style.

Dickens, having the single and simple heart of a moralist, had also the
simple eyes of a free intelligence, and the light heart. He gave his
senses their way, and well did they serve him. Thus his eyes--and no
more modern man in anxious search of "impressions" was ever so simple and
so masterly: "Mr. Vholes gauntly stalked to the fire, and warmed his
funereal gloves." "'I thank you,' said Mr. Vholes, putting out his long
black sleeve, to check the ringing of the bell, 'not any.'" Mr. and Mrs.
Tope "are daintily sticking sprigs of holly into the carvings and sconces
of the cathedral stalls, as if they were sticking them into the button-
holes of the Dean & Chapter." The two young Eurasians, brother and
sister, "had a certain air upon them of hunter and huntress; yet withal a
certain air of being the objects of the chase rather than the followers."
This phrase lacks elegance--and Dickens is not often inelegant, as those
who do not read him may be surprised to learn--but the impression is
admirable; so is that which follows: "An indefinable kind of pause coming
and going on their whole expression, both of face and form." Here is
pure, mere impression again: "Miss Murdstone, who was busy at her writing-
desk, gave me her cold finger-nails." Lady Tippins's hand is "rich in
knuckles." And here is vision with great dignity: "All beyond his figure
was a vast dark curtain, in solemn movement towards one quarter of the
heavens."

With that singleness of sight--and his whole body was full of the light
of it--he had also the single hearing; the scene is in the Court of
Chancery on a London November day: "Leaving this address ringing in the
rafters of the roof, the very little counsel drops, and the fog knows him
no more." "Mr. Vholes emerged into the silence he could scarcely be said
to have broken, so stifled was his tone." "Within the grill-gate of the