The Duchess of Gloucester doing penance—Chap. xii, Part Third
King John of France at the Battle of Poitiers—Chap. xviii.
Lambert Simnel—Chap. xxvi.
Sir Edward Howard—Chap. xxvii.
The Spanish Armada—Chap, xxxi., Third Part
Before he went away, the landlord came behind his chair—Chap. xxxiv., First Part
Mary Queen of Scots leaving France—Chap. xxxi.
The seizure of Guy Fawkes—Chap. xxxii., First Part
Oliver Cromwell and Ireton at the Blue Boar—Chap. xxxiii., Fourth Part
Execution of Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle—Chap. xxxiii., Fourth Part
Charles the First taking leave of his children—Chap, xxxiii., Fourth Part
lawyer standing in doorway, lawbooks beside him
SIXTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONSBY FRED BARNARD
"Who copied that!"—Chap. ii.
I am introduced to Conversation Kenge—Chap. iii.
In an atmosphere of Borrioboola—Gha—Chap. iv.
The Lord Chancellor relates the death of Tom Jarndyce—Chap. v.
"We are not so prejudiced as to suppose that in private life you are otherwise than a very estimable man, with a great deal of poetry in your nature, of which you may not be conscious"—Chap. vi.
The Growlery—Chap. viii.
"Alfred, my youngest (five), has voluntarily enrolled himself in the infant bonds of joy, and is pledged never, through life, to use tobacco in any form"—Chap. viii.
"If I were in your place I would seize every Master in Chancery by the throat to-morrow morning, and shake him until his money rolled out of his pockets, and his bones rattled in his skin"—Chap. ix.
Nemo—Chap. x.
"He wos wery good to me, he wos!"—Chap. xi.
"Why, do you know how pretty you are, child!" she says, touching her shoulder with her two fore-fingers—Chap. xii.
Deportment—Chap. xiv.
"Honoured, indeed," said she, "by another visit from the wards in Jarndyce!"—Chap. xiv.
"'I'm fly," says Jo. "But fen larks, you know. Stow hooking it"—Chap. xvi.
To my great surprise, on going in, I found my guardian still there, and sitting looking at the ashes—Chap. xvii.
"I have frightened you!" she said—Chap. xviii.
"Jo"—Chap. xvi.
"Who ud go and let a nice innocent lodging to such a reg'lar one as me!"—Chap. xix.
"I am grown up, now, Guppy. I have arrived at maturity"—Chap. xx.
Grandfather Smallweed astonishes Mr. George—Chap. xxi.
"There she is!" cries Jo—Chap. xxii.
"O, you ridiculous child!" observed Mrs. Jellyby, with an abstracted air, as she looked over the despatch last opened; "what a goose you are!"—Chap. xxiii.
"Of all my old associations, of all my old pursuits and hopes, of all the living and the dead world, this one poor soul alone comes natural to me, and I am fit for"—Chap. xxiv
.
"What's gone of your father and your mother, eh!"—Chap. xxv.
"I believe you!" says Mrs. Bagnet. "He's a Briton. That's what Woolwich is. A Briton!"—Chap. xxvii.
The Ironmaster—Chap. xxviii.
Mr. Guppy's catechism—Chap. xxix.
"O my child, O my child!"—Chap. xxix.
"Never have a mission, my dear child"—Chap. xxx.
And he shivered in the window-seat with Charley standing by him, like some wounded animal that had been found in a ditch—Chap. xxx.
"My love, you know these two gentlemen!" . . . "Yes!" says Mrs. Snagsby, and in a rigid manner acknowledges their presence—Chap. xxxiii.
"I have come down," repeats Grandfather Smallweed, hooking the air towards him with all his ten fingers at once, "to look after the property"—Chap. xxxiii.
Puts his hand on his bald head again, under this new verbal shower-bath—Chap. xxxiv.
My mother—Chap. xxxvi.
"For I am constantly being taken in these nets," said Mr. Skimpole, looking beamingly at us over a glass of wine-and-water, "and am constantly being bailed out—like a boat"—Chap. xxxvii.
We danced for an hour with great gravity—Chap. xxxviii.
She made no sound of laughter: but she rolled her head, and shook it, and put her handkerchief to her mouth, and appealed to Caddy with her elbow—Chap. xxxviii.
