hour. In that time I rally and come right.” Again: “On the afternoon of my birthday my catarrh was in such a state that Charles Sumner coming in at five o’clock and finding me covered with mustard poultices and apparently voiceless, turned to Dolby and said: ‘Surely, Mr. Dolby, it is impossible that he can read to-night.’ Says Dolby: ‘Sir, I have told Mr. Dickens so four times to-day and I have been very anxious. But you have no idea how he will change when he gets to the little table.’ After five minutes of the little table I was not, for the time, even hoarse. The frequent experience of this return of force when it is wanted saves me much anxiety, but I am not at times without the nervous dread that I may some day sink altogether.”
But as a reward for his unstinted self-giving came the wonderful success of his tour, the pride and delight which he felt in the enthusiasm which greeted him everywhere, the personal affection lavished upon him, and
the many dear friends he made. He writes from Boston, à propos of these rewards: “When we reached here last Saturday night we found that Mrs. Fields had not only garnished the room with flowers, but also with holly (with real red berries), and festoons of moss dependent from the looking-glasses and picture-frames. The homely Christmas look of the place quite affected us.”
Later, from Washington: “I couldn’t help laughing at myself on my birthday here; it was observed as much as though I were a little boy. Flowers and garlands of the most exquisite kind, arranged in all manner of green baskets, bloomed over the room; letters, radiant with good wishes, poured in. Also, by hands unknown, the hall at night was decorated; and after ‘Boots at the Holly Tree Inn’ the audience rose, great people and all, standing and cheering until I went back to the table and made them a little speech.”
He wrote home constantly, giving frequent commissions for improvements at “Gad’s
Hill,” to be made before his return. He was much impressed on his second visit, as on his first, I remember, with the beauty of the American women. “The ladies are remarkably handsome,” he wrote.
In the autumn of 1869 he began a series of farewell readings, which were another heavy tax upon his health and strength. During his tour at this time he writes to Mr. Forster after some rather alarming symptoms had developed: “I told Beard, a year after the Staplehurst accident, that I was certain that my heart had been fluttered and wanted a little helping. This the stethoscope confirmed; and considering the immense exertion I am undergoing, and the constant jarring of express trains, the case seems to me quite intelligible. Don’t say anything in the ‘Gad’s’ direction about my being a little out of sorts. I have broached the matter, of course, but very lightly.”
But even such warning as this failed to make him realize how much less was his
strength, and with indomitable courage and spirit he continued his tour. The trouble in his feet increased, and his sufferings from this cause were very great. It became necessary at one time for him to have a physician in attendance upon him at every reading. But in spite of his perseverance, he became so ill that the readings had to be stopped.