at the hospital named, had ascertained the
truth of the rest. "The two people in the Incurable Hospital.--The poor
incurable girl lying on a water-bed, and the incurable man who has a
strange flirtation with her; comes and makes confidences to her; snips
and arranges her plants; and rehearses to her the comic songs(!) by
writing which he materially helps out his living."[252]

Two lighter figures are very pleasantly touched. "Set of circumstances
which suddenly bring an easy, airy fellow into near relations with
people he knows nothing about, and has never even seen. This, through
his being thrown in the way of the innocent young personage of the
story. 'Then there is Uncle Sam to be considered,' says she. 'Aye to be
sure,' says he, 'so there is! By Jupiter, I forgot Uncle Sam. He's a
rock ahead, is Uncle Sam. He must be considered, of course; he must be
smoothed down; he must be cleared out of the way. To be sure. I never
thought of Uncle Sam.--By the bye, who _is_ Uncle Sam?'"

There are several such sketches as that, to set against the groups of
women; and some have Dickens's favourite vein of satire in them. "The
man whose vista is always stopped up by the image of Himself. Looks down
a long walk, and can't see round himself, or over himself, or beyond
himself. Is always blocking up his own way. Would be such a good thing
for him, if he could knock himself down." Another picture of selfishness
is touched with greater delicacy. "'Too good' to be grateful to, or
dutiful to, or anything else that ought to be. 'I won't thank you: you
are too good.'--'Don't ask me to marry you: you are too good.'--In
short, I don't particularly mind ill-using you, and being selfish with
you: for you are _so_ good. Virtue its own reward!" A third, which seems
to reverse the dial, is but another face of it: frankly avowing faults,
which are virtues. "In effect--I admit I am generous, amiable, gentle,
magnanimous. Reproach me--I deserve it--I know my faults--I have striven
in vain to get the better of them." Dickens would have made much, too,
of the working out of the next. "The knowing man in distress, who
borrows a round sum of a generous friend. Comes, in depression and
tears, dines, gets the money, and gradually cheers up over his wine, as
he obviously entertains himself with the reflection that his friend is
an egregious fool to have lent it to him, and that _he_ would have known
better." And so of this other. "The man who invariably