whom I consulted, entered into the project with a host
of enthusiasm. He took the trouble of rummaging his note books, and
continued to send me week by week many a useful communication,
clearing up doubtful passages. But what was this to his service when
I was writing a Life of Sterne,[1] and the friendly Forster,
interesting himself in the most good-natured way, determined that it
should succeed, and put me in communication with Elwin. No doubt he
was interested in his _protege_, and Elwin, always willing to please,
as it were, received his instructions. Presently, to my wonder and
gratification, arrived an extraordinary letter, if one might so call
it, which filled over a dozen closely written pages (for he compressed
a marvellous quantity into a sheet of paper), all literally
overflowing with information. It was an account of recondite and most
unlikely works in which allusions to Sterne and many curious bits of
information were stowed away; chapter and page and edition were given
for every quotation; it must have taken him many hours and much
trouble to write. And what an incident it was, the two well-skilled
and accomplished literary critics exerting themselves, the one to
secure the best aid of his friend, the other eager to assist, because
his friend wished it.

[Footnote 1: I recall a meeting by special appointment with Elwin, who
came to lunch to debate it. He had already my letter, turned it over
and over again, but without result. The point was what edition should
be used--the first or the last; this latter having, of course, the
advantage of the author's latest revision. On the great question of
"Johnson's stay at Oxford," which has exercised all the scholars, and
is still in a more or less unsatisfactory way, he agreed with me.]

In the course of these Shandian enquiries, the passage in Thackeray's
lecture occurred to me where he mentions having been shown Eliza's
Diary by a "Gentleman of Bath." I wished to find out who this was,
when my faithful friend wrote to the novelist and sent me his reply,
which began, "My dear Primrose"--his charmingly appropriate nick or
pet name for Elwin, who was the very picture of the amiable vicar. It
resulted in the gentleman allowing _me_ to look at his journal.

Letter from Elwin on the "unfortunate Dr. Dodd":--

Booton Rectory, Norwich,

Oct. 31st, 1864.

My dear Mr. ----.--I have been ill for some weeks past,
which has prevented my writing to you. It is