreach the good Indy, besought Mr. Grewgious to rest content with any algnature; snd accordingly) {na baronial way, the slgn-manual BiLtacktx got appended to the document.

Bud, Miss Rosa, called Rosesup. A wonderfully pretty, ehild- ish, and whimsical young lady, who is an orphan, and the ward of Mr. Grewgious. While yet a mere child, she is betrothed to Edwin Drood; her father and his having been very dear and firm and fist friends, and desiring that their only children should be to ono another even more than they themselves had been to one another. But, as Rosa and Edwin grow up, they find that they are not truly happy in their engagement, and that each resonts being thus mar- ried by anticipation. ‘They accordingly agrce to break off the engagement, and to “change to brother and sister” thenceforth. Shortly after this event, Edwin Drood disappears, and is supposed to have been murdered. Had Mr. Dickens lived to complete the story, it is not unlikely that Rosa would have been married to Mr. Tartar. (Ch. Sii, vii, ix, xiii, xix-xxii.) See Tartan, Mr.

China Shepherdess, The. See Crisrankir, Mrs.

Crisparkle, The Reverend Septimus. One of the minor canons of Cloisterham Cathedral; a model clergyman, and a true Christian gentleman. (Ch. ii, vi-viii, x, xii, xiv-xvii, xxi-xxili.)

Mr, Crisparkle, minor canon, fair and rory, and perpetually pitching himself hicad foremost into all the deep running water in the surrounding eoantry; Mr. Crivparkle, minor canon, early riser, musical, classical, cheerful, kind, good- natured, social, contented, and boy-tike; Mr. Crixparkle, minor canon and good man, lately Couch” upon the chief Pagan high-ronds, bat since promoted by 8 patron (grateful for a well-taught son) to his present Christan beak.

Cirisparkle, Mra., called Tur Curva Surruerpess. His moth- er: a pretty old lady, with bright eyes, a calm and cheerful Swe, anil a trim and compact figure. (Ch, vi, vii, x.)

Datchery, Dick. A mysterious white-haired man, with black eyebrows, who presents himself in Cloisterham shortly after tho death of Edwin Drood, and who takes lodging overlocking the

room of Mfr, Jasper ‘Being buttoned up lo a Ughtish blue surtout, with « buil walstoost and gray trousors, he had something of a military alr; but he anvoanced himerif at the

BiG The Dickens Mictlonarp.

Crozier (the orthodox hotel, where he put up with = portmanteau) ax

dog who lived ypon his means; and he further anpoanced Mai eiat eee t9 take a lodging in the ploturesque old elty for @ month or two, with a view of settling down thare altogether.

Who or what he is does not appear; but it is plain that he takes up his abode in Cloisterham for the sole purpose of watching Jas per. (Ch. xviii, xxiii.)

Deputy. A hideous small boy, hired by Durdles to pelt him home, if he catches him out too late. He explains to Jasper that he is a “man-servant up at the Travellers Twopenny,” a crazy wooden inn near the cathedral, As a caution to Durdles to stand clear if he can, or to betake himself home, the young imp always chants the following note of preparation before beginning to fling stones: —

“ Widdy widdy went T—ket —chos—Im—out— ar —ter—ten, Widdy widdy wy! ‘Then —E — don’t —go— then —I—ahy — Widdy widdy Wake-eock warning!" —with a comprehensive sweep on the last word.

‘The relations between Durdles and Deputy are of a capricious kind; for, om Durdios turning himself about with the slow gravity of beery soddenness Depaty makes a pretty wide cireuit into the rood, and stands on the defensive.

“You never erled Widdy Warning before you begun to-night,” says Durdler, ‘unexprotantly reminded of or imagining an injury,

“ Yer lio! I did,” says Depaty, in his ouly form of polite contradiction.

“ Own brother, sir," observes Durdies, turalng himself about agaln, and as unexpectedly forgetting his offence as he had recalled or conceived it, — “ows brother to Peter the Wild Boy. But I gave him an objeot ba life."

At wiiteh ho takes ain 2" Mr. Jasper suggesta,

«That "s it. sir,” returns Durdies, quito satlafied, —**at which he takes aim.

took him in hand, and gave hiin an object. What was he before? Adestrayer,

‘What work did he do? Nothing but destruction. What did be earn by it? Short terms in Clolsterham Jall. Not # porson, not a piece of property, not = winder, not # horse, nor & dog, nor a cat, nor & bird, nor « fowl, nor ® pig, but what he stoned, for want of an enlightened object. I put that enlightened ubject before him; and now he can tura his hovest halfpenny by the three pean'orth a week"

(Ch. v, xii, xviii, xxiii.)

Drood, Hdwin. ‘Lhe character from whom the story takes ite name; & young man left an orphan at an early age, and betrothed, in accordance with his father’s dying wish, to Miss Rosa Bud, the daughter of an old and very dear friend. At the time the story opens, the young lady is attending the school of Miss at Cloisterham, and the young gentleman is studying om; in London. Neither of them is reconciled to the

Ede Mystery of Brwln

08, bi

their destiny in life bas, in a most important respect, been predeter mined for them; yet the thought of questioning the arrangement has not occurred to elther; and Edwin runs down to Cloisterham every now and then, both to see his intended, and to visit hiv ancle, Mr. Jasper, who is but little older than himself, and is his most intimate friend and companion. On one of these occasions, he meets at the Reverend Mr. Crisparkle's a young man by the name of Neville Landless, and his sister Helena, who are punming their studies,—the one under Mr, Crisparkle’s direction, the other at Miss Twinkleton’s establishment. The young men take a strong dislike to each other. Edwin thinks Neville’s sister vastly superior to her brother; while the Intter is disgusted by the alr of proprioe torship with which Edwin treats Rosa, whom he thinks an alto gether beautiful and attractive girl. They escort the young ladies home for the night, and then repair, at the invitation of Mr. Jas per, to his lodgings to have o glass of wine. ‘The drink is mixed for them by their host; and, althongh they take only a moderate quantity, it scems to madden them; for from sarcastic remarks they soon come to open violence, when they are separated by Jax per, who takes young Neville home, and reports his conduct to Mr Crisparkle. In the morning, Edwin departs for London, and Mr. Crisparkle is consequently unable to bring about an immediate re« conciliation; but be resolves todo so on the first opportunity that offers. He talks about the matter to Neville, who expresses him- velf willing to make an apology; and Mr. Jasper writes to Edwin, who replies that he ehall be glad to make any amends for his hasty display of temper. It is therefore arranged that the young men shall inect again at Mr. Jasper’s rooms, and “ shake hands, and say no nore about it.” Before revisiting Cloisterham, Edwin calls on Rosas guardian, Mr. Grewgious, who gives him » wedding-ring, which be: ‘onged to her departed mother, and charges him to look carefully into bis own heart before making Rosa his wife; for, although the marriage was a wish dear both to his own father and to hers, he ought not to vomimit himself to euch a step for no higher reason than because he haa long bees accustomed to look forward to it. Edwin departs, and, deeply pondering the injunction of Mr. Grewgious, becomes convinced that the marriage ought not to take pice. He resolves to have a frank conversation with Rosa, feeling well assured that her riewa will coincide with his own. Repairing to the Nuns’ House, he seeks her with this intentioa, put finds himself anticipated; for she *

518 Ede Dickens Dlctlonarp.

eaters at once upon the subject herself. ire ei they agree to remain the best of friends, they cease to be lovers, and resalve to send at once for Mr. Grewgious, and communicate their determination to him, but to be quite silent upon the subject to all others, until his arrival. Edwin's sole anxicty, as he tells Rosa, is for his uncle, whom he dearly loves, and who, as he believes, has set hie heart on the union, Although Rosa does not declare her thoughts, the yot believes that the breaking-off of the match will not be so great a disappointment to Mr, Jasper as Edwin thinks, having good reason to know that he is himself deeply in love with her, They separate for the night, the young man going to his uncle's to meet Neville Landless, who, after promising Mr. Crisparkle that he will curb his irapetuons temper, directs his steps to the same place.

The next morning, Edwin Drood is nowhere to be found; and young Landless sets out early for a two-weeks? ramble through the neighboring country. Mr. Jasper, becoming alarmed at the disap- pearance of his nephew, arouses the town, He says that the youryg men, after meeting at his room, went out together for a walk near the river, The feud between them is well known; and dark suspicions are entertained of foul play. Young Landless Is followed and arrested. The river is dragged, and no body Is discovered; but a watch, identified as Edwin's, is found; anda jeweller testifies that he wound and set it for him at twenty minutes past twoon the afternoon of his arrival, and that it had run down before being cast into the water. Further than this, nothing can be discovered, aud, ag there is not evidence enough to warrant Neville’s detention, he is set at Bh erty. So strong ia the popular fecling against him, howaver, that Ivy is forced to leave the town, and takes up his residence in an obscure part of London. Here he is visited by Mr. Crisparkle, who firmly believes in his innocence; and here he is watched and dogged by Mr. Jasper, who has taken a solemn oath to devote his life to ferreting out the murderer,

Although the reader is left in the dark, by the abrupt termi- nation of the novel, as to who is the guilty party, he is led 10 believe that Mr. Jasper is the real assassin. Ho is desperately in love with Rosa; though she thoroughly dislikes and despises him. After the death of Edwin, he visits her, and declares his love >romising to forego his pursuit of young Landless, in whom she deeply inter ested, if'she will give him some encouragement, He shows himself @ least to be fully capable of the crime; and he is suspected by: herself and by Mr. Grewgious, (Ch, ii, vil, vill, xi, xii, xiv.)

The Mystery

Durdles. A stone-mason; chiefly in the grave-stone, tomb, and monument way, and wholly of their color from head to foot, (Ch. iv, xii, xiv.)

No mans better known in Clolsterham, He is the chartered libertine of the place, Fame trumpets im a wonderful workman=which, for aught that any body knows, he may be (as he never works) — and a wonderful sot, which evar) body knows he Ix, With the cathedral erypt he ts better acquainted than any living guthority: it may eren be than any dead one, It is said that the futimacy of this acquaintance began in his habitually resorting to that recret place te lock out the Clolaterham boy-populace, and sleep off the fume of Aquor; he having ready access to the cathedral ws contractor for rough repairs. Be this as it may, he does know much about tt, and in the demolition of funpedimental fragments of wall, buttress, and pavement, has acen strange night. Ho often spenks of himself In the third person; perhaps being m litte misty as to his own identity when he narrates, perhaps impartially adopting the Clolsterham nomenclature In reference to a character of acknowledged dis- tinction, ‘Thns he will say, touching his strange sights, “Durdlex come upon the old chap,” in reference to a buried magnate of ancient time and high degree, © by atriking right into the coffin with his pick. The old chap gave Durdles » Jook with his open eyes, ns much as to-say, * I* your name Durdles? Why, my man, I?ve been waiting for you a devil of a time!? and then he turned to pow der.” With m two-foot rule always in thls pocket, and & maxon's hammer all but always in his hand, Durdles goes continually sounding and tapping all about ‘and about the cathedral; and whenever he ways to Tope, “ Tope, here "* another old “an in here," Tope announces it to the dean as an established discovery.

