*ding and well remember his reception of me.
"Vouth êtes le bienvenu ithi!"
Incidentally I remember that good King Edward ("then Prince of Wales," as the memoir-writers say) glared at me furiously on that occasion, because I was wearing trousers of the identical pattern as his: an Urquhart check with a pink line. . . .
In the course of a dinner-party given at
this time, the conversation turned on those men
and women who had won everlasting renown
with the least effort or justification. The
United States Ambassador (Mr. Davis) proposed
Eutychus, of whom little is known but
that he fell asleep during a sermon and
tumbled from a window: I suggested the
uncaring Gallio, who did less and is better
known. Some one else put forward Melchisedec.
Agreeing that every name in the Bible
has a certain immortality, we turned to secular
history. At the subsequent instigation
of Mr. Davis, Lord Curzon of Kedleston
propounded "the apple-bearing son of William
Tell." I invited Teixeira to give his
opinion.
