The Holly-Tree : With original illustrations
I have kept one secret in the course of my life. I am a bashful man. Nobody would suppose it, nobody ever does suppose it, nobody ever did suppose it, but I am naturally a bashful man. This is the secret which I have never breathed until now.

I might greatly move the reader by some account of the innumerable places I have not been to, the innumerable people I have not called upon or received, the innumerable social evasions I have been guilty of, solely because I am by original constitution and character a bashful man. But I will leave the reader unmoved, and proceed with the object before me.

That object is to give a plain account of my travels and discoveries in the Holly-Tree Inn; in which place of good entertainment for man and beast I was once snowed up.

It happened in the memorable year when I parted for ever from Angela Leath, whom I was shortly to have married, on making the discovery that she preferred my bosom friend. From our school-days I had freely admitted Edwin, in my own mind, to be far superior to myself; and, though I was grievously wounded at heart, I felt the preference to be natural, and tried to forgive them both. It was under these circumstances that I resolved to go to America—on my way to the Devil.

Communicating my discovery neither to Angela nor to Edwin, but resolving to write each of them an affecting letter conveying my blessing and forgiveness, which the steam-tender for shore should carry to the post when I myself should be bound for the New World, far beyond recall,—I say, locking up my grief in my own breast, and consoling myself as I could with the prospect of being generous, I quietly left all I held dear, and started on the desolate journey I have mentioned.

The dead winter-time was in full dreariness when I left my chambers for ever, at five o'clock in the morning. I had shaved by candle-light, of course, and was miserably cold, and experienced that general all-pervading sensation of getting up to be hanged which I have usually found inseparable from untimely rising under such circumstances.
"1133652818"
The Holly-Tree : With original illustrations
I have kept one secret in the course of my life. I am a bashful man. Nobody would suppose it, nobody ever does suppose it, nobody ever did suppose it, but I am naturally a bashful man. This is the secret which I have never breathed until now.

I might greatly move the reader by some account of the innumerable places I have not been to, the innumerable people I have not called upon or received, the innumerable social evasions I have been guilty of, solely because I am by original constitution and character a bashful man. But I will leave the reader unmoved, and proceed with the object before me.

That object is to give a plain account of my travels and discoveries in the Holly-Tree Inn; in which place of good entertainment for man and beast I was once snowed up.

It happened in the memorable year when I parted for ever from Angela Leath, whom I was shortly to have married, on making the discovery that she preferred my bosom friend. From our school-days I had freely admitted Edwin, in my own mind, to be far superior to myself; and, though I was grievously wounded at heart, I felt the preference to be natural, and tried to forgive them both. It was under these circumstances that I resolved to go to America—on my way to the Devil.

Communicating my discovery neither to Angela nor to Edwin, but resolving to write each of them an affecting letter conveying my blessing and forgiveness, which the steam-tender for shore should carry to the post when I myself should be bound for the New World, far beyond recall,—I say, locking up my grief in my own breast, and consoling myself as I could with the prospect of being generous, I quietly left all I held dear, and started on the desolate journey I have mentioned.

The dead winter-time was in full dreariness when I left my chambers for ever, at five o'clock in the morning. I had shaved by candle-light, of course, and was miserably cold, and experienced that general all-pervading sensation of getting up to be hanged which I have usually found inseparable from untimely rising under such circumstances.
1.99 In Stock
The Holly-Tree : With original illustrations

The Holly-Tree : With original illustrations

by Charles Dickens
The Holly-Tree : With original illustrations

The Holly-Tree : With original illustrations

by Charles Dickens

eBook

$1.99 

Available on Compatible NOOK devices, the free NOOK App and in My Digital Library.
WANT A NOOK?  Explore Now

Related collections and offers

LEND ME® See Details

Overview

I have kept one secret in the course of my life. I am a bashful man. Nobody would suppose it, nobody ever does suppose it, nobody ever did suppose it, but I am naturally a bashful man. This is the secret which I have never breathed until now.

I might greatly move the reader by some account of the innumerable places I have not been to, the innumerable people I have not called upon or received, the innumerable social evasions I have been guilty of, solely because I am by original constitution and character a bashful man. But I will leave the reader unmoved, and proceed with the object before me.

That object is to give a plain account of my travels and discoveries in the Holly-Tree Inn; in which place of good entertainment for man and beast I was once snowed up.

It happened in the memorable year when I parted for ever from Angela Leath, whom I was shortly to have married, on making the discovery that she preferred my bosom friend. From our school-days I had freely admitted Edwin, in my own mind, to be far superior to myself; and, though I was grievously wounded at heart, I felt the preference to be natural, and tried to forgive them both. It was under these circumstances that I resolved to go to America—on my way to the Devil.

Communicating my discovery neither to Angela nor to Edwin, but resolving to write each of them an affecting letter conveying my blessing and forgiveness, which the steam-tender for shore should carry to the post when I myself should be bound for the New World, far beyond recall,—I say, locking up my grief in my own breast, and consoling myself as I could with the prospect of being generous, I quietly left all I held dear, and started on the desolate journey I have mentioned.

The dead winter-time was in full dreariness when I left my chambers for ever, at five o'clock in the morning. I had shaved by candle-light, of course, and was miserably cold, and experienced that general all-pervading sensation of getting up to be hanged which I have usually found inseparable from untimely rising under such circumstances.

Product Details

BN ID: 2940161104446
Publisher: Freeday Shop
Publication date: 09/19/2019
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

About The Author
Charles Dickens was born in a house in Mile End Terrace on the edge of Portsmouth on 7 February 1812. (It was given the name Mile End because it was about a mile from the gate in the wall around Portsmouth). At that time Portsmouth was dominated by the dockyard. His father John Dickens worked as a clerk in the Navy Pay Office. Charles Dickens was one of six children. He had an older sister Frances (Fanny) born in 1810 (she died in 1810), another sister Letitia was born in 1816 (she died in 1893), a sister named Harriet was born in 1819 but she died in childhood. A brother Alfred was born in 1822 (he died in 1860). Dickens had another brother, Augustus who was born in 1827 (he died in 1866).

In 1815 the family moved away to London. In 1817 Dickens and his family moved to Chatham in Kent. However in 1823 they moved to Camden in London.

However John Dickens spent beyond his means and he was sent to Marshalsea debtors prison when Charles was 12. (In those days people in debt could be imprisoned until their debts were paid off). Charles was found a job in a boot blacking factory. Fortunately after a few months a relative of John Dickens died and left him some money so he was able to pay his debts. Charles was eventually able to leave the blacking factory and return to school. However Charles never forgot this horrid experience.

Charles Dickens left school at the age of 15 and he started work in a solicitors office. However when he was 16 Charles became a journalist. Then in 1833 Dickens had his first story published. It was called A Dinner at Poplar Walk and it was published in a periodical called Monthly Magazine. Then in 1836-37 the first novel by Dickens, The Pickwick Papers was published as a serial. Meanwhile Dickens married a woman named Catherine Hogarth in Chelsea on 2 April 1836. They had 10 children but the marriage was not a happy one. Charles and Catherine separated in 1858.

Date of Birth:

February 7, 1812

Date of Death:

June 18, 1870

Place of Birth:

Portsmouth, England

Place of Death:

Gad's Hill, Kent, England

Education:

Home-schooling; attended Dame School at Chatham briefly and Wellington
From the B&N Reads Blog

Customer Reviews