rousing self-direction, one sees notified in
manuscript, on p. 107, the grim stage direction, "Murder Coming."

As certainly as the "Trial from Pickwick" was the most laughter-moving
of all the Readings, and as the "Story of Little Dombey," again, was the
most pathetic, "Sikes and Nancy" was in all respects the most powerfully
dramatic and, in the grand tragic force of it, in many ways, the most
impressive and remarkable.

THE FAREWELL READING.

In recording the incident of his Farewell Reading, there comes back to
us a yet later recollection of the great Novelist; and illustrating,
as it does, his passionate love for the dramatic art, it may here be
mentioned not inappropriately.

It relates simply to a remark suddenly made by him--and which had been
suggested, so far as we can remember, by nothing we had been talking
about previously--towards the close of our very last suburban walk
together. Going round by way of Lambeth one afternoon in the early
summer of 1870, we had skirted the Thames along the Surrey bank, had
crossed the river higher up, and on our way back were returning at
our leisure through Westminster; when, just as we were approaching the
shadow of the old Abbey at Poet's Corner, under the roof-beams of
which he was so soon to be laid in his grave, with a rain of tears and
flowers, he abruptly asked--

"What do you think would be the realisation of one of my most cherished
day-dreams?" Adding, instantly, without waiting for airy answer, "To
settle down now for the remainder of my life within easy distance of
a great theatre, in the direction of which I should hold supreme
authority. It should be a house, of course, having a skilled and noble
company, and one in every way magnificently appointed. The pieces acted
should be dealt with according to my pleasure, and touched up here and
there in obedience to my own judgment; the players as well as the plays
being absolutely under my command. There," said he, laughingly, and in a
glow at the mere fancy, "_that's_ my daydream!"

Dickens's delighted enjoyment, in fact, of everything in any way
connected with the theatrical profession, was second only to that shown
by him in the indulgence of the master-passion of his life, his love of
literature.

The way in which he threw himself into his labours, as a Reader, was
only another indication of his intense affection for the dramatic art.
For, as we have already insisted, the Readings were more than si