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David Copperfield

By CHARLES DICKENS Condensation by CHARLES F. D. BELDEN "OF all my books," writes Dickens, "I like this the best. It will be easily believed that I am a fond parent to every child of my fancy, and that no one can ever love that family as dearly as I love them; but, like many fond parents, I have in my hearts of hearts a favorite child, and his name is David Copperfield."

The world, in the main, agrees with the opinion of the great, kindly delineator of humanity, for David Copperfield and Pickwick Papers hold first and second choice with most lovers of this English author of the middle of the nineteenth century. The reason is not hard to discover. The memory of the sad childhood of the writer forms the basis of the novel and provides the personal flavor. It is in many respects his ablest and clearest book. The narrative, more-over, moves from beginning to end in full swing with mingled pathos and humor. The spirit throughout is kindly, sympathetic, and, above all, human. Mr. G. K. Chesterton, writing of David Copperfield and its author, says: "He has created creatures who cling to us and tyrannize over us, creatures whom we would not forget if we could, creatures whom we could not forget if we would, creatures who are more actual than the man who made them." The novel begins with the birth of its hero, David Copperfield, six months after the death of his father. An eccentric great-aunt, Miss Betsey Trotwood, is present in the house, but departs quite as suddenly as she arrived when she learns that the child is a boy and cannot bear her name. David's mother is quite alone in the world with the exception of plain Peggotty, her devoted serving-woman; Peggotty, with no shape at all, and so very plump that when any little exertion is made after she is dressed, some of the buttons on the back of her gown fly off.