en
found for them. An evening offshoot to the _Morning Chronicle_ had been
lately in hand; and to a countryman of Black's engaged in the
preparations for it, Mr. George Hogarth, Dickens was communicating from
his rooms in Furnival's Inn, on the evening of Tuesday, the 20th of
January, 1835, certain hopes and fancies he had formed. This was the
beginning of his knowledge of an accomplished and kindly man, with whose
family his relations were soon to become so intimate as to have an
influence on all his future career. Mr. Hogarth had asked him, as a
favor to himself, to write an original sketch for the first number of
the enterprise, and in writing back to say with what readiness he should
comply, and how anxiously he should desire to do his best for the person
who had made the request, he mentioned what had arisen in his mind. It
had occurred to him that he might not be unreasonably or improperly
trespassing farther on Mr. Hogarth if, trusting to his kindness to refer
the application to the proper quarter, he begged to ask whether it was
probable, if he commenced a regular series of articles under some
attractive title for the _Evening Chronicle_, its conductors would think
he had any claim to _some_ additional remuneration (of course, of no
great amount) for doing so. In short, he wished to put it to the
proprietors--first, whether a continuation of some chapters of light
papers in the style of his street-sketches would be considered of use to
the new journal; and secondly, if so, whether they would not think it
fair and reasonable that, taking his share of the ordinary reporting
business of the _Chronicle_ besides, he should receive something for the
papers beyond his ordinary salary as a reporter. The request was thought
fair, he began the sketches, and his salary was raised from five to
seven guineas a week.

They went on, with undiminished spirit and freshness, throughout the
year; and, much as they were talked of outside as well as in the world
of newspapers, nothing in connection with them delighted the writer half
so much as the hearty praise of his own editor. Mr. Black is one of the
men who has passed without recognition out of a world his labors largely
benefited, but with those who knew him no man was so popular, as well
for his broad kindly humor as for his honest great-hearted enjoyment of
whatever was excellent in others. Dickens to the last remembered that it
was most of all the cordial help of this good