‘Mr. Jasper visits the cathedral one night with Durdles, whom he plies with liquor until he falls asleep; and he improves the opportu- nity to make an extended examination of the crypt, using the keys of his companion to obtain admission into its locked-up recesses. For what purpose this exploration is made does not appear, but, probably, for the sake of finding a safe hiding-place for the body of Edwin Drood, whom Jasper, as the reader is led to infer, has made up his mind to put ont of the way. See Derury.

Werdinand, Miss, A pupilat Miss Twinkleton’s school. (Ch. ix, xiii.)

Giggles, Miss. Another pupil at the same school, (Ch. ix, xiii.)

Grewgious, Hiram, Esquire. Miss Rosa Bud's guardian, and “a particularly angular man.” (Ch. ix, xl, xv-xvil, xx-xxil,)

He was an arid, sandy man, who, if he had been pat inte a grinding mill, looked asif he would bave come out immodiately Into high-dried snuff, He hada seunty, flat crop of bair, iu color and consiseney like some very mangy yellow fur tIppet: it was so unlike hatr, that {e must have been a wig, but for te stu pendour improbability of anybody's voluntarily sporting such a head. The little play of feature that his face presented was cut deep nto it in a few hard yorves that made it more like work; and he had certain noches in his forehend which looked ax though Nature had been about to touch them Into senalbility or

refinemont, when she hud {mpatiently thrown away the chisel, und sald,** really ‘sannot be worried to finish off this man: let him go as he ls.”

in Droop. 519

b20 Ede Dickens Mictfonarp.

With too great length of throat at his upper end, and too touch ankle-tx me) ‘end hee} nt his lower; with an awkward and hesitating manner; witho ¢harm- bling walk, and with what is called near sight— which, perhaps, ils observing how much white cotton stocking he displayed to the pablie ‘eyo, 1n contrast with le black sult,— Mr. Grewglous till had some strange ‘eapacity in him of making, on the whole, an agreeable impression.

After the disappearance of Edwin Dtood, Mr. Grewgious hae as interview with Jasper, whose appearance and conduct is such as to excite the strongest suspicions of his being the murderer of that young gentleman. He keeps his thoughts to himself, however; but when Rosa, pursued by Jasper, goes to London to throw herself om her guardian's protection, he astonishes his little ward by his indig- nation, exclaiming with « sudden rush of amazing enenzy, —

“Damp himt Confound his polltion | Frusteate his knavish tricks! On thee his hopes to fix? ‘Damn himogaint”

After this most extraordinary outburst, Mr. Grewgious, quite beside plunged about the room, to all appesrance, undecided whether he wasn a Gt of Joyal enthnsiasm, or combative denunelation.

‘He stopped and sald, wiping his face, “ I beg your pardon, my dear; but you will be gind to know I feel bettor. ‘Dell me no more just now, or Lmight do ft again.”

He immediately sets about making his ward comfortable, pro- eures lodgings for her, makes arrangements for Miss Twinkleton’s staying with her as a companion and friend, and devutes himself to investigating the mystery of Edwin Drood’s sudden disappear

ance.

Honeythunder, Mr. Luke, Chairman of the Convened Chief Composite Committee of Central and District Philanthropists, and quardian of Neville and Helena Lundless, Ke is a lange many with a tremendous voice, and an appearance of being constantly engaged in crowding everybody to the wall.

‘Though it was not literally true, as was facetionsly charged agalnet bina by public unbelievers, that he called aloud to his follow-creatures, * Curse your soul nnd bodies! come here and be blessed" still his philanthropy waa of thit gut. powderous sort, that the difference between it und animosity was hard to deter

You were to abolish military force; but you wore first to bring all

nding officers who had done their duty to trial by courtmartial for that

offence, and shoot them. You were to abolish war, but were to make converts by making war upon them, and charging them with loving waras the apple of thelr eye. You were to have no capital puntshment, but were first £0

off the face of the earth all legislators, jurists, and judges who were of the

contrary opinion, You were to have noiversal concord, and were to gut it by

eliminating all the people who would n’t, or conscientiously could n/t, be com

She Mystery of Guwln De

cordant, You were to love your brother as yourself, but after an Indefinite

anterval of maligning him (very much as if you hated hte), and walling film

all manner of names, Abore all things, you were to do nothing in private vr on your own account. You were to go to the offices of the Haven of Philan- thropy, aud put your name down at a member and & professing philsnthro-

pitt; then you were to pay up your subseription, get your card of membershils ,

and your ribbon and medal, and were evermore to live upon # platform, and

‘evermore to say what Mr. Honeythunder sald, and what the freararer xald, and

‘what the aub-treaaurer sald, and what the committee raid, and what the sub-com-

mittee sald, and what the secretary sald, and what the wice-secretary said. And

in the unanimously-carried resolution under hand and

“That this assembled body of professing philanthropists views with indignant roorn and contempt, not unmixed with utter detestation and loathing ubhorrence?”—in short, the baseness of all those who do not belong to it, and pledges Itself to make ax many obnoxious statements as porte ble about them, without belug at all particular as to fot,

(Ch. vi, xvii.)

Jasper, John. A music-master who is employed as choir-master in Cloisterham Cathedral; uncle to Edwin Drood, for whom he pro- fesses the strongest affection.

‘Mr. Jasper fx a dark man of some six and twenty, with thick, lustrows, well arranged black hair and whisker, He looks older thin he ts, as dark men often do. His voice is deep and good, his fuce and figure are good, his manner is a ‘little sombre.

Jasper is addicted to the use of opium, and resorts every now and then to a miserable hole in London, where the drug is prepared in a peculiar form by an old hag, and where he smokes himself into the wildest dreams. He goes to this place after the disappearance of Edwin Drood, and is followed, when he leaves, by the old woman, who thus ascertains who and what he is, The two are, in turn, watched by Mr. Datchery, who appears well satisfied on dis- covering the connection between them, (Ch. i, ii, iv, v, vii-x, xii, xiv-avi, xviii, xix, xxii, xxiii.)

Jennings, Miss. A pupil at Miss Twinkleton’s Seminary for Young Ladies. (Ch. ix.)

Joe. Driver of an omnibus, which is the daily service between Cloistavham and external mankind. (Ch. vi, xv, xx.)

Landless, Helena. A native of Ceylon, but the child of English parents; a ward of Mr. Honeythunder’s, who sends her to Misa ‘Twinkleton's School for Young Ladies in Cloisterham, where she becomes the friend and confidante of Rosa Bud. She is an tn- usually handsome, lithe girl, very dark and rich in color, — almost of the gypsy type, — with something untamed aout her, as there is, also, about her twin-brother Neville,

“

a

522 Ede Dica.ns Mictlonacp q

A certain alr upon them of tunterand huntress; yet, withal, aeertaln | ‘of being the objects of the chase, rather than the followers, Seen quick of eyeand limb, halfshy, half-defiant, fleroe of look; an Indetinable ‘of pause coming and golng on their whole expression both of fee and form, ‘which might be equally likened to the pause before a ervuch ora bound, (Ch. vi, vii, x, xiii, xiv, xxi) Landless, Neville. Hor brother, studying with the Reverend Mr. Crisparkle, and suspected of the murder of Edwin Drood. (Ch | vieviii, x, xi1, xiv-xvii.) Lobley, Mr. A boatman in the service of Mr. Tartar, —*the deal image of the sun in old woodcuts,” his hair and whisker ane swering for rays all around him. (Ch. xxii.) Reynolds, Misa. A pupil at the Nuns’ House, Miss Twinkleton’s q

Seminary for Young Ladies, (Ch. ix.) Rickitts, Miss. Another pupil at the same establishment. Sapsea, Mr. Thomas, An auctioneer, afterwards mayor of Cloisterham.

Accepting the Jackaa® as the type of self-suffctent stupidity and coneelty=—a ‘custom, perhaps, like some few other customs, more conventional than fair, — | then the purest jackass Io Cloisterham is Mr. Thomas Sapeea, auctioneer. |

‘Mr. Sapsea "dresses at” the dean; has been bowed to for the dean, ia mia take; has even been spoken to in the street as My Loni, under the Ampression that he was the bishop come down unexpectedly, without his chaplain. Mr. | Sapsea is very proud of this, and of his role wad of his style. He has even | {in selling landed property) tried the experiment of slightly intoning tn Inte pnl- | pit, to make himself more like what ho takes to be the genmine ecclesiastical article: 40, In ending a sale by public auction, Mr. Sapsea Gnishes off with am alr of bestowing a benediction on the assembled brokers, which leaves the real dean — a modest and worthy gentleman — far behind.

‘Mr. Sapiea has many admirers: indeed, the proposition fa earrled by @ large local majority, even including non-believers {1 wisdom, that he ts @ credit to Cloisterham, He possesses the great qualities of being portentoas and dali, and of having a roll in bis speech, and another rollin hiv gait; not to mention 4 omtain gravely-flowing action with his hands, as if he wore prevently going to confirm the individual with whom he holds discourse. Much nearer sixty years of age than fifty; with a flowing outline of stomach, and horizontal creases fie his walsteout; repated to be rich; voting at elections in the strictly reapectas bie interest; morally satisfied that nothing bat he himself hna grown since be ‘was a baby, —how can dunder-headed Mr. Sapsea be otherwise than & credit to ‘Clolsterham and society ?

Having lost his wife, Mr. Sapsea determines to compose an epi- taph for her tombstone, that shall strike all ordinary minds with awe and confusion. When this literary thunderbolt is forged, he calls in Mr. Jusper to get his opinion of it. Not to astound the young man by immediately launching this masterpiece of scholastic workmanship at him, Mr. Sapsea considevately begins by ig how ho came, first by his extensive knowledge, secondly

Ebe FApsterp of Howin Broov. 523

wife. The lady thus honored was a Miss Brobity, thu mistress of # school in Cloisterham.

“She revered mind when launched, or, as I say, precipitated, on an extensive tmowledge of the world. When I made my proposal, sho did me the honor to be «0 overshadowed with specles of awe, as to be able to articulate only the two words, ‘Oh, thoul’—meaning myself, Her limpld blue eyes were fixed ‘opon mo; her semi-transparent hands were clasped together; pallor oversprend her nquilino fontures; and, thongh encournged to proceed, she never did proceed & word further. I disposed of the parallel establishment by private centract; an€ we became as nearly one as could bo expected under the cireatmstancer. ‘But she never conld, and sho nerer did, find » phrase sutlsfactory to her perhaps too favorable estimate of my intellect. To the very last (feeble notion of liver), she addressed me in the same unfinished terms.”

Mr. Jasper has closed his wyes ax the auctioneer has deepened his voloe. He now abruptly opens them, and says, In unison with the deepened voice, “Ab!” rather as if stopping himself on the extreme verge of adding, ‘men!

