"Hallowed be — thy-name.'

"The light is come upon the dark benighted way. Dead!

"Dead, your Majesty; dead, my lords and gentlemen; dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order; dead, men and women born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day.'

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Well does Mr. Terry say, "Two nations mourn for the loss of Charles Dickens; but we cannot miss him now as much as we shall when Christmas comes. When the snow is on the ground, and through the naked branches of the trees the red light of Christmas Eve fades slowly away, and darkness settles down, and the great stars come out one by one, we shall ask for the enchantment of his genius; and the only answer will be the gloom of the night that has gathered around his tomb in Westminster Abbey. But when the Christmas chimes are rung, and the glad notes of the bells peal out upon the frosty air, let us not forget the lessons of Christian charity that Charles Dickens has taught to the world."

Very sensibly does "The Boston Journal" remark,

"We trust, that, amid all the dispute which has raged as to the religious and other peculiarities of Charles

Dickens, the true example of his life as a conscientious and indefatigable worker will not be lost upon the young of this generation. .. His habits of labor were regu

lar as those of a book-keeper or a bank-clerk, and certainly no less arduous. An artist who occupied the same room with him for some time was surprised at the anxious assiduity with which he prosecuted his writing. Said he, 'I looked in his face, and watched the anxiety and care. I saw the blotting and the re-writing of his works; and I was astonished to find how much he owed to his indomitable perseverance.'

CHAPTER XII.

LATER WORKS.

Little Dorritt.-Hard Times. -Dr. Marigold.

"And the winds and the waters

In pastoral measures

Go winding around us, with roll upon roll,

Till the soul lies within

In a circle of pleasures,

Which hideth the soul."

MISS BARRETT.

As the mountains are round about Jerusalem; so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth, even forever."-Ps. cxv. 2.

Dorritt," not so attractive as some of Mr. Dickens's books, but yet full of its own peculiar interest. It contains some fine descriptions, among which is one of a scene amid the Alps, for which we would gladly find space if possible.

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Among the serials afterwards published was one called "Hard Times;" the first book of which is called Sowing," the next "Reaping," the third "Garnering," and wherein Mr. Gradgrind achieves his immortality," a man of realities, a man of facts and

calculations." In this occur the thrilling passages describing poor Stephen's fall into the pit, and his rescue. Very touching are Stephen's words concerning the star which shone into the pit where he lay. And thus the tale concludes: :

"The bearers being now ready to carry him away, and the surgeon being anxious for his removal, those who had torches or lanterns prepared to go in front of the litter. Before it was raised, and while they were arranging how to go, he said to Rachael, looking upward at the star,

"Often as I coom to myseln, and found it shinin' on me down there in my trouble, I thowt it were the star as guided to our Saviour's home. I awmust think it be the very star.'

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They lifted him up; and he was overjoyed to find that they were about to take him in the direction whither the star seemed to him to lead.

"Rachael, beloved lass, don't let go my hand. We may walk toogether t'night, my dear.'

"I will hold thy hand, and keep beside thee, Stephen, all the way.'

"Bless thee! Will soombody be pleased to coover my face?'

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They carried him very gently along the fields, and down the lanes, and over the wide landscape; Rachael always holding the hand in hers. Very few whispers

broke the mournful silence. It was soon a funeralprocession. The star had shown him where to find the God of the poor; and, through humility and sorrow and forgiveness, he had gone to his Redeemer's rest."

Among the shorter sketches by Dickens, gathered into one volume in some editions of his works, as "Additional Christmas Stories," was one which the writer of this memorial volume had the delight of hearing him read to his last Boston audience. It is called "Dr. Marigold," and is a mixture of humor and pathos. After telling of the deaf-and-dumb girl whom he adopted, and of her refusal to go away with her lover, Dr. Marigold pleasantly concludes with a narration of his peculiar manner of giving consent to the marriage; then tells how lonely he was without Sophy; and then, one Christmas Eve, how he ate his lonely dinner, and sat dreamily by his fireside. Then he says,

"Sophy's books so brought up Sophy's self, that I saw her touching face quite plainly before I dropped off dozing by the fire. This may be a reason why Sophy, with her deaf-and-dumb child in her arms, seemed to stand silent by me all through my nap. I was on the road, off the road, in all sorts of places,― north and south and west and east; winds liked best, and winds liked least; here and there, and gone astray; over the hills, and far away,- and still she stood silent by me, with