CHARLES DICKENS' CREED.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 2, Issue 298, 24 October 1879, Page 2

CHARLES DICKENS' CREED.

Under this title we have met in an t exchange with a few beautiful passages from the works of the greatest novelist an humanitarian known to fame. Many others of a similar character may be found, and will doubtless recur to the memory of the reader, As the re-publication of these cannot be objectionable to any, while they might be productive of good, we have copied them below :-

Charles Dickens preached —not in the church, not from a pulpit, but a gospel which the people understood—the gospel of kindness, sympathy,-in a word hamanity. His creed may be found in the following beautiful extracts on the subject of death :

"Even when golden hair lay in a halo on a pillow, around the worn face of a little boy, he said, with a radiant smile, ' Dear Papa and mamma, I am very sorry to leave you both, and to leave my pretty sister, but I am called away and I must go.' Thus the rustling of an angel's winga> -- got blended with the other echoes, and had in them the breath of heaven, "-Tale of Two Cities, book 2, chapter, 21. "There is no time there, and no trouble there. The spare hand does not tremble ; nothing worse than a sweet, bright constancy as in her face. She goes next before him-is gone. "-Ibid, book 2, chapter 15.

The dying hoy made answer,' I shall soon be there.' He spoke of the beautiful gardens that were stretched out before him, and were filled with figures of many men, and many children, all with light upon.their faces; then whispered that it was Eden, and so died."-Nicholas Nickleby, chapter 58.

'lts turned very dark, sir. Is there any light a'coraiugl The cart is shaken all to_ pieces, and the rugged road is very near its end. I'm a gropiu'—a gropin' . let me catch hold of your hand. be thy name. Dead, my lords and tlemen, Dead, men and women born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day !"-- Poor Joe, in Bleak House, chapter 47. "He slowly laid his face down upon her bosom, drew hit arm round her neck, and with one parting.-rob began the world' Oh, not this. The world that sets this right."—lbid, chapter Go. "If this is sleep, sit by me while I sleep; turn me to you, fir your face ingoing far off. I want it to be near. Anf she died like a child that had gone to sleep. "-David Copperfield, Chapter 9. "Time and the world were slippfifo from beneath him. He's going out with tne tide And it being low tide, he went out with the water. "-Ibid, chapter 30.

''Don't cry lis my chair there, in its old place? That face so full of pity and of grief that would appeal to me, that solemn hand, upraised toward heaven! It is over."— Ibid, chapter 53.

»he was dead, No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting or the breath of life, Not one who had lived and suffered death, She was past all need of it. We will not wake her.''— Old Curiosity Shop, chapter 71 The hand soon stopped in the midst of them; the light that had always been feeble and dim behind the weak transparency went out,"—Hard times, chapter 9. For a moment the closed eyelids trembled; and the faintest shadow of a smile was seen. Thus clinging to that slight spar within her arms, the mother drifted out upon the dark and unknown sea that rolls around the world."—Dombey and Sonf vol 1 chapter 1, 'j It's very near the sea, I hear the waves The light about the head is shining on me as Igo !" The old, old fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its couvse, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. Oh! thank God for that old fashion yet of immortality! And look upon us, angels of your children, when the swift river bears us to rho ocean."—lbid, chapter 17. "In this round world of many circles within circles, do we make a weary journey from the high grade to the low to find at last that they lie close together, that the two extremes touch, and our journey's end is but our starting place !" —lbid, chapter, 35. "A cricket sings upon the hearth, a broken child's toy lays upon the ground, and nothing else remains,"—Cricket on the hearth, chapter 2.