Class Book Oopiglit^ . CQEXRIGHT DEPCS51 MY DICKENS FRIENDS From an etching FRANK SPEAIGHT as Grandfather Smallweed (Bleak House) MY DICKENS FKIENDS BY FRANK SPEAIGHT Illustrated by R. A. WEED N*ro $0rk JAMES B. POND 1916 Copyright 1916 By FRANK SPEAIGHT Published December, 1916 DEC 18 1916 -CI.A453iH'i CONTENTS PICKWICK PAPERS MR. PICKWICK SAM WELLER WINKLE ARABELLA ALLEN TONY WELLER MRS. BARDELL DODSON AND FOGG BUZFUZ ALFRED JINGLE MISS WARDLE TRACY TUPMAN THE FAT BOY MR. WARDLE THE COACH AUGUSTUS SNODGRASS BOB SAWYER DAVID COPPERFIELD DAVID COPPERFIELD DORA LITTLE EM'LY STEERFORTH DANIEL PEGGOTTY HAM MRS. GUMMIDGE BARKIS MICAWBER 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 24 25 29 30 31 34 35 36 37 URIAH HEEP 38 MISS BETSY TROTWOOD 89 MR. DICK 40 TRADDLES 41 MR. MURDSTONE 42 MISS MOUCHER 43 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY KATE NICKLEBY 47 NEWMAN NOGGS 48 CHEERYBLE BROTHERS 49 TIM LINKINWATER 50 MANTALINI 51 CHRISTMAS BOOKS SCROOGE 55 MARLEY'S GHOST 56 BOB CRATCHIT 57 TINY TIM 58 TILLY SLOWBOY 59 TROTTY VECK 60 OLIVER TWIST OLIVER TWIST 63 NANCY 64 BILL SIKES 65 FAGIN 66 QUILP 67 BUMBLE 68 THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP LITTLE NELL 71 DICK SWIVELLER 72 THE MARCHIONESS 73 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT MARK TAPLEY 77 TOM PINCH AND MARY GRAHAM 78 RUTH PINCH 79 PECKSNIFF 80 SARAH GAMP 81 MRS. HARRIS 82 MONTAGUE TIG 83 JONAS CHUZZLEWIT 84 DOMBEY AND SON CAPTAIN CUTTLE 88 TOOTS 89 CARKER 90 BLEAK HOUSE GRANDFATHER SMALLWEED POOR JO. CHADBAND RICHARD CARSTON MR. JARNDYCE 93 94 95 96 97 BARNABY RUDGE BARNABY RUDGE MRS. RUDGE 101 102 LORD GEORGE GORDON 103 A TALE OF TWO CITIES SYDNEY CARTON 107 OUR MUTUAL FRIEND BELLA 108 HARD TIMES MR. GRADGRIND 109 LITTLE DORRIT LITTLE DORRIT 110 GREAT EXPECTATIONS MISS HAVISHAM 111 EDWIN DROOD EDWIN DROOD 112 ILLUSTRATIONS GRANDFATHER SMALLWEED (Bleak House) Frontispiece SAM WELLER (Pickwick Papers) 12 MR. PICKWICK (Pickwick Papers) 25 MR. MICAWBER (David Copperfield) 37 SCROOGE (A Christmas Carol) 55 URIAH HEEP (David Copperfield) 84 PICKWICK PAPERS MR. PICKWICK Pickwick, immortal! Loud is the laughter With which men greet thee All over the world. Not England alone, Sphere of thy wand'rings, Welcomes thee ever With fondest salute — Whole nations ring forth Their hearty guffaw; And children unborn Will take up the strain Blessing the master That sent thee and Sam Rippling with laughter Around a sad world. SAM WELLER Pickwick Papers Sam, we dearly love you, The whole world shakes your hand; Sam, we gladly greet you, You're known in ev'ry land. Wherever we go, Wherever we be, Whether on land, Whether on sea, Ev'ry one loves you And laughs at your name; Your jests are remembered And firm is your fame. The world is better for your sojourn Here on earth below. Your native wit in simple words On all you did bestow. It mattered not if times were bright, Or if the days were dark, You whistled your way through, dear Sam; You were a merry spark. 24W; ///£ SAM WELLER (Pickwick Papers) WINKLE Pickwick Papers Always in trouble, Always in woe. Making mistakes Wherever you go. Owning to nothing That you cannot do; Always found out Then trying anew. In many a scrape Dear Pickwick you got, Your follies were smiled at And soon were forgot. In love you were bold And cared not a jot For you won those dear boots With fur round the top. »3 ARABELLA ALLEN Pickwick Papers I see you, Arabella, on that stile With Winkle gazing on you all the while. Or are there other sights for which he stops — Those little boots with fur round the tops? Ah, little boots have done great harm before, And pretty little gloves have done much more, And ruddy cheeks have many an invite given, But rosy lips have led lost men to heaven. M TONY WELLER Pickwick Papers "Beware of widders, my dear son, Take my advice and widders shun, I've had enough of family strife, With that there Stiggins and the wife." But Tony, your dear wife was weak For Stiggins 'ways, he was so sleek. She did it for your soul's great good, And when she died, you understood. We hear your coach go rattling by, Down Ludgate Hill you seem to fly. The coach, your horses, all's a song As o'er the road you