afterward forgot, I never
shall forget, I never can forget, that my mother was warm for my being
sent back.

From that hour until this at which I write no word of that part of my
childhood, which I have now gladly brought to a close, has passed my
lips to any human being. I have no idea how long it lasted; whether
for a year, or much more, or less. From that hour until this, my
father and my mother have been stricken dumb upon it. I have never
heard the least allusion to it, however far off and remote, from either
of them. I have never, until I now impart it to this paper, in any
burst of confidence with any one, my own wife not excepted, raised the
curtain I then dropped, thank God.

Dickens sent the following sketch of his early career to Wilkie
Collins. It will be noted that he omits all reference to his
experiences in the blacking factory. The _naive_ touches of
self-appreciation are delightful to the true lover of "The Inimitable."

TAVISTOCK HOUSE, June 6, 1856.

I have never seen anything about myself in print which has much
correctness in it--any biographical account of myself I mean. I do not
supply such particulars when I am asked for them by editors and
compilers, simply because I am asked for them every day. If you want
to prime Forgues, you may tell him, without fear of anything wrong,
that I was born at Portsmouth on the 7th of February, 1812; that my
father was in the Navy Pay Office; that I was taken by him to Chatham
when I was very young, and lived and was educated there till I was
twelve or thirteen, I suppose; that I was then put to a school near
London, where (as at other places) I distinguished myself like a brick;
that I was put in the office of a solicitor, a friend of my father's,
and didn't much like it; and after a couple of years (as well as I can
remember) applied myself with a celestial or diabolical energy to the
study of such things as would qualify me to be a first-rate
parliamentary reporter--at that time a calling pursued by many clever
men who were young at the Bar; that I made my debut in the gallery (at
about eighteen, I suppose), engaged on a voluminous publication no
longer in existence, called the _Mirror of Parliament_; that when the
_Morning Chronicle_ was purchased by Sir John Easthope and acquired a
large circulation, I was engaged there, and that I remained there until
I had begun to publish "Pickwick," when I found myself in a condition
to relinquish that p