by himself,—­would be just the thing to revive interest, and give his popularity a spur.  Accordingly an arrangement was entered into with Messrs. Chapman and Hall, by which they covenanted to give him L50 for each weekly number of such a periodical, and half profits;—­and the first number of Master Humphrey’s Clock made its appearance in the April of 1840.  Unfortunately Dickens had reckoned altogether without his host.  The public were not to be cajoled.  What they expected from their favourite was novels, not essays, short stories, or sketches, however admirable.  The orders for the first number had amounted to seventy thousand; but they fell off as soon as it was discovered that Master Humphrey, sitting by his clock, had no intention of beguiling the world with a continuous narrative,—­that the title, in short, did not stand for the title of a novel.  Either the times were not ripe for the Household Words, which, ten years afterwards, proved to be such a great and permanent success, or Dickens had laid his plans badly.  Vainly did he put forth all his powers, vainly did he bring back upon the stage those old popular favourites, Mr. Pickwick, Sam Weller, and Tony Weller.  All was of no avail.  Clearly, in order to avoid defeat, a change of front had become necessary.  The novel of “The Old Curiosity Shop” was accordingly commenced in the fourth number of the Clock, and very soon acted the cuckoo’s part of thrusting Master Humphrey and all that belonged to him out of the nest.  He disappeared pretty well from the periodical, and when the novel was republished, the whole machinery of the Clock had gone;—­and with it I may add, some very characteristic and admirable writing.  Dickens himself confessed that he “winced a little,” when the “opening paper, ... in which Master Humphrey described himself and his manner of life,” “became the property of the trunkmaker and the butterman;” and most Dickens lovers will agree with me in rejoicing that the omitted parts have now at last been tardily rescued from unmerited neglect, and finds [Transcriber’s Note:  sic] a place in the recently issued “Charles Dickens” edition of the works.

There is no hero in “The Old Curiosity Shop,”—­unless Mr. Richard Swiveller, “perpetual grand-master of the Glorious Apollos,” be the questionable hero; and the heroine is Little Nell, a child.  Of Dickens’ singular feeling for the pathos and humour of childhood, I have already spoken.  Many novelists, perhaps one might even say, most novelists, have no freedom of utterance when they come to speak about children, do not know what to do with a child if it chances to stray into their pages.  But how different with Dickens!  He is never more thoroughly at home than with the little folk.  Perhaps his best speech, and they all are good, is the one uttered at the dinner given on behalf of the Children’s Hospital.  Certainly there is no figure in “Dombey and Son” on which more loving care has been lavished than the figure