the true Dickens," has disappeared. The young lions of the Press no
longer mimic your less admirable mannerisms--do not strain so much
after fantastic comparisons, do not (in your manner and Mr.
Carlyle's) give people nick-names derived from their teeth, or their
complexion; and, generally, we are spared second-hand copies of all
that in your style was least to be commended. But, though improved
by lapse of time in this respect, your devotees still put on little
conscious airs of virtue, robust manliness, and so forth, which
would have irritated you very much, and there survive some press men
who seem to have read you a little (especially your later works),
and never to have read anything else. Now familiarity with the
pages of "Our Mutual Friend" and "Dombey and Son" does not precisely
constitute a liberal education, and the assumption that it does is
apt (quite unreasonably) to prejudice people against the greatest
comic genius of modern times.

On the other hand, Time is at last beginning to sift the true
admirers of Dickens from the false. Yours, Sir, in the best sense
of the word, is a popular success, a popular reputation. For
example, I know that, in a remote and even Pictish part of this
kingdom, a rural household, humble and under the shadow of a sorrow
inevitably approaching, has found in "David Copperfield" oblivion of
winter, of sorrow, and of sickness. On the other hand, people are
now picking up heart to say that "they cannot read Dickens," and
that they particularly detest "Pickwick." I believe it was young
ladies who first had the courage of their convictions in this
respect. "Tout sied aux belles," and the fair, in the confidence of
youth, often venture on remarkable confessions. In your "Natural
History of Young Ladies" I do not remember that you describe the
Humorous Young Lady. {1} She is a very rare bird indeed, and humour