an twenty years' of
banked-up prudent earnings, besides the original policy, vanished in an
hour; that my early efforts to win fortune were stumped from impediment
of speech; and that some of those on whom I depended, as well as others
dependent on me, met with misfortunes, deserved or undeserved. Anyhow, I
have just now no reason to complain of bursting barns or inflated
money-bags. Everybody knows (so I need not blink it) that some time ago
a few friends kindly got up a so-called testimonial for my benefit; but
that sort of thing had been overdone in other instances; and it is small
wonder that (although certainly not quite such a fiasco as with Ginx's
Baby) the trouble and care and humiliation are scarcely compensated
where the costs and defaults are considerable: however, I desire
heartily to thank its promoters and contributors, one and all; even
those who promised but never paid.

With reference to other efforts, my two Transatlantic visits, and divers
reading tours at home, show that self-help never was neglected, as,
indeed, former pages will have proved. Accordingly, as Providence helps
those who help themselves, or at all events endeavour to do so, I still
lean on the heraldic motto, given to General Volkmar von Tophere by
Henri Quatre, "L'espoir est ma force." I will here add two American
anecdotes whereby it might seem that heretofore I have unwittingly
jilted Fortune when she would have blest me with her favour.

I had just landed in New York after a stormy fortnight in the _Asia_ (it
was A.D. 1851) and taken up my quarters at the Astor House, to
rest before friends found me out. But my arrival had been published, and
before, in private, I had taken my first refreshment, the host, a
colonel of course, came and asked if I would allow a few of my admirers
to greet me. Doubtless, natural vanity was willing, and through my
room, having doors right and left, forthwith came a stream of
well-wishers all shaking hands and saying kind words for an hour and
more; at last they departed, all but one, who had come first and boldly
had taken a chair beside me: when the crowd were gone, he bluntly (or
let it be frankly) said, "I'm one of the richest men in New York, sir,
and I know authors must be poor; I like your books, and have told my
bankers (naming them) to honour any cheques on me you may like to draw."
"My dear sir," I replied, "you are most considerate, and all I can say
is, if I have the misfortune to lose this