Accordingly I laid myself open to the attention of kind friends and people whose manner of life was founded on the Christian principle of being “given to hospitality.”

But before I come to the particular incident I wish to describe, I must briefly mention a remarkable case that was tried in the Queen’s Bench, and which necessarily throws me back a year or two in my narrative.

It was a case known as “Boyle and Lawson,” and the incident it reveals will give an idea of the state of society of that day.  I am not sure whether it differs in many respects from that of the present, except in so far as its honour is concerned, for what was looked upon then as a flagrant outrage on public morality is now regarded as an error of judgment, or a mistake occasioned by some fortuitous combination of unconsidered circumstances.  Such is the value in literature and argument of long words without meaning.

However, the action was brought against the proprietors of the Times newspaper for libel.  The libel consisted in the statement that the respectable plaintiff—­a lady—­had conspired with persons unknown to obtain false letters of credit for large sums of money.

The hospitable friends I refer to lived in excellent style in Norwich.  How they had attained their social distinction I am unable to say, but they were, in fact, in the “very best set,” which in Norwich was by no means the fastest.

I was travelling at this time with Charles Willshire and his brother Thomas, who was a mere youth.  There was also an undergraduate of Cambridge of the name of Crook with us, and another who had joined our party for a few days’ ramble.

We were enjoying ourselves in the old city of Norwich as only youth can, when we received an invitation to pass an evening in a very fashionable circle.  How the invitation came I could not tell, but we made no inquiry and accepted it.  Arrived at the house, which was situated in the most aristocratic neighbourhood that Norwich could boast, we found ourselves in the most agreeable society we could wish to meet.  This was a group of exalted and fashionable personages arrayed in costumes of the superb Prince Regent style.  Nothing could exceed this party in elegance of costume or manners.  You could tell at once they were, as it was then expressed, “of the quality.”  Their cordiality was equalled only by their courtesy, and had we been princes of the blood we could not have received a more polite welcome.  There was an elegance, too, about the house, and a refinement which coincided with the culture of the hosts and guests.  Altogether it was one of the most agreeable parties I had ever seen.  There were several gentlemen, all Prince Regents, and one sweet lady, charming in every way, from the well-arranged blonde tresses to the neatest little shoe that ever adorned a Cinderella foot.  She was beautiful in person as she was charming in manner.  You saw at once that she moved in the best Norwich society, and was the idol of it.  Crook was perfectly amazed at so much grace and splendour, but then he was much younger than any of us.