n, whom I also knew very well. The Appletoniana and Leroyalties
which were current in the Sixties would make a lively book.

I remember that one evening at a dinner at Trubner's in this year there
were present M. Van der Weyer, G. H. Lewes, and M. Delepierre. I have
rarely heard so much good talk in the same time. Thoughts so gay and
flashes so refined, such a mingling of choice literature, brilliant
anecdote, and happy jests, are seldom heard as I heard them. _Tempi
passati_!

Apropos of George H. Boker and Leroy, I may here remark that they were
both strikingly tall and _distingue_ men, but that when they dressed
themselves for bass-fishing, and "put on mean attire," they seemed to be
common fisher-folk. One day, while fishing on the rocks, there came up
the elegant _prima donna_ referred to, who, seeing that they had very
fine lobsters, ordered them to be taken to the hotel for her. "Can't do
it, ma'am," answered Leroy brusquely; "we want them for bait." The lady
swept away indignantly. To her succeeded Ralph Waldo Emerson, who did
not know them personally, and who began to put to Mr. Boker questions as
to his earnings and his manner of life, to all of which Mr. Boker replied
with great _naivete_. Mr. B., however, had on his pole a silver reel,
which had cost 30 pounds ($150), and at last Mr. Emerson's eye rested on
that, and word no more spoke he, but, with a smile and bowing very
politely, went his road. _Ultimam dixit salutem_.

One evening I was sitting in the smoking-room of the Langham Hotel, when
an American said to me, "I hear that Charles Leland, who wrote
'Breitmann,' is staying here." "Yes, that is true," I replied. "Could
you point him out to me?" asked the stranger. "I will do so with
pleasure--in fact, if you will tell me your name, I think I can manage to
introduce you." The American was very grateful for this, and asked when
it would be. "_Now_ is the time," I said, "for I am he." On another
occasion another stranger told me, that having heard that Mr. Leland was
in the smoking-room, he had come in to see him, and asked me to point him
out. I pointed to myself, at which he was much astonished, and then,
apologetically and half ashamed, said, "Who do you really suppose, of all
the men here present, I had settled on as being you?" I could not
conjecture, when he pointed to a great broom-bearded, broad-shouldered,
jovial, intemperate, German-looking man, and said, "There! I thought
t