“ Ehave boon since,” says Mr. Sapven, with his loge stretched out, and solemnly enjoying himself with the wine and the fire, * what you bebold me; I have been since a solitary mourner; I have been since, as I say, wasting my evening con- vormution on the desert alr. Iwill not say that I have reproached myself; but there have been times when I haye asked myself the question, «What if her husband had been nearer on a level with her? If she had not had to look vp quite #0 high, what might the stimulating aotion have been upon the liver??”

‘Mr, Jasper says, with an appearance of having fallen into dreadfully low spirits, that he “supposes it was to be.!

“We oan only suppose #0, sir, Mr. Supsen colncides. “As T say, mun pro- poses, heaven dispores. It may or may not be putting the same thought in ‘another form; but that is the way I put it.”

Mr, Jasper murmurs sseent,

“And now, Mr. Jasper,” resumes the auctioneer, producing his serap of manuseript, “Mrs. Sapsea’e monument having had full time to settle and dry, let me take your opinion, as a man of taste, on the inscription I have (as I before remarked, not without some little fever of the brow) drawn out for it, Take it in your own hand: the setting-out of the lines requires to be followed With tho eye, as well as the contents with the mind.’

‘Mr. Jasper, complying, sees and rends ns follows: —

ETIELINDA, Reverential Wit of MR. THOMAS SAPSEA, AUCTIONEER, VALUER, RSTATE AOuWT, ac oF THs rey,

‘WHOSK KXOWLEDOE OF Tie WORLD, ‘THOUOM SOMEWHAT EXTRXALYE, HVE BROUGUT 11M ACQUALYTED WIT A SPIRIT MORE CAYABLE OF LOOKING UE TO Hi. STRANGER, PAUSE,

AXD ASK TUYSELY Tux QUESTION,

CANST THOT DO LIKRWIBE? a nor, WITH A BLUSH RETIRE,

a

Ba Ehe Michens Mictlonaty.

“ Admirable!” quoth Mr. Jasper, handing back the paper,

“ You approve, sir?”

“Impossible not to approve. Striking, characteristic, and complete.”

‘The auctlonoer inclines his head, as one accepting his due and giving @ re oolgt.

(Ch. iv, xii, xiv-xvi, xviil.)

Tartar, Lieutenant. An cx-officer of the Royal Navy, who has

come into possession of a fortune, and has retired from the service,

A handsome gentleman, with a young face, but an older figure in its rok ust hess and Its breadth of shoulder,—say a man of elght and twenty, or, at the ‘utmost, thirty,—so extremely sunburnt, that the contrast between bis beowm Visage and the white forehead, shaded out of doors by his hat, and the gtimpres ‘of white throat below the neckerchief, would hare been almost ludicrous, bat for his broad temples, bright blue cyes, clustering brown halr, and laughing teeth.

He becomes the friend of Neville Landless, and makes the ac- quaintance of Rosa Bud, whose husband, it is probable, Mr. Dickeng intended him to become. (Ch. xvii, xxi, xxii.)

Tisher, Mra. A deferential widow, with a weak back, a chronic sigh, and a suppressed voice, who looks alter the young ladies wardrobes at the Nuns’ House, Miss Twinkleton’s seminary at Cloisterham. (Ch. ii, vii, ix, xlil.)

Tope, Mr. Chief verger of Cloisterham Cathedral. (Ch. ti, vi, xii, xiv, xvi, xviii, xxiii.)

Tope, Mrs. His wife. (Ch. ii, xii, xiv, xvi, xvill, xxiii.)

Twinkleton, Miss. Mistress of a boanling-school for young ladies in Cloisterham, attended by Rosa Bud and Helena Landless, (Ch. iii, vi, vii, ix, xiii, xxii.)

Th the midst of Clolstorham stands the Nuns’ House, a venerable brick eff fice, whose present appellation Is doubtless derived from the legend of Sta enths ‘yontual uses, On the trim gate enclosing its old courtyard is « resplendeng brass plato, flashing forth the legend, “Seminary for Young Ladves, tee

shikleton.” ‘The hoase-front {x so old and worn, and the brass plate ts aa

shining and staring, that the general result has reminded imaginative strangers of a battered old beau with a large modern eye-gluas ¥tack in his blind eye,

Miss Twinkleton has two distinct and separate phases of boing. Every night, the moment the young Indios have rotired to rest, does Miss Twiakletoa smarten up her ourls a little, brighten up her eyes a little, and become # spright= Mier Miss Twinkieton than the young Indies have een, Every might, wt the name hour, docs Miae Twinkietan resume the topics of the previous mighty, ‘comprehending the tenderer scandal of Clolstortiam, of which she hax no knowl ‘edge whatever by day, and referenices to a certain senson at Tunbeldge Wells <alrily called by Miss Twinkloton, In thla atate of her existence, “ The Wells"), notably the season wherein a certain finished gentleman (compasslonately called by Miss Twinkleton, fn this state of her existence, “ Foolish Mr. Porters") re ealed a homage of the heart, whereof Mixs Twinkleton, in her scholastie state Gf existence, is as Ignorant as @ granite pillar.

Reprinted Pieces.

Uxpen this name, thirty-one sketches, all of them originally published im “Household Words,” between the years 1850 and 1850, werv first bronght together {n 1858, and published in the twelfth volume of the “ Library Edition” of Dickeus's works, feaued Jointly by Metsrs. Chapman and tall, and Mestrs, Bradbury and Evans, In the pages here devoted to these “Reprinted Pieces,” several are wholly loft out of view; the characters in them being nameless, and therefore not falling within the scope of this Dictionary.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

THE LONG VOYAGE. (Containing recollections of various Incidents of travel.)

Bligh, Captain. Master of “The Bounty;” turned adrift on the wide ocean in an open boat. Brimer, Mr. Fifth mate of “The Halsewell.” Christian, Fletcher. One of the officers of “The Bounty;” a mutineer. Christian, Thursday October. A native of Pitcsirn’'s Island; son of Fletcher Christian by a savage mother. Macmanus, Mr, A midshipman in board of “The Halsewell,” an East-Indiaman wrecked on the island of Purbeck, Mansel, Miss, A passenger on the same ship. Meriton, Mr. Henry. Second mate of “ The Halsewell.” Pierce, Captain. Master of “The Halsewell.” Pierce, Miss Mary. His daughter. Rogers, Mr. ‘Third mate of * ‘Phe Ha'sewell.” Schutz, Mr. A passenger in the same ship. cy

626 She Wickens Mictlonarp.

THE BEGGING-LETTER WRITER.

Southcote, Mr. One of the many aliases of professional swin- der, who writes letters soliciting money for the relief of his neces- sities. ~

Southoote, Mrs, His +ife.

OUR ENGLISH WATERING-PLACE.

Mills, Miss Julia, A sentimental novel-reader, who figures alse in “ David Copperfield” as the bosom-friend of Dora Spenlow.

‘She has left marginal notes on the pages, as“ fv not this truly touching? — J.M “How thrilling!—J. ML” * Entranced here by the magiclan’s potent spell. —J.M." She has also Italicised her favorite traits in the desoription of the hero,as “His hair, which was dark and wavy, clustered In rich profusion around & marble brow, whose lofty paleness beapoke the intellect within.” It remade her of another hero. She adds, “How like B. L.1 Can thls be mere eolvel- dence ?—J. M”

Peepy, The Honorable Miss, The beauty of her day, but long deceased.

OUR FRENCH WATERING-PLACE.

Loyal Derasseur, M. Citizen, town-councillor, and landlord. He is an old soldier, and a stanch admirer of the great Napoleon.

His respeet for the memory of the illustrious general is enthusiastic. Medal Hons of him, portraits of him, busts of him, pictures of him, are thickly sprinkled allover the property. Daring the first month of our occupation, it was our wfitics tion to be constantly kuocking down Napoleon: if we touched a shelf in a dark: ‘corner, be toppled over with a erash; and every door we opened shook him £6 the soul. Yet M. Loyal is not a man of more onatles In the air, or, ax he would say, in Spain. He has a specially practical, contriving, clever. skilful eye and hand. His houses are delightful. He unites French elegance and Bnglish comfort in a happy manner quite hisown, He has an extraordinary genius for making tasteful little bed-rooms in angles of his roofs, which an Jnglishansn would as soon think of turning to any account as he would think of enltivating the desert. We have ourselves reposed deliciously in an elegant chamber of M. Loyal’s construction, with our head as nearly in the kitchen ehimney>pot mx we can conceive it likely for the head of any gentleman, not by profession sweep, tobe... M. Loyal’s nature is the nature of a gentleman. He eulth: vates his ground with his own hands (assisted by one little laborer, who falls into n fit now and then); and he digs aud delves from morn to eve in prodigious perspirations —* works always." as be aays,—but cover him with dust, mud, weeds, water, any stains you will, you never can cover the gentleman in M. Loyal. A portly. upright, broadshouldered, brown-fnced mam, Whose sol dierly bearing gives him the appearance of being taller than he Is, Look into the bright eye of M. Loyal, standing before you tu his working blouse and cap, Hot particularly well shaved. and, it may be, very earthy, and you shalidiscern ty M. Loyal a gentleman whose true politeness is ingraln, and confirmation of whose word by his bond you would blush to think of.

Beprintey Dleces. Ba

Peroce, M. A gentleman “in the bathing line;” immensely stout, of a beaming aspect, and of very mild and polished manners.

BIRTHS. MRS, MEEK, OF A SON.

Bigby, Mrs. Mother of Mrs. Meek, and a most remarkable woman. Her son-in-law says of her, —

‘Iu my opinion, she would storm a town, single-handed, with « hearth-broom, and carry it. F have never known her to yleld any point whatever to mortal man, Sho is caloulated to terrify the stoutest heart,

Meek Augustus George. Infint son of Mr. George Meek.

Meek, Mr. George. The narrator of the story; a quiet man, oF small stature, a weak voice, and a tremulous constitation He is made utterly miserable by the manner in which his infant child is smothered and rasped and dosed and bandaged by the nurse, aided and" abetted by his wife’s mother; and he is betrayed into expressing himself warmly on the subject, notwithstanding his wish to avoid giving rise to words in the family,

Meek, Mrs, His wife.

Prodgit, Mrs. Mrs. Meck’s narse; considered by Mr. Meck to be “from first to last a convention and a superstition,” whom the medical faculty ought to take in hand and improve.

‘One afternoon . . . Tcame home earlier than usual from the office, and, pro- eveding into the dintng-room, found an obstruction behind the door, which prevented It from opening frealy. It was an obstruction of @ xoft nature. On looking In, I found it to be w female, who stood in the corner, behind the door. consuming sherry-wine. From the nutty smell of that beverage pervading the apartinent, I have no doubt she was consuming ® scoond glassful, She wore ‘a binck bonnet of large dimensions, and was copious in figure. ‘The expression of her countenance waa severe and discontented. ‘The words to which abe gave utterance on seeing me were these, “Oh! git along with you, «lr, If you please. ‘Me and Mrs. Bigby don’t want no male parties here.”

LYING AWAKE, Winking Charley. A sturdy vagrant in one of her Majesty’s

jails, who, like her Majesty, like the author, like everybody else, lias had many astonishing experiences in his dreams,

THE POOR RELATION'S STORY.