dash along. Your heart's as big, your laugh's as free As Captain Cuttle's on the sea. You both were simple-hearted souls, Your shaking laugh no sneer controls. You bow in awe when some great mind As such in Pickwick you do find. Sam's proud of you, and so are we, You're friend to all, you're friend to me. i5 MRS. BARDELL. Pickwick Papers. I have a kind of deep regret For you, Widow Bardell. Dodson and Fogg laid well their net For you, Widow Bardell. At first you thought that Pickwick loved, You did, Widow Bardell. You know you did, till it was proved He didn't, Widow Bardell. For when you fell into his arms, My dear Widow Bardell, You thought he'd ne'er resist your charms, You did, Widow Bardell. But still, don't cry, it all came right, Deceived Widow Bardell, For Pickwick paid to end the fight; Cheer up, Widow Bardell. 16 DODSON & FOGG Pickwick Papers "The Law's an Ass" a man once said, At least I know that's what I read. It's sometimes rogue as well as ass And things most strange have come to pass. The law in all its truth and pride Beneath its cloak will often hide Far greater rogue than's in the dock For crowded court to jeer and mock. Dodson and Fogg, you are but two Of all your motley, rotten crew That'll take a man and drain him dry By lies, not truth, then pass him by As if you'd never touched his hand. I'd take you two and all your band And empty out your golden hoard, And broken hearts should be restored, And beggars that your thefts have made By all the foxy plans you laid, Should have again their stolen wealth And peace and honour, home and health. While you I'd shy into the scales Where righteous judgment still prevails. Then law would lift her head again Without a blot on her fair name. 17 BUZFUZ Pickwick Papers Chops and tomato sauce, I you implore Beneath those simple words to see far more Than meets the eye in one first rapid glance. Another point I now to you advance — The plaintiff here, I place before your eye — Look on that face of innocence. I sigh To think that Pickwick there could ever find A heart to love, then crush, then throw behind. My client's hopes are ruined, her prospects nil; There is no tenant, no longer hangs the bill, "Apartments for a Single Gentleman." Men come and go, and shattered is life's plan; And fifteen hundred pounds is far too small A sum to pay for days beyond recall. A serpent there in spectacles you see, A single man, from care and fancy free, Who talks of warming pans and chops and sauce, Then breaks domestic bliss without remorse; A man, who throws life's ashes on the sward. I say, let damages be his reward. ALFRED JINGLE Pickwick Papers We love you, though you were a fraud, You were so droll; The world's your audience, who applaud Your comic soul. You led our Pickwick quite a dance With din and clatter, As through the pages you advance With flowing chatter. But at the end you turned out well Free from mishap. So you we bless, where'er you dwell, You actor chap ! 19 MISS WARDLE Pickwick Papers A pity I have always felt for you, For Tupman was a man who would prove true; But Jingle won, knocked "Tuppy" off his perch, Then took hard cash and left you in the lurch. Your heart was swift to take the proferred chance, From man to man you all too quickly dance, But thank your lucky stars your flight was vain, And that your brother brought you home again. Tupman soon forgot midst life and men, But you of him, I'm sure, though now and then, Of how he might have been your hubby true, Had not false Jingle run away with you. so TRACY TUPMAN Pickwick Papers Dear Tupman, you're affectionate, Dear Tupman, you're a beau, Dear Tupman, all appreciate Your heart, and love you so. The ladies all adore you, The ladies are your friends, The ladies fondly love you, Their presence always sends The blood in tumult rushing Around your tender heart. All through the pages, blushing, You play your gallant part. Dear Tupman, you're affectionate But never give offence, For all is so appropriate In a Pickwickian sense. THE FAT BOY Pickwick Papers Laugh and grow fat, 'tis logic sound That should around a world resound, It lifts the soul, it cheers the heart, Dull melancholy must depart. To see the good in ev'ry