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+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type"
+ content="text/html; charset=UTF-8">
+<meta content="pg2html (binary version 0.16rc2)"
+ name="generator">
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of
+ Dickens in Camp,
+ by Bret Harte.
+</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+ <!--
+ body { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; }
+ p { text-indent: 1em;
+ margin-top: .75em;
+ font-size: 100%;
+ text-align: justify;
+ margin-bottom: .75em; }
+ h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; }
+ hr { width: 50%; }
+ hr.full { width: 100%; }
+ .poem { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left; }
+ .poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; }
+ .poem p { margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; }
+ .poem p.i2 { margin-left: 1em; }
+ center { padding: 0.8em;}
+ // -->
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12337 ***</div>
+
+<div style="height: 8em;"></div>
+
+<h1>
+ DICKENS IN CAMP
+</h1>
+<center><b>
+ <i>BY BRET HARTE</i></b>
+</center>
+<center>
+ WITH A FOREWORD BY
+<br>
+<b>
+ <i>Frederick S. Myrtle</i>
+</b>
+</center>
+
+<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/inset.png" width="125" height="190"
+alt="">
+</center>
+
+<center><b>
+ <i>San Francisco</i>
+<br>
+ JOHN HOWELL<br>
+ 1922.</b>
+</center>
+
+
+<hr class="full">
+
+<a name="2H_FORE"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"></div>
+
+<a name="image-0002"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/head1.png" width="499" height="213"
+alt="Decorative Header">
+</center>
+
+<h2>
+ <i>F O R E W O R D</i>
+</h2>
+<hr>
+<p>
+ "Dickens In Camp" is held by many admirers of Bret Harte to be his
+ masterpiece of verse. The poem is so held for the evident sincerity and
+ depth of feeling it displays as well as for the unusual quality of its
+ poetic expression.
+</p>
+<p>
+ Bret Hart has been generally accepted as the one American writer who
+ possessed above all others the faculty of what may be called heart
+ appeal, the power to give to his work that quality of human interest
+ which enables the writer and his writings to live in the memory of the
+ reading public for all time. By reason of that gift of his Bret Harte
+ has been popularly compared with his great contemporary beyond the
+ seas, greatest of all sentimentalists among writers of fiction,
+ Charles Dickens.
+</p>
+<p>
+ Just how far the younger author selected the elder for his ideal, built
+ upon him, so to speak, &amp; held his example constantly before his mental
+ vision, may be always a matter of debate amongst students of literature.
+ There can be no question of the genuineness of the Californian writer's
+ admiration of him who made the whole world laugh or weep with him at
+ will. It is recorded Harte that at seven years of age he had read
+ "Dombey &amp; Son," and so, as one of his biographers, Henry Childs Merwin,
+ observes, "began his acquaintance with that author who was to influence
+ him far more than any other." Merwin further declares that "the reading
+ of Dickens stimulated his boyish imagination and quickened that sympathy
+ with the weak and suffering, with the downtrodden, with the waifs and
+ strays, with the outcasts of society, which is remarkable in both
+ writers. The spirit of Dickens breathes through the poems and stories of
+ Bret Harte just as the spirit of Bret Harte breathes through the poems
+ and stories of Kipling. Bret Harte had a very pretty satirical vein
+ which might easily have developed, have made him an author of satire
+ rather than of sentiment. Who can say that the influence of Dickens,
+ coming at the early, plastic period of his life, may not have turned
+ the scale?"
+</p>
+<p>
+ Another of his biographers, T. Edgar Pemberton, says his admiration for
+ Charles Dickens never waned, but on the contrary, increased as the years
+ rolled by. Harte himself, referring in later years to his childhood
+ days, to his father's library and the books to which he had access,
+ spoke of "the irresistible Dickens." Mr. Pemberton states, also,
+ that Bret Harte always felt that he owed a deep debt of gratitude to
+ Charles Dickens.
+</p>
+<p>
+ Small wonder, then, that, Bret Harte no matter how unconsciously,
+ should have adopted here and there something of the style and some of
+ the mannerisms of Dickens. This is directly traceable in his writings,
+ even to the extent of his resorting, here and there, to oddities of
+ expression which were peculiarly Dickensian.
+</p>
+<p>
+ The English writer, on his part, reciprocated in no small degree the
+ feeling of admiration which his works had aroused in the young American.
+ His biographer, John Forster, relates that Dickens called his attention
+ to two sketches by Bret Harte, "The Luck of Roaring Camp" and "The
+ Outcasts of Poker Flat," in which, writes the biographer, "he had found
+ such subtle strokes of character as he had not anywhere else in later
+ years discovered; the manner resembling himself but the matter fresh to
+ a degree that had surprised him; the painting in all respects masterly
+ and the wild rude thing painted a quite wonderful reality. I have rarely
+ known him more honestly moved."
+</p>
+<p>
+ Dickens gave evidence of this feeling of appreciation in a letter
+ addressed to Harte in California, commending his literary efforts,
+ inviting him to write a story for "All the Year Round" and bidding him
+ sojourn with him at Gad's Hill upon his first visit to England. This
+ letter was written shortly before Dickens' death and, unfortunately,
+ did not reach Bret Harte until sometime after that sad event.
+</p>
+<p>
+ When word of the passing of "The Master," as he reverently styled him,
+ reached Bret Harte he was in San Rafael. He immediately sent a dispatch
+ across the bay to San Francisco to hold back the forthcoming publication
+ of his "Overland Monthly" for twenty-four hours, and ere that time had
+ elapsed the poetic tribute to which the title was given of "Dickens in
+ Camp" had been composed and sent on its way to magazine headquarters
+ in the Western metropolis. That was in July, 1870.
