Household Edition Uncommercial Traveller | Dickens Gallery

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Household Edition

Uncommercial Traveller.png

The Household Edition of the 'Uncommercial Traveller' was published in 1877 and features 26 illustrations by Edward Dalziel.

Title Page and Vignette

Saw from the ladder's elevation as he looked down by chance towards the shore, some dark troubled object close in with the land

A Cheap Theatre, Sunday Night

Stood a creature remotely in the likeness of a young man, with a puffed, sallow face, and a figure all dirty and slimy, who may have been the youngest son of his filthy old father, Thames

Mr. Grazinglands looked in at a pastry cook's window, hesitating as to the expediency of lunching at that establishmen

"Bags to hold your money,' says the witch, shaking her head, and setting her teeth; "You a[] has got it"

The tall glazed head-dress of this warrior Straudenheim instantly knocked off

He was taken into custody by the police

“Drop of something to drink,” interposed the stranger. “I am agreeable"

"'Then you're a tramp,' he ses. 'I'd rather be that than a beadle,' I ses"

"Am I red to-night?” “You are,” he uncompromisingly answered

“A lemon has pips, a yard has ships, and I'll have Chips!”

The wind blows stiffly from the nor'east, . . . and the shapeless passengers lie about in melancholy bundles

Then dropped upon her knees before us, with protestations that we were right

On the starboard side of the ship a grizzled man dictated a long letter to another grizzled man in an immense fur cap

Blinking old men who are let out of workhouses by the hour, have a tendency to sit on bits of coping stone in these churchyards. . . . The more depressed class of beggars, too, bring hither broken meats, and munch

Mr. J. Mellows, of the "Dolphin's Head"

Building H.M.S. Achilles

At the station they had been sitting about, in their threadbare homespun blue garments . . . . sad enough at heart, most of them

It was agreed that Mr. Batten “ought to take it up,” and Mr. Batten was communicated with on the subject

At the upper end of this dungeon . . . . the Englishman first beheld him, sitting on an iron bedstead, to which he was chained by a heavy chain

Trotting about among the beds, on familiar terms with all the patients, was a commical mongrel dog, called poodles

Over the grog, mixed in a bucket, presides the boatswain's mate

This engaging figure approached the fatal lamps

Look at this group at a street corner

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