rought
with him all that remained to be done of his second volume except the
last two chapters, including that to which he has referred as
"introductory;" and on the following Wednesday (5th of October) he told
me that the first of these was done. "I want you very much to come and
dine to-day that we may repair to Drury-lane together; and let us say
half-past four, or there is no time to be comfortable. I am going out to
Tottenham this morning, on a cheerless mission I would willingly have
avoided. Hone, of the _Every Day Book_, is dying; and sent Cruikshank
yesterday to beg me to go and see him, as, having read no books but mine
of late, he wanted to see and shake hands with me before (as George
said) 'he went.' There is no help for it, of course; so to Tottenham I
repair, this morning. I worked all day, and till midnight; and finished
the slavery chapter yesterday."

The cheerless visit had its mournful sequel before the next month
closed, when he went with the same companion to poor Hone's funeral; and
one of his letters written at the time to Mr. Felton has so vividly
recalled to me the tragi-comedy of an incident of that day, as for long
after he used to describe it, and as I have heard the other principal
actor in it good-naturedly admit to be perfectly true, that two or three
sentences may be given here. The wonderful neighbourhood in this life of
ours, of serious and humorous things, constitutes in itself very much of
the genius of Dickens's writing; the laughter close to the pathos, but
never touching it with ridicule; and this small occurrence may be taken
in farther evidence of its reality.

"We went into a little parlour where the funeral party was, and God
knows it was miserable enough, for the widow and children were crying
bitterly in one corner, and the other mourners (mere people of ceremony,
who cared no more for the dead man than the hearse did) were talking
quite coolly and carelessly together in another; and the contrast was as
painful and distressing as anything I ever saw. There was an independent
clergyman present, with his bands on and a bible under his arm, who, as
soon as we were seated, addressed C thus, in a loud emphatic voice. 'Mr.
C, have you seen a paragraph respecting our departed friend, which has
gone the round of the morning papers?' 'Yes, sir,' says C, 'I have:'
looking very hard at me the while, for he had told me with some pride
coming down that it was his composition. 'Oh!' said