[One of the tales In “+A Round of Stories by the Christmas Fire,’ the Christmas number of Household Words” for 1852.)

Chill, Uncle, An avaricious, crabbed old man; uncle to Michael. Christiana, An old sweetheart of Michael's, to whom he imagines that he is married.

a

528 be Dickens Wictlonarp.

Prank, Little. A cousin of Michael's; a difident boy, for whom he has » particular affection.

Michael. ‘The “ poor relation,” and the narrator of the story, which hinges upon a fancy of what might have been. Premising that be is not what he is supposed to be, he proceeds, in the first place to state what he is supposed to be, and then goes om to tell what bis life and babits and belongings really are. He is thought to be very poor: in fact, he is rich. He is thought to be friendless; tat he has the best of friends. He is thought to have been refused by a lady whom he loved: it is a mistake; be married the lady, and bas a happy family around him, He is thought to live in a lodging in the Clapham Road : in reality, he lives in a casthe-—im fhe air,

Snap, Betsey. Uncle Chill's only domestic; a withered, hard- favored, yellow old woman.

Spatter, John. Michuel’s host, whom he feigus to Have been fint his clerk, and afterwards his partner.

THE CHILD'S STORY. {One of the tales tn A Round of Stories by the Christmas Fire" the Chelstmas number of * Household Words "for 162.)

Fanny. One of the prottiost girls that ever was seen, im love with “ Somebody."

THE SCHOOL-BOY'S STORY.

Cheeseman, Old. A poor boy at a boarding-scbool, who is = general favorite with his fellows, until he is made second Latin master ; when they all agree in regarding him asa spy and a desert er, who has sold himself for gold (two pound ten a quarter, and his washing). After this, his life becomes very miserable; for the master and his wife look dows upon him, and snub him ; while the boys perssoute him in many ways, and oven foem a society for the express purpoge of making a set against him. One he ie missod from his place; and it is thought at first, by the pupils, that, unable to stand it any longer, he has got up early, and drowned himself. It turns out, however, that he has come into m lange fore tune, —a fact which puts a very different face upon matters, making the master obsequious, and the scholars afraid for the consequesces of what they have done. But “Old Cheeseman” is notin the least

aged by his sudden prosperity, addresses thom as “his dear companions and old friends," and gives Chem s agai eant spread in the dining-room.

_

RMepelntey Pleces. 529

Pitt, Jane. A sort of wardrobe woman to the boys. Though a good friend to the boys, she is also a good friend to “Old Cheese- man;” and, the more they go against him, the more she stands by him. It is, therefore, only a natural thing, and one to be expected, that, when * Old Cheeseman” suceeeds to his grandfather's large property, he should share it with her by making her his wife.

Tartar, Bob, The “first boy" in the school, and president of the © Society” formed for the purpose of annoying “ Old Cheesemun.*

NOBODY'S STORY.

Bigwig Family, The. A large household, composed of stately and noisy people, professed humanitarians, who do nothing but blow trumpets, and hold convocations, and make speeches, aud write pamphlets, and quarrel among themselves.

Nobody, otherwise Learon. The narrator of the story, which, under the guise of an allegory, contains an appeal to the governing lasses in behalf of the poor, and an argument for their proper in- struction and rational amusement as a means of preventing drunk- enneas, debauchery, and crime.

THE GHOST OF ART. (A satire on the Art Exhibitions of the Royal Academy.) Parkins, Mra, A laundress, who invariably disregards all in~

structions. OUT OF TOWN. (A description of a little town named Pavilionstoue, which has become # favorite eaxide resort.)

Within a quarter of a century, It was a little Gehing-town; and they do aay, ‘that the time was, when it was @ little smuggling town. .., Now, gas and electricity run to the very water's edge, and the South-Eastern Railway Com pany tereoch at a4 In the dead of night. . . . Weare a little mortary and limy at present; but weare getting on cupitally. Indeed, we were getting on so fast, at one time, that we rather overdid it, and built a street of shops, the business of which may be expected to arrive Inabout ten years. Weare sensibly laid out, in general, and, with a little care and pains (by no means wanting, so far), shall decome a very pretty place. We ought to be; for our situation is delightful; our alr ts delicious; and our breezy hills and downs, carpeted with wild thyme, and doce rated with millions of wild flowers aré, on the faith of a pedestrian, porficte

CUT OF THE SEASON.

Blocker, Mr. A grocer. Wedgington, Mr, B, A singer and clog-dancer, who gives an exhibition at a watering-place, after the “ season " Js over. “6

630 Ebe Mickens Mlctlonarp,

‘Wedgington, Mrs. B. His wife; a singer and ptanist.

Wedgington, Master B, Her infant son, aged ten months; nursed by a shivering young person in the boxes, while his mother is on the stage.

A POOR MAN'S TALE OF A PATENT.

Butcher, William, A Chartist; friend to John.

John. The narrator of the story; a poor man, a smith by trade, who undertakes to obtain a patent on an invention which he has been twenty years in perfecting. He succeeds in doing so only after going through thirty-five distinct stages of obeying forms anid paying fees, at a cost of nincty-six pounds, seven, and eightpenco, though nobody opposes his application.

Joy, Thomas, A carpenter with whom John lodges in London.

A FLIGHT.

Compact Enchantress, The. A French actress.

Diego, Don. Inventor of the last new flying-machine.

Zamiel. A tall, grave, melancholy Frenchman, with whom (and with other passengers) the writer takes a flying trip from London to Paris. {

THE DETECTIVE POLICE |

Clarkson. Counsel for Shepherdson and other thieves traced out and arrested by Sergeant Mith.

Dornton, Sergeant. A detective police-officer; a man about | fifly years of age, with a ruddy face and a high sunburnt forchead. He is fumous for steadily pursuing the inductive process, working on from clew to clew until he bags his man. |

Dundey, Doctor. A man who robs bank in Ireland, and eseapes to America, whither he is followed and captured by Sergeant Dornton.

fendall, Sergeant. A detective police-officer; a well-spoken, polite person, and a prodigious hand at pursuing pri- vate inquiries of a delicate nature,

Fikey. A man accused of forgery; taken prisoner by Inspector Field.

Mesheck, Aaron. A Jew, who gets acceptances from young mew of good connections (in the army chiefly), on pretence of and decamps with the same. He is finally found by Dornton in the Tombs prison, in New York City.

Repe(nted Pleres. Bal

Mith, Sergeant. A detective police-officer; a smooth-faced man with a fresh, bright complexion, and a strange air of simplicity. He is a dab at houscbreakers.

Pigeon, Thomas, See Taomrsox, Tay-no.

Shepherdson, Mr. A thcef, who informs detective Mith (who, under the disguise of » young butcher from the country, has gained. his confidence) that he is going “to hang out for a while” at the Setting Moon, in the Commercial Road, where he is afterwards found, and is taken into custody.

Stalker, Mr. Inspector. A detective police-officer; a shrewd, hard-headed Scotchman; in appearance not at all unlike a very acute, thoroughly-trained schoolmaster from the Normal Establish ment at Glasgow.

Straw, Sergeant. AA detective; a little, wiry man of meek de- meanor, and strong sense, who would knock at a door, and ask a series of questions in any mild character you choose to prescribe ta him, from a charity-boy upward; and seem as innocent as an infant.

Thompson, Tally-ho, alias Tuomas Piceox, A famous horse- stealer, couper, and magsman, tracked to a lonely ina in Northamp- tonshire, by Sergeant Witchem, who, single-banded, arrests him, and takes him to London ; though he has two big and ugly-looking companions with him at the time.

Wield, Mr, Inspector. A detective police-officer; a middle- aged man, of a portly presence, with a large moist, knowing eye, a husky voice, and a habit of emphasizing his conversation by the aid of a corpulent fore-finger which is constantly in juxtaposition with his eyes and nose.

Witchem. A detective; a short, thick-set man, marked with the small-pox, and having something of a reserved and thoughtful air, as if he were engaged in deep arithmetical calculations, He is renowned for his acquaintance with the swell mob.

THREE “ DETECTIVE” ANECDOTES.

Grimwood, Eliza, called Tue Countess. A handsome young woman, found lying dead, with her throat cut, on the floor of hes bed-room, in the Waterloo Road.

Phibbs, Mr. A habordasher.

Tatt, Mr. A geatleman formerly in the public line; quite an ama- tour detective in nis way. He loses a diamond pin in a scrimmage

632 She Dickens Mictlonarg.

which is recovered by his friend Sergeant Witebem, who sees the man who took it, and while they are all down on the flooriegetler knocking about, touches him on the back of his hand, as his “ pal would ; and he thinks it ix his pal, and gives it to him,

Trinkle, Mr, A young man suspected of the murder of Eliza Grimwood, but proved innocent.

ON DUTY WITH INSPECTOR FIELD.

Bark, Bully. A lodging-house keeper, and a receiver of stolen goods, who lives in the innermost receases of the worst part of London.

Bark fe a rod villain and a wrathful, with a sanguine throat, that looks very much as If ft were expreuly made for hanging, we he atretches ft out, In pale defiance, over the halfwoor of his hutch. Bark’s parts of speech are of an awful sort, —prinefpally adjectives. I won't, says Burk, have no adjective palloe and adjective strangers in my adjective premles, I won't, by adjective and substantive! Give me my trousers, and E’ll send the whole adjective police to adjective and substantive! Give me, says Bark, my adjective trousers! 17i put an adjective knifo in the whole bileing of"em. fl punch their adjective heads. I'll ripup thelr adjective substantives, Give me my adjective trousers, says Bark, and 171 spile the bileing of fem,

Black. A constable, who, with his fellow-constable Green, accom- panies Inspector Field to Wentworth Street to unveil its midnight mysteries.

Blackey. An impostor, who has stood soliciting charity near Lon- don Bridge for five and twerty years, with a painted skin, to repre sent disease.

Click, Mr. A vagabond.

Field, Inspector, A detective officer, who aceompanics the wri ter, by night, to the lowest parts of London, visiting Rats’ Castle (a dark, close cellar, a lodging-house for thieves, near Saint Giles's Church), the old Farm-House near the Old Mint, the sailors’ dance-houses, in the region of Ratcliffe Highway, the low haunts of Wentworth Strvet, and revealing the worst mysteries of the great city.

Green. A constable, who, with another constable, named Black acts as an escort to Inspector Field, on his visiting Wentworth Street.

Miles, Bob. A vagabond and jail-bird.

Parker. A constable who attends Inspector Field on the of his visit to the “ Old Mint.”

‘

Reprinted Pleces 535

Rogers. A constable who goes with Inspector Field to Rats’ Castle.

‘Warwick, The Harl of. A thief, so called.

White. Aonstable who shows Inspector Field and his visitor the lodg'ng-houses in Rotten Gray’s Inn Lane.

‘Williams, A constable who pilots Inspector Field and his visitor to the sailors’ dance-houses in the neighborhood of Rateliffe High way

DOWN WITH THE TIDE,

Pea, or Peacoat. A river policeman, with whom the writer goos down the Thames, at night, on a tour of inspection. ‘Waterloo, A toll-taker, so called, nt the bridge of that name.

