te parts of the town,
and have been industriously picked up by the fishermen. Charles Kean was
advertised for _Othello_ 'for the benefit of Mrs. Sefton, having most
kindly postponed for this one day his departure for London.' I have not
heard whether he got to the theatre, but I am sure nobody else did. They
do _The Honeymoon_ to-night, on which occasion I mean to patronize the
drayma. We have a beautiful bay-windowed sitting-room here, fronting the
sea, but I have seen nothing of B.'s brother who was to have shown me
the lions, and my notions of the place are consequently somewhat
confined: being limited to the pavilion, the chain-pier, and the sea.
The last is quite enough for me, and, unless I am joined by some male
companion (_do you think I shall be?_), is most probably all I shall
make acquaintance with. I am glad you like _Oliver_ this month:
especially glad that you particularize the first chapter. I hope to do
great things with Nancy. If I can only work out the idea I have formed
of her, and of the female who is to contrast with her, I think I may
defy Mr. ---- and all his works.[13] I have had great difficulty in
keeping my hands off Fagin and the rest of them in the evenings; but, as
I came down for rest, I have resisted the temptation, and steadily
applied myself to the labor of being idle. Did you ever read (of course
you have, though) De Foe's _History of the Devil_? What a capital thing
it is! I bought it for a couple of shillings yesterday morning, and have
been quite absorbed in it ever since. We must have been jolter-headed
geniuses not to have anticipated M.'s reply. My best remembrances to
him. I see H. at this moment. I must be present at a rehearsal of that
opera. It will be better than any comedy that was ever played. Talking
of comedies, I still see NO THOROUGHFARE staring me in the face, every
time I look down that road. I have taken places for Tuesday next. We
shall be at home at six o'clock, and I shall hope at least to see you
that evening. I am afraid you will find this letter extremely dear at
eightpence, but if the warmest assurances of friendship and attachment,
and anxious lookings-forward to the pleasure of your society, be worth
anything, throw them into the balance, together with a hundred good
wishes and one hearty assurance that I am," etc. etc. "CHARLES DICKENS.
No room for the flourish--I'll finish it the next time I write to you."

The flourish that accompanied his signature is fa