rt-hand in the evenings. He
found it very hard to learn, particularly as he had to dig it out of
books in the reading-room of the British Museum, but he persevered, and
finally became very skilful, so that when he was sent by one of the
newspapers to report a debate in the House of Commons he did so
extremely well that experts stated "there never was such a short-hand
writer before."

The life of a reporter had great charm for the youthful Dickens. He
liked the adventurous side of it, the chance to see strange scenes and
mix in interesting events. He had a great many strange adventures of his
own, and told later how on one occasion soon after he had become a
reporter, he was sent far out of London to take down a political speech,
and how coming back he had to write out his short-hand notes holding his
paper on the palm of his hand, and by the light of a dull, flickering
lantern, while the coach galloped at fifteen miles an hour through wild
and hilly country at midnight.

In addition to reporting speeches Charles was sent to write notices of
new plays in the theatres and also reviewed new books. He signed these
reviews with his nickname "Boz," and it was not long before these
articles by Boz attracted the attention of a great many judges of good
writing. The chief editor of the _Morning Chronicle_, for which Charles
wrote, said of the youth, "He has never been a great reader of books or
plays and knows but little of them, but has spent his time in studying
life. Keep 'Boz' in reserve for great occasions. He will aye be ready
for them."

So it proved, and he might have been a prominent newspaper man just as
he might have been a great actor had not the desire to see what he could
do with a story seized upon him.

We have Dickens' own words to tell us how he wrote a little paper in
secret with much fear and trembling, and then dropped it stealthily into
"a dark little box, in a dark office, up a dark court in Fleet Street."
A little later his story appeared in the magazine to which he had sent
it, and he tells us how, as he looked at his words standing so gravely
before him in all the glory of print, he walked down to Westminster Hall
and turned into it for half an hour, because his eyes "were so dimmed
with joy and pride that they could not bear the street and were not fit
to be seen there." He had been very much excited over this venture of
his little story. Now he took the fact of its success to indicate that
it wa