judgment of men, to
observe narrowly whether some (of whom one is disposed to think badly)
don't carry all their faults upon the surface, and others (of whom one
is disposed to think well) don't carry many more beneath it. I have long
ago made sure that our friend is in the first class; and when I know
all the foibles a man has, with little trouble in the discovery, I begin
to think he is worth liking." His latest letter of the year, dated the
day following, closed with the hope that we might, he and I, enjoy
together "fifty more Christmases, at least, in this world, and eternal
summers in another." Alas!

FOOTNOTES:

[31] See _ante_, p. 163.

[32] By way of a novelty to help off the stock, he had suggested (17th
June), "Would it not be best to print new title-pages to the copies
sheets and publish them as a new edition, with an interesting Preface? I
am talking about all this as though the treaty were concluded, but I
hope and trust that in effect it is, for negotiation and delay are worse
to me than drawn daggers." See my remark _ante_, p. 123.

[33] "Accept from me" (July 8, 1840), "as a slight memorial of your
attached companion, the poor keepsake which accompanies this. My heart
is not an eloquent one on matters which touch it most, but suppose this
claret-jug the urn in which it lies, and believe that its warmest and
truest blood is yours. This was the object of my fruitless search, and
your curiosity, on Friday. At first I scarcely knew what trifle (you
will deem it valuable, I know, for the giver's sake) to send you; but I
thought it would be pleasant to connect it with our jovial moments, and
to let it add, to the wine we shall drink from it together, a flavor
which the choicest vintage could never impart. Take it from my
hand,--filled to the brim and running over with truth and earnestness. I
have just taken one parting look at it, and it seems the most elegant
thing in the world to me, for I lose sight of the vase in the crowd of
welcome associations that are clustering and wreathing themselves about
it."

[34] Already he had been the subject of similar reports on the occasion
of the family sorrow which compelled him to suspend the publication of
_Pickwick_ for two months (_ante_, p. 120), when, upon issuing a brief
address in resuming his work (30th June, 1837), he said, "By one set of
intimate acquaintances, especially well informed, he has been killed
outright; by another, driven mad; by a third, im