ever since young manhood, and I relieve myself now of
the reminiscence for the first and last time. In another page I speak of
Prince Astor's pure gold service when I dined with him at New. York; and
I have grateful memory of the almost palatial splendour wherewith a rich
publisher entertained his guest at his castle under Arthur's Seat; but
in every case (and I might name others) my heart's aspiration has been,
"Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for
me." Mr. Vanderbilt was not happy with his millions; neither probably is
poor Jack without a shot in his locker.

CHAPTER XXX.

SOCIAL AND RURAL.

In such a record of personals as this, it is fortunate both for the
author and his readers if he has never been one of those literary lions
who are merely histrionic creatures of society. It is a privilege not to
have to reproduce the common small-talk of ball-rooms and
garden-parties, nor to be obliged to make the most, after a
semi-libellous fashion, of after-dinner scandals, or gossip in the
smoking-room. Not having heard them he cannot well report racy
anecdotes, whereof sundry memoirs have been too full. In the happier
condition of a partial anchoritism I have escaped clubs, London seasons,
and country mansion gaieties; as a youth and to middle manhood a
stammerer, I would not willingly court the humiliations of chattering
society, and thereafter, up to to-day, a domestic country gentleman of
literary pursuits, I have avoided (as far as possible) fashionable
gatherings of every sort, social, theological, or political. Not that I
abjure--it is far otherwise--any kind of genial intercourse with my
fellows; a few friends are my delight, but I never would belong to a
club, though sometimes specially tempted by indulgence as to terms (more
than once having been offered a free and immediate entry), nor to any
society or charity that expected of me personal publicity or active
service,--albeit, once, and once only, I had to figure as a reluctant
chairman at Exeter Hall. Privacy has ever been my preference; whence it
will clearly be inferred how much I have had to sacrifice in the way of
self-denial when forced by circumstances to enact the "old man eloquent"
before assembled hundreds, sometimes thousands, as a public reader.
People who have made themselves acquainted with my "Proverbial
Philosophy" may remember that my Essay on Speaking contrasts the misery
of the man who cannot speak with