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Updated: June 24, 2025
I declare firmly, the mystery of that shout is still a mystery to me! The great event of Boz's first visit to Boston was the dinner of welcome tendered to him by the young men of the city. It is idle to attempt much talk about the banquet given on that Monday night in February, twenty-nine years ago.
Being "one of the oldest-established," it must have been there at the time of the Pickwickian visit. At the Bull, they show you "Mr. Pickwick's room" as well as Tupman's and Winkle's Boz's very particular description enables this to be done. Mr.
There are travellers who come there and drink Boz's health in the snug parlour. It is, in fact, a Pickwickian Inn, and is drawn within the glamour of the legend, and, what a marvel! the thing is done by the magic of those three or four lines. "The Bell," says Mrs. Hooper, "lies back on the main road from Bristol to Gloucester, and is just nineteen miles from Bristol.
Slammer in uniform always required in presence of a commander? It was wonderfully bold, too, on Boz's part to give the numbers of the regiments. Hon. Wilmot Snipe of the 97th, who was in full uniform, which Mr. Tupman took for "a fancy dress." It was, of course, a Highland one. We learn, too, that the other regiment was the 43rd, to which Dr.
It is the same building, though much altered and pulled about, as that in which David Garrick made his first appearance on the stage, as Mr. Lyddal, about 150 years ago. I have before me now a number of Ipswich play bills, dated in the year 1838, just after the conclusion of "Pickwick," and which, most appropriately, seem to record little but Boz's own work.
More than a year had passed away since those Christmas holidays when the wreck happened, and my brother and I were again to become inmates of Uncle Boz's unique abode. It was midsummer; the trees were green, the air warm and balmy, the wind blew gently, and the broad blue sea sparkled brightly, and seemed joyously to welcome our return.
They were for abolishing Sunday trading in the streets, and for maintaining the sale of church livings." A member of Boz's family has assured me that Maidstone was in the author's mind: it is only some eight miles from Rochester.
We all smiled, and I remember Boz speaking to me good-naturedly of this enthusiasm. Not one of the party then it was in 1865 dreamed that this old bachelor was far wiser than his generation. The original Pickwick, that is bound from the numbers, is indeed a nugget of old gold. I remember once asking Wills, his sub-editor, could I be allowed to have the original MSS. of some of Boz's short stories?
One is always glad to find Boz associating his humour with places that we are deeply interested in. The Hampstead of this hour, though changed enough, may remind us very fairly of Boz's time. It has still the attractions of the old-fashioned, red-brick houses, and terraces, the mixture of green, and the charming, even seductive, heath.
What! are we so blind, so few of friends, that we cannot each pick out of our social circles Mrs. Gore's Dowager, Mrs. Grey's Flirt, Mrs. Trollope's Widow, and Boz's Mrs. Nickleby? Who can help thinking of his lawyer, when he makes acquaintance with those immortal firms Dodson and Fogg, or Quirk, Snap, and Gammon? Is not Wrexhill libellous, and Dr. Hookwell personal?
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