e always written in ink. For his personal correspondence he used blue
note paper, and signed his name in the left-hand corner of the envelope.
After a morning's close work he was sometimes quite pre-occupied when he
came into luncheon. Often, when we were only our home party at "Gad's
Hill," he would come in, take something to eat in a mechanical way--he
never ate but a small luncheon--and would return to his study to finish
the work he had left, scarcely having spoken a word in all this time.
Again, he would come in, having finished his work, but looking very tired
and worn. Our talking at these times did not seem to disturb him, though
any sudden sound, as the dropping of a spoon, or the clinking of a glass,
would send a spasm of pain across his face.

The sudden, almost instantaneous, popularity of "Pickwick" was known to
the world long before it was realized by its anxious young author. All
the business transactions concerning its publication were modest to a
degree, and the preparations for such a success as came to it were none.
As to its popularity, Mr. Forster writes: "Judges on the bench, and boys
in the streets, gravity and folly, the young and the old, those who were
entering life, and those who were quitting it, alike found it
irresistible." Carlyle wrote: "An archdeacon repeated to me, with his
own venerable lips, the other evening, a strange, profane story of a
solemn clergyman who had been summoned to administer consolation to a
very ill man. As he left the room he heard the sick man ejaculate: "Well
thank God, Pickwick will be out in ten days, anyway!" No young author
ever sprang into more sudden and brilliant fame than "Boz," and none
could have remained more thoroughly unspoiled, or so devoid of egotism
under success. His own opinion of his fame, and his estimate of its
value, may be quoted here: "To be numbered amongst the household gods of
one's distant countrymen, and associated with their homes and quiet
pleasures; to be told that in each nook and corner of the world's great
mass there lives one well-wisher who holds communion with one in the
spirit, is a worthy fame, indeed. That I may be happy enough to cheer
some of your leisure hours for a long time to come, and to hold a place
in your pleasant thoughts, is the earnest wish of 'Boz.'"

On the Christmas Eve of 1863 my father was greatly shocked and distressed
to hear of the sudden death of Mr. Thackeray. Our guests, naturally,
were ful