“Waters, you never yet deceived me; and, though you have come in a most questionable shape, I must congratulate you and myself.”

When this story was told at the Club, one of those listeners who always want something more called out, “Well, and what did Waters say?” to which Alvanley replied: 

“Oh, Waters made a very flowery speech, like a well-bred man.”

LORD WESTMORELAND
[Sidenote:  Captain Gronow]

When I was presented at the Court of Louis XVIII.  Lord Westmoreland, the grandfather of the present lord, accompanied Sir Charles Stewart to the Tuileries.  On our arrival in the room where the King was we formed ourselves into a circle, when the King good-naturedly inquired after Lady Westmoreland, from whom his lordship was divorced, and whether she was in Paris.  Upon this the noble lord looked sullen, and refused to reply to the question put by the King.  His Majesty, however, repeated it, when Lord Westmoreland hallooed out, in bad French, “Je ne sais pas, je ne sais pas, je ne sais pas.”  Louis, rising, said, “Assez, milord; assez, milord.”

On one occasion, Lord Westmoreland, who was Lord Privy Seal, being asked what office he held, replied, “Le Chancellier est le grand sceau (sot); moi je suis le petit sceau d’Angle-terre.”  On another occasion, he wished to say “I would if I could, but I can’t,” and rendered it, “Je voudrais si je coudrais, mais je ne cannais pas.”

COLONEL KELLY AND HIS BLACKING
[Sidenote:  Captain Gronow]

Among the odd characters I have met with, I do not recollect any one more eccentric than the late Lieutenant-Colonel Kelly, of the First Foot Guards, who was the vainest man I ever encountered.  He was a thin, emaciated-looking dandy, but had all the bearing of a gentleman.  He was haughty in the extreme, and very fond of dress; his boots were so well varnished that the polish now in use could not surpass Kelly’s blacking in brilliancy; his pantaloons were made of the finest leather, and his coats were inimitable; in short, his dress was considered perfect.

His sister held the place of housekeeper to the Custom-house, and when it was burnt down, Kelly was burnt with it, in endeavouring to save his favourite boots.  When the news of his horrible death became known, all the dandies were anxious to secure the service of his valet, who possessed the mystery of the inimitable blacking.  Brummell lost no time in discovering his place of residence, and asked what wages he required; the servant answered, his late master gave him L150 a year, but it was not enough for his talents, and he should require L200; upon which Brummell said, “Well, if you will make it guineas, I shall be happy to attend upon you.”  The late Lord Plymouth eventually secured this phoenix of valets at L200 a year, and bore away the sovereignty of boots.

JOHN KEMBLE
[Sidenote:  Captain Gronow]