The Sun.
London, England, 1870-06-14 00:00:00

CHARLES DICKENS'S DEATH SCENES.

At the close of Our Mutual Friend, the great man now
lost to us, wrote on the 2nd of September, 1865, a " Post-
script," the last words of which ran thus, in reference to
the frightful railway accident at Staplehurst, which had
taken place in that same year, on Friday, the 9th of June
—exactly five years to .the very day from this last fatal
Thursday, the 9th of June, 1870, on which the beloved
author expired :

" I remember "—these are the closing words of Our
Mutual Friend—" I remember with devout• thankfulness
that I can never be much nearer parting company with
my readers for ever than I was then, until there shall be
written against ray life the two words with which I have
this day closed this 1..,k :—TILE END."

LITTLE ITELIAa.
" For she was dead. There, upon her little bed, she lay
at rest. The solemn stillness was no marvel now.
" She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so
free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. . . .
" She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell,was
dead. Her little bird—a poor slight thing the pressure of
a finger would have crushed—was stirring nimbly in its
cage ; and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute
and motionless for ever."—The Old Curiosity Shop.
LITTLE PAUL'S.

" And when Paul saw him, he stretched out his hand
and said, ` Good-bye ! '
" Good-bye, my child ! ' cried Mrs. Pipchin, hurrying
to his bedhead, ` Not good-bye ?'
" For an instant Paul looked at her with the wistful face
with which he had so often gazed upon her in his corner
by the fire. Ah, yes,' be said placidly, ` Good-bye
Walter, dear, good-bye ! '—turning his head to where he
stood, and putting out his hand again, Where is papa ?
" He felt his father's breath upon his cheek, before the
words had parted from his lips.
" ` Remember Walter, dear papa,' he whispered, looking
in his face. Remember Walter. I was fond of Wal-
ter !' The feeble hand waved in the air, as if it said Good-
bye !' to Walter once again.
" Now lay me down,' he said ; ` and, Flory, come
close to me, and let me see you.'
" Sister and brother wound their arms around each
other, and the golden light came streaming full upon
them, locked together
" Tell them that the print upon the stairs at school is
not divine enough. The light about the head is shining
on me as I go . '

" The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and
nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion 1
The fashion that came in with'our first garments, and will
last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the
wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old
fashion—Death !
" Oh thank GOD all those who see it for that older
fashion yet of Immortality ! And look upon us, angels
of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when
the swift river bears us to the ocean I"—Dombey and Son.

TINY TIM'S.
" Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were
as still as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at
Peter, who had a book before him. The mother and her
daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they were
quiet !
" ' And He took a child and set him in the midst of
them.'

" When had Scrooge heard those words ? He had not
dreamed them. The boy must have read them out, as he
and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why did he not
go on ?
" The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her
hand up to her face.
" The colour hurts my eyes,' she said.
" The colour ? Ah, poor Tiny Tim !
" They were very quiet again. At last she said, and
in a steady, cheerful voice, that only faltered once :
"' I have known him walk with—l have known him
walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed.'
" ' And so have I,' cried Peter. Often.'
" ' And so have I,' exclaimed another. So had all.
" ' But he was very light to carry,' she resumed, intent
upon her work, and his father loved.him so, that it was
no trouble :no trouble. And there is your father at the
door !'
" She hurried out to meet him ; and little Bob in his
comforter—he had need of it, poor fellow—came in. His
tea was ready for him on the hob, and they all tried who
should help him to it most. Then the two young Cratchits
got upon his knees and laid, each child, a little cheek
against his face, as if they said, Don't mind it father !'
.‘ Don't be grieved !'

" Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke plea-
santly to all the family. He looked at the work upon the
table, and praised the industry and speed of Mrs. Crat-
chit and the girls. They would be done long before Sun-
day, he said.
" 'Sunday ! You went to-day, then, Robert !' said his
wife.

" 'Yes, my dear,' returned Bob. ' I wish you could
have gone. It would have done you good to see how
green a place it is. But you'll see it often. I promised
him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little,
little child ? ' cried Bob. My little child !'
" lie broke down all at once, He couldn't help it, If

THE CHILD-WIFE'S.
" How the time wears, I know not ; until I am recalled
by my child-wife's old companion. More restless than he
was, he crawls out of his house and looks at me, and wan-
ders to the door, and whines to go upstairs.
`Not to-night, Jip ! Not to-night.'
" He comes very slowly back to me, licks my hand, and
lifts his dim eyes to my face.
" 0, Jip ! It may be, never again !'
" He lies down at my feet, stretches himself out as if to
sleep, and with a plaintive cry, is dead.
" 0, Agnes ! Look, look here !'

"- That face, so full of pity and of grief, that rain of
tears, that awful, mute appeal to me, that solemn hand
upraised towards Heaven !
" ' Agnes?'
"It is over. Darkness comes before my eyes ; and,
for a time, all things are blotted out of my remem-
brance

" 0 Agnes, 0 my soul, so may thy face be by me when
I close my life indeed ; so may I when realities are melt-
ing from me like the shadows which I now dismiss, still
find thee near me, pointing upward ! "—David Copperfield.