The Charleston daily news. [volume] (Charleston, S.C.) 1865-1873, 1870-07-09
THE GREAT MASTER.
"Edwin Drood,, the Death OF Dickens.
[London Correspondence Of the scotsnan.l

Since his sudden seizure in the midst OF his
rea 1ines Inst year. MIR. Dickens has Deyer been
the same man. After little while he began to
go about as before, fitted to and fro in his ar
dent restless way, took long walks after his
fayorte fashion. starting on the whlm OF the
moment. at any hour, for anywhere, end re-
With the same lIghtness and vlvacity as before.
Though eturdy walker. there had always been
some thing OF limp in his gait, and this now
became more marked. he had more need OF
bis stick, and stopped percephbly. He grew
sooner wearied. both IN waking and IN Work,
and complained OF times OF q strange supine-
ness OF mind and labored slowness with the
pen. Those who had seen him Tor some time
last few months with the sudden whlteness OF
his halr From gray he became all at once
white, lust as MIR. Bright did not long since.sl
saw him few weeks ago, Just before be LETT
town, aud his sunburned face seemed set IN
snow, lis beard and hair were beached 30
perfectly. Beyond question, l think 1t was
EDWIN brood" that kllied him, he vent
back to work too soon. he had had the IDEA
If the story for some time IN his mind Il be-
],eye, but affer the first impulse Of the start
was of, he found the developement OF the lr-
cidents and characters slow and painful. With
IN the last week or 80 he was planning much
Of this. he seemed to make 40 little progress,
and 1t the cost OF nuoh-en-efort. Perhaps 1t
was the hot weather, he thought, or he was
by-and-by. But tho disorder Was deeper and
more fatal, Even before his illness last year,
however, he had had warnings OF exhaustion.
he suffered at times from terrible sleepless.
ness, which often drove him forth at midnight
to walk-hIs favorite remedy for all troubles
till dawn. Like Wordsworth, he belonged TO the
school OF peripatetics. Much given blmsef 70
Il Ill 1,ouo
often In his rambles, always marching swiftly,
with earnest, resoiute air, as il bound to be at
some given spot by the hour and ruinute, his
quick. glanclpg eye scanning everything and
everybody. In the story Of the ''Two Appren-
tices," whi,h he wrote With Wllkie Collins, he
described his own restless impetuous activity.
laborious ldleness he called 1t. all this wear
and tear OF writing, public readings and per,
petua1 movement told even on his elastic and
vigorous constitution in the end. The American
trip brought him closeupon fS0, 900; but other
WISE doubt whether it did him much good.
Altogether the strain was too severe. Then
came Edwin brood" to put the finishing
stroke to the work.
Jean Ingelow and Dickens.
The Boston Transcript publishes this OK
tract from private letter from Jean lnge-
low:
You know By this time the loss we have sus-
tanned in the death OF Charles Dickens. Lit
e1ature seems to have lost her king, and one
to whom almost all were loyal. He was the
lord of laughter and OF tears. The old dress
in which mortals used to be presented to us
by authors had grown shabby, but be dressed
human nature anew, showed it to us as we
had never seen 1t before. He made what was
homely aud lowly draw near, to be looked at
and loved.
Holmes on Dickens.
In his oration ct Harvard College, last week,
Oliver W. Holmes said OF Charles Dickens;
whole compass waa included within the re-
membered years OF many among us. Why
was our great prose minstrel mourned by
palions and buried with kings Because he
indicated humanity; not against it's Maker,
but against Itself Because he took the part
OF his frail, erIlng. sorrowing, dying fellow,
creatures. against the demonologists, VINO mao
pretended to write the history OF human
nature, with voice that touched the
heart as no other had done since the Scotch
peasant was laid down to slumber in the soil
his song had hallowed. We ere not called to
mourn over his frallties as We must sorrow in
remembering those Of the sweet singer OF
Scotland; but we all need forgiveness, and
there must be generous faIings IN every true
manhood, which it makes Heaven itself nap
pier to pardon. Il am very human" DICKENS
said to me one Of the last times 1 met him;
and so feel as if I might repeat a few Of tfe
Iines 7 wrote on certain occasion, as my poor
tribute to the memory Of Robert Burns, in
tender remembrance of Charles Dickens:
We praise him-not for gift divine,
His muse was born Of woman;
Ills manhood breathes in every line;
Was ever heart more human?
We love him, 'praise him. /" just fo- this,
In every form and feature;
Through wealth and want through woe aud
bliss,
He saw his fellow creature.
Ave- heaven had set one living man
Beyond the pendants tether;
His virtues, frailtIes, he may scan,
Who weighs them altogether.
Dickens's Will.
Tho following is an extract from the will of
Charles Dickeps:
direc. that my name be inscribed in plain
English lettere on my tomb. enjoin, my
friends on no account to make me the subject
OF any monument, memorial, or testimonial
whatever. rest my CLAIMS to the remember
ance of my country upon my published works,
and the remembrance OF my friends upon
theiI experience of me in addition thereto.
commit my soul to the mercy OF God, through
our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ and ! e1-