PRINCE BULL: A FAIRY TALE.

Bear, Prince. An enemy of Prince Bull; intended as a personi- fication of Russia,

Buil, Prince. A powerful prince, married to a lovely princess named Fair Freedom, who brought him a large fortune, and has borne him an immense number of children.

He had gone through n great deal of fighting, In his time, about all sorts of things, including nothing; but hnd gradoally settled down to be a steady, peaceable, good-natured, corpalent, rather sleepy prince.

Under this name the English Government is satirized, with espe- cial reference to its-bungling, inefficient prosecution of the Crimean war, and its obstinate adherence, ‘Under all low ominit to mere official routine and formality.

Tape. A malicious old beldame; godmother to Prince Bull.

She was fatry, this Tape, and was a bright red all over. Sho wns ingly prim and formal, and could never bend berself a hisir'sbreadth, thls way or that way, out of her naturally crooked shape, But she was very potent fm her wicked art. She could stop the fastest thing in the world, change the strong ‘est thing into the weakest, aud the mort useful Loto the most useless, To do, ‘his ahe hus only to put her cold hand upon It, and repeat her own name, Tape, ‘Then it withered away.

OUR HONORABLE FRIEND.

Tipkisson. A swiler, a plain, hard-worsing man, and an opponent of “Our Honorable Friend,” who is returned to parliament (in preference to himself’) as the member for Verbosity, — the best rep resented place in England.

-

684 ope Dickens Detlonary.

OUR SCHOOL.

Blinkins, Mr. Latin-master; a colorless, doubled-up, near-sighted man, with a crutch, who is always cold, and always putting onions into his ears for deafness, and always disclosing ends of flannel under all his garments, and almost always applying a ball of pocket-handkerchief to some part of his face with a serewing action round and round, +

He was a very good scholar, and took great pains where he saw intelligence and a desire to learn; otherwise, perhaps not, Our memory presents hin (unless teased into ® passion) with as little energy #4 color; as haring been worried and tormented into monotonous feebleness; as having had the best part of his life ground out of him in « mill of boys,

Dumbledon, Master. A parlor-boarder; an idiotic, gozgled- eyed boy, with a big head, and half-crowns without end; rumored to have come by gea from some mysterious part of the earth, where his parents rolled in gold; and said to fued in the parlor on steaks and gravy, likewise to drink currant-wine.

Frost, Miss. A school-girl.

Mawls, Master. A school-boy, with manners susceptible of much improvement.

Maxby, Master. <A day-pupil, favored by the usher, who is sweet upon one of his sisters.

Phil, A serving-man, with a sovereign contempt for learning.

OUR VESTRY, (A satire on the proceedings of parliament.)

Chib, Mr. (of Tucket’s Terrace). A hale old gentleman of eighty~ two, who is the father of the vestry.

Banger, Captain fof Wilderness Walk). A vestry-man, and an opponent of Mr. Tiddypot, with whom he has a Pickwickian altar cation.

Dogginson, Mr. A vestry-man who is regarded as “a regulay John Bull.”

Magg, Mr. (of Little Winkling Street). Onc of the “ first orators of “ Our Vestry.”

Tiddypot, Mr. (of Gumtion House). A vestry-man. See BAxGER, Caprarn.

Wigsby, Mr, (of Chumbledon Square). A vestry-man, who is = debater of great eminence,

Some WUncollected Pieces,

THE STRANGE GENTLEMAN.

‘Ties {s a comic burletta, in two nots, It was first performed at the St. James's ‘Theatre, on Thursday, the 20th of September, 1816; was well recelved; and ram until December, when it was withdrawn for ‘The Village Coquettes,” comle opera by the rame author. The Strange Gentleman was acted by J. P. Harley; and Dickens himself, on one oecasion, took «part, In 1897, the pleoe was pub- Mshed, under the pseudonym of * Boz,” by Chapman and Hall, in « small octayo pamphlet of forty-six pages, ilustrated with an etched frontispiece by “Thiz” (Mablot Knight Browne),

‘The play is a dramatized version of the story of “ The Great Winglebury Dael,” tn “The Sketches by Box," with some few changesin the plot, and some altera- tions of the names of places and persons. ‘Thus “ Great Winglebury” becomes & small anonymous town on the road to Grotua; the “ Winglebury Arms” is turned Into “The St, James's Arms; *Stiffun’s Acro” (the scene of the proposed duel) 4s renamed “Corpse Common;" instead of Mr. Horace Hunter and Mrs. Wil- Mamson, we have Mr, Horatio Tinkles and Mrs, Noakes; Miss Juila Manners turns her surname into Dobbs; and Mr. Joseph Overton, his Christian name into Owen; while Mr. Alexander Trott figures as the Strange Gentleman, and is at “ast discovered to be Mr. Walker Trott. — See pages 13, 14.

OHARAUTERS INTRODUCED.

Brown, Miss Emily. A young lady beloved by both Mr. Trott (the Strange Gentleman) and Mr. Tinkles, but married to the lat~ ter.

Dobbs, Miss Julia, A wealthy woman, formerly engaged to be married to Mr. Woolley, who died, leaving her his property, free

ou

536 Ede Wickens Bietlonary.

from all incumbrances; the incumbrance of himself as & husband not being among the least. Being desperately in want of a young husband, she falls in love with « certain wild and not very strong- minded nobleman, Lord Peter, who engages to ran away with | her to Gretna, and be marriod. He fails to keep the

ment, however; and she gives her hand to Mr. Trott (the Strange Gentleman) instead.

John, A waiter at the St. James's Arms.

Johnson, John, A hare-brained mad-cap enamoured of Miss Mary Wilson, with whom he starts for Gretna Green, but is tem porarily detained at the St, James’s Arms by his thoughtless liberality to the post-boys, which leaves him absolutely penniless.

A timely loan, however, enables him to continue his journey.

Noakes, Mrs. Landlady of the St. James's Arms.

Overton, Mr, Owen, An attorney, who is mayor of the small | town in which is the St, James's Arms.

Peter, Lord, A sprig of nobility, very wild, but not very sagacious or strong-minded, who is in love with Miss Jalia Dobbs —or her handsome fortune,

Sparks, Tom. “Boots” at the St. James's Arms.

Strange Gentleman, The. See Trott, Mr. WALKER.

Tomkins, Charles. A young gentleman in love with Miss Fanny Wilson. He has arranged to run away with her to Gretna Green, and meets her for this purpose at the St. James's Arms. As he has agreed not to disclose his name, she imagines that the Gentleman, staying at that house, and rumored to be ingane, but whom she has not seen, is her lover. When she meets Mr. Tom- king, therefore, she acts upon the presumption that be Is actually out of his head; and her conduct seems to him so strange, that he suspects her of playing him false, and works himself up into a tem- pest. of jealousy, which only serves to confirm her belief in his Janacy, ‘They are both, however, disabused at Inst, and set off, without delay, for their original destination.

Trott, Mr. Walker, called Tue Srnaxcr GeNTLEMAN. A young man desirous of marrying Miss Emily Brown, but deterred by the hostile attitude of Mr. Horatio Tinkles, who challenges him to mortal combat (on Corpse Common) for daring to think of such athing. He accepts the challenge in a bloodthirsty note, but fine mediately sends another, and an anonymous one, to the urging that a Strange Gentleman at the St, James's Arms, be

Some AUncollectev Pieces. 537

with arrested, as he is bent upon committing 4 rash and ¢anguinary act. By a ludicrous blunder, he is mistaken for Lord Peter, who fs expected at the same house for tho purpose of meeting Miss Julia Dobbe, his intended; and who is to be seized and carried off as an insane person, in order that his relatives may not discover him. As ho is being foreed into the carriage, however, the lady dix covers that he is unknown to her; and she refuses to accompany him. At the same moment, a letter from his rival is put into his hands, saying that the challenge was a ruse, and that the writer is far on his way to Gretna to be marricd to Miss Emily Brown. Determined not to be thus balked of a wife, Mr. Trott offers him- self to Miss Dobbs on the spot, is accepted, and starts instanter for the same place in a post-chaise and four.

Wilson, Fanny. A young lady affianced to Mr. Charles Tomkins.

Wilson, Mary. The innamorata of Mr. John Johnson.

THE VILLAGE COQUETTES.

‘Tuts “‘com{o opers in two nots," for which Mr, John Hullah composed the music, was written in 1835, and was brought out at the St. James's Theatre, In ‘London, on Tuesday evening, December 6, 1630. “The quaint humor, unaffected pathos, and graceful lyries of this production, found prompt recognition; and the piece enjoyed prosperous run.” The libretto of the opera was published by Bentley, in 1896, In a pamphict of seventy-one pages, the dedication, to Jamies Pritt Harley, being dated December 15, ‘The sorno As tald in an English village, and the time is supposed to be the autumn of 1729,

Benson, Lucy. A beautiful village-girl betrothed to George Ed- munds, a humble bat worthy man. Squire Norton, a man much her superior in social station, tries to lead her astray, and for a time the coquettes with him; but before it Is too late, she sees her error, rejects the clopement he urges, and returns to her discarded lover.

Benson, Old. Her father; a small farmer.

Benson, Young. His son; Lucy's brother.

Edmunds, George. A young man in love with Lucy Benson.

lam, The Honorable Sparkins, Friend to Squire Norton; fascinated by Rose, a village beauty, whom he ineffectually endeay- ors to lead from the path of virtue; though she is at first flattered. by his attentions.

Maddox, John. A voung maz attached to Rose.

Norton, Squire. A country-gentleman, who attempts, but un successfully, to seduce the fair Lucy Bensop.

538 Ebe Pickens Dictlonarp.

Rose, Cousin to Lucy Benson; a lovely village maiden, whom the Honorable Sparkins Flam vainly seeks to ruin.

Stokes, Mr. Martin, A very small farmer with a very lange circle of particular friends.

IS SHE HIS WIFE? On, SomeTRIxG SiXOULAR,

Ax Inedited comio butlotta, In one act, played at the St. James's Theatre, es Monday. March 6, 1897, ‘Tho part of the principal character, Mr. Felix Tapikins, was taken by James Pritt Harley.

John, Servant to Mr, Lovetown,

Limbury, Mr. Peter. A friend of Mr. Felix Tupkins's; made furiously jealous by the attentions his wife receives from Mr. Love- town.

Limbury, Mrs, A vain, conceited woman, who carries on a flirta- tion with Mr. Lovetown, for the double purpose of assisting him in curing his wife of her self-tormenting suspicions, and of teaching her husband the misery of the jealous fears he has been accustomed to harbor,

Lovetown, Mr. Alfred. A nowly-married man, perpetually yawning, and complaining of ennui. His wif, chagrined by his seoming indifference, determines to remove it, if she can, by wound- ing his vanity, and arousing his jealousy. She accordingly carries on a flirtation with a gay young bachelor (Mr. Tapkins), which perfectly effects her object. Lovetown, stung to the quick, affects a passion for Mrs. Limbury, which he does not feel, and to which the never really responds, with the double motive of obtaining opportunities of watching his wife, and of awaking any dormant feelings of affection for himself that may be slumbering in her bosom. In the carrying-on of these intrigues, many amusing mis understandings occur; but in the end mutual explanations remove all suspicions, and re-establish the confidence and affection which have temporarily been driven away.

wovetown, Mra. His wife.

