He alludes to all actors as “cabots.” For the plural of “genius” he uses “genii.” He travels with a suitcase large enough to transport a circus. At the age of twenty-nine he was invited to join the Elks.... The judge, a friend of his, reduced the charge from “assault with intent to kill” to “assault and battery.” He has never had typhoid fever, smallpox, cholera, scarlet fever, arthritis, appendicitis, or delirium tremens. He has never had a headache. He can digest anything. He has been involved, in his time, in eight lawsuits, and has won them all, chiefly by perjury. His first name is Henry; his middle name, Louis. He never spells them out, signing himself always simply H. L. He drinks a brand of cheap claret which he lays in in shipments of ten cases. He has presented the steward of the Florestan Club, of Baltimore, with a bronze medal for reviving Maryland hoe cake. A life-long opponent of Puritanism in all its forms, he is on good personal terms with many Puritan reformers, and always reads the tracts they send to him. He has been arrested four times, once in Paris, once in Copenhagen, and twice in America. He was acquitted each time, though guilty. He complains ceaselessly over what it costs him to live. Yet he is a liberal fellow and keeps Nathan supplied with cigars. The cigars, however, are not to Nathan’s taste. He is an omnivorous borrower of matches. He washes his hands twenty-four times a day. He writes directly upon the typewriter, never longhand. He signs all his letters with the episcopal “Yours in Xt.” For the last four years he and Nathan have been planning a motor trip through Virginia. They will never make it, both agree emphatically. His favorite dish is anything _à la Créole_. He once brought from abroad, as a gift to his negro cook, three dozen strings of Venetian beads. She is a strict Baptist and declined to wear them. His favorite novel is “Huckleberry Finn”; his favorite name for a woman, Maggie. He often goes without breakfast, and never eats more than an apple and a slice of dry bread. He and Nathan have their secretaries in _The Smart Set_ offices keep a list of forty-two bad writers. Opposite the name of each of the forty-two is the fine one must pay the other if the name is uttered by either. He slicks his hair down like the actor who plays the heroic lieutenant in the military dramas. He likes to ride down Fifth Avenue in a victoria. He owns a plaid shirt. He wears it. He has worn the same straw hat for five years. He cleans it every spring with a tooth-brush dipped in bicarbonate of soda and Pebeco tooth paste. Each spring he buys a new tooth-brush. He writes in a bare room. There is no carpet or rug on the floor. The only pictures on the wall are portraits of his great-great-grandfather, Ibsen, Conrad, Marcella Allonby, Mark Twain, and Johannes Brahms.