CHARLES DICKENS, novelist and humorist, was born at Landport, in Hampshire, in Febuary, 1812. He gave the first evidence of his talents in the lively essays, entitled "Sketches by Boz," published in 1836. Encouraged by their success, he wrote the Pickwick Papers, which had an enormous commercial success, and commenced also an era in literature. It was the first of a series of fictitious works, exhibiting the life and manners of the middle and lower classes, which up to that time had had scarcely any exponent. Nicholas Nickleby, his next effort,was, as a story, greatly in advance of it. It was also the first of those social novels which form so marked a feature in modern literature. It was aimed at the wrongs and cruelties inflicted upon their wretched pupils by the cheap school-masters of Yorkshire - and it hit its mark. Subsequently, our author set his lance at rest against many a social monster. His sarcasm is of rather a peculiar character; too good natured to sneer, and with eyes, notwithstanding their indignant fire, that never lose sight of the ludicrous side of things, his style is mocking argument. After Nicholas Nickleby, came Master Humphrey's Clock, containing the Old Curiosity Shop and Barnaby Rudge. After a voyage across the Atlantic, Mr. Dickens published in 1842, his American Notes for General Circulation; but a much more admirable result of that expedition appeared in his Martin Chuzzlewit. Dombey and Son was considered a falling off in one who stood so high, but his death of little Dombey brought tears to the eyes of lawyers. When men were expecting that he should wane and weaken, like other prolific writers before him, he produced a novel as fresh as the dawn. David Copperfield is, in our judgement, by far his greatest work, and will endure - though for very different reasons - as long as the Pickwick Papers. Its Agnes is, perhaps, the most charming female character in the whole range of fiction. Bleak House, Hard Times, Little Dorrit, Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations, and Our Mutual Friend, succeeded one another with almost periodical punctuality, and an audience larger than any English author ever had waited each. No prose-writer was ever more quotable or more quoted than he. Sam Weller's metaphors, Mr. Squeers educational methods, Mrs. Gamp's assertions, corroborated by her unreal friend, Mrs. Harris, and Mr. Micawber's moral and commercial reflections were in the mouths of all men. In 1867, he revisited the United States, giving numerous readings, and meeting with a most brilliant reception. He was till the last engaged in writing a new novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, which was left unfinished. He died June 9th, 1870.