soul, Gives us both balance and control. Did melancholy e'er do good With all its ways so dark and rude? Joe, you're a blessing in disguise, Your very fat we'll not despise, You'll never know how the world laughs At you, or how it often chaffs At all your fat-like lazy ways That filled the life of Pickwick days. You'll never know that laughter's cheap, For, bless your soul, you're fast asleep. MR. WARDLE Pickwick Papers The rich brown soil that smells so sweety That clings in fondness to my feet, As man and nature gladly meet, Sets all my blood a bounding free; The earth is very dear to me. The sun, the rain, the rising mist; Look up, the cloud a lark has kissed. My soul is full, who can resist The pulsing beauty of the dawn, Above a field of waving corn. A farmer's life is real and free; A farmer's life's the life for me, For towns I seldom care to see. If farmers go, the World's unmade, And soon would stop with all its trade. -V.V f € *1 THE COACH Pickwick Papers I hear once again the hum of your wheels, And the sway of the coach again one feels. The glint of harness, the crack of the whip, The clamp of the brakes as we take the dip. Once more on the level and off we go, The clatter of hoofs on the road below; Then the rise of the hill in front is seen! The sweetness of air in the morning keen. We now take the hill with gallop and dash, The hedges we pass as if in a flash. A farmer with plough here waves us his hand; We're nearing a village in sweet moorland. The children shout as we dash through the street, And the bugle rings out their welcome to meet. We stop for a spell, the new team's put in, Then we vanish in dust and clatter and din. 24 MR. PICKWICK (Pickwick Papers) AUGUSTUS SNODGRASS Pickwick Papers Augustus was a poet, so they said Though no one ever read a single lay That he had ever penned in joy or fear; Yet to his friends Augustus was a seer. He looked a poet, had that dreamy eye That gazed at you, yet seemed to pass you by; That cloak of his, a poet's was for sure. Of sonnets he must have a goodly store. And thus it is that many pass for wise That shut their mouth and cultivate a guise Which oft deceives a wond'ring world around Who in their silence see a depth profound. BOB SAWYER Pickwick Papers How many men like you, poor Bob, Have toiled in vain; Or did you toil, or let mirth rob You, to your pain? Often the mirth attached to youth, Thinks work a bore, Blind in the present to the truth — Youth comes no more. But cheer up, Bob, we'll not forget On your behalf You gave the world, which loves you yet, A hearty laugh. 26 DAVID COPPERFIELD DAVID COPPERFIELD David Copperfield Through London's streets your little form In dreams I plainly see; Then trudging on the Dover Road As tired, as tired can be. The vision of your Aunt's stern form Oft rises to your mind; You dread to go, but you fear more The life you left behind. But that stern Aunt had heart as soft And kind as kind can be, And Dick, with pleased attentive face Was just as fond as she. These are the scenes I conjure up Whene'er I hear your name. Charles Dickens' fav'rite child you were And the whole world's the same. 29 DORA David Copperfield Sweet and tender, pure and good, Soft and artless, Misunderstood. Fair and childlike, young and true, Like blossom rare Your days were few. Childwife to your husband dear, You'd ever be, Had you stayed here. Soul as clear as sunlight ray, You brightly shine, Then fade away. 30 LITTLE EM'LY David Copperfield Fond love will often lead the young astray When will no longer points and leads the way. If Christian men would like their Master live All fallen angels here they would forgive. The very absence of forgiveness here Will shut the door of hope through very fear. Many a heart now broken, torn and frayed Forgiveness would have healed, and love remade. You who have never felt the tempter's power Know not the anguish crushed in one short hour. So many owe their stainless life to fate, And never heard those awful words "Too late !" So, weary one, here on your Uncle's breast Lay your dear head and know a perfect rest. True Christian he, who took you to his heart And kissed your tears away, and healed the smart. 