Bleak House.

In the preface to "David Copperfield," Mr. Dickens promised to renew his acquaintance with the public by putting forth again "two green leaves once a month." This he did by bringing out, in 1852, in the familiar serial form, the first number of a new novel, called "Bleak House," after a tall, exposed brick building which had been his summer residence at Broadstairs, — a favorite watering-place on the east coast of the Isle of Thanet. It was published by Bradbury and Evans, was illustrated by "Phiz,” and ran through the usual twenty numbers. The preface was dated August, 1853; and the dedication was to the author's "companions in the guild of literature and art." The work was chiefly aimed at the vexatious delays of the Court of Chancery, and the enormous expense of prosecuting suits therein. At the time of publication there was a suit before the court which had been commenced nearly twenty years before; in which from thirty to forty counsel had been known to appear at one time; in which costs had been incurred to the amount of seventy thousand pounds; which was a friendly suit; and which was said to be no nearer to its termination then than when it was begun.

CHARACTERS INTRODUCED.

Badger, Mr. Bayham. A medical practitioner in London, to whom Richard Carstone is articled. Mr. Badger is noted princi pally for his enthusiastic admiration of his wife's former husbands; he being the third.

Mr. Bayham Badger. . . was a pink, fresh-faced, crisp-looking gentlemar with a weak voice, white teeth, light hair, and surprised eyes, - some years younger, I should say, than Mrs. Bayham Badger. He admired her exceedingly but principally, and to begin with, on the curious ground (as it seemed to us) of her having had three husbands. We had barely taken our seats, when he said to Mr. Jarndyce, quite triumphantly,

"You would hardly suppose I was Mrs. Bayham Badger's third!"

"Indeed?" said Mr. Jarndyce.

"Her third," said Mr. Badger. "Mrs. Bayham Badger has not the appearance, Miss Summerson, of a lady who has had two former husbands?"

I said, "Not at all!"

"And most remarkable men!" said Mr. Badger in a tone of confidence. "Captain Swosser of the Royal Navy, who was Mrs. Badger's first husband, was a very distinguished officer indeed. The name of Professor Dingo, my immediate predecessor, is one of European reputation. . Perhaps you may be inter ested... in this portrait of Captain Swosser. ... I feel when I look at it... that's a man I should like to have seen. ... On the other side, Professor Dingo, I knew him well; attended him in his last illness. A speaking likeness Over the piano, Mrs. Bayham Badger when Mrs. Swosser; over the sofa, Mrs. Bayham Badger when Mrs. Dingo. Of Mrs. Bayham Badger in esse, I possess the original, and have no copy."

(Ch. xiii, xvii, 1.)

Badger, Mrs. Bayham. A lady of about fifty, who dresses youthfully, and improves her fine complexion by the use of a little rouge. She is not only the wife of Mr. Badger, but the widow of Captain Swosser of the Royal Navy, and of Professor Dingo, to the loss of whom she has become inured by custom, combined with science, particularly science. (Ch. xiii, xvii.) Bagnet, Matthew, called LIGNUM VITE. An ex-artillery-man, “tall and upright, with shaggy eyebrows, and whiskers like the fibres of a cocoanut, not a hair upon his head, and a torrid complexion." On leaving the service, he goes into "the musical business," and becomes a bassoon-player. Of his wife's judgment he has a very exalted opinion; though he never forgets the apostolic maxim that "the head of the woman is the man." To an old companion-inarms he says,

"George! You know me. It 's my old girl that advises. She has the head; but I never own to it before her: discipline must be maintained. Wait till the greens is off her mind; then we'll consult. Whatever the old girl says do, do it."

(Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix, liii, lxvi.) Bagnet, Mrs. His wife; a soldierly-looking woman, usually engaged in washing greens. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix, liii, lv, lxvi.)

Mrs. Bagnet is not an ill-looking woman; rather large-boned, a little coarse in the grain, and freckled by the sun and wind, which have tanned her hair upon the forehead, but healthy, wholesome, and bright-eyed. A strong, busy, active, honest-faced woman, of from forty-five to fifty.

Bagnet, Malta. Their elder daughter; so called in the family (though not so christened), from the place of her birth in bar racks. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix, lxvi.)

