amazed
to see Forster triumphantly passing through the crowded room, the fair
one on his arm, he patting one of her small hands which he held in his
own! She was flattered immensely and unresisting; the gallant Foster
had carried all before him. This was his way, never would he be second
fiddle anywhere if he could help it. Not a bad principle for any one
if they can only manage it.

I remember one night, when he was in his gallant mood laying his
commands on a group of ladies, to sing or do something agreeable, he
broke out: "You know I am a despot, and must have my way, I'm such a
harbitrary cove." The dames stared at this speech, and I fancy took it
literally, for they had not heard the story. This I fancy did not
quite please, for he had no notion of its being supposed he considered
himself arbitrary; so he repeated and enforced the words in a loud
stern voice. (Boswellians will recall the scene where Johnson said
"The woman had a bottom of sense." When the ladies began to titter, he
looked round sternly saying "Where's the merriment? I repeat the woman
is fundamentally sensible." As who should say "now laugh if you
dare!") The story referred to was that of the cabman who summoned
Forster for giving him a too strictly measured fare, and when
defeated, said "it warn't the fare, but he was determined to bring him
there for he were such a harbitrary cove." No story about Forster gave
such delight to his friends as this; he himself was half flattered,
half annoyed.

Forster liked to be with people of high degree--as, perhaps, most of
us do. At one time he was infinitely flattered by the attentions of
Count Dorsay, who, no doubt, considered him a personage. This odd
combination was the cause of great amusement to his friends, who were,
of course, on the look out for droll incidents. There was many a story
in circulation. One was that Forster, expecting a promised visit from
"the Count," received a sudden call from his printers. With all
solemnity he impressed the situation on his man. "Now," he said, "you
will tell the Count that I have only just gone round to call on
Messrs. Spottiswoode, the printers--you will observe, Messrs.
Spot-is-wode," added he, articulating the words in his impressive way.
The next time Forster met the Count, the former gravely began to
explain to him the reason of his absence. "Ah! I know," said the gay
Count, "you had just gone round to _Ze Spotted Dog_--I understand," as
though he could ma