+</p>
+<p>
+ Late in the '70s, while on his way to a consulship in Germany, Bret
+ Harte visited London for the first time. There he was taken in charge
+ by Joaquin Miller, the Poet of the Sierras, who in his reminiscences
+ relates: "He could not rest until he stood by the grave of Dickens.
+ At last one twilight I led him by the hand to where some plain letters
+ in a broad, flat stone just below the bust of Thackeray read 'Charles
+ Dickens.' Bret Harte is dead now and it will not hurt him in politics,
+ where they seem to want the hard and heartless for high places, it will
+ not hurt him in politics nor in anything anywhere to tell the plain
+ truth, how he tried to speak but choked up, how tears ran down and fell
+ on the stone as he bowed his bare head very low, how his hand trembled
+ as I led him away."
+</p>
+<p>
+ Many years later, in May, 1890, Bret Harte, in response to a request
+ for a facsimile of the original manuscript of "Dickens in Camp" replied
+ in part:
+</p>
+<p>
+ "I hurriedly sent the first and only draft of the verses to the office
+ at San Francisco, and I suppose after passing the printer's and
+ proof-reader's hands it lapsed into the usual oblivion of all editorial
+ 'copy'.
+</p>
+<p>
+ "I remember that it was very hastily but very honestly written, and it
+ is fair to add that it was not until later that I knew for the first
+ time that those gentle and wonderful eyes, which I was thinking of as
+ being closed forever, had ever rested kindly upon a line of mine."
+</p>
+<p>
+ The poem itself breathes reverence for "The Master" throughout. To
+ residents of California, who revel in the outdoor life of her mountains
+ &amp; valleys, the poem has a particular attraction for its camp-fire spirit
+ which to us seems part and parcel of that outdoor life. It is a far
+ cry, perhaps, from the camp-fires of 1849 to the camp-fires of 1922,
+ but surely the camp-fire spirit is the same with us in our Western
+ wonderland today as it was with those rough old miners who sat around
+ the logs under the pines after a day of arduous and oft disappointing
+ toil. Surely the visions we see, the lessons we read in the camp-fire
+ glow, are much the same as they were then. Surely we build the same
+ castles in the air, draw the same inspirations from it. Biographer
+ Forster pays the poem this tribute:
+</p>
+<p>
+ "It embodies the same kind of incident which had so affected the master
+ himself in the papers to which I have referred; it shows the gentler
+ influences which, in even those California wilds, can restore outlawed
+ 'roaring campers' to silence and humanity; and there is hardly any
+ form of posthumous tribute which I can imagine likely to have better
+ satisfied his desire of fame than one which should thus connect with the
+ special favorite among all his heroines the restraints and authority
+ exerted by his genius over the rudest and least civilized of competitors
+ in that far, fierce race for wealth."
+</p>
+<p>
+ In the twining of English holly and Western pine upon the great English
+ novelist's grave the poet expresses a happy thought. He calls East and
+ West together in common appreciation of one whose influence was not
+ merely local but worldwide. He invites the old world and the new to
+ kneel together at the altar of sentiment, an appeal to the emotions
+ which never fails to touch a responsive chord in the heart of humanity.
+</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">
+ Frederick S. Myrtle
+</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">
+<i> San Francisco, California<br>
+ April, 1922</i>
+</p>
+<hr class="full">
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"></div>
+
+<a name="image-0003"><!--IMG--></a>
+<center>
+<img src="images/head1.png" width="499" height="213"
+alt="Decorative Header">
+</center>
+
+<a name="2H_4_0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<h2>
+ <i>DICKENS in CAMP</i>
+</h2>
+<hr>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p>Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The river sang below;</p>
+<p>The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting</p>
+<p class="i2"> Their minarets of snow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted</p>
+<p class="i2"> The ruddy tints of health</p>
+<p>On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted</p>
+<p class="i2"> In the fierce race for wealth;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Till one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure</p>
+<p class="i2"> A hoarded volume drew,</p>
+<p>And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure</p>
+<p class="i2"> To hear the tale anew;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And then, while round them shadows gathered faster,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And as the firelight fell,</p>
+<p>He read aloud the book wherein the Master</p>
+<p class="i2"> Had writ of "Little Nell."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Perhaps 'twas boyish fancy,&mdash;for the reader</p>
+<p class="i2"> Was youngest of them all,&mdash;</p>
+<p>But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar</p>
+<p class="i2"> A silence seemed to fall;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Listened in every spray,</p>
+<p>While the whole camp, with "Nell" on English meadows,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wandered and lost their way.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And so in mountain solitudes&mdash;o'ertaken</p>
+<p class="i2"> As by some spell divine&mdash;</p>
+<p>Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken</p>
+<p class="i2"> From out the gusty pine.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire:</p>
+<p class="i2"> And he who wrought that spell?&mdash;</p>
+<p>Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ye have one tale to tell!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story</p>
+<p class="i2"> Blend with the breath that thrills</p>
+<p>With hop-vines' incense all the pensive glory</p>
+<p class="i2"> That fills the Kentish hills.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And on that grave where English oak and holly</p>
+<p class="i2"> And laurel wreaths intwine,</p>
+<p>Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> This spray of Western pine!</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="full">
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"></div>
+
+<pre>
+ THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES OF THIS BOOK
+ PRINTED BY EDWIN GRABHORN FOR JOHN HOWELL.
+ TITLE PAGE AND DECORATIONS BY JOSEPH SINEL.
+ THIS IS COPY NO. [Handwritten: 37]
+</pre>
+
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"></div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12337 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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