Rensselaer Union, Volume 2, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 July 1870 — DICKENS. [ARTICLE]

DICKENS.

On Mr. Dickens’ first visit to this country be made a speech at the dinner given him in Boston, in which he thus to Little Nell: “ There is one other point connected with the labors (if I may call them so) that you hold in such generous esteem, to which I cannot help adverting. I cannot holp expressing the delight, the more than happiness,4t was to me to find so strong an interest awakened on this side of the water in favor of that little heroine of mine to whom.your President made allusion, who died in her youth. I had letters about that child, in England, from the dwellers in log huts among the morasses and swamps, and densest forests and deep solitudes of the Far West Many a sturdy hand, hard with the axe and spade ana browned by the summer’s sun, has taken up the pen and written to me a little history of domestic jov or sorrow, hlwafs coupled, I am proud to say, with something of interest in thatlitue tale, or some comfort or happiness derived from it; and tlpr writer has always addressed me, not as a writer of books for sale, resident some four or five thousand miles away, but as a friend to whom he might freely impart the ioys and sorrows of his own fireside. Many a mother—l could reckon them now by dozens, not by units —has done the like; and has told me how she lost Such a child at such a time, and where she lay burled, and how good she was, and how, In this or that respect, she resembled Nell. Ido assure you that no circumstance of my life has given me one hundredth part of the gratification I have derived from this source. I was wavering ■ at the time whether or not to wind up my clock and come and see this country; and this decided me. I feel as if it were a positive duty; 'as if I were bound to pack up my clothes and come and see my friends ; and even bow I have such an odd sensation in connection with these things that you have no chance of spoiling me. I feel as though we were agreeing—as indcod we are, If we substitute for fictitious characters the olamesfroro which they are drawn—about third parties, in whom we had a common interest. At every new act of" kind ness on your part, I say it to myself, That’s for Oliver—l should not wonder if that was meant for Smike— I have no doubt that it was intended for Nell; ahd so became a touch happier, certainly, but a more sober and retiring than ever I was before ” There are none, we think, who will not, after reading this allusion to the child who has so long been a reality to many minds, take a sad interest in recalling the final scene of her life: dkatp or Lima mux. She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and isalm. so free from trice of pain, so fair to look upon. Site needed a creature, fresh from the band of God; and waiting for the breath of life; not oat who had

lived and suffered death. Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to fltvor. “ When I die, put near me something that has loved the light, and had the eky above it always." Those were her words. She was doad. Dear, gentle, .patient, noble Nell was dead. Her little bird, a poor, slight thing the pressure of a finger would have crushed, was stirring nimbly in its cage, and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute and motionless forever! Where were the traces of her early cares, her sufferings, and fatigues? All gone. Sorrow was dead, indeed, in her; but peace and perfect happiness were born, Imaged in her tranquil beauty and profound repose. - . And still her former self lay there, unaltered in its change. Yes t the old fireside had smiled upon that same sweet face; it had passed like a dream, through the haunts of misery and oare; at the door of the poor schoolmaster on the sum- " mer evening; before the fnrnace Are Upon the cold, wet night; at the BtiH l?ed side of the dying boy there had same mild and lovely look. So shaltwf'' know the angels, in their maiestKi-draff death. The old man held one languid arm in hi 9, and the small, tight hand foldedJAhls breast forvwarmth. It was the hatjd sh*t bad stretched out to him wSflrhier lass smile; the hand that had*3fifr bimon through all their wanderings. Ever and anon he pressed it to his lips; then hugged it to his breast again, murmuring that it was warmer now, and, as he said it, he looked in agony to those who stood around, ass if imploring them to help her. She was dead, and past all hope, or need of help. The ancient rooms she had seemed to fill with life, even while her own was waning fast, the garden she had tended, the eyes she had gladdened, the noiseless ’haunts of many a thoughtless hour, the paths she had trodden, as it were, but yesterday, could know her no more.

“ It is not," said the schoolmaster, as he bent down to kiss her on the cheek, and gave his tears free vent, “it is not in thin world that Heaven’s justice ends. Think what it is, compared - with the world to which her young spirit has winged its early flight, and say, if one deliberate wish, expressed in solemn tones, above this bed, could call her back to life, which of us would utter it?” She had been dead tWo days. They were all about her at the time, knowing that the end was drawing on. She died soon after daybreak. They had read and talked to her in the earlier portion of the night; but, as the hours crept on, she sank to sleep. They could tell by what she faintly uttered in her dreams, that they were of her journey ings with the old man; they were of no painful scenes, but of those who had helped them, and used them kindly; for she often said “God bless you!" with great fervor. Waking, she never wandered in her mind but once, and that was at beautiful music, Which, she said, was in the air. God knows. It may have been. Opening her eyes,.at last, from a verv quiet sleep, she begged that they woul«|iiriss her once again. That done she turned to the old man, with a lovely smile upon her face, such, they said, as they had never seen, and could never forget, and clung, with both arms, about his neck. She had never murmured or complained; but, with a Suiet mind, and manner unaltered, save list she every day became more earnest and more grateful to them, faded like the light upon the summer’s evening. * * Along the crowded path they bore her now, pure as the new fallen snow that covered it, whose day on earth had been as fleeting. Under that porch where she had sat, when Heaven, in its mercy, brought her to that peaceful spot, she gassed again, and the old church received er in its quiet shade.