3* STEERFORTH David Copperfield Endowed you were with many a manly grace, With mind as keen as any of your time; A Chatham, or a man as big as he You might have been, had you been trained aright. Your youth was blighted by a mother's hand, Who saw herself in you, and nursed the fault; Who pampered pride, till pride held firm the reins. To fine ambition no one showed the way, You strolled through life without an aim or road, Temptation met you on your aimless way And for your empty hand found work to do; Then at the end when death claimed you its prey We grieved to think of all you might have been; That one, with possibilities so great, Should on a wave be tossed, a useless thing; A nature spoilt by foolish mother's hand. 3* DANIEL PEGGOTTY David Copperfield Forgive! Forgive! O, that the world would hear, And heal the wound in many an erring heart. But many men who claim the Christian faith Will see the one whose love has conquered will With outstretched hands implore them to forgive; While they, with conscious pride of stainless life, Unlike their Master, turn a proud, deaf ear — E'en though the one that pleads may be their own. O parents proud, look on old Peggotty Who tramped a world to find the child he loved, And comfort her on his big gracious heart. 33 HAM David Copper field There are some men who in their simple faith Like grown up children move along life's way. Of learning they have nought but nature's gifts, But in their hearts they hold a golden store. What they love once, they love eternally, The love akin to hate they never feel, Fierce sorrow to their soul adds greater depth And gives a growth that joy can never give Though love be false to them, they love on still. Like a river on its grand majestic course They make their way in silence to the sea — That mighty ocean named eternity. 3 + MRS. GUMMIDGE David Copperfield Great trials will change the outlook of a life, A peace will make, where there was always strife; A death will change a boy into a man His father's place to take in life's new plan. A love will come, art's door will open wide And show a soul once dead the gifts inside. The trials of others sometimes quick will change Our nature's heart, and better heart exchange. Poor Mrs. Gummidge nursed her new-born grief Till it deep-rooted grew without relief; Then cause of sorrow borne was killed by days And melancholy settled with its ways — Those ways of dull depression and repine That taint a household with its dull decline But when the heart that saw and soothed your pain Felt that dread sorrow fall, to you again Came strength to sooth his torn and troubled soul, And weaker vessel found a strong control. Thus sorrow often lifts us from the earth And to our useless selves gives newer birth. 35 BARKIS David Copperfield How many men like you there are Who dare not woo. They view the prize as from afar, They know exactly where they are, But words are few. They think of thee and bless thy name With hearts a-thrilling. Right boldly to her side they come But stammer out with falt'ring tongue, "Barkis is willing." All knew well What those words meant. A thousand thus their love will tell, For on the world you've brought to dwell A sweet content. 3« . - ' . ^ -A - WEfc D- URIAH HEEP (David Copperfield) DOM BEY AND SON CAPTAIN CUTTLE Dombey Sf Son What is it on the windy sea That cleans the heart and makes it free? What is it in its mighty space That kindness in the heart doth place? Simplicity of sailor souls We know your breezy breath controls; Thy salty spray and sunlight clear Instils their hearts with godly fear. A sailor's but a grown-up child On which the rolling years have smiled A man we love, a trusty friend, Our hand in faith we here extend. *s TOOTS Dombey Sf Son Temp'rance in all things, that's the key To health, and death to misery. How many wise fools in the world there are That coax the willing mind to go too far, That say of learning one can never fill Till broken health and mind must pay the bill. How many a young mind has on this rock Been shattered for a world to sneer and mock. No prison holds the hand that pushed behind And wrecked the precious life with its fair mind. O, that the world would take such pedagogues And on