ed drama, as, turn by turn, they were
introduced; precisely the same artistic care was applied by the
impersonating realist to the very least among the minor characters,
filling in, so to speak, little incidental gaps in the background. A
great fat man with a monstrous chin, for example, was introduced just
momentarily in the briefest street-dialogue, towards the close of
this very Reading, who had only to open his lips once or twice for
an instant, yet whose individuality was in that instant or two so
thoroughly realised, that he lives ever since then in the hearers'
remembrance. When, in reply to some one's inquiry, as to what was
the cause of Scrooge's (presumed) death?--this great fat man with the
monstrous chin answered, with a yawn, in two words, "God knows!"--he was
before us there, as real as life, as selfish, and as substantial. So was
it also with the grey-haired rascal, Joe, of the rag-and-bottle shop;
with Topper, when he pronounced himself, as a bachelor, to be "a
wretched outcast;" with the Schoolmaster, when he "glared on Master
Scrooge with ferocious condescension, and threw him into a dreadful
state of mind by shaking hands with him," all of whom were indicated by
the merest touch or two, and yet each of whom was a living and breathing
and speaking verisimilitude.

There was produced, to begin with, however, a sense of exhilaration in
the very manner with which Dickens commenced the Reading of one of his
stories, and which was always especially noticeable in the instance
of this particular ghost story of his about Christmas. The opening
sentences were always given in those cheery, comfortable tones,
indicative of a double relish on the part of a narrator--to wit, his own
enjoyment of the tale he is going to relate, and his anticipation of
the enjoyment of it by those who are giving him their attention.
Occasionally, at any rate during the last few years, his voice was husky
just at the commencement, but as he warmed to his work, with him at
all times a genuine labour of love, everything of that kind disappeared
almost at the first turn of the leaf. The genial inflections of the
voice, curiously rising, in those first moments of the Reading, at the
end of every sentence, there was simply no resisting. Had there been a
wedding guest present, he would hardly have repined in not being able to
obey the summons of the loud bassoon. The narrator had his will with one
and all. However large and however miscella