Tapkins, Mr. Felix. A gay, good-heartod bachelor, who has a sufficient share of vanity, and who plumes himself on his gallantry: He resides at Rustic Lodge (near Reading), a remarkable cottage, with cardboard chimneys, Grecian balconies, Gothic parapets, and thatched roof; Such a model of compactness is this house, thar

al

Some Wncollected Pleces. 539

‘even the horse can’t cough without Lis owner's hearing him; the stable being close to the dining-room windows. See Lovyetows, Mn. Aurrep.

PUBLIC LIFE OF MR. TULRUMBLE (oxcx Maron or Munroa), [From * Bentloy’s Miscellany," January, 1337.)

Jennings, Mr, A gentleman with a pale face and light whiskers, whom Mr, Tulramble imports from London to act as his secretary.

Bniggs, Mr. Predecessor of Mr, Tulrumble in the mayoralty of Mudfog.

Tulrumble, Mrs, Wife of Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble; a vulgar, ignorant woman.

Talrumble, Mr. Nicholas. A coal-dealer, who begins life in a wooden tenement of four feet equare, with a capital of two and ninepence, and etock in trade of three bushels and a half of coals, Being industrious and saving, he gradually gots rich, marries, builds Madfog Hall (on something which he endeavors to delude himself into thinking a hill), retires from business altogether, grows vain and haughty, sets up for a public character and a great gentleman, and finally becomes mayor of Mudfog.

Mudfog is a pleasant town . . . sftanted in a charming hollow by the side of a river, from which [It] derives an agreeable scent of pitch, ter, coals, and rope-yarn, # roving population In oll-skin hats, # pretty steady influx of drunken bargemen, and m great many other maritime advantages. There Is a good deal of water about Mudfog; and yet it ts not exactly the sort of town for a watering-place elther. in winter, [tf comes oozing down the streets, and tumbling over the fields; nay, rushes into the very collars and kitchens of the houses with a lavish prodigality that might well be dispensed with. Bat fa the hot summer weather it will dry up and turn green; and although green fe 1 very good color In its way, especially in grass, still It certainly 1x not becom ing to water; and {t cannot be denfed that the beauty of Mudfog 1s rather ime paired even by this trifling circumstance,

Having, when in London, been present at the lord-mayor’s show, Mr. Tulrumble determines to have one of his own in Mud- fog, which shall equal if not surpass it. He makes arrangements, therefore, for a grand procession and dinner; but the day of his inauguration is dim and dismal, the crowd is unreasonable and derisive, the show is a failure, the dinner is flat, and Nicholas is deeply disappointed. Getting statistizal and philosophical, he exerts himself to prevent the granting of a new license to an old and popular inn, called“ The Jolly Boatmen,” and commences a

—

B40 Ede Dickens Mictlonary.

general crusade against beerjugs and fiddles, forgetting the time when he was glad to drink out of the one, and to dance to the other, He soon finds, however, that the people have come to hate him, and that his old friends shun him; he begins to grow tired of his new dignity and his lonely magnificence; and at last he dismisses his secretary, goes down to his old haunt, “The Lighterman’s Arms,” tells his quondam companions that he is sery sorry for hay« ing made a fool of himself, and hopes they will give bim up his old chair in the chimney-corner again, which they do with great |

Joy:

Tulrumble, Nicholas, junior. Their son. When his father becomes rich, he takes to smoking cigars, and calling the footman a * feller.”

Twigger, Hdward, called Borrie-vosep Nev. A pered, pleasant-faced, good-for-nothing sort of vagabond, with ar invincible dislike to manual labor, and an unconquerable attach- ment to strong beer and spirits. He is engaged to take part in the procession in honor of the election of Mr. Tulramble as mayor of ‘Mudfog, and is to make his appearance in a complete suit of an- cient brass armor of gigantic dimensions. Unfortunately, how- ever, he gets drunk, makes a most extraordinary exhibition of himself, as well as a Leughing-stock of the mayor, and has to be conducted home, where his wif, unable to get the armor off, tum- bles him into bed, helmet, gauntlets, breastplate, and all. _

Twigger, Mrs. His wife.

THE PANTOMIME OF LIFE. [Published in “ Sentley"s Miscellany * March, 1827.)

Do ‘em. A confederate of Captain Fitz-Whisker Fierey, acting as lis livery-servant.

Viercy, The Honorable Captain Fitz-Whisker. A swin- dler, who struts about with that compound air of conscious superi- ority and general blood-thirstiness, which is characteristic of most military men, and which always excites the admiration and terror of mere plebeians. He dupes all the tradesmen in his neighbor hood, by giving them orders for all sorts of articles, which wards disposes of to other dealers by means of his Do'em.

Some Ancollected Pieces. Bal

THE LAMPLIGHTER'S STORY.

‘Mx. Joux Macnozn, tho publisher of the “Sketches by Boz,” died In Wi, Jeaving his wife and children In straltened elroamatances, For thelr benefit, Mr. Dickens undertook to procure and supervise the publication of a series of voluntary literary contributions, ‘Theo were ismed in three volumes, by Henry Colborn, under the following title: “The PieNlo Papers. By various hands. Edited by Charles Dickens” The work was illustrated by George Cruikshank and Phiz* eet rvod the purpose for which It was intended, and brought Mire. Macrone the sum af three hundred pounds. Mr. Dickens wrote the Preface, and furnished the open Ing cale, called “ The Lamplighter's Story," which is a narrative version of farce that he wrote in 1898 or 1830 for the mannger of the Covent-Garden Theatre.

Barker, Miss Fanny. Niece to an old astrologer, who takes Tom Grig to be pointed out by the stars as her destined husband. He describes her as having “a graceful carriage, an exquisite shape, ‘@ sweet voice, a countenance beaming with animation and expres- sion, and the eye of a startled fawn.” She has also, he says, five thousand pounds in cash; and this attraction, added to the others, inelines Tom to marry her; but, when he finds that her uncle has borrowed and epent the whole sum in an unsuccessfill search for the philosopher's stone, he alters his mind, and declares that the scheme is “no go,” at which the uncle is enraged, and the niece is delighted; sho being in love with another young man.

Fimma. Daughter of a crazy astrologer who has spent fifteen years in conducting fruitless experiments having for their object the dis- covery of the philosopher's stone. Her father designs marrying her to his partner, “the gifted Mooney ;" but he utterly refuses to take her, alleging that his “contemplation of woman-kind”™ has led him to resolve that he “will not adventure on the troubled sea of matrimony.”

Galileo Isaac Newton Flamstead. The Christian names of the son of the crazy astrologer who takes Tom Grig to be “the favorite of the planets.” He is a tall, thin, dismal-fnced young gentleman, in his twenty-first year; though his father, absorbed in chimerical projects, considers him “a mere child,” and hag n't pro- vided him with a new suit of clothes since he was fourteen.

Grig, Tom. A lamplighter, who, on going his rounds one day, is accosted by one of the strangest and most mysterious-looking old gen~ tlemen ever seen. ‘This person proves to be a very learned astrolo- ger, who is on the point of discovering the philosopher's stone, which

e =

baz Ede Mickens Mlctlonarp.

will turn every thing into gold. He imagines that he has found in ‘Tom a nobi¢ stranger, whose birth is shrouded in uncertainty, and who is destined by the stars to be the husband of his young and lovely niece. He therefore takes him into his house forthwith, and intro dueot him to the lady, She is greatly disturbed, and suggests that’ the stars must have made a mistake; but is sllenced by her ancle, After this, Tom accompanies the old gentleman to the observatory, wher? Mr. Mooney —another scientific gentleman — casts his native ity, and horrifies him by predicting his death at exactly thi minates, twenty-seven seconds, and five-sixths of a second, past nine o'clock, A.a4, on that day two months. ‘Tom makes up his mind, that, while alive, he had better be rich than poor, and so assents to the proposed marriage. The preliminaries are nearly coneluded, when suddenly the crucible containing the ingredients of the miracu- lous stone explodes with a tremendous crash, and the labors of fifteen years are destroyed in an instant. Moreover, mistake is discoy- ered in the old gentleman's computation; and it turns out that Tom is to live to a green old age,—eighty-seven, at least. Upon this, not caring for a portionless bride who does n't love him, he utterly Tefuses to marry the lovely niece, whereupon her uncle, in a rage, wets his forefinger in some of the liquor from the crucible that was spilt on the floor, and draws a small triangle upon the forehead of the young lamplighter, who instantly finds himself in the #ateh- house, with the room swimming before his eyes,

Mooney, Mr., called Tae Grrtep. A learned philosopher, with the dirtiest face we can possibly know of in this imperfect state of existence. He is so very absent-minded, that he always bas to be brought to by means of an electric shock from a strongly-charged battery

Addenda.

PAOK 20.—“ As this letter Is to be historical, T may as well elatn what little belongs to me in the matter; and that ts the figure of Pickwick. Seymour's first sketch was of a long, thin man: the present immortal one he mado from my deveription of a friend of mine at Richmond, —a fat old beau, who would wear, in spite of the ladies’ protests, drab tights and black gaiters. His namo was John Foster"— Extract from a letter of Mr. Edward Chapman (of the firm of Chap~ man and Halt) to Mr. Dickens, as quoted in FoRste R's Life of Dickens, vol. |, ch. 6 (Philadelphia edition).

Page 00,—In the New-York ound Tuble for November 11, 1965, Dr. R. Shel- ton Mackenzie published a statement, that the plan and the main characters of Oliver Twist originated with Cruikshank the artist, who, previously to the writing of that novel, had made a series of drawings, containing portraits of Fagin, Bill Sikes, the Artful Dodger, &e.; the Intention being, to show, in this way, the Ifo of & London thief without a single line of letterpress, He further stated, —on the suthority of Mr. Cruikshank, — that Dickens, on seeing these drawings, changed the whole plot of story he had {a coutemplation, and obtained permixsion to write up to as many of the designs as he thought would sult his purpose.” Br, Forster, in his Life of Dickens, styles this a wonderful story," and says that it calumniates the distinguished artist on whom {t is fathered, and that it is only to be fitly characterized by an unpolite word of three letters. Mr, Cruikshank, how- ever, in m letter to the London Z¥mes, under the date of December 21, 1871, defends Mr. Mackenzie from “such a gross imputation,” acknowledges that he did tell that gentleman that he was “the originator of the story of Oliver Twist,” ‘snd proceeds to substantiate his claims to the honor,

PAOK 106,—The Garlands in The Old Curionity Shop are portraits of a family sith whom Dickens, when a boy, had lodgings during « portion of the time tha hie father was confined in the Marshalsea Prison. Mr. Garland was an Intolvent- sourt agent, who lived in Lant Street, in the Borough: “he was @ fut, goods ‘uatured, kind old gentleman, Howas lame, and had a quiet old wife; and he had Avery innocent grown-up son, who was lame too.” — See Foust ex's Life of Dicky ms, vo). 1, pp. 09, 00,

PAGE 172, —In the rame novel, the charncter of the Marchioness is also drawn from life. She represents an orphamgirl, from the Chatham Workhouse, who waited on Mr. John Dickens and his family in the Marshalsea, and who was romarkablo for her sharp little worldly yet kindly ways.— See FOR#TERH'S LAfe of Dickens, vol. f, p. @.

