File:Charles Dickens (1812-1870).jpg

Identifier: journeysthroughb06sylv (find matches)
Title: Journeys through Bookland : a new and original plan for reading applied to the world's best literature for children
Year: 1922 (1920s)
Authors: Sylvester, Charles Herbert
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: Chicago : Bellows-Reeve
Contributing Library: Internet Archive
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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able one, and during Charlessearly childhood his surroundings were prosperous;for his father, John Dickens, a clerk in the navypay-office, was temporarily in easy circumstances.When Charles was but two, the family moved toLondon, taking lodgings for a time in NorfolkStreet, Bloomsbury, and finally settling in Chat-ham. Here they lived in comfort, and here Charlesgained more than the rudiments of an education,his earliest teacher being his mother, who instructedhim not only in English, but in Latin also. Laterhe became the pupil of Mr. Giles, who seems to havetaken in him an extraordinary interest. Indeed, he was a child in whom it was difficultnot to take an extraordinary interest. Small for hisyears, and attacked occasionally by a sort of spasmwhich was exceedingly painful, he was not fittedfor much active exercise; but the aliveness whichwas apparent in him all his life distinguished himnow. He was very fond of reading, and in DavidCopperfield he put into the mouth of his hero a 232
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^^ <» 4U4 Charles Dickens 233 description of his own delight in certain hooks. Myfather had left a small collection of hooks in a littleroom upstairs, to which I had access (for it adjoinedmy own), and which nohody else in our house evertrouhled. From that lilessed little room, RoderickRandom, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker,Tom Jones, The Vicar of Wakefield, Don (Quixote,Gil Bias and Robinson Crusoe came out, a glorioushost, to keep me company. They kej^t alive my fancy, they, and the Arabian Nights and the Tales of the Genii—and did me no harm; forwhatever harm was in some of them w^as not there for me; I knew nothing of it I have been Tom Jones (a childs Tom Jones, a harmless crea-ture) for a week together. I have sustained myown idea of Roderick Random for a month at astretch, I verily believe. I had a greedy relish fora few volumes of Voyages and Travels—I forgetwhat, now—that were on those shelves; and for daysand days I can remember to have gone about myregion of o

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