These plates, which seem to have been taken from other editions, appear in one published by the Co-operative Publication Society, New York and London [1912?]

The Theatrical Emotion of Mr. Vincent Crummels: "Farewell, my noble, my lion-hearted boy!" Nicholas Nickleby.

"Ralph makes one last appointment — and keeps it." Nicholas Nickleby.

Little Nell and Her Grandfather: "Forth from the city, while it yet slumbered, went the two poor adventurers, wandering they knew not whither." The Old Curiosity Shop.

Dick Swiveller and the Marchioness: "Under this title the Marchioness repaired, in tears to the school of his selection." The Old Curiosity Shop.

Barnaby and Hugh: "She would be proud indeed to see me now, eh, Hugh?" said Barnaby. Burnaby Rudge.

"She shuddered to approach the pit; but she crept towards it on her hands and knees, and called to him as loud as she could call." Hard Times.

Captain Cuttle: "Uncle much hove down, Wal'r?" inquired the Captain. Dombey and Son.

"Or rising to see where the moon shone faintly on a patch of the same endless road miles away, or looking back to see who followed." Dombey and Son.

Mr. Micawber: "But within half an hour afterwards, he would polish up his shoes with extraordinary pains, and go out, humming a tune with a greater air of gentility than ever." David Copperfield.

Peggoty Searching for Little Emily: "And many a woman, Mas'r Davy, as has had a daughter of about Emily's age, I've found a waiting for me, at Our Saviour's Cross outside the village." David Copperfield.

Mr. Tulkinghorn visits the Copyist's Lodging "Hello my friend! " he cries, and strikes his iron candlestick against the door. Bleak House.

"Past the printed bill, which she looks at going by; out of view. " Bleak House.

"Past bridges, where there were idlers too, loitering and looking over." Pictures from Italy.

"Ah! you are a foine breed o' dog, too, and you ain't kep for nothink!" The Uncommercial Traveller.

"And London looks so large, so barren and so wild." Little Dorrit.

"As his hand went up above his head and came down on the table, it might have been a blacksmith's." Little Dorrit.


Charles Dickens

Last modified 16 September 2005