Another sort of dishonest personation whereto we are all liable, whether authors or not, is the having imputed to us divers forged or garbled sentiments, even in the immutability of print, I have now before me a Boston copy of my first Proverbial published by one Joseph Dowe in 1840, which, though stated to be "from the London edition," designedly omits all allusion to the Trinity, even my whole essay thereon, for Mr. Dowe as a Unitarian chose to make me one! Also, I have seen my name attached to verses I never wrote, and have been claimed both by Swedenborgians and Freemasons as a brother, while Jesuitry has otherwise traduced me. Artists also as well as authors are similarly misrepresented; my son-in-law, Clayton Adams, for instance, tells me that his name has been added to landscapes he never painted, and that they sold by auction at high prices. Modern society should punish such cheateries severely.
Amongst other memorabilia in no particular order, let me set down a few visits, longer than a mere call, to sundry persons and places of note. As these, for instance. Annually during many years I used to be a guest from Thursday to Monday at Farnham Castle, when the good Bishop's venison was in season. Of course, at such a table I constantly met celebrities, but a mere list of their names would be tedious, and any public record of private hospitalities I hold to be improper. No doubt the kindly and courtly Bishop Sumner held high festival like an ancient Baron, at such a rate (for those were golden times from renewed leases for the see) as no successor with a less unlimited income could well afford. The grandeur of Farnham Castle died with him: and my good friend from boyhood, Bishop Harold Browne, must not be blamed if with less than half his means he cannot compete with him.
I was enabled to gratify Bishop Sumner in a way that touched his heart, as thus. A cousin of mine, De Lara Tupper of Rio Janeiro, a rich merchant prince there, sent me, as a present for my Albury greenhouse, two large bales of orchids, which, however, were practically useless to me, as I had not that expensive luxury, a regular orchid-house. But I knew that the dear Bishop had, and that orchid-growing was his special hobby: accordingly all were transferred to Farnham, and I need not say how gratefully accepted, as many roots proved to be most rare, and some specimens quite unique. The good man gave me, _en révanche_, a splendid Horace, in white vellum beautifully illustrated, and inscribed by him "Gratiarum actio," now near me in a bookcase. The same South American cousin sent me also a box of pines, oranges, and shaddocks just when Garibaldi was our visitor at Princes Gate,--and I had the gratification of giving many to him, not only because he mainly lived upon fruit, but also because some of the said fruit came from the farm he and his first wife, the well-beloved Anita, had once owned in South America. Later on, Gladstone invited me to meet the hero at a reception in Carlton Gardens, where I took note of Garibaldi, with his hostess on his arm, as he walked in his simple red shirt, through a bowing lane of feathered fashionables, whom he greeted right and left as if he had been always used to such London high life. On that occasion I had the honour of standing between Palmerston and Lord John Russell, who kindly conversed with me, as also did the chief guest, specially thanking me for those pines and oranges.