His temperament invited a few people to a close friendship with him, and gently warned many to keep a respectful distance.

Aggressive and cutting he was, and he often said that death was the best friend of a man who is compelled to write for a living.

He wrote a subscription book for a mere pittance, and one of the agents that sold it now lives in a mansion.

He regarded present success as nothing to compare with an immortal name in the ages to come.

He was born in the country, and his refined nature revolted at his rude surroundings, and ever afterward he held the country in contempt.