He often talked about the French Revolution and events connected with it in our own country. Clubs of a more than questionable description were established, and he told me that, invited by a person of his own age to attend a meeting held in an obscure street, he was surprised, on his entrance, to find a number of men ranged on either side of a room, sitting by long tables, with a cross one at the upper end. There sat the president for the evening. Several foaming tankards were brought in, when the president calling on the company to rise, took up one of the pots, and striking off the foam which crested the porter, gave as a toast: “So let all . . . perish.” The blank was left to be filled up as each drinker pleased. The avowed dislike to kings entertained by these boon companions suggested to Mr. Bagster the word “kings” or “tyrants”; and at once he gladly left the place, not a little alarmed, lest he should be suspected of treasonable designs. With characteristic caution, he took care not to observe the thoroughfare through which he passed on his way back, that he might be able conscientiously to declare he did not know the situation of the place. He also related that his father had a workman in his employ, whom he knew to be a disaffected subject. He expostulated with him on the horrors of a revolution as illustrated in France, and dwelt upon the confusion which would ensue upon outbreaks on established order. The man lifted up the skirt of his threadbare coat against the window, and significantly asked: “Pray, sir, what have I to lose?” My friend was no Radical, no Whig, but a Tory of the old-fashioned type, who approved of things as they were, without, however, any consciousness of wishing to tyrannise over other people. He was a great admirer of Izaak Walton, and had made a collection of drawings illustrative of his “Compleat Angler,” of which he intended to publish a new edition, with a life of the author. When he had completed his “Comprehensive Bible,” which, by permission, he dedicated to George IV., he was allowed personally to present it to His Majesty; and I have heard him say that on that occasion he was introduced to the royal presence by the Archbishop of Canterbury. The publisher was already paralysed, and could walk only with a tottering step; but the Primate gave him his arm, and led him up to the so-called first gentleman of Europe, who received him very graciously, and accepted at his hands the handsomely-bound volume.