them; punning supplied that of better wit; and personal portraiture was
so freely used, that his most intimate friends--old Mathews, for
instance--did not escape.

Meanwhile Hook, making a good fortune, returned to his convivial life,
and the enjoyment--if enjoyment it be--of general society. He 'threw out
his bow window' on the strength of his success with 'John Bull,' and
spent much more than he had. He mingled freely in all the London circles
of thirty years ago, whose glory is still fresh in the minds of most of
us, and everywhere his talent as an improvisatore, and his
conversational powers, made him a general favourite.

Unhappy popularity for Hook! He, who was yet deeply in debt to the
nation--who had an illegitimate family to maintain, who owed in many
quarters more than he could ever hope to pay--was still fool enough to
entertain largely, and receive both nobles and wits in the handsomest
manner. Why did he not live quietly? why not, like Fox, marry the
unhappy woman whom he had made the mother of his children, and content
himself with trimming vines and rearing tulips? Why, forsooth? because
he was Theodore Hook, thoughtless and foolish to the last. The jester of
the people must needs be a fool. Let him take it to his conscience that
he was not as much a knave.

In his latter years Hook took to the two dissipations most likely to
bring him into misery--play and drink. He was utterly unfitted for the
former, being too gay a spirit to sit down and calculate chances. He
lost considerably, and the more he lost the more he played. Drinking
became almost a necessity with him. He had a reputation to keep up in
society, and had not the moral courage to retire from it altogether.
Writing, improvising, conviviality, play, demanded stimulants. His mind