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In this my chronicle I have striven as far as in me lies to avoid tedium, for is not tedium, either in writing or conversing, “the unpardonable sin”?—likewise the two faults which I have so often detected in the autobiography of others, viz. the pride that “apes humility,” and all the while calls out to the reader (if I may be allowed the vulgarism) “Am I not a fine fellow?” and the more palpable self-conceit and egotism that asserts the fact boldly. Another lesson I have learned in the writings of some of my predecessors, is to refrain from saying bitter things of those who can no longer take me to task for so doing, and from wounding the feelings of survivors who loved them.

One of the chief pleas which was urged on me, and which encouraged me to write the following pages, was the fact that I had been on terms of close and tender friendship with many great men, any mention of whom would be welcome to my readers. But it is one thing to appreciate and remember the delightful companionship of such eminent friends as I may enumerate in these pages, and another to convey to others the faintest idea of their individuality.