Bagnet, Quebec. Their younger daughter; so called in the fam

ily (though not so christened), from the place of her birth in barracks. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiv, xlix, lxvi.)

Bagnet, Woolwich. Their son; so called in the family (though

not so christened), from the place of his birth in barracks. (Ch xxvii, xxxiv, xlix.)

Barbary, Miss. Aunt and god-mother to Esther Summerson. (Ch. iii.)

She was a good, good woman. She went to church three times every Sunday, and to morning prayers on Wednesdays and Fridays, and to lectures whenever there were lectures; and never missed. She was handsome, and, if she had ever smiled, would have been (I used to think) like an angel; but she never smiled. She was always grave and strict. She was so very good herself, I thought that the badness of other people made her frown all her life.

Blinder, Mrs. A good-natured old woman, with a dropsy, or an asthma, or perhaps both; a friend of the Necketts. (Ch. xv, xxiii.)

Bogsby, James George. Landlord of "The Sol's Arms" tav ern. (Ch. xxxiii.)

Boodle, Lord. A friend of Sir Leicester Dedlock's; a man of considerable reputation with his party, and who has known what office is. (Ch. xii.)

Boythorn, Lawrence. A friend of Mr. Jarndyce's; intended as a portrait of Dickens's friend, Walter Savage Landor. (Ch. ix, xii, xiii, xv, xviii, xxiii, xliii, lxvi.)

"I went to school with this fellow, Lawrence Boythorn," said Mr. Jarndyce, . . . "more than five and forty years ago. He was then the most impet uous boy in the world, and he is now the most impetuous man; he was then the loudest boy in the world, and he is now the loudest man; he was then the heartiest and sturdiest boy in the world, and he is now the heartiest and sturdiest man. He is a tremendous fellow."

"In stature, sir?" asked Richard.

"Pretty well, Rick, in that respect," said Mr. Jarndyce; "being some ten years older than I, and a couple of inches taller, with his head thrown back like an old soldier, his stalwart chest squared, his hands like a clean blacksmith's, and his lungs! - there's no simile for his lungs. Talking, laughing, or snor. ing, they make the beams of the house shake. . . . But it's the inside of the man, the warm heart of the man, the passion of the man, the fresh blood of the man,... that I speak of. His language is as sounding as his voice. He

is always in extremes; perpetually in the superlative degree. In his condemnation he is all ferocity. You might suppose him to be an ogre from what he says, and I believe he has the reputation of one with some people. There! I tell you no more of him beforehand." . . .

We were sitting round the fire, with no light but the blaze, when the hall door suddenly burst open, and the hall resounded with these words, uttered with the greatest vehemence, and in a stentorian tone:

"We have been misdirected, Jarndyce, by a most abandoned ruffian, who

told us to take the turning to the right, instead of to the left. He is the most intolerable scoundrel on the face of the earth. His father must have been a most consummate villain ever to have had such a son. I would have that fel low shot without the least remorse!"

"Did he do it on purpose?" Mr. Jarndyce inquired.

"I have not the slightest doubt that the scoundrel has passed his whole ex• istence in misdirecting travellers!" returned the other. "By my soul, I thought him the worst looking dog I had ever beheld, when he was telling me to take the turning to the right. And yet I stood before that fellow ace to face, and did n't knock his brains out!"

...

...

We all conceived a prepossession in his [Boythorn's] favor; for there was a sterling quality in his laugh, and in his vigorous healthy voice, and in the roundness and fulness with which he uttered every word he spoke, and in the very fury of his superlatives, which seemed to go off like blank cannons, and hurt nothing. He was not only a very handsome old gentleman, -upright and stalwart, as he had been described to us, with a massive gray head, a fine composure of face when silent, a figure that might have become corpulent but for his being so continually in earnest that he gave it no rest, and a chin that might have subsided into a double chin but for the vehement emphasis in which it was constantly required to assist; but he was such a true gentleman in his manner, so chivalrously polite, his face was lighted by a smile of so much sweetness and tenderness, and it seemed so plain that he had nothing to hide, but showed himself exactly as he was,... that really I could not help looking at him with equal pleasure as he sat at dinner, whether he smilingly conversed with Ada and me, or was led by Mr. Jarndyce into some great volley of superlatives, or threw up his head like a bloodhound, and gave out that tremendous "Ha, ha, ha!"

