[_from_ Bret Harte, for instance], and repeating it. This
genius nature has denied to the illustrious poet before you--but not to
me, as I will now illustrate by declaiming the 'Heathen Chinee.'" Which
performance was received with applause, in which Harte heartily joined.
But my claim to possess genius would hardly have borne examination, for
it was years before I ever learned "Hans Breitmann's Barty," nor would I
like to risk even a pound to one hundred that I can do it now without
mixing the verses or committing some error.

Once during the season I went with my wife and Mr. W. W. Story to Eton,
where we supped with Oscar Browning. We were taken out boating on the
river, and I enjoyed it very much. There is a romance about the Thames
associated with a thousand passages in literature which goes to the very
heart. I was much impressed by the marked character of Mr. Browning and
his frank, genial nature; and I found some delightful old Latin books in
his library. May I meet with many such men!

This year, what with the German war and the Trubner-Hotten controversy,
my "Breitmann Ballads" had become, I may say, well known. The character
of Hans was actually brought into plays on three stages at once.
Boucicault, whom I knew well of yore in America, introduced it into
something. I had found Ewan Colquhoun--the same old sixpence--and one
night he took me to the Strand Theatre to see a play in which my hero was
a prominent part. I was told afterwards that the company having been
informed of my presence, all came to look at me through the curtain-hole.
There were some imitations of my ballads published in _Punch_ and the
_Standard_, and the latter were so admirably executed--pardon the vain
word!--that I feared, because they satirised the German cause, that they
might be credited to me; therefore I wrote to the journal, begging that
the author would give some indication that I had not written them, which
was kindly done. Finally, a newspaper was started called _Hans
Breitmann_, and the Messrs. Cope, of Liverpool, issued a brand of Hans
Breitmann cigars. Owing to the resemblance between the words Bret and
Breit there was a confusion of names, and my photograph was to be seen
about town, with the name of Bret Harte attached to it. This great
injustice to Mr. Harte was not agreeable, and I, or my friends,
remonstrated with the shop-folk with the to-be-expected result, "Yes-sir,
yes-sir--very sorry, sir--we'll corre