
                                Charles Dickens

                             The Old Curiosity Shop

                                    Preface

In April, 1840, I issued the first number of a new weekly publication, price
three pence, called MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. It was intended to consist, for the
most part, of detached papers, but was to include one continuous story, to be
resumed, from time to time, with such indefinite intervals between each period
of resumption as might best accord with the exigencies and capabilities of the
proposed Miscellany.
    The first chapter of this tale appeared in the fourth number of MASTER
HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, when I had already been made uneasy by the desultory character
of that work, and when, I believe, my readers had thoroughly participated in the
feeling. The commencement of a story was a great satisfaction to me, and I had
reason to believe that my readers participated in this feeling too. Hence, being
pledged to some interruptions and some pursuit of the original design, I set
cheerfully about disentangling myself from those impediments as fast as I could;
and, that done, from that time until its completion THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP was
written and published from week to week, in weekly parts.
    When the story was finished, that it might be freed from the incumbrance of
associations and interruptions with which it had no kind of concern, I caused
the few sheets of MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, which had been printed in connection
with it, to be cancelled; and, like the unfinished tale of the windy night and
the notary in The Sentimental Journey, they became the property of the
trunkmaker and the butter-man. I was especially unwilling, I confess, to enrich
those respectable trades with the opening paper of the abandoned design, in
which MASTER HUMPHREY described himself and his manner of life. Though I now
affect to make the confession philosophically, as referring to a bye-gone
emotion, I am conscious that my pen winces a little even while I write these
words. But it was done, and wisely done, and MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, as
originally constructed, became one of the lost books of the earth - which, we
all know, are far more precious than any that can be read for love or money.
    In reference to the tale itself, I desire to say very little here. The many
friends it won me, and the many hearts it turned to me when they were full of
private sorrow, invest it with an interest, in my mind, which is not a public
one, and the rightful place of which appears to be a more removed ground.
    I will merely observe, therefore
