I did smile all by myself that night, and the smile lingered on my face all the next day, when I called again on my friend Wellcome and told him I was going back home to America, asking him if he could possibly give me any encouragement about Stanley; he replied that he could not. “It would not do for so great a man to disregard the general sentiment of royalty as to condescend to lecture for money, though he might obey royal command and speak for some charities.” I told him that I was going on Wednesday to Glasgow (the Royal Scottish Geographical Society were to dine Stanley that night, and I had received an invitation from the president, of course at Stanley’s request), and I wished that he, Villiers, and a few friends would dine with me at the Savoy on Tuesday. Wellcome accepted, and six of his friends and my friends had a jolly good time. During the evening Mr. Wellcome entertained us with talk about his friend Stanley. Everybody knew he was the nearest man to the hero of the hour. During the evening Mr. Wellcome mentioned that Stanley was going to be banqueted in Glasgow. I suggested (having an invitation in my pocket) that I should like to be there. He explained how impossible it was for any one not a member to obtain an invitation or to be admitted. After a long and to me enjoyable evening, when the gray dawn showed itself on the Thames embankment, the party broke up. I called Mr. Wellcome to one side and in strict confidence told him that I had a contract with Stanley for an American lecture tour; that we had frequently been together; that I was going to Glasgow to the Stanley dinner. He--well, he wilted! Stanley was something more than a lecturer to me. I had known of him over twenty years before in the West, as a newspaper correspondent. His graphic descriptions of Western events and scenes in which I was a small part always found favor in my sight because of their simple exactness. I had seen him in Omaha and also on the plains, in connection with the remarkable Indian campaigns of the later sixties, but never had the courage to approach him. I felt an awe and respect for him that held me aloof. And yet Stanley was the personification of modesty. At the dinner given by Americans in London to Stanley, the Rev. Dr. Joseph L. Parker, the famous London preacher, came up to me and said: “Major Pond, I wish you would introduce me to Stanley.” “I shall not have to go far to do that,” said I; “the gentleman with whom you just saw me talking is the man himself.” “No, no,” said Dr. Parker, “that can’t be; why, that is a small man. Stanley must be a great big fellow.” The explorer is not more than five feet seven inches in height, but stocky and well set.