My Father as I Recall Him. Mamie Dickens

these gatherings, my sight grows blurred with the tears that rise to my eyes. But I love to remember them, and to see, if only in memory, my father at his own table, surrounded by his own family and friends – a beautiful Christmas spirit.

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      When I write about my aunt, or “Auntie,” as no doubt I may often have occasion to do, it is of the aunt par excellence, Georgina Hogarth. She has been to me ever since I can remember anything, and to all of us, the truest, best and dearest friend, companion and counsellor. To quote my father’s own words: “The best and truest friend man ever had.”