Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1871-08-25
Aneedote of Charles Dickens.

OF aneCuOfS, "reminiscences, anu unPUE-
hshed letters of the great Sc Boz" from
which We select the following II
] Let me commend to the attention of my
numerous and nameless correspondents,
| who have attem pied to soil the moral char
| acter OF Dickens, the following little incl
dent, related to ne by himself during O.
summer tT ming walk among the Kentisl'
meadows, u few m 3nths before he died. l
will try I'd tell tie story, if possible, as
mply and naturally as he told it to Eae !:
II CHANGED to be travelling, some years
ago." he said, {" in q railroad carriage be-
| tween Liverpool and London. Beside my
self, there were two ladies and gentle
man occupying the carriage. We happen
| ed TO be all strangers to each other. bnt L
noticed at once that q clergyman was of the
party. I was occupied with ponderous
| article in the Times, when the sound of
| my own name drew my attention TO the
| fact that a conversation was going forward
amongthe three other persons in the CARR
age with reference TO my self and my books.
One Ct the ladies was perusiug Bleak
House. then lately published, and the
| clergyman had commenced a conversation
with the ladies by asking what book they
were reading. On being tod the authors
name, and the title of the book. he tx
pressed himself greatly grieved that any
lady in England should be willing to take
up the writings Of SO vile a character as
| Charles Dickens. Both the ladies showed
great surprise at the low estimate the cler-
gyman put upon an author whom they
aad been accustomed to read, to say the
least, with a certain degree OF pleasure.
They were evidently much shocked at
| what the man said of the immoral tenden-
cy of these books, which they seemed new
er before to have suspected; but when he
attacked the authors private character,
and told morstrous stories of his immoral
ties in every direction, the volume was
shut up and confined to the dark pockets
of travelling bag. I listened in wonder
and establishment, behind my newspaper.
to stories of myself, which, if they had
been true, would have consigned any man
to a prison tor life. After my fictitious
biographer had occupied himself for near
ly an hour with the eloquent recital of my
delinquencies and crimes, I very quietly
| joined in the conversation. OF course [
began by modestly donbtipg some state
ments which had just heard touching the
author of BLEAK House and other unim-
portant works of similar character. The
man stared at me, and evidently consid-
| cred my appe araDce on the conversational
stage an intrusion and An impertinence.
"'YCu seem to speak, I said, from
personal knowledge of Mr.. Dickers. Are
you acquainted with him?'
following him up closely, I compelled
him to say that he had been talking, not
from his own knowledge of the author in
question, but he said he knew for q GER
tainty that every staten ant he had made
was a true one. I then became more ear
nest in my inquiries for proofs. which he
arrogantly declined giving. The ladies
Eat by in silence. listening intently to what
| was going forward. An author they bad
been accustomed to read for amusement
had been traduced for the first time in
their hearing, and they were waiting to
learn what i had to say in relation of tx e
| clergy s charges. I was taking up his
vile stories, one by one, and stamping
them as false In every particular, when the
man grew furious. and asked me if knew
Dickens personally. Treplied, Perfectly
we'll no man knows him better
than do and all your stories about him
from beginning to end, TO these ladies, are
| unmitigated lies The man became livid
with rage, and asked for my card. You
shall have it, said, and coolly taking out
one, [ presen ed it to him without bowling.
We were just then nearing the station in
London. that I was spared longer in
| terview with my truthful companion !; but
| If were to live an hundred years, I should
not fJrget the abject condition into which
| the narrator of my crimes was instantly
| plunged. His face turned white as his
oIavst, an! his lips refused to utter words.
He seemed Ike a wilted vegetable. and as
if bis gs belonged to somebody else. The
| ladies became aware of the situation at
once, and bidding them good day.
stepped smi irgly cut of the carriage. Be
| fore l cCuli ecc awPy from the station the
man had mustered up strength sufficient
to follow mo, and his apologies were
so nauseCus and craven, that pitied him
from my soul. [ left him with this eau
ton Before you make charges against
the character of any man again, about
whom you know nothing, and OF whose
works you are utterly ignorant, study to
| be seeker after truth, and avoid lying as
you would eternal perdtion.'"
L never ceased to wonder at Dickens in
domitable cheerfulness, even when he was
| suffering from ill health, and could not
slee p more til an two or three hours out of
| the twensy-four. He made it point never
| to infict on another what he might be
painfully enduring himself, and I have
soen him, with what must have been q
great effort, arrange merry meeting for
some friends, when knew that almost any
one else under similar circumstances would
b ave sought relief in bed.
Suicide OF a Cantatrice-Somewat of q
Mystery.
Few of our theatr-going people but will
remember the beautiful Amelia Garcia,
who, for three or four successive seasons,
won unbounded applause on the stage of
our principal theatres. Young, lovely and
accomplished. the wonderful charm of her
voice was augmented by great personal at
fractions. Gay, fascinating, and brilliant,
4 L