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become the illustrator of my earliest book。 I saw him last； shortly before
Christmas； at the Athenaeum Club； when he told me that he had been in
bed three daysthat； after these attacks； he was troubled with cold
shiverings； 〃which quite took the power of work out of him〃and that he
had it in his mind to try a new remedy which he laughingly described。
He was very cheerful； and looked very bright。 In the night of that day
week； he died。
The long interval between those two periods is marked in my
remembrance of him by many occasions when he was supremely
humorous； when he was irresistibly extravagant； when he was softened
and serious； when he was charming with children。 But； by none do I
recall him more tenderly than by two or three that start out of the crowd；
when he unexpectedly presented himself in my room； announcing how
that some passage in a certain book had made him cry yesterday； and how
that he had come to dinner； 〃because he couldn't help it〃； and must talk
such passage over。 No one can ever have seen him more genial； natural；
cordial； fresh； and honestly impulsive； than I have seen him at those times。
No one can be surer than I； of the greatness and the goodness of the heart
that then disclosed itself。
We had our differences of opinion。 I thought that he too much
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feigned a want of earnestness； and that he made a pretence of under…
valuing his art； which was not good for the art that he held in trust。 But；
when we fell upon these topics； it was never very gravely； and I have a
lively image of him in my mind； twisting both his hands in his hair； and
stamping about； laughing； to make an end of the discussion。
When we were associated in remembrance of the late Mr。 Douglas
Jerrold； he delivered a public lecture in London； in the course of which； he
read his very best contribution to Punch； describing the grown…up cares of
a poor family of young children。 No one hearing him could have
doubted his natural gentleness； or his thoroughly unaffected manly
sympathy with the weak and lowly。 He read the paper most pathetically；
and with a simplicity of tenderness that certainly moved one of his
audience to tears。 This was presently after his standing for Oxford； from
which place he had dispatched his agent to me； with a droll note （to which
he afterwards added a verbal postscript）； urging me to 〃come down and
make a speech； and tell them who he was； for he doubted whether more
than two of the electors had ever heard of him； and he thought there might
be as many as six or eight who had heard of me〃。 He introduced the
lecture just mentioned； with a reference to his late electioneering failure；
which was full of good sense； good spirits； and good humour。
He had a particular delight in boys； and an excellent way with them。 I
remember his once asking me with fantastic gravity； when he had been to
Eton where my eldest son then was； whether I felt as he did in regard of
never seeing a boy without wanting instantly to give him a sovereign？ I
thought of this when I looked down into his grave； after he was laid there；
for I looked down into it over the shoulder of a boy to whom he had been
kind。
These are slight remembrances； but it is to little familiar things
suggestive of the voice； look； manner； never； never more to be encountered
on this earth； that the mind first turns in a bereavement。 And greater
things that are known of him； in the way of his warm affections； his quiet
endurance； his unselfish thoughtfulness for others； and his munificent
hand； may not be told。
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If； in the reckless vivacity of his youth； his satirical pen had ever gone
astray or done amiss； he had caused it to prefer its own petition for
forgiveness； long before：…
I've writ the foolish fancy of his brain； The aimless jest that； striking；
hath caused pain； The idle word that he'd wish back again。
In no pages should I take it upon myself at this time to discourse of
his books； of his refined knowledge of character； of his subtle
acquaintance with the weaknesses of human nature； of his delightful
playfulness as an essayist； of his quaint and touching ballads； of his
mastery over the English language。 Least of all； in these pages； enriched
by his brilliant qualities from the first of the series； and beforehand
accepted by the Public through the strength of his great name。
But； on the table before me； there lies all that he had written of his
latest and last story。 That it would be very sad to any one that it is
inexpressibly so to a writerin its evidences of matured designs never to
be accomplished； of intentions begun to be executed and destined never to
be completed； of careful preparation for long roads of thought that he was
never to traverse； and for shining goals that he was never to reach； will be
readily believed。 The pain； however； that I have felt in perusing it； has
not been deeper than the conviction that he was in the healthiest vigour of
his powers when he wrought on this last labour。 In respect of earnest
feeling； far…seeing purpose； character； incident； and a certain loving
picturesqueness blending the whole； I believe it to be much the best of all
his works。 That he fully meant it to be so； that he had become strongly
attached to it； and that he bestowed great pains upon it； I trace in almost
every page。 It contains one picture which must have cost him extreme
distress； and which is a masterpiece。 There are two children in it；
touched with a hand as loving and tender as ever a father caressed his little
child with。 There is some young love as pure and innocent and pretty as
the truth。 And it is very remarkable that； by reason of the singular
construction of the story； more than one main incident usually belonging
to the end of such a fiction is anticipated in the beginning； and thus there is
an approach to completeness in the fragment； as to the satisfaction of the
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reader's mind concerning the most interesting persons； which could hardly
have been better attained if the writer's breaking…off had been foreseen。
The last line he wrote； and the last proof he corrected； are among these
papers through which I have so sorrowfully made my way。 The
condition of the little pages of manuscript where Death stopped his hand；
shows that he had carried them about； and often taken them out of his
pocket here and there； for patient revision and interlineation。 The last
words he corrected in print were； 〃And my heart throbbed with an
exquisite bliss〃。 GOD grant that on that Christmas Eve when he laid his
head back on his pillow and threw up his arms as he had been wont to do
when very weary； some consciousness of duty done and Christian hope
throughout life humbly cherished； may have caused his own heart so to
throb； when he passed away to his Redeemer's rest！
He was found peacefully lying as above described； composed；
undisturbed； and to all appearance asleep； on the twenty…fourth of
December 1863。 He was only in his fifty…third year； so young a man that
the mother who blessed him in his first sleep blessed him in his last。
Twenty years before； he had written； after being in a white squall：
And when； its force expended； The harmless storm was ended； And；
as the sunrise splendid Came blushing o'er the sea； I thought； as day was
breaking； My little girls were waking； And smiling； and making A prayer
at home for me。
Those little girls had grown to be women when the mournful day
broke that saw their father lying dead