At 8 every seat was occupied. Even the huge stage was packed, and I never had a better time in my life. Fuller had kept his word: there were more brains there than were ever under a roof before—and without counting me.

And also, in the box-office, in cold cash, there was $35. First I began and worked up to and told Bucking horse—man got up—

I don’t know what that wild scheme cost Fuller. He has never mentioned the matter once. And when the newspaper notices came out in the morning he was the best satisfied man in New York. He said “You’re a made man—you’ll see.” And just there comes the strangest part of it; just there this discredited prophet spoke true. Those notices went about the country, and lyceums that didn’t know me from Adam began to shout for me to come. I responded—with modesty, but also with promptness. I accepted a hundred invitations at $100 a piece; and but for Fuller I wouldn’t have been worth fourteen.

 

 

Well, Fuller’s final idea was to invite the Queen of England. I said that that was nonsense; he said it wasn’t nonsense. He said it was a good move; she wouldn’t come, but no matter, the fact that she was invited would be published all over the world and would at once lift this show high up in the estimation of all mankind and make it respectable. And he wanted me to write the letter. Of course I refused. How little I imagined, at that time, that some day I should really be corresponding with the Queen of England. But we never can tell what is going to happen to us in this world—not even in the next. I did write her a letter—it was about 10 or 12 years ago. I didn’t get any answer, because the mails were very irregular then; and so I didn’t keep up the correspondence; but I did have the honor of writing her one letter, anyway. The way it happened was this. About 10 or 12 years ago

[AFTER GR ANT—THIS.]

 

That anecdote about Gen. Grant’s remark at Chicago, is in a sort of kinship with another remark evincing memory high-placed—a remark which was made to me in Europe 3 or 4 years ago by a Personage whose name, like Grant’s, is widely known in the world.

 

 

[PICTURE OF PRINCE OF WALES.]

 

 

There he is—the Heir to one of the best positions that I know of. It so happened that ten or twelve years ago I was surprised and shocked to receive from England—from the Internal Revenue Office—a tax-bill of £48—an income-tax bill, levied on my English copyrights. I was shocked, but it was not all shock. I was flattered as well as shocked; flattered to be formally taken notice of by a foreign government. It seemed to kind of introduce me into the family of nations; seemed—well, it seemed to sort of recognize me as one of the Friendly Powers—not on a large scale, of course—not like Russia and China and those, but on a—well, on a secondary scale—New Jersey. Not one of the Six Powers, you understand, but No. 7. Not an actual member of the Concert of Europe, but a kind of understudy, in case one of them should get sick. So, really there was more pleasure than shock about it. Consequently, so as to clinch that thing—so that they couldn’t get out of it, some time or other when there was a war breeding and I should want to come in and take a hand and help plan out the way to conduct it—I wrote over to the publisher not to make any protest; keep quiet, don’t say anything, just pay the bill.