their hide apply a thousand rods. Poor Toots, I sigh when your scared face I've seen, And think, alas, of all you might have been. *9 CAREER Dombey $ Son Some men turn round and rend the hand That gave them daily food. They seem in their ungracious souls Devoid of gratitude. They eat your food; they drink their fill, And ask and cringe for more, Then call you fool to be their tool; Walk forth and leave you poor. False Carkers with their shining teeth, Their soft-like, cattish ways, Still walk the stones of London streets And all the world's byeways. Beware ! Beware ! Take not their hand, It's soft and hides its claws. First know your man, then give your hand ; Beware of smiling jaws. 90 BLEAK HOUSE GRANDFATHER SMALLWEED Bleak House The only reason we can call you friend, (A term one here can scarcely comprehend) Is that you show to us, by your mean ways, What havoc to a man mere meanness plays. For, when we look on such a worm as you And think what greed has made you through and through — That hard unfeeling, sordid, rotten thing, Who, to a bag of gold would fiercely cling, E'en though that gold would drag your soul to hell— A lesson to ourselves you ably tell. 93 POOR JO Bleak House How often in some murky place We see a child With actions mild But sorrow stamped on its young face. Like little birds lost on the earth, Nowhere to fly, Nowhere to cry And lay their head and know love's worth. Dr. Barnado, I to you Bow low my head. You clearly read The lesson that Charles Dickens drew. 94 CHADBAND Bleak House How many men with soft and oily speech Unworthy to instruct, aspire to teach, With lifted eyes they stand like very saint, While all the while the very air they taint. With right hand they will bless, with other take The very wealth that busy people make; Who say to train the soul use well the rod. Forgetting all the while a gracious God. They bless their meat, then stuff and have their 'fill, While to the poor they say, "It is God's will." Their senseless words like oil and butter flow Deceiving worthy mortals here below. They spoil the work of worthy men and true Who in their church must pray and work anew ; No nobler men than ministers of grace. Of such a Chadband I would clear the place. 95 RICHARD CARSTON Bleak House Perhaps the cruellest thing on earth Is law; And when we feel at very birth Its paw, Then life right on to us will be A pain To look for our right heritage In vain. The years roll on with patient hope Deferred, Says Law, because you sit and mope, "Absurd ! You're better than you used to be." But see Still broken hearts are made by thee, O Chancery ! O Chancerv ! 96 MR. JARNDYCE Bleak House False critics, when I hear you sneer With that self-important conscious leer, That Dickens ne'er in his career Did draw a gentleman. I feel how ignorant you are To downward look to find a star. Look up, if you can see so far — Here is a gentleman. A man of noble mind and soul, A man of perfect self-control; A man the whole world can extol As a true gentleman. 97 BAKNABY KUDGE BARNABY RUDGE Barnaby Rudge Poor Barnaby Rudge, Earth paid you a grudge, To bring you down here With laugh and a tear; And hardly to know Which one to bestow On things as they passed, All glided so fast. With bird on your wrist No one could resist To pity your plight In life's sorry fight; Yet laughed at your bird Whose wisdom they heard. How sad 'tis to know That crime will bestow On child such a blight, For mother's poor sight. I feel far out there In God's silver air Your mother will clasp A sane boy at last. MRS. RUDGE Barnaby Rudge Some women seem in misery to live Their whole life through. No fault it is of theirs, But sin of partner whom cruel fate has giv'n. No matter how they strive, a brute called man Will drag them down, and keep them suff'ring here. No peace of home have they, no tender word, No lover-like caress, or soft embrace; But words like knives that tear a raking heart, And blows that misery can scarcely feel. O God, was it intended woman sweet Should to such brutes eternally be joined When all that should be holy is a blot? LORD GEORGE GORDON Barnaby Rudge The cruellest god that dwells upon this earth Is fanaticism. It sees one road And one road only, to the far-off goal; No hope for any but the way they walk. All roads in ev'ry land lead to the sea. All souls who live a good and straight clean life, Who do to all as they would have them do Are on the road to Heav'n. I wonder when Fanatics reach the gate in the golden Sunset of the Shining West, holding in Their hands the instruments of torture that They used in love to send a soul in pain To Heav'n; if they will cringe when He who ne'er Gave pain to any living thing, stands there And shows to them His pierced hands, will they Expect Him then to say, "Well done thou good And faithful servant."