nival's Inn, with two or three drawings in my
hand, which, strange to say, he did not find suitable." Dickens has
himself described another change now made in the publication: "We
started with a number of twenty-four pages and four illustrations. Mr.
Seymour's sudden and lamented death before the second number was
published, brought about a quick decision upon a point already in
agitation: the number became one of thirty-two pages with only two
illustrations, and remained so to the end."

The Session of 1836 terminated his connection with the gallery, and some
fruits of his increased leisure showed themselves before the close of
the year. His eldest sister's musical attainments and connections had
introduced him to many cultivators and professors of that art; he was
led to take much interest in Mr. Braham's enterprise at the St. James's
theatre; and in aid of it he wrote a farce for Mr. Harley, founded upon
one of his sketches, and the story and songs for an opera composed by
his friend Mr. Hullah. Both the _Strange Gentleman_, acted in September,
and the _Village Coquettes_, produced in December, 1836, had a good
success; and the last is memorable to me for having brought me first
into personal communication with Dickens.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] To this date belongs a visit paid him at Furnival's Inn in Mr.
Macrone's company by the notorious Mr. N. P. Willis, who calls him "a
young paragraphist for the _Morning Chronicle_," and thus sketches his
residence and himself: "In the most crowded part of Holborn, within a
door or two of the Bull-and-Mouth Inn, we pulled up at the entrance of a
large building used for lawyers' chambers. I followed by a long flight
of stairs to an upper story, and was ushered into an uncarpeted and
bleak-looking room, with a deal table, two or three chairs and a few
books, a small boy and Mr. Dickens, for the contents. I was only struck
at first with one thing (and I made a memorandum of it that evening as
the strongest instance I had seen of English obsequiousness to
employers), the degree to which the poor author was overpowered with the
honor of his publisher's visit! I remember saying to myself, as I sat
down on a rickety chair, 'My good fellow, if you were in America with
that fine face and your ready quill, you would have no need to be
condescended to by a publisher.' Dickens was dressed very much as he has
since described Dick Swiveller, _minus_ the swell look. His hair was
cropped close to h