Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1872-01-03

any one, 1 spent it 1T a dinner or a
/ tea. know that / worked from
morning till night, with common
men and boys, shabby child. l
know that 1 tried, but Intellectually,
not to anticipate my money, and to
make it last the week through, by put
ting it away ina drawer I had in the
counting house, wrapped into six little
parcels, each parcel containing the
same amount, and labeled with a diff
ferent day. know that have iOnn-
ged about the streets, insuaieiently
and unsatisfactory fed. I know
that. but for the mercy OF God, ]
might easily have been, for any care
that was taken Of me, little rObbef or
little vagabond.
THE YOUNG GENTNIHAN.
But 1 held some station at the black
ing warehouse too. Besides that, my
relative at the counting-house did
what man sO-Occupied, and dealing
with thing so anomalous, covld, to
treat me as one upon a different foot
ing from the rest. never said to
man or boy how it was that came to
be there, or gave the least indication
Of being sorry that was there. That
l suffereti in,secret, and that suffered
exquisitely, no one ever knew but /.
How much 1 suffered it is, as have
said already, utterly beyond my pow
er to tell. No mans Imagination can
overstep the reality. But / kept my
own counsel, and did my work, I
knew from the first that if 1 could
not do my work as well as any of the
rest, could not hold myself above
slight and contempt. 1 soon became
at least as expeditions and as skillful
with my hands as either of the other
boys. Though perfectly familiar with
them, my conduct and manners were
different enough from theirs to place
a space between u.s. They and the
boys ALWAYS spoke of me as 1.-THE
young gentleman" A certain man
Ia soldier Once) named Thomas, who
was the foreman, and another named
Harry who was the carman, and wore
a red jacket, used to call me "Charles'
sometimes, in speaking to me; but I
think it was mostly when we were
very confidential, and when I had
made some effort to entertain them
over our work with the results of
some of the old readings, which were
fast passing out Of my mind.
OUT OF THE DEPTHS.
After q time the lonely little boy
thinking there was no reason why he
should be obliged to live so far from
the Marshalsea, demonstrated with
his father so pathetically, and with go
many tears, that, as the son records,
the kind nature Of the parent gave
way. Mr.. John Dickens appears to
have been one those genial, kind,
easy-tempered, impractieable human
beings who, in spite of all their good
and pleasant qualities, their hOnora-
bic dispositions, and even their indus
try (for he had all these virtues, as
his son becomingly sets DOWN, fail to
make their way in the world, for
want of the one faculty of adaptation
TO the stern conditions of life. The |
of Charles remonstran- |
ces with his father on score of his ex- /
lie was that he was provided with a |
back attic at the house of an insolvent I.
court agent, in Liant street, Borough, |
where" says Dickens, in his autobi- |
Ographical sketch, bob Sawyer IOdg- |
ed many years afterward." HeIe he |
slept on the floor but 1.-The windows 1
had pleasant prospect of a timber 4
yard. and the poor little Iodger, feel /
ing that he was close to his true home,
the prison, thought the new sleeping
room a Paradise.
FAME.
When his father left the prison, the
boy (who had by that time been re-
moved from the blaeking establish
ment) was put, at about twelve years
of age, to school in the Hampstead
Road, where he soon became noted /
for his vivacity and fun. A favorite
trick of his was heading a number Of
his schOolfellows in the streets in pre-
to be beggars. When the old
ladies of whom they begged answered
with tart speeches, Charles would ex-
plode with laughter, and take to his
heels.
BY and by eamsthe start in life
1rst as q lawyers clerk, then as a
reporter, and then as q
author. His old poverty
soon became a mine of riches to him,
and the rough material of his fame.
He never lost the habit OF coming his
life into enduring fiction. The Dora
IF "David CopperfieldD was, it seems,
MS first love, the memory of whom
always dwelt with him; and the
Flora of Little Dorritt" was the
Iame lady, not dead in fact, but some
what altered by the lapse Of quarter
If century las that same quarter of
/ century will change US alN, to
whom, one day, Dickens and his
wife paid a formal visit, and found
he stuffed fGvOrite, Jip, in the pas