en several suggestions, from Lockhart and others, to collect his
writings, they have never been gathered together from the periodical
tombs in which they lie buried, and now, probably, they cannot be all
recognized.

* * * * *

From what I have written, the reader will gather that I knew Hook only
in his decline, the relic of a manly form, the decadence of a strong
mind, and the comparative exhaustion of a brilliant wit. Leigh Hunt,
speaking of him at a much earlier period, thus writes:--"He was tall,
dark, and of a good person, with small eyes, and features more round
than weak: a face that had character and humor, but no refinement." And
Mrs. Mathews describes him as with sparkling eyes and expressive
features, of manly form, and somewhat of a dandy in dress. When in the
prime of manhood and the zenith of fame, Mr. Barham says, "He was not
the tuft-hunter, but the tuft-hunted"; and it is easy to believe that
one so full of wit, so redolent of fun, so rich in animal spirits, must
have been a marvellously coveted acquaintance in the society where he
was so eminently qualified to shine: from that of royalty to the major
and minor clubs,--from "The Eccentrics" to "The Garrick," of which he
was all his life long a cherished member.

In 1825, when I first saw him, he was above the middle height, robust of
frame, and broad of chest, well-proportioned, with evidence of great
physical capacity. His complexion was dark, as were his eyes; there was
nothing fine or elevated in his expression; indeed, his features, when
in repose, were heavy; it was otherwise when animated; yet his manners
were those of a gentleman, less perhaps from inherent faculty than from
the polish which refined society ever gives.

He is described as a man of "iron energies," and certainly must have had
an iron constitution; for his was a life of perpetual stimulants,
intellectual as well as physical.

When I saw him last,--it was not long before his death,--he was aged,
more by care than time; his face bore evidence of what is falsely termed
"a gay life"; his voice had lost its roundness and force, his form its
buoyancy, his intellect its strength,--

"Alas! how changed from him,
That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim!"

Yet his wit was ready still; he continued to sparkle humor even when
exhausted nature failed; and his last words are said to have been a
brilliant jest.

At length the iron frame wor