Cy

Git The Wickens Dictfonary.

Pace 2%. —“ Captain Cattle was one David Mainland, master of a: < man, who was introduced to Dickens on the day whon, with Thomas ; Daniel Mactiso, Jobin Leech, Thomas Powell, and Samuel Rogers, be Crosby Hall, Bihopgate Street, the restoration of which had then (1642) beew come ploted with grent taste and skill, ‘This ts all that remains of the dwelling of Eehard ILI, repentediy mentioned by Shakspeare. .. . The party, my exact informant tells me, proceeded from Crosby Hall to the adjacent London Tavern, where, at the proper charge of Mr. Thomas Chapman, Bathe and Hreach supplied a lunch. Of the six who constituted that soclol party, only one [3fr, Powell] survives. O« that day, however, Dickens * booked ? Captain Cuttle; though he did not appear ta Dombey end Son until five years later." — Mackunzin, Life of Dickens, p. 202.

Pace 271,“ Mr. Dombey is supposed to represent Mr. Thomas Chapman, ship-owner, whose offices were opposite the Wooden Midelipman, I had the honor of meeting 3fr. Chapman, at diuner (at Lough’s the sculptor); and the rigidity of his manner was only equalled by that of his form; he aut or stood, a4 the case might be, bolt upright, ax if he knew not how to bend,—as stiif, fn finet, wa Af he had swallowed the drawing-room poker in his youth, and had never digested It. Ax if to make Mr. Chapman undoubtedly identical with Dombey, we have, as messenger of the commercial house of Dombey S& Son, one Perch, actually taken from a funny little old chap, named Stephen Lule, who wus part clerk, part messenger, in Mr, Chapman’s office." — Mackanxt, Life of Dickens, pp. 201, 312.

PAGu £72. —“* Old Sol Gills was intended for a little fellow named Norie, who kept a very «mall shop in Leadenhall Street, exactly opposite the office of Jobs Chap man & Co.,in which * the stock in trade comprised chronometers, barometers, tele xcopes, compasses, charts, maps, sextants, quadrants, and speciinens of every Ikind of instruments used La the working of a ehip's course, or the keeping of @ ehip's reckoning, or the prosecuting of # ship's discoveries.’ In front of this small shop stands a figure, carved In wood, and curiously painted, of a miniature midshipman, with @ huge quadrant in his hand, as if about taking an observation. What te more, the little shop and the Wooden Midshipman may be seen, br the earlous, adorning Leadenhall Street, to this day, I speak of the Wooden Afidshipman ms Teaw him in 1s, He may have been swept away by what is called“ improve- mont.) — MACKENZIE, Life of Dickens, p. 202.

PAGE 318.— Dora Spentow had an original In the person of » young laity with whom Dickens fell in Jove in his youthful days, white practising ns n Inworeporter. “He, too,” saya Forster (L4fe af Dickens, vol. i, p. 3),"had his Dora at apparently: the same hopeless elevation, striven for as the only thing to be attained, and even more unattainable, for neither did he succeed, nor, happily, did abe die; but the ‘one idol, like the other, supplying @ motive to exertion for the time, and otherwixe opening out to the {dolater, both in fact and fletion, a highly anaubstantial, happy, foolish time, 1 used to laugh, and tell him T had no belfof in any but the book Dora, until the fneident of a sudden reappearance of the real one an/\is lift, nearly «ix y after Copperfield was written, convinced me there had been a more actual ‘oundation for thone chapters of his book thun I was ready to auppose.” Of the tady referred to, Mr. Dickens himself told Mr. Forster, “ Without, for @ moment, acerely beliering that ft would have been better if we had never got separated, 1 cannot see the occuston of 0 nich emotion ws I should see any one eles. No one van imayine, fo the most distant degree, what pain the recollection gure me tx Copperfeld ; and, Just ax I can never open that book as I open any other book, &

Avvenda. 45

‘exnnot see the face (eren at four and forty), or hear the voloe, without going wandering away over the ashes of ull that youth and hope fn the wildest man- ner.” In Léttle Dorrit, however, he afterwards drew, from the same original, the ‘very different portrait of Flora Finching.

race ee ee eee ayia David Copperfield’s schoolmate and friend, Is supposed to har tho late Sr-Thomas Noon Talloord one of Mr, Desens eles and moet fatinate friends.

FAGM 411,—This name is everywhere incorrectly written by Mr. Dickens St. Evrémonde or Evrémonde. The proper orthography is Lvremonde, which repre sents & decidedly different pronunciation,

-

A Classed £

st of Characters, Ete,

Nore. —The following lst embraces only a portion of the names contained tn Dickens's novela and shorter tales, Not a fow names are omitted, as being quite unclassifiable; othere, ss belonging to persons, places, or things altogether tnsignifi- cant; others again, because, if brought together at all, they could only be 40 under headings of very little interest or importance, Incomplete —designediy incomplete —As tho list 4s, however, it 1s thought that the groupings it presents will be found to be both curlous, and useful for reference,

‘Tho tales tn which the names occur may easily be ascertained by means of the ‘Goneral Index on page 657.

Actors.—Mostor Orummles; Master Poroy Crammles; Vincent Crammies; Mr. Folate; Jom Hutley; Alfred Jingle; John; Jem Larkins; Thomas Lenvilie; Mr. Loggins; Nicholas Nickleby; Mr. Pip; P. Baloy Family; Smike; Mr. Snevellice!; Mr. Saittlo Timberry; Mr. Wopsle,

Actresses. — Miss Belvawney; Miss Bravassa; the Compact Enchantress; Minette Crammles;' Mins Gazingl; Mrs. Gradden; Miss Ledrook; Mrs. Lenville; Hearl- ‘atta Petowkor; Miss Snevelifect.

Actuary. —Mr. Meltham,

Adventurers, — Mr. Jinkina; Alfred Lammle,

Acronauts.—Mr. Green; Mr, Green, Juntor,

Alderman. —Mr. Cute,

Amanuensis.—Caddy Jellyby.

Americans. — Mr, Bevan; Julius Washington Merry woather Bib; Jefferson Bre: Mrs. Jefferson Brick} Osoar Buffum; Cyrus Choke; Hannibal Chollep; Mime Codger; Colonel Diver; Doctor Ginery Dunklo; General Finddock; Gotooe, Gropor; Mre. Hominy; Mr. Ixxard; Mr. Jodd; Captain Kedgick; La Fayews Kettle; Mr. Norris and family ; Major Pawkins; Mrs. Pawkine; Profesor Piper Elijah Pogram; Zephaniah Seadder; Putnam Saif ; Mins Topplt,

Apprentices.—Noah Claypole; Mark Gilbert; Hugh Graham; Sim Tapperts, Oliver Twist; Dick Wilkins.

Architects. — Martin Cbuzzlewit; Both Pecksnttf; Tom Pinch; John Westlock.

Articulator of bones, etes— Mr, Venus,

Astrologer. —Mr. Mooney.

Auctioneer, — ‘Thomas Bapees,

48 She Wickens Mictlonarp.

Authors, ote, — Theodosius Butler; Misa Codger; David Copperfiel2* Mr.Curdle; Mrs, Hominy; Mra, Leo Muntar; Miss Topplt; Professor Mullis, |

Bables.— Frederick Charles William Kitterbell; Sally Tettorby; Alexander Mao Stinger.

Bachelors.—Georgo Churzlewit; Nleodomus Dumps, the Blogle Gentleman Jobn Jarndyce; Michacl; Newman Nogga; Mr. Saunders; Felix ‘Tapkion ‘Tackicton; Mr. Topper; Watkins Tottle.

Bailiff. —Solomon Jacobs.

lad-seller, ote.—Mr. Weg

Bankers. —Jowiah Rounderby; Mr. Meagles; Mr, Merdio; Tolleon and Ga,

Barbers. —Crofts; Jinkinson; Mr. Blithers; Poll Sweediepips,

Bar-matds,— Becky; Miss Martin.

Beadlos.—Mr. Bumble; Mr. Bung; Mooney; Simmons; Sownds; Sowster.

Begging-letter writer. —Mr. Southeote.

Bird-fanclor. —Voll Bwoedleptps.

Blind persons. — Bertha Plummer; Mr. Sampson Dibble; Stagg.

Boarding-boure keopers.—Mcs. Pawkios; Mea. Tibbs; Mra. Todgers.

Boobies. — entley Drammle; Kdmund Sparkler,

Boots, — Bailey, Junlor; Cobbs; Tom Sparks; Sam Weller,

More. —Mr, Barlow. |

Brokers.— Mr. Brogley; Clariker; Fixem; Wilkins Masher; Fascination Pledge by; Mr. Gauleton; Frank Simmory; Grandfather Smaliweed; Tom ‘Tix,

Barglars. — See HOvarsaeaxens,

Butlors.—David; Giles; Nicholas.

Carpenters.— Thomas Joy; Samuel Wilkins.

Carriers. —Mr. Barkls; John Peerybingle. |

‘Chambermaid.— Mrs, Pratchett,

Chandler.—Tom Codd.

Charity-boys.—Noah Claypole; Roba Toodle,

Charwomen.—Mrs, Bangham; Mrs. Blockson.

Cheap-jacks.—Dootor Marigold; Willum Marigold. :

Cheanixts,—"Thomas Groflin; Mr. Redlaw.

Church, — Little Bethel,

Circus performers, ete.—E. W. B, Childers; Emma Gorlon; Bignor Jupe; Master Kidderminster; Josephine Sleary ; Mr. Sleary; Mian Woolford,

Clergymen, ete. —Mr. Chadband; Horace Crewlor; Septimus Crisparkles Alfred Feodor; Brother Gimblet; Verity Hawkyart; Melehiyedesh Howler; Mr. Long | ‘Ears; Frank Milvey; George Silverman; M-. Silverstone; Mr, Suigyina; Charles | ‘Timeon.

Clerks, ete. — Mr, Adame; Clarence Bamacie; Mr, Baxeant; Bitser; Young Bifghts Alexandr Briggs; James Carker; John Carker; Frank Cheoryble; Mr. Chucks |

wuffey; Mr. Clark; Bob Cratchit; Mr. Dobble; Walter Gay; ‘Tom Girad= ‘William Guppy; Uriah Ikeep; Mr. Jones; Mr. Jackson; Me. Flake; "Dim ater; Jarvis Lorry; Mr. Lowten: Mr. Mallard; Wilkine Micawbers Augustus Minos; Mr, Morfin; Nicholas Nickleby; Newman Noges; Nathanlel Pipkin; ‘Thomas Potter; Bartholomew Smallweed; Putnam Smif; Mr. Smithy Robert Bmalthers; Horatio Sparking; Jobn Spatter; Dick Swtvoller; Mr, ‘Pilfey* ‘Tom; Alfred Tomkins; Mr. Topple; John Wenmick; Me, Wicks; Reginale Wiifer; Mr. Wisbottle. — See also Pamsm Crema. Clients. — Mr. Watty; Michac: Wanton; Amelia; Mike,

Elassev Dist of Characters. m9

Conchmen, ete, — William Barker; George; Joe; Martin; Sam; Wilk Sim ‘mons; Tipp; Tom; Tony Weller; Wiliam,

Coal-dealer, — Nicholas Tolrumble.

