ng to
the ebb and flow of the tide.

A record of his "sayings and doings," that glorious day, from early morn
to set of sun, would fill a goodly volume. It was fine weather, and
fishing on the Thames is lazy fishing; for the gudgeons bite freely, and
there is little labor in "landing" them. It is therefore the perfection
of the _dolce far-niente_, giving leisure for talk, and frequent desire
for refreshment. Idle time _is_ idly spent; but the wit and fun of Mr.
Hook that day might have delighted a hundred by-sitters, and it was a
grief to me that I was the only listener. Hook then conceived--probably
then made--the verses he afterwards gave the "New Monthly," entitled
"The Swan at Ditton."

The last time I saw Hook was at Prior's Bank, Fulham, where his
neighbors, Mr. Baylis and Mr. Whitmore, had given an "entertainment,"
the leading feature being an amateur play,--for which, by the way, I
wrote the prologue. Hook was then in his decadence,--in broken
health,--his animal spirits gone,--the cup of life drained to the dregs.
It was morning before the guests departed, yet Hook remained to the
last; and a light of other days brightened up his features, as he opened
the piano, and began a recitative. The theme was, of course, the
occasion that had brought the party together, and perhaps he never, in
his best time, was more original and pointed. I can recall two of the
lines,--

"They may boast of their Fulham omnibus,
But _this_ is the Fulham stage."

There was a fair young boy standing by his side, while he was singing.
One of the servants suddenly opened the drawing-room shutters, and a
flood of light felt upon the lad's head: the effect was very touching,
but it became a thousand times more so, as Hook, availing himself of the
incident, placed his hand upon the youth's brow, and in tremulous tones
uttered a verse, of which I recall only the concluding lines,--

"For _you_ is the dawn of the morning.
For _me_ is the solemn good-night."

He rose from the piano, burst into tears, and left the room. Few of
those who were present saw him afterwards.[C]

All the evening Hook had been low in spirits. It seemed impossible to
stir him into animation, until the cause was guessed at by Mr. Blood, a
surgeon, who was at that time an actor at the Haymarket. He prescribed a
glass of Sherry, and retired to procure it, returning presently with a
bottle of pale brandy. Having administered two or three doses, th