Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1888-06-20
"REMINISCENCES OF DICKENS.
His Composing sfood-An Example of
His Love OF Mischief

One day MillIe and / were standing
on the balcony of our house when
Dickens came saunteTing by. On see
ing US he promptly struck an attitude,
with one hand pressed TO his heart, and
the other thrown out aloft, as he
spouted dramatically:
'''Tis my ladyl TITS my Lowell Oh,
that were glove upon that hand,
that might touch that cheeki''
(which OF US do you intend to be
Juliet TO your Romeo?' inquired
MiIlie.
whichever you choose, my little
dearsl'l he answered touching bis hat
airily and strolling on Next morning
we were there again as he passed, this
time with merely an ungracious How
dOI'' He was weaving his Ideas, and
naturally was bored by interruption.
Afterward, when his face bore tins alb
stracted look, / always pretended not
to see him. 1t saved him the trouble
of being obliged to recognize me, did
not encroach on his composing mood,
and altogether pleased him. 1 was
horribly afraid of him sometimes. and
told him so once greatly TO his amuse-
meut.
Seeing him then, calm and solemn as
the sphinx, it was difficult TO imagine
the amount of mischievous fun or
which he was capable. 10 give an eN-
ample. We were on the pier one even
ing. having been amusing ourselves by
dancing a QuadTilie, IN a railed-On
space which Dickens had named the
Family Pew, because 1t contained seats
on two sides. He WAS In high spirits,
as he enjoyed being here at dusk,
where he escaped the scrutiny OF the
gaping thrOng." He cOndescended
To perform on his pocket comb and a
piece of paper, while Fred whistled,
the two thus doing duty as band"
After our caperiugs we strolled toward
the end Of the little pier, TO watch the
tide ripplIng in under the fading light.
The scene had become weird and un-
caruy, the night seeming to drop sud-
denly Gowu without a star or moon;
the only light a lingering phOsphores-
cent gleam on the crest OF the waves.
All at once the spirit of the hours
demon Of mischief evIdently-seemed
10 take possession OF Dickens lie
flung his arm around me and whirled
me with him down the Inclined plane
of the lefty, toward a tall upright pole
fixed at the extreme end. To this pole
he cluug with his other arm, while he
informed me IN theatrical accents that
he intended 70 hold me there until the
wild waves overwhelmed US
Think" he cried, mouthing every
word. Think of the sensation we
shall createI Think OF the road to
celebrity which we are about to tread
no, l mean, not exactly to tread, but
TO tlounder intor'
Here | entreated him TO let me go,
yr-1F I ~ Lot sfaarAAraFafyT IN frs4a
myself
LET your mind dwell on the column
IN The Times, where Will be vividly
described the fate Of the lovely Emma
p, drowned by Dickens in a fit of
dementiall Don't struggle, poor little
bird! you are pOwerlesS IN the claws OF
such a kite as this chilJ!''
The last glimmer of light was now
gone, and close to us was the dark
mystery of the sUrging water, very
black, very cold, and ab lve all coming
nearer very rapidly. With a hOrrid
Ulash it dashed over my feet! l
screamed out:
''Oh! my dress; my best dress, my
only silk dress VIII be ruiuedl''
lie was not sOftened III the least by
tins tragic appeal, but continued rant
ing nOnsensically and painting with his
eAeTLlOnS LO lOlu NE. ana Will MS sup
pressed laughter. Then / gave a wild
shrek.
"AIrs. Dickensl help me.-make Mr..
Dickens let me 60. The waves are up |
TO my kneesr'
''Charles!" Mrs. Dickens called in |
frantic accents. "HOw can you lie so
silly? You will both be carried off by |
the waves (then failing from pathos to !
bathos) and you'll spoil the poor girls
silk dress"
'sDressl" shouted Dickens with
scorn. Talk not to me of dress! When
the pail OF night is enshroudIng US In
Cimmerian darkness, when we already
stand on the brink OF the great mystery
shall our thoughts be Of such vanitiesl
Am l not immOlating brand new pair
of patent feathers still unpaid for?
Perish such low born thoughts? In
this hour of abandonment to the voice
of destiny, shall we be held back by
the puerilities of silken raimentp Shall
leather or prunella whatever that may
bel stop the bolt of fatep' The sudden
parenthetical change from high flown
rant back again to ordinary accents
was most ridiculous.
Here 1 succeeded In struggling out
OF his grasp, and fled to my friends, al
most crying with yexation, my only
silk dress clInging round my saturated
limbs, and leaving a watery track as
l stumbled on.