ny Squeers shall be attended to, depend upon it. Your drawing of
her is very like, except that I do not think the hair is quite curly
enough. The nose is particularly like hers, and so are the legs.
She is a nasty, disagreeable thing, and I know it will make her very
cross when she sees it, and what I say is that I hope it may. You
will say the same, I know--at least I think you will."

The amount of work which he could accomplish varied greatly at certain
times, though in its entirety it was so immense. When he became the man
of letters, and ceased the irregular, unmethodical life of the reporter,
his mornings were invariably spent at his desk. The time between
breakfast and luncheon, with an occasional extension of a couple of hours
into the afternoon, were given over to his creations. The exceptions
were when he was taking a holiday or resting, though even when ostensibly
employed in the latter, cessation from story writing meant the answering
of letters and the closer attention to his business matters, so that but
little of real rest ever came into his later life.

While in Italy he gave a fragmentary diary of his daily life in a letter
to a friend, and the routine was there very much what it was at home. "I
am in a regular ferocious excitement with the Chimes; get up at seven;
have a cold bath before breakfast; and blaze away, wrathful and red-hot,
until three o'clock or so, when I usually knock off (unless it rains) for
the day. I am fierce to finish in a spirit bearing some affinity to that
of truth and mercy, and to shame the cruel and the wicked, but it is hard
work." His entire discomfort under sound interruptions is also shown in
the above, in his reference to the Chimes, and the effect which they had
upon him.

Despite his regularity of working hours, as I have said, the amount of
work which my father accomplished varied greatly. His manuscripts were
usually written upon white "slips," though sometimes upon blue paper, and
there were many mornings when it would be impossible for him to fill one
of these. He writes on one occasion: "I am sitting at home, patiently
waiting for Oliver Twist, who has not yet arrived." And, indeed,
"Oliver" gave him considerable trouble, in the course of his adventures,
by his disinclination to be put upon paper easily. This slowness in
writing marked more prominently the earlier period of my father's
literary career, though these "blank days," w