aped me), and such other things
as are usually on such tables.]

DICKENS, as soon as he saw me, stopped writing, wiped his pen, ran his
fingers through his hair, took out his watch and wound it up, brushed
his coat and put it on (not forgetting to place a rose in the
button-hole), and then, waving his hands very gracefully (he wore
high-priced studs and a pair of elaborately built sleeve-buttons),
addressed me as follows:--

Mr. DICKENS _(with tender embrace)_ SARSFIELD!!!!

Mr. YOUNG _(representing American Literature)_ CHARLES!!!!

The remainder of our conversation was devoted to minor topics.

Early one morning we started from the Parker House, and walking rapidly
over West Boston bridge, passed through Cambridge, by the Colleges, and
kept on travelling, without speaking a word, the best part of a couple
of days, I should judge, though I didn't have my watch with me. Suddenly
he asked the name of the town we were rapidly approaching.

"Great Harrington," said I.

"Is it possible?" said he. And we turned and walked home again.

His first reading in America was a private one to me. We had come in
from a thirty-mile walk, and I was somewhat tired. Taking up the second
volume of his History of England, he began in an easy, careless way. So
did I. I went to sleep. Just as he was finishing the book I woke up; and
when he asked me how I liked it, I told him frankly that, in my opinion,
it never would do in the world--the plot was too eccentric.

He was a kind man. Frequently he would ride for days together up and
down a railroad, for no other purpose than to help take cinders out of
people's eyes.

He was fond of oysters, of children, dogs, and an international
copyright. I remember his meeting me once on Broadway and he didn't
recognize me. He never mentioned the incident afterward. It has been
said that he was also fond of dress. I regret that I never asked him
about this, though I recall the circumstance of my inquiring where he
had his vests made. Said he; "My waistcoats were made abroad."

He never liked to sit for his photograph; consequently, he generally
stood up.

It pleased him to receive letters requesting his autograph and a lock of
his hair. The articles were invariably sent by return mail. He was also
gratified at the privilege of shaking hands with people whom he was
never to see again. I once humored him by introducing in a body two fire
companies and a Sunday school.

As we parted he gave me