She Married An Old And Dear Friend Of
Mine, Sir James Wilde, Afterwards The Judge, Lord Penzance.
I was his 'best man.'
My 'Ride over the Rocky Mountains' was now published; and, as
the field was a new one, the writer was rewarded, for a few
weeks, with invitations to dinner, and the usual tickets for
'drums' and dances. To my astonishment, or rather to my
alarm, I received a letter from the Secretary of the Royal
Geographical Society (Charles Fox, or perhaps Sir George
Simpson had, I think, proposed me - I never knew), to say
that I had been elected a member. Nothing was further from
my ambition. The very thought shrivelled me with a sense of
ignorance and insignificance. I pictured to myself an
assembly of old fogies crammed with all the 'ologies. I
broke into a cold perspiration when I fancied myself called
upon to deliver a lecture on the comparative sea-bottomy of
the Oceanic globe, or give my theory of the simultaneous
sighting by 'little Billee' of ' Madagascar, and North, and
South Amerikee.' Honestly, I had not the courage to accept;
and, young Jackanapes as I was, left the Secretary's letter
unanswered.
But a still greater honour - perhaps the greatest compliment
I ever had paid me - was to come. I had lodgings at this
time in an old house, long since pulled down, in York Street.
One day, when I was practising the fiddle, who should walk
into my den but Rogers the poet!
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