Charles Dickens

Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food read more

Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
. . . .
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.

I never will desert Mr. Micawber.

I never will desert Mr. Micawber.

He has gone to the demnition bow-wows.

He has gone to the demnition bow-wows.

I feel an earnest and humble desire, and shall till I die, to increase the stock of harmless cheerfulness.

I feel an earnest and humble desire, and shall till I die, to increase the stock of harmless cheerfulness.

Which fiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my nerves this night!

Which fiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my nerves this night!