ing-room. I know what ‘account-sales’ means, and I never could get an ‘account-sales’ from my publishers.”
Upon one occasion, when I met him in the magnificent bookstore of one of the prominent publishers, and the principal of the firm was present, he said, with that familiar lifting of the hat, after the few preliminary remarks,—“By the way,—do you remember the story of Dr. Samuel Johnson dining behind the screen? It is related that Dr. Johnson was invited by his publisher to dine with him, at the great table, when all the big wigs were to be present. But Dr. Johnson declined, and took his dinner in quiet, behind a screen. The common story is, that Johnson excused himself, because his clothes were too shabby to appear before such high company. That is a historical mistake; Dr. Johnson, by his learning, by his genius, by his intellectual birth-gift, was a gentleman; and as a gentleman, he would not dine with a publisher!”
When he was sitting to Elliott for his portrait, the latter said to him, “Mr. Halleck, when you were in England, you no doubt saw some of the eminent poets whom you admire so much,—how did you like Wordsworth?” “I did not see him,” was the reply. “Well, of course you saw your favorite Campbell?” “No, I did not see Campbell.” “Indeed! but you saw Tom Moore?” “No, I did not see any of them. In fact, I was like Scott’s stupid boy. He went to his father and said, ‘Father, I would like to travel through Europe to see the world, and I want you to supply me with the necessary funds for the purpose.’ Upon which his father replied, ‘What you desire is very
