which bespeaks the
well-bred gentleman. He was the Daly of "Gilbert Gurney," whose epitaph
was written by Hook long before his death,--

"Here lies Sam Beazeley,
Who lived and died easily."[E]

When I knew him, he was practising as an architect in Soho Square. He
was one of Hook's early friends, but I believe they were not in close
intimacy for many years previous to the death of Hook. It was by Beazley
that the present Lyceum Theatre was built.

Tom Hill was another of Hook's more familiar associates. He is the Hull
of "Gilbert Gurney," and is said to have been the original of Paul Pry,
(which Poole, however, strenuously denied,)--a belief easily entertained
by those who knew the man. A little, round man he was, with straight and
well-made-up figure, and rosy cheeks that might have graced a milkmaid,
when his years numbered certainly fourscore.[F] But his age no one ever
knew. The story is well known of James Smith asserting that it never
could be ascertained, for that the register of his birth was lost in the
fire of London, and Hook's comment,--"Oh, he's much older than that:
he's one of the little Hills that skipped in the Bible." He was a merry
man, _toujours gai_, who seemed as if neither trouble nor anxiety had
ever crossed his threshold or broken the sleep of a single night of his
long life. His peculiar faculty was to find out what everybody did, from
the minister of state to the stable-boy; and there are tales enough told
of his chats with child-maids in the Park, to ascertain the amounts of
their wages, and with lounging footmen in Grosvenor Square, to learn how
many guests had dined at a house the day previous. His curiosity seemed
bent upon prying into small things; for secrets that involved serious
matters he appeared to care nothing. "Pooh, pooh, Sir, don't tell me; I
happen to know!" That phrase was continually coming from his lips.

Of a far higher and better order was Hook's friend, Mr. Brodrick,--so
long one of the police magistrates,--a gentleman of large acquirements
and sterling rectitude. Nearly as much may be said of Dubois, more than
half a century ago the editor of a then popular magazine, "The Monthly
Mirror." Dubois, in his latter days, enjoyed a snug sinecure, and lived
in Sloane Street. He was a pleasant man in face and in manners, and
retained to the last much of the humor that characterized the
productions of his earlier years. To the admirable actor and estimable
gentleman,