the Chelsea Embankment, close to Battersea Bridge. Often from familiarly we overlook much that is interesting; but this house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields proclaims its ancient significance in a striking way. Next to it is a granite mansion of the Lord Burlington era, with an elegant and original semicircular portico, also divided into two houses. There is a house here which has associations connected with Charles Dickens, interesting and even romantic. This was the residence of John Forster, so well described by Charles Dickens in his will as “my _trusty_ friend.” The happy propriety of this word will not be questioned by any one who knew John Forster well. I have many a letter of his before me, addressed from this handsome residence from 1855 to 1860, the palmy days, when he and his friend were full of ardour and of plans, in the “full swing,” as it is called, of success and reputation. This house, No. 58, may be known by its handsome exterior and architectural portico. Here, surrounded by his well-selected books, were gathered the most celebrated _littérateurs_ of the day, and notably the bright and amiable “Boz.” It was in 1844 that, hurrying home from Switzerland, he fixed a particular night at these chambers for the reading of the “Chimes.” This came round on a Monday, December 2nd, when a number of his friends were assembled to hear the charming little story read aloud by its gifted author, of which Mr. Forster writes in the _Life_, “No detail remains in my memory, and all are now dead who were present at it, excepting only Mr. Carlyle and myself.” These words were written in 1873--but very soon Mr. Carlyle followed, and after Carlyle the amiable writer himself. Maclise sketched the scene, brilliant in its pencil outlines, every stroke full of character, and the whole pervaded by a gentle humour. “It will tell the reader all he can wish to know. He will see of whom the party consisted, and may be assured, with allowance for a touch of caricature, to which I may claim to be considered myself as the chief victim, that in the grave attention of Carlyle, the eager interest of Stanfield and Maclise, the keen look of poor Laman Blanchard, Fox’s rapt solemnity, Jerrold’s skyward gaze, the tears of Harness and Dyce, the characteristic points of the scene are sufficiently rendered.” Thus wrote Forster of the scene. Nothing, too, is more gracefully romantic than the figure of the inspired young author reading his work, a slight “halo” round his head; and though the “trusty” owner of the rooms makes good-natured protest against the mode in which he has been dealt with, it is impossible not to recognise the likeness.