"You are to be congratulated, Mr. Guppy, you are a fortunate young man, sir"—Chap. xxxix.
Under the Lincoln's Inn Trees—Chap. xxxix
A bird of ill omen—Chap. xli.
"Turns the key upon her, mistress," illustrating with the cellar key—Chap. xlii.
Richard—Chap. xlv.
Here, against a hoarding of decaying timber, he is brought to bay—Chap. xlvi.
The cart is shaken all to pieces, and the rugged road is very near its end—Chap. xlvii.
Mr. Bucket urging a sensible view of the case with his fat forefinger—Chap. xlix.
Peepy was sufficiently decorated to walk hand-in-hand with the professor of deportment—Chap. l.
"Esther, dear," she said very quietly, "I am not going home again"—Chap. li.
"Has'nt a doubt—zample—far better hang wrong f'ler than no f'ler"—Chap. liii.
"Can you make a haughty gentleman of him . . . the poor infant!"—Chap. liv.
He puts his hands together . . . and raising them towards her breast, bows down his head, and cries—Chap. lv.
Mr. Bucket in Lady Dedlock's boudoir—Chap. lvi.
In the brickmaker's cottage—Chap. lvii.
The old housekeeper weeping silently; Volumnia in the greatest agitation, with the freshest bloom on her cheeks; the trooper with his arms folded and his head a little bent, respectfully attentive—Chap. lviii.
She lay there, with one arm creeping round a bar of the iron gate, and seeming to embrace it—Chap. lix.
"Miss Summerson," said Mr. Vholes, very slowly rubbing his gloved hands, . . . . "this was an ill-advised marriage of Mr. C's"—Chap. lx.
"To which! say that again," cried Mr. Smallweed, in a shrill, sharp voice—Chap. lxii.
"Get out with you. If we ain't good enough for you, go and procure somebody that is good enough. Go along and find 'em"—Chap. lxiv.
"But I never own to it before the old girl. Discipline must be maintained"—Chap. lxvi.
Volumnia's devotion to Sir Leicester—Chap. lxvi.
Man and female dancer
TWENTY ILLUSTRATIONSBY H. FRENCH
"Louisa!! Thomas!"—Chap. iii.
"This is a very obtrusive lad!" said Mr. Gradgrind—Chap. vi.
"Heaven's mercy, woman!" he cried, falling farther off from the figure, "Hast thou come back agen!"—Chap. x.
"It would be a fine thing to be you, Miss Louisa!"—Chap. ix.
He felt a touch upon his arm—Chap. xii.
He went down on his knee before her on the poor mean stairs, and put an end of her shawl to his lips—Chap. xiv.
"What a comical brother-in-law you are!"—Book 2, chap. iii.
"Louisa, my dear, you are the subject of a proposal of marriage that has been made to me"—Chap. xv.
"This, sir," said Bounderby, "is my wife, Mrs. Bounderby"—Book 2, chap. ii.
"Heaven help us all in this world!"—Book 2, chap. v.
"Mrs. Bounderby, I esteem it a most fortunate accident that I find you alone here"—Book 2, chap. vii.
Mrs. Sparsit advanced closer to them—Book 2, chap. xi.
Left alone with her mother, Louisa saw her lying with an awful lull upon her face—Book 2, chap. ix
"I only entreat you to believe, my favourite child, that I have meant to do right"—Book 3, chap. i.
"You have seen me once before, young lady," said Rachael—Book 3, chap. iv.
"Now, Thethilia, I don't athk to know any thecreth, but I thuppothe I may conthider thith to be Mith Thquire"—Book 3, chap. vii.
She stooped down on the grass at his side, and bent over him—Book 3, chap. vi.
Here was Louisa, on the night of the same day, watching the fire as in the days of yore—Book 3, chap. ix.
He drew up a placard, offering twenty pounds reward, for the apprehension of Stephen Blackwood—Book 3, chap. iv.
Amy Dorrit
FIFTY-EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONSBY J. MAHONEY
In Marseilles that day there was a villainous prison. In one of its chambers, so repulsive a place, that even the obtrusive stars blinked at it, and left it to such refuse of reflected light as it could find for itself, were two men—Book 1, chap. i.
