nt, wiped from his mind every
trace of Mme. Tussaud's famous gallery, and the waxworks it contained.

This was the Book of The Boy's Boyhood. He does not recommend it as the
exclusive literature of their boyhood to other boys; but out of it The
Boy knows that he got nothing but what was healthful and helping. It
taught him to abominate selfish brutality and sneaking falsehood, as
they were exhibited in the Murdstones and the Heeps; it taught him to
keep Charles I., and other fads, out of his "Memorials"; it taught him
to avoid rash expenditure as it was practised by the Micawbers; it
showed him that a man like Steerforth might be the best of good fellows
and at the same time the worst and most dangerous of companions; it
showed, on the other hand, that true friends like Traddles are worth
having and worth keeping; it introduced him to the devoted, sisterly
affection of a woman like Agnes; and it proved to him that the rough
pea-jacket of a man like Ham Peggotty might cover the simple heart of
as honest a gentleman as ever lived.

[Illustration: THE BOY'S FATHER]

The Boy, in his time, has been brought in contact with many famous men
and women; but upon nothing in his whole experience does he look back
now with greater satisfaction than upon his slight intercourse with the
first great man he ever knew. Quite a little lad, he was staying at the
Pulaski House in Savannah, in 1853--perhaps it was in 1855--when his
father told him to observe particularly the old gentleman with the
spectacles, who occupied a seat at their table in the public
dining-room; for, he said, the time would come when The Boy would be
very proud to say that he had breakfasted, and dined, and supped with
Mr. Thackeray. He had no idea who, or what, Mr. Thackeray was; but his
father considered him a great man, and that was enough for The Boy. He
did pay particular attention to Mr. Thackeray, with his eyes and his
ears; and one morning Mr. Thackeray paid a little attention to him, of
which he is proud, indeed. Mr. Thackeray took The Boy between his knees,
and asked his name, and what he intended to be when he grew up. He
replied, "A farmer, sir." Why, he cannot imagine, for he never had the
slightest inclination towards a farmer's life. And then Mr. Thackeray
put his gentle hand upon The Boy's little red head, and said: "Whatever
you are, try to be a good one."

To have been blessed by Thackeray is a distinction The Boy would not
exchange for any ni