Thirdly, he turned to his maligned law-treatise on _Defence_, and boldly published a capital vindication thereof, flinging down his gauntlet to the judges both of law and literature.

It was strange, by the way, and instructive also, to find with what a deferential air the wealthy writer now was listened to; and how meekly both '_Watchman_' and '_Corinthian_' kissed the smiling hand of the literary genius, who--gave such sumptuous dinners; for Henry, of his mere kindness, (not bribery--don't imagine him so weak,) now that he was known as a Maecenas amongst authors, made no invidious distinctions between literary magnates, but effectually overcame evil with good by his hearty hospitality to '_Corinthian_' and '_Watchman_' editors, as well as to other potent wielders of the pen of fame, who had erst-while favoured the productions of his genius.
The last dinner he gave, I, an old friend of the family, was present; and when the ladies went up-stairs, I had, as usual, the honour of enacting vice.

It was according to Finsbury taste and custom, to produce toasts and speeches; whether cold high-breeding would have sanctioned this or not, little matters: it was warm and cordial, and we all liked it; moreover, finding ourselves at Rome, we unanimously did as other Romans do: and this I take to be politeness.

Among the speeches, that which proposed the health of the host and hostess caused the chiefest roar of clamorous joy: it was a happy-looking friend who spoke, and what he said was much as follows: "Clements, my dear fellow, you are the happiest man I know--except myself; at least, in one thing I am happier--for I can call you friend, whereas you can only return the compliment with such a sorry substitute as I am." [This ingenious flattery was much ridiculed afterwards; but I pledge my word the man intended what he said; moreover, he went on, utterly regardless of surrounding critics, in all the seeming egotism of a warm and open heart.] "Clements--I cannot help telling you how heartily I love you;" (Hear, hear!) "and I wish I had known you thirty years instead of three, to have said so with the unction of my earliest recollections: but we cannot help antiquity, you know.

Let us all the rather make up now by heartiness for all lost time.