About this time I was seeing a good deal of my literary friends. Amongst others, William Black and Bret Harte visited me at Leeds, and I have amusing recollections of both visits. Black came to me, if I remember aright, on his way to Scotland. It was his first visit to Leeds, and I thought he was entitled to something more than the welcome given to a private guest. Not many writers of distinction had found their way to Leeds whilst I was living there, and it was my earnest desire that those who came should receive a greeting that would satisfy them that even business communities could value real worth in literature. Accordingly, I gave a large dinner party at the Liberal Club in Black's honour, and invited to it a number of the leading citizens. They were all anxious to come, and to share in the welcome to my distinguished guest. Unfortunately, however, the dinner involved a speech from Black. I knew how much he hated speech-making, and did my best to steel him for the ordeal. But no efforts of mine, or of any other man, would have converted Black into an orator. His response to the toast of his health, which had been drunk with genuine enthusiasm, was as follows: "When I left London, I thought I was going to Yorkshire, but the way in which you have treated me shows that I have made a mistake and that I have really got into Scotland." And forthwith he sat down, leaving us to realise the subtle compliment conveyed in his brief speech. And here I am reminded of another occasion on which I heard him make an attempt at after-dinner oratory. A certain Lord Mayor of London distinguished himself by giving a dinner to the representatives of literature. I had the honour of being invited to the feast, and shared Black's cab in the drive to the Mansion House. On the way thither he told me that he was one of those who had to respond for fiction: "but," he added, "I am all right, for Blackmore is to speak before me, and I shall get up when he sits down, and simply say 'I say ditto to Mr. Blackmore,'" Comforted with this idea, he was able to enjoy the Lord Mayor's turtle. But alas! when Blackmore rose to address the company, he confined himself