A Sportsman 6i 



mind, which if I do not take up as they come, will 

 not otherwise appear, and though they may not be 

 of general interest to the reader, or directly concerned 

 with sports, will give me some satisfaction to recoimt. 



I have noted the strong affection of some eminent 

 men I have known for others, and often the opposites 

 in dispositions — ^as of Booth for Setchell; of Forrest 

 for Oakes; of Daniel Webster for Peter Harvey; and 

 Henry Irving for Toole, the comedian. I was in- 

 vited one evening in London to meet the two latter 

 at a midnight supper at the Garrick Club, and I was 

 struck with the particular affection which each bore 

 toward the other. The affection of Webster for Peter 

 Harvey is well known. 



I heard the last great speech of Webster, in Faneuil 

 Hall in 1852, the year I sailed away from that port 

 for California. Webster died that year. Faneuil 

 Hall had been denied to him for some time owing 

 to the sectional feeling which existed, arising from 

 Webster's action in the Missovui Compromise bill, 

 which Webster keenly felt. He had met with a 

 carriage accident a short time before, from which he 

 had not fully recovered. An intense interest existed 

 in the city among the friends and admirers of Webster 

 to hear this address, and the old hall was packed as a 

 box of sardines. I accompanied my most dear and 

 lamented friend Peter Butler, and Peter Harvey, each 

 particular friends of the other, and the most dear 

 friends of the immortal Daniel, to the small apartment 

 where Webster sat alone in a large arm-chair waiting 

 for the moment when he should be called to the plat- 

 form. I had never seen him before, and I was awe- 

 struck with his grand and magnificent proportions 



