The Sun. — 1857-05-11 (London, England)

XVII.  By Chnits Dickens.  Arthur Clennam stil a prisoner for debt in the old room in the old Marshalsea ! And this the last monthly issue, but one, of Little Dorrit! For the next number will, of course, be the doub!e number bringing the story to its conclusion ! A Prisoner in the Marshalsea, Arthur Clennam throughout this seventeenth number, maybe described as holding a kind of levee,' in the course of which there appear before him, either one by one, or occasionally in motley groups, very many of the new charaaets associated with that noble heart, dhero of Mr. Dickens's last great composite fiction. Mr. Chiveg tie Turnkey pokes his head in at the door a very li the way " with one ear" upon Arthur " instead of both eyes !" The historian of the Dorrits adding to this, by way of explanation : " This was native delicacy in Mr. Chivery—true politeness ; though his exterior had very much of the Turnkey about it, and not the least of a gentleman." Young John, in regard to whom quoth that Paterfamilias Clothe-lock, " My sin has a art, and my son's art Is in the rght place ; me and his mother knows where to find it, and we find it sitiwated correct"--he looks in several times, off and on, afterwards. Then come excellent Mr. and Mrs. Flemish, arnt in arm, upon a visit of condolence, eminently cbarac!eristie of them both throughout. Witness the following record :  " Mr. Plornish amiably growled, in his philosophical bat not lucid manner, that there was uns, you see, and there wai downs. It was in wain to ask why ups, why downs ; there they was, you know. He bad beard it given for a truth that accordin' as the world went round, which round it did rewolve undoubted, even the best of gentlemen must take his turn of standing with his ed upside down and all his air a flying the vvreng way into what you might call, Space. Wery well then. What Mr. Plornish said was, wery well then. That gentleman's ed would come tip'ards when his turn come, that gentleman's air would be a pleasure to look upon being all smooth again, and wery well then !"  Mrs. Plorni,..h not a jot less delightful in her way, chatters on quite as garrulously as ever about "Father" (little old Mr. /randy), and in talking of Mr. Baptist's exertions in Arthur's behest, winds up her account of them " in the Italian manner" by declaring "it really do, as I say to him Mooshattoniqm Padrona 1" Then, again, Ferdinand Barnacle, the easy, gay, vivacious, light-in-hand, touch-and-go—pays Arthur a no less'chara,cteristie visit in his way I And afterwards Mr. Bugg, another in his ! Later on, stream in upon the saddened prisoner, all together—Rigaud, otherwise Blandois, with the diabolical nose and moustache, accompanied by Pancks, fresher than ever from the coals, and his hair more " prongy” even than of yore, and close upon their heels little chirrupping Jean Baptiste Cavaletto, waiting upon them, as he hiwselt expresses it, " patientistiamentally." Old Flintwinch (still screwing at everybody with his neckcloth awry), having been sent for to the House upon Crutches, drops in upon this agreeable little parti carree not long afrerwards. When they have all at length taken their departure, Somebody Else comes too ! Who ? Who but—Little Dorrit Arthur has previously had his eyes opened to the fact of her loving biro, to his wonder and bewilderment, by honest-heartede John Chivery. Yet in spite of this—in spite of Little Dorrit herself being just for all the world the same as she has been all throuvh the book (even to her old dress, which she has donned for her visit of grAtitude arid affection to Arthur in his nevi abode in the old familiar Marshalsea)—in spite of himself, of herself, of their mutual tenderness, their fortunes are still, at the close of the number, divided, though their hearts are not by any means estranged. We are left to the very last quite dubious as to what may be the result of the plot with ail marvellous complications. Will Little Dorrit and her brother find themselves ruined by the treacherous Merdle Quicksand ? Fanny and and Sparkler, we already know, must have been beggared by the suicide of the wholesale Speculator. Will Doyce return, having made his fortune t° release Arthur from the Marshalsea—and to pia?, to the astonishment of the very scales and scoop belonging to Mr. Merdle, that the mere child, i°, matters of business, is no such child after all How will it all end ? We close the seventeeth nurli" ber on the tiptoe of expectation.