felt that they ought to know this personage at once.

It is extraordinary what perseverance and a certain power of will, and
that of not being denied, will do in this way. His broad face and
cheeks and burly person were not made for rebuffs. He seized on
persons he wished to know and made them his own at once. I always
thought it was the most characteristic thing known of him in this
way, his striding past Bunn the manager--then his enemy--in his own
theatre, taking no notice of him and passing to Macready's room, to
confer with him on measures hostile to the said Bunn. As Johnson was
said to toss and gore his company, so Forster trampled on those he
condemned. I remember he had a special dislike to one of Boz's useful
henchmen. An amusing story was told, that after some meeting to
arrange matters with Bradbury and Evans, the printers, Boz, ever
charitable, was glad to report to Forster some hearty praise by this
person, of the ability with which he (Forster) had arranged the
matters, thus amiably wishing to propitiate the autocrat in his
friend's interest. But, said the uncompromising Forster, "I am truly
sorry, my dear Dickens, that I cannot reciprocate your friend's
compliment, for _a d----nder ass I never encountered in the whole
course of my life_!" A comparative that is novel and will be admired.

Forster had a determined way with him, of forcing an answer that he
wanted; driving you into a corner as it were. A capital illustration
of this power occurred in my case. I had sent to a London "second
hand" bookseller to supply me with a copy of the two quarto volumes of
Garrick's life, "huge armfuls." It was with some surprise that I noted
the late owner's name and book-plate, which was that of "John Forster,
Esq., Lincoln's Inn Fields." At the moment he had given me Garrick's
original MS. correspondence, of which he had a score of volumes, and
was helping me in many other ways. Now it was a curious coincidence
that this one, of all existing copies, should come to me. Next time I
saw him I told him of it. He knitted his brows and grew thoughtful.
"_My_ copy! Ah! I can account for it! It was one of the volumes I lent
to that fellow"--mentioning the name of the "fellow"--"he no doubt
sold it for drink!" "Oh, so _that_ was it," I said rather
incautiously. "But _you_," he said sternly, "tell me what did _you_
think when you saw my name? Come now! How did it leave my library?"
This was awkward to answer. "I suppose you t