about the Readings, and
in the newspaper references to "Mr. Dickens's extraordinary composure"
on the platform, he gives an illustration. "Last night here in
Philadelphia (my first night), a very impressible and responsive
audience were so astounded by my simply walking in and opening my book
that I wondered what was the matter. They evidently thought that there
ought to have been a flourish, and Dolby sent in to prepare for me. With
them it is the simplicity of the operation that raises wonder. With the
newspapers 'Mr. Dickens's extraordinary composure' is not reasoned out
as being necessary to the art of the thing, but is sensitively watched
with a lurking doubt whether it may not imply disparagement of the
audience. Both these things strike me as drolly expressive.". . .

His testimony as to improved social habits and ways was expressed very
decidedly. "I think it reasonable to expect that as I go westward, I
shall find the old manners going on before me, and may tread upon their
skirts mayhap. But so far, I have had no more intrusion or boredom than
I have when I lead the same life in England. I write this in an immense
hotel, but I am as much at peace in my own rooms, and am left as wholly
undisturbed, as if I were at the Station Hotel in York. I have now read
in New York city to 40,000 people, and am quite as well known in the
streets there as I am in London. People will turn back, turn again and
face me, and have a look at me, or will say to one another 'Look here!
Dickens coming!' But no one ever stops me or addresses me. Sitting
reading in the carriage outside the New York post-office while one of
the staff was stamping the letters inside, I became conscious that a few
people who had been looking at the turn-out had discovered me within.
On my peeping out good-humouredly, one of them (I should say a
merchant's book-keeper) stepped up to the door, took off his hat, and
said in a frank way: 'Mr. Dickens, I should very much like to have the
honour of shaking hands with you'--and, that done, presented two others.
Nothing could be more quiet or less intrusive. In the railway cars, if I
see anybody who clearly wants to speak to me, I usually anticipate the
wish by speaking myself. If I am standing on the brake outside (to avoid
the intolerable stove), people getting down will say with a smile: 'As I
am taking my departure, Mr. Dickens, and can't trouble you for more than
a moment, I should like to take you by the hand