Bucket, Mr. Inspector. A detective officer, wonderfully patient, persevering, affable, alert, imperturbable, and sagacious; a stoutlybuilt, steady-looking, sharp-eyed man in black, of about the middle age. The original of this character is supposed to have been Inspector Field of the London police, with whom Mr. Dickens was well acquainted, and whom he has described in the article in "Reprinted Pieces," entitled "On Duty with Inspector Field." (Ch. xxii, xxiv, xxv, xlix, liii, liv, lvi, lvii, lix, lxi, lxii.)

He puts

Mr. Bucket and his fat forefinger are much in consultation. it to his ears, and it whispers information; he puts it to his lips, and it er. joins him to secrecy; he rubs it over his nose, and it sharpens his scent; he shakes it before a guilty man, and it charms him to his destruction. ... Otherwise mildly studious in his observation of human nature, on the whole, a be nignant philosopher not disposed to be severe upon the follies of mankind, Mr. Bucket pervades a vast number of houses, and strolls about an infinity of streets; to outward appearance rather languishing for want of an object. He is in the friendliest condition towards his species, and will drink with most of them. He is free with his money, affable in his manners, innocent in his con versation; but through the placid stream of his life there glides an undercurrent of forefinger. Time and place cannot bind Mr. Bucket. Like man in the abstract, he is here to-day, and gone to-morrow; but, very unlike man indeed, he is here again the next day.

Bucket, Mrs. Wife of Mr. Inspector Bucket; a lady of a natural detective genius, which, if it had been improved by professional exercise, might have done great things, but which has paused at the level of a clever amateur. (Ch. liii, liv.)

Buffey, The Right Honorable William, M. P. A friend of Sir Leicester Dedlock's. (Ch. xii, xxviii, liii, lviii, lxvi.) Carstone, Richard. A ward of John Jarndyce, and a suitor in Chancery; a handsome young man with an ingenuous face and a most engaging laugh, afterwards married to Ada Clare. Though possessed of more than ordinary talent, and of excellent principles, he yet lacks tenacity of purpose, and becomes successively a student of law, a student of mediciae, and a soldier. Ever haunted by the long-pending Chancery suit, and always basing his expenditures and plans on the expectation of a speedy and favorable decision of the case, he at last becomes very restless, leaves the army, and devotes all his energies to the suit. When the case is finally closed, and the whole estate is found to have been swallowed up in cos's, the blow proves too much for him, and quickly results in his death. (Ch. iii-vi, viii, ix, xii, xiv, xvii, xviii, xx, xxiii, xxiv, XXXV, xxxvii, xxxix, xliii, xlv, li, lx, lxi, lxiv, lxv.) Chadband, The Reverend Mr. A large yellow man, with a fat smile, and a general appearance of having a good deal of tra 1oil in his system.

He is very much embarrassed about the arms, as if they were inconvenient to him, and he wanted to grovel; is very much in a perspiration about the head; and never speaks without first putting up his great hand, as if delivering a token to his hearers that he is going to edify them.

From Mr. Chadband's being much given to describe himself, both verbally and in writing, as a vessel, he is occasionally mistaken by strangers for a gen. tleman connected with navigation; but he is, as he expresses it, "in the minis. try." Mr. Chadband is attached to no particular denomination, and is consid ered by his persecutors to have nothing so very remarkable to say on the greatest of subjects, as to render his volunteering on his own account, at all incumbent on his conscience; but he has his followers, and Mrs. Snagsby is of the number.

Visiting Mrs. Snagsby's with his wife, one day, he salutes the lady of the house, and her husband, in the following manner, which may serve as a specimen of his usual style of delivering himself:

"My friends, ... peace be on this house! -on the master thereof, on th mistress thereof, on the young maidens, and on the young men. My friends, why do I wish for peace? What is peace? Is it war? No. Is it strife? No Is it lovely and gentle and beautiful and pleasant and serene and joyful? Oh ye! Therefore, my friends, I wish for peace on you and yours. '

(Ch. xix, xxv, liv.)