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Updated: May 6, 2025
A few months later he died suddenly one evening in June 1870 in his house at Gad's Hill. He was buried in Westminster, and although the funeral was very quiet and simple as he himself had wished, for two days after a constant stream of mourners came to place flowers upon his grave. I have not given you a list of Dicken's books because they are to be found in nearly every household.
When we desire to get away for a time from our modern conventional ideas and restraints, and indulge in a bit of homely healthy sentiment, we may fall back on such utterances as the following, from Dicken's Cricket on the Hearth: "Now it was, you observe, that the Kettle began to spend the evening.
"Wh-wha-what the dicken's d-d-d'ye mean by this?" stuttered and stammered Captain Gillespie, his passion almost stopping his speech. "Wh-wh-what d'ye mean, I say?" "Me only hab piecee cocky-fightee," answered Ching Wang as calmly as possible. "Me chin chin you, cap'en." Captain Gillespie fairly boiled over with rage.
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