Collectors. —Mr. Buille; Mr. Lillyrick; Mr. Pancke; Mr. Rugg.

Companions, —Mra, General; Mary Graham; Kato Nickleby,

Constables. — Black; Darby; Green; Daniel Grummor; Rogers; White; WIL Matas.

Convicts, — Alico Brown; Compeyson; John Rdmunds; Kags; Abol Magwitoh.

Corm-chandlers. — Octavius Budden; Wilkins Micawber; Unole Pumbleshook.

Coroner. — Mr. Wackley.

- Corporations, ete, — Anglo-Bengales Dixiatereated Loan and Life Inenrance Com. pany; Circumlocution Offloe; Eden Land Corporation; Human Interest Brothers; Inostimable Life Assurance Company; United Grand Junction Lirriper and Jack» man Great Norfolk Parlor Lino; United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpot Baking and Punotual Delivery Company. — See Socrertxs.

‘Costamer. —Solomon Lucas.

Cricketers,—Mr. Dumkias; Laffey; Poter Magnus; Mr. Podder; Mr. Staples ‘Mr, Struggles,

(Cripples. Phebe; Tiny Tim; Fanny Cleaver; Gruff and Glum; Mr. Werx.

Dancing-masters. — Mr, Baps; Signor Billenethi; Prince Turreydrop,

Deaf-mute. —Sophy Marigold.

Detectives. — Mr. Inspector Bucket; Sergeant Dornton; Sergeant Fendall; In- apector Mold; Sorgoant Mith; Mr. Nalgett; Rogers; Inspector Stalker; Sergeant

Mr. Tatt; Inspector Wield; Witcher,

—Mr. Lanptale,

Doge. — Boxer; Bull'eeyo: Diogovess Jip; Merry!

Dressmakers. — Fanay Cleaver (dolls? dressmaker); Mise Knag} Madame Mant Mal; Amelia Martin; Kate Niokleby; Miss Simmond,

Drivers. — See Coactmns, eta.

Drankards.— Mrs. Blackpool; Mr. Dolla; John; Krock; Wanten,

Drysalters.— Brother Gimblet; Verity Unwkyard,

Dustman, —Nlcodemus Botfin,

Dwarfs.—Quilp; Misa Moweher,

Editors, eto. —Jefforson Brick; Colonel Diver; Mr. Pott; Mr. Stark.

Emigrants,—Susannah Cleverly; William Cleverly; Dorothy Dibble; Bampeon Dibble; Jessto Jobson; Wiltshire; Anastasia Weedlo,

Engine-driver.—Mr. Toodle.

Engineers. — Daniel Doyce; Edwin Drood,

Fairies, — Grandmarina; Tape.

Farmers.—Old Bensvn John Browdle; Godfrey Nickleby; Martin Stokes.

Fishermen. — Ham Peggotty; Daniel Poggotty,

Yootmen.— Mercury; Mussle; John Smauker; Thomas Towlineon; Turkle Wohitters,

Vops.— Fascination Fledgeby; Mr. Mantalinl; Mr, Toota,

Forgers.—Mr. Pikey; Mr. Merdie,

Blandols (or Rigaud); Madame Bonuclet; the Compacs

‘Enchantress; Charles Darnay (or Evrémonde); Lucle Daruay; Ernest Defarge

‘Thérkeo Defargo; Monsieur the Fucemaker; Théophile Gabello; Gaspard; Mar

Aemolselie Hortense; Jncques (Ono, Two, Throe, Four, Five); Lagnier (or

550 Ebe Dickens Mietfonarg.

‘Riguud); M. Loyal Derasscur; Alexander Manotto; Lucle Manetio; Mousees Mutuel; &t. Evnéimonde; P. Salcy Family; Corporal Théophile; the Vengeanze* ‘Mopsleur the Veutrtloquist.

Gamblers. —Joo Jowl; Isaac List; Mint Botery Trotwood's Husbaed; Little Nelv’s Grandiather,

Gamekeeper.— Martin,

Gardeners. — Mr. Choggs; Hunt; Wilkins.

Gentiomon,— Mr, Tito Barnacle; Bir Joseph Bowley; Mr. Brownlow; Bir John Chostor; Sir Thomas Clubber; Hon, Mr. Crashton; Sir Leloestor Dediogk ; The ‘Hon. Sparkins Flam ; Mr. Alexander Grasioglands; Mr. Grimwig; Gosifrey Hare- - dale; Sir Mulberry Hawk; Mastor Humphrey; Sir William Joltered ; Hon. Mr. Long Ears; Nlobolas Nickleby; Squire Nortoo; Samuol Pickwiok; Mr. John Podenap; Sir Matthew Papker; Jack Reddurn} Sir Barnet Blettles; the Hon. ‘Wiimot Snipe; Sir Hookham Satvey; the Hon. Mr,.@uob; the Hon, Bob Stables; ‘Mr. Melvin Twomlow; Mr, Wandio.

Germans.—Baryn and Baroness von KoSldwethout; Straudesholm; Baros aad Baroness von Swillenhaneen.

Glants.—Gog; Magog; Plokleson,

Governesses.—Mrs. General; Miss Lane; Rath Pinch.

Green-grooers,— Harris; Tommy; Richard Upwitch,

Grocera.—Jacob Barwon; Mr, Blocker; Joseph Taggs.

Groom, — Thomas.

‘Guarda. — George; Joo.

Maberdashers.—Mr. Omer; Mr, Phibba,

Hangman, — Nod Dennis,

‘Hop-geower.— Mr. Cheatle.

Morse-Jockey. — Captain Maroon.

Hostlors.—Ulngh; Mark Tspley.

Housebreakers. —Toby Orackit; Bill Bikes.

Housekeepers.—Mrs. Bedwin; Mise Benton; Molly; Mrs. Pipehin; Miss Pross; Mre. ouncewoll; Deg Sliderskew; Mrs. Sparelt; Kether Sammersony Mra, Tiokit; Agnos Wickileld.

Hypocrites, — Charity Peckaniff ; Merey Pockaniff ; Seth Peckanlff ; Jullus Siinke ton,

Impostor, —Blackey.

irs, Clonnam; Mre, Crewlor; Mr, Gobler; Mrs, Grad- grind; Mrs 8kimpolo; Mr, ‘Tresham.

Inventors. —Mr. Crinkles; Don Diego; Daniel Doyoe; John; Professor Queer speck; Mr. Tickle.

Irishman, — Frederik O'Bleary.

Tronmaster.~Mr. Rouncowell,

Italians. —Glovannl Carlarero; John BapUlst Oavallotto,

Jailer, —Mr. Akerman. Jows.—Bamoy; Fagin; Aaron Mesheok; Mr. Iiab. Judge, —Me. Justice Starelelgh.

Soggler.— African Knifo-rwallowor; Sweet Williaa Surymen.— Thomas Groflin; Iuchard Upwiteh.

Elassed Ast of Characters. 551

Laborers, —Bayton; Will Fern; Joo; Wiltahire.

Ladios.— Princess Alicia; Lady Bowley; Lady Clubber; Lady Dediock; Mra Gowan; Baroness von Koisldwothout; Mra. Meedio; Lady Faroway; Lady Sead were; Lady Skettlen; the Hon. Mrs, Gkewton; Lady Sauphanuph; Lady Tippins; Baroness von Swillenhanson. =

Lamplighter. —Tom Grig.

Landladies.—Mrs. Bardell; Mrs. Billickin; Madame Bouslot; Mrs. Cradstock Mrs. Crupp; Mra. Lirriper; Mrs. Lupin; Mrs. MacStinger; Mra. Noakes; Mise Abbey Pottervon; Mary Ann Rade; Mrs. "Tibbs; Mrs. Todgers; Mra, Whimple; ‘Mrs. Willtamson; Mise Worenbam

‘Landlords, — Bark; The Black Li james George Bogsby; Christopher Oasby . M, Loyal Dorasour; James Groves; W. Grabble; Captaln Kedglck; Mr. 7 Mellows; Mr, Licensed Victualler; John Willot,

Laundressea. —Mrv. Dilber; Mra. Parkina; Mrs. Stubbs; Mrs. Bwoeney.

Law-stationers,— Mra, Harrie; Mr. Soagsby,

Law-student.— Percy Noakes,

Law-writers.—Csptain Hawdon; Tony Jobling.

Lawyers,—Sully Brass; Sampson Brass; Samuel Briggs; Serjoant Bustue; Aya ney Carton; Clarkson; Thomas Cragys; Mr. Dodson; Mr. ipa; Mr. Four ‘Hiram Grewgious; Uriah Heep; Mr. Jaggors; Mr, Jorkins; Conversation Kenge Mortlner Lightwood; Perey Noakes; Josoph Overton; Owen Overton; Solomon Poll; Mr. Perker; Mr. Phankey; Mr. Ragg; Mr. Skimpin; Jonathan Gaitche, Serjeant Saubbin; Francis 8penlow; Uenry Spiker; Mr. Stryrer; Mr. Tang) Thomas Traddles; Mr. Tulkingborn; Mr. Vholes; Mr. Wickfield; Eugene Wrayburn.

Literary Productions. —Considerations on tho Polloy of removing the Duty on Beeswax; Last Moments of the Learned Pig; Ode to an Expiring Frog; Speou Jatlons on the Sources of the Hampstead Ponda, with some Observations on the ‘Thoory of Tiitledats ; the Thorn of Anxiety.

Locksmith, — Gabriel Varden.

Lodging-house Keepers, — Bully Bark; Mev. Billickin; Mr. Bulph; Mrs. Lir riper; Misa Wozenham,

Loris. — See Noweeaen.

Lunatics, Mr. Dick (Richard Babley); Tho Gentleman tn Smallclothes; Milas Flite.

‘Magistrates, — Alterman Cute; Mr. Fang; Mr. Nupkins.

‘Manufacturer.—Joslah Bounderby.

‘Matrons of Workhouses, ~Mrs. Corney; Mrs. Mann,

Mayors. — George Nupkins; Joseph (or Owen) Overton; Mr, Bolger; Mr. Tuk rumble.

Medical Students. —Ben Allen; Alfred Heathfield; Jack Hopkin; Bob Bawyer,

Member of Congress. — Elijah Pogram.

Members of Parliament. — William Buffey; Cornelfus Brook Dingwall; Mr

‘ir Matthew Pupker; Sir Barnet Skettles; Honest Tom; Hamilton