entry,
and referred to the back door, as the only possible way of approach.
Candidates are creatures not very susceptible to affronts, and would
rather, I suppose, climb in at a window than be absolutely excluded.
In a minute the yard, the kitchen, and the parlor were filled. Mr.
Grenville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with a degree of
cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he and as many more
as could find chairs were seated, he began to open the intent of his
visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit.
I assured him I had no influence, which he was not equally inclined to
believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. Ashburner, the drapier,
addressing himself to me at that moment, informed me that I had a
great deal. Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a treasure
without knowing it, I ventured to confirm my first assertion by saying
that if I had any I was utterly at a loss to imagine where it could
be, or wherein it consisted. Thus ended the conference. Mr. Grenville
squeezed me by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He
kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, and seemed upon the whole a
most loving, kissing, kind-hearted gentleman."

X

GIBBON AND HIS VISIT TO ROME

In that celebrated literary club founded by Dr. Johnson and Sir Joshua
Reynolds were Burke, Goldsmith, Garrick, Fox, Gibbon, and Sheridan. Of
these Gibbon is not the least distinguished. He is an illustrious
example of what an ordinary personality can accomplish by reason of an
extraordinary devotion to one purpose. Some few men achieve fame by
their brilliant versatility; some, as in the case of Samuel Johnson,
by their commanding personal force; Gibbon has won a permanent place
in literary history by spending his life in doing one thing. That one
thing he did so well that E.A. Freeman, one of the prominent
historians of the nineteenth century, has truthfully said,--"He
remains the one historian of the eighteenth century whom modern
research has neither set aside nor threatened to set aside."

In his memoirs Gibbon reveals himself as a man with little dignity or
heroism. There is a droll story that is apt to suggest itself when one
thinks of Gibbon. At one time, when asking a dignified lady for her
hand in marriage, he fell upon his knees in proper lover-like manner.
Unfortunately Gibbon was so stout that upon her refusal he found
himself in the embarrassing need of