Certainly, if I never get any
more praise in my life, I have had enough of it for once. I made another
little bit of a speech, too, in response to something that was said in
reference to the present difficulties between England and America, and
ended, as a proof that I deemed war impossible, with drinking success to
the British army, and calling on Lieutenant Shaw, of the Aldershott Camp,
to reply. I am afraid I must have said something very wrong, for the
applause was vociferous, and I could hear the gentlemen whispering about
the table, "Good!" "Good!" "Yes, he is a fine fellow,"--and other such
ill-earned praises; and I took shame to myself, and held my tongue
(publicly) the rest of the evening. But in such cases something must be
allowed to the excitement of the moment, and to the effect of kindness
and goodwill, so broadly and warmly displayed; and even a sincere man
must not be held to speak as if he were under oath.
We separated, in a blessed state of contentment with one another, at
about eleven; and (lest I should starve before morning) I went with Mr.
D------ to take supper at his house in Park Lane. Mr. D------ is a pale
young gentleman, of American aspect, being a West-Indian by birth. He is
one of the principal writers of editorials for the Times. We were
accompanied in the carriage by another gentleman, Mr. M------, who is
connected with the management of the same paper. He wrote the letters
from Scutari, which drew so much attention to the state of the hospitals.
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