der found it
on the first of the month.[D]

Hook was in the habit of sending pen-and-ink sketches of himself in his
letters. I have one of especial interest, in which he represented
himself down upon knees, with handkerchief to eyes. The meaning was to
indicate his grief at being late with his promised article for the "New
Monthly," and his begging pardon thereupon. He had great facility for
taking off likenesses, and it is said was once suspected of being the
"H. B." whose lithographic drawings of eminent or remarkable persons
startled society a few years ago by their rare graphic power and their
striking resemblance,--barely bordering on caricature.

Here is Hook's contribution to Mrs. Hall's album:--

"Having been requested to do that which I never did in my life
before,--write two charades upon two given and by no means sublime
words,--here are they. It is right to say that they are to be taken with
reference to each other.

"My first is in triumphs most usually found;
Old houses and trees show my second;
My whole is long, spiral, red, tufted, and round,
And with beef is most excellent reckoned.

My first for age hath great repute;
My second is a tailor;
My whole is like the other root,--
Only a _little_ paler.

"THEODORE E. HOOK.

"September 4, 1835.

"Do you give them up?

"_Car-rot._ _Par-snip._"

The reader will permit me here to introduce some memories of the
immediate contemporaries and allies of Hook, whose names are, indeed,
continually associated with his, and who, on the principle of "'birds of
a feather," may be properly considered in association with this
master-spirit of them all.

The Reverend Mr. Barham, whose notes supplied material for the "Memoirs
of Hook," edited by his son, and whose "Ingoldsby Legends" are famous,
was a stout, squat, and "hearty-looking" parson of the old school. His
face was full of humor, although when quiescent it seemed dull and
heavy; his eyes were singularly small and inexpressive, whether from
their own color or the light tint of the lashes I cannot say, but they
seemed to me to be what are called white eyes. I do not believe that in
society he had much of the sparkle that characterized his friend, or
that might have been expected in so formidable a wit of the pen. Sam
Beazley, on the contrary, was a light, airy, graceful person, who had
much refinement, without that peculiar manner