In doing the scissors-work he had been guided by the pencil-marks, and so had made the error.
The incident amused Tennyson very much, and put him in better spirits. We went downstairs into what in the house is called the “ballroom,” a great sunny room with the wall away from the light covered with a great painting by Lear of a tropical scene intended for Enoch Arden. Here we walked up and down for a long time, the old man leaning on my arm. He told me that he had often thought of making a collection of the hundred best stories.
“Tell me some of them?” I asked softly. Whereupon he told me quite a number, all excellent. Such as the following:
“A noble at the Court of Louis XVI. was extremely like the King, who on it being pointed out to him, sent for him and asked him:
“‘Was your mother ever at Court?’ Bowing low he replied:
“‘No, sire! But my father was!’”
Again:
“Colonel Jack Towers was a great crony of the Prince Regent. He was with his regiment at Portsmouth on one occasion; and was in Command of the Guard of Honour when the Prince was crossing to the Isle of Wight. The Prince had not thought of his being there, and was surprised when he saw him. After his usual manner he began to banter:
“‘Why, Jack, they tell me you are the biggest blackguard in Portsmouth!’ To which the other replied, bowing low:
“‘I trust that your Royal Highness has not come down here to take away my character!’”