"Nothing changed," said the traveller, stopping to look round. "Dark and miserable as ever"—Book 1, chap. iii.
The observer stood with her hand upon her own bosom, looking at the girl—Book 1, chap. ii.
"But what—hey?—Lord forgive us!"—Mrs. Flintwinch muttered some ejaculation to this effect, and turned giddy—for Mr. Flintwinch awake, was watching Mr. Flintwinch asleep—Book 1, chap. iv.
They looked tempting; eight in number, circularly set out on a white plate, on a tray covered with a white napkin, flanked by a slice of buttered french roll and a little compact glass of cool wine and water—Book 1, chap. v.
"Give me the money again," said the other eagerly, "And I'll keep it and never spend it"—Book 1, chap. vi.
In the back garret—a sickly room, with a turned up bedstead in it, so hastily and recently turned up that the blankets were boiling over, as it were, and keeping the lid open—a half finished breakfast of coffee and toast, for two persons, was jumbled down anyhow on a rickety table—Book 1, chap. ix.
"Is it," said Barnwell Junior, taking heed of his visitor's brown face, "anything—about—tonnage—or that sort of thing?"—Book 1, chap. x.
One man, slowly moving on towards Chalons, was the only visible figure on the landscape. Cain might have looked as lonely and avoided—Book 1, chap. xi.
And stooping down to pinch the cheek of another young child who was sitting on the floor, staring at him, asked Mrs. Plornish how old that fine boy was? "Four year, just turned, sir," said Mrs. Plornish. "He's a fine little fellow, a'int he, sir, but this one is rather sickly." She tenderly hushed the baby in her arms as she said it—Book 1, chap. xi.
The parlour fire ticked in the grate. There was only one person on the parlour hearth, and the loud watch in his pocket ticked audibly. The servant maid had ticked the two words, "Mr. Clennam," so softly, that she had not been heard; and he consequently stood, within the door she had closed, unnoticed—Book 1, chap. xiii.
His door was softly opened, and these spoken words startled him, and came as if they were an answer, "Little Dorrit"—Book 1, chap. xiii.
They went to the closed gate, and peeped through into the courtyard. "I hope he is sound asleep," said Little Dorrit, kissing one of the bars, "and does not miss me." The gate was so familiar, and so like a companion, that they put down Maggy's basket in a corner to serve for a seat, and keeping close together, rested there for some time—Book 1, chap. xiv.
Then the bell rang once more, and then once more, and then kept on ringing; in despite of which importunate summons, Affery still sat behind her apron, recovering her breath. At last Mr. Flintwinch came shuffling down the staircase into the hall, muttering and calling "Affery woman!" all the way. Affery still remaining behind her apron, he came stumbling down the kitchen stairs, candle in hand—Book 1, chap. xv.
As Arthur came over the style and down to the water's edge, the lounger glanced at him for a moment and then resumed his occupation of idly tossing stones into the water with his foot.—Book 1, chap. xvii.
"O don't cry!" said Little Dorrit piteously. "Don't, don't! Good-bye, John. God bless you!" "Good-bye, Miss Amy. Good-bye!" And so he left her—Book 1, chap, xviii.
As she stood behind him, leaning over his chair so lovingly, he looked with downcast eyes at the fire. An uneasiness stole over him that was like a touch of shame; and when he spoke, as he presently did, it was in an unconnected and embarrassed manner—Book 1, chap. xix.
They spoke no more, all the way back to the lodging where Fanny and her uncle lived. When they arrived there they found the old man practising his clarionet in the dolefullest manner in a corner of the room—Book 1, chap. xx.
Arthur Clennam with the card in his hand, betook himself to the address set forth on it, and speedily arrived there. It was a very small establishment, wherein a decent woman sat behind the counter working at her needle—Book 1, chap. xxii.
"What nimble fingers you have," said Flora, "but are you sure you are well?" . . . "Oh yes, indeed!" Flora put her feet upon the fender and settled herself for a thorough good romantic disclosure—Book 1, chap. xxiv.
Mounting to his attic, attended by Mrs. Plornish as interpreter, he found Mr. Baptist with no furniture but his bed on the ground, a table and a chair, carving with the aid of a few simple tools, in the blithest way possible. "Now, old chap," said Mr. Pancks, "pay up!"—Book 1, chap. xxxiii.