? 103 A TALE OF TWO CITIES OUR MUTUAL FRIEND HARD TIMES LITTLE DORRIT GREAT EXPECTATIONS EDWIN DROOD SYDNEY CARTON A Tale of Two Cities Dark clouds are spread above the new-born day, The rain falls slanting there across the dale The cold wind roars and whistles on its way And hope seems dead and darkened is the vale. High noon doth pass, but see it's raining still, By afternoon the clouds are scatt'ring free; The sun breaks through, and golden seems the hill, And hope again a brighter world doth see. At sunset in one bright and glorious haze The sun goes down; we all forget the morn, The darkness and the rain; this brilliant blaze Obliterates the mem'ry of the dawn. Thus, noble Carton, seems your short life here, You gave your all for love and for a friend; Your morn was dark with faults, without life's cheer, But glorious as a sunset was your end. 107 BELLA Our Mutual Friend Of all the women I adore, A woman to the very core; With all the faults of human kind. With all the twists and gifts of mind. No goddess she, no saint above; But one to live with and to love. A woman true, a living thing, A care, a joy, a song to sing, A soul of smiles, of laughs of tears, A blessing to a man's lone years. A woman always, fickle, good; Yet one that's oft misunderstood. The one I hold to Dickens' fame: Sweet Bella Wilfer is her name. ic8 MR. GRADGRIND Hard Times Facts ! Facts ! Come, give us Facts ! Still we hear that blatant cry, Facts ! Facts ! Come, give us Facts ! See the Gradgrinds going by. Let's take the Gradgrinds Of the earth And drown them in their Facts. Imagination has its worth; You'd kill a poet at his birth And Pickwick, too, and harmless With your Facts ! Facts ! Facts ! mirth 109 LITTLE DORRIT Little Dorrit Little Dorrit, to us you are as sweet A child as Nell. There in the murky fog you cross the street Like phantom midst the traffic and the mist; The thousands notice not, nor you assist; O'er London Bridge, and past St. George's church You turn, and through the fog looms up a porch, The outer gate of your first home we see, That tomb of broken hearts — The Marshalsea. You teach us that the greatest thing is love, And that right well. You gave a fortune when you gave your love; But Arthur knew the wealth of soul you gave, The only wealth that can outlive the grave. Lost fortune to you both it mattered nought So long as it brought near the love you sought. Still through the fog and mist of time I see That tomb that is no more — The Marshalsea. MISS HAVISHAM Great Expectations How is it that the whole world strives For an ideal to attain. They'll pass a blessing in their way For a distant one to gain. For though their love has turned to dust And a broken reed been found, They'll clutch the dust and pass a love Truer, deeper, more profound. When sorrow's hugged from year to year, Often pampered, nursed and fed, Then virtue of our sorrow's gone, When by melancholy led. Far braver is the soul that strives, To see joy in coming years. New love will come at beckoned hand, Time and smiles will dry our tears. EDWIN DROOD Edwin Drood There's silence in the heavy air And sadness on the breeze, A word of dread is whispered there, And floats among the trees. The sound is Murder! Murder! Hark, worse than that we hear, Dickens' dead — he's dropped his pen — A world mourns at his bier. Hands off that pen! There let it rest; His work unfinished should remain. Hands off that pen. Young Drood's distress A myst'ry is. Let it remain. Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: March 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066