ome. One of the first men of his time, he is appointed editor of a
Magazine at a salary of 300L. per annum, signs himself exultingly "Ed.
N. M. M.," and the family rejoice over the income as over a fortune. He
goes to a Greenwich dinner--what a feast and a rejoicing afterwards!--

"Well, we drank 'the Boz' with a delectable clatter, which drew from him
a good warm-hearted speech. . . . He looked very well, and had a younger
brother along with him. . . . Then we had songs. Barham chanted a Robin
Hood ballad, and Cruikshank sang a burlesque ballad of Lord H----; and
somebody, unknown to me, gave a capital imitation of a French
showman. Then we toasted Mrs. Boz, and the Chairman, and Vice, and the
Traditional Priest sang the 'Deep deep sea,' in his deep deep voice; and
then we drank to Procter, who wrote the said song; also Sir J. Wilson's
good health, and Cruikshank's, and Ainsworth's: and a Manchester friend
of the latter sang a Manchester ditty, so full of trading stuff, that
it really seemed to have been not composed, but manufactured. Jerdan, as
Jerdanish as usual on such occasions--you know how paradoxically he
is QUITE AT HOME in DINING OUT. As to myself, I had to make my SECOND
MAIDEN SPEECH, for Mr. Monckton Milnes proposed my health in terms my
modesty might allow me to repeat to YOU, but my memory won't. However,
I ascribed the toast to my notoriously bad health, and assured them
that their wishes had already improved it--that I felt a brisker
circulation--a more genial warmth about the heart, and explained that a
certain trembling of my hand was not from palsy, or my old ague, but an
inclination in my hand to shake itself with every one present. Whereupon
I had to go through the friendly ceremony with as many of the company
as were within reach, besides a few more who came express from the other
end of the table. VERY gratifying, wasn't it? Though I cannot go quite
so far as Jane, who wants me to have that hand chopped off, bottled,
and preserved in spirits. She was sitting up for me, very anxiously, as
usual when I go out, because I am so domestic and steady, and was down
at the door before I could ring at the gate, to which Boz kindly sent
me in his own carriage. Poor girl! what WOULD she do if she had a wild
husband instead of a tame one?"

And the poor anxious wife is sitting up, and fondles the hand which has
been shaken by so many illustrious men! The little feast dates back only
eighteen years, and y