He had
a vague memory of a portrait in a volume of "Pickwick" at home. "Oh, I
see! Yes, yes."
"Of course you see! Everyone does. Mr. Dickens often says--it is one of
his favorite jokes--that while other men must choose a profession, his
was chosen for him by fate. How, with such a name, could he do anything
except write?"
"I don't know, ma'am. But names are risky pilots, ain't they? I've run
against a consider'ble number of Solomons, but there wa'n't one of 'em
that carried more'n a deckload of wisdom. They christened me Elisha, but
I can't even prophesy the weather with sartinty enough to bet. However,
I daresay in your husband's case it's all right."
The lady had turned away, and he was afraid he might have offended her.
The fear was groundless; she was merely offering another sacrifice, the
sugar this time.
"Yes?" she asked, turning, "you were saying--"
"Why--er--nothin' of account. I cal'late the C. stands for Charles,
then."
"No-o. Mr. Dickens's Christian name is Cornelius; but don't mention it
before him, he is very sensitive on that point."
The Dickenses "tickled" the captain exceedingly, and, after the meal was
over, he spoke of them to Pearson.
"Say," he said, "you're in notorious company, ain't you, Jim? What has
Cornelius Charles turned out so far, in the way of masterpieces?"
Pearson laughed.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233