CHAPTER XLI.
A FEW OLDER FRIENDSHIPS.
It is only fair and right that I make special mention of some friendships of many years, connected more or less with literary matters.
Among such names in the past occurs one, if not very eminent, to me at least very kindly, that of Benjamin Nightingale, an antiquarian friend for nearly forty years.

We first became acquainted in Sotheby's auction room, where I perceived at once his generous nature, by this token: we had been competing for a miscellaneous lot of coins, which he bought,--and then lifting his hat he asked me which of them I had specially wanted; these I indicated, of course thinking that he meant me to buy them of him,--but he immediately insisted upon giving them, if I would allow him.

This fair beginning led to better acquaintance, often improved under our mutual roof-trees.

It was his ambition to be my Boswell, as he has sometimes told me; and probably there are bundles somewhere of _his_ MSS.

and of _our_ antiquarian letters (he wrote very well), about which I have vainly made inquiry of a near relative, who knew nothing about them.