Reynolds had a drawing called A provincial theatre company on tour published in The Graphic on 30 November 1901. In 1906 he began contributing to Punch magazine and was regularly published within its pages during World War I. He was well known for his many illustrations in several books by Charles Dickens, including David Copperfield (c1911), The Pickwick Papers(c1912) and The Old Curiosity Shop (c1913). He succeeded F.H. Townsend as the Art Editor for Punch. He was also a prolific watercolour painter and was a member of the Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours from 1903.
One of his more notable works is entitled Jingle.(Wikipedia)
Frontispiece, MR. MICAWBER
A stoutish, middle-aged person, in a brown surtout and black tights and shoes, with no more hair upon his head (which was a large one, and very shining) than there is upon an egg. His clothes were shabby, but he had an imposing shirt-collar on. He carried a jaunty sort of stick, with a large pair of rusty tassels to it; and a quizzing-glass hung outside his coat, - for ornament, I afterwards found, as he very seldom looked through it, and couldn't see anything when he did.
MISS BETSEY TROTWOOD
My mother had a sure foreboding at the second glance, that it was Miss Betsey. The setting sun was glowing on the strange lady, over the garden fence, and she came walking up to the door with a fell rigidity of figure and composure of countenance that have belonged to nobody else.
I OBSERVE
I have an impression on my mind which I cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of Peggott's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeggrater.
MR. MURDSTONE
His regular eyebrows, and the rich white, and black, and brown, of his complexion - confound his complexion, and his memory! - made me think him, in spite of my misgivings, a very handsome man.
The days sported by us, as if Time had not grown up himself yet, but were a child too, and always at play.
It eas quite delightful for me to find him so pleasant. He was a twinkling-eyed, pimple-faced man, with his hair standing upright all over his head; and as he stood with one arm akimbo, holding up the glass to the light with the other hand, he looked quite friendly.
A thin and faded lady, not at all young, who was sitting in the parlour.
I seemed to be sustained and led on by my fanciful picture of my mother in her youth, before I came into the world. It always kept me company. It was there among the hops, when I lay down to sleep; it was with me on my waking in the morning; it went before me all day. I have associated it, ever since, with the sunny streeet of Canterbury, dozing as it were in the hot light; and with the sight of its old houses and gateways, and the stately grey cathedral, with the rooks sailing around the towers.
"Oh!" said Mr. Dick. "Yes. Do with - I should put him to bed."
I used to fancy, as I sat with him of an evening, on a green slope, and saw watch the kite high in the quiet air, that it lifted his mind out of its confusion, and bore it (such was my boyish thought) into the skies.
She approaches me - she, the oldest Miss Larkins! -and asks me pleasantly, if I dance?
I stammer, with a bow, "With you, Miss Larkins"
A handsome well-formed young man, dressed with a tasteful easy negligence.
The door opened, and Littimer, with his habitual serenity quite undisturbed, announced - "Miss Mowcher!"
I had not been walking long, when I turned a corner, and met her, I tingle again from head to foot as my recollection turns that corner, and my pen shakes in my hand.
I never saw a man so thouroughly enjoy himself amid the fragrance of lemon-peel and sugar, the odor of burning rum, and the steam of boiling water, as Mr. Micawber did that afternoon.It was wonderful to see his face shining at us out of a thin cloud of these delicate fumes, as he stirred, and mixed, and tasted, and looked as if he were making, instead of punch, a fortune for his family, down to latest posterity.
It was on the beach, close down by the sea, that I found them.
He was always wandering about from place to place, with his one object of recovering his niece before him.
"Gentlemen," returned Mr. Micawber , " do with me as you will! I am a straw upon the surface of the deep, and I am tossed in all directions by the elephants - I beg your pardon; I should have said the elements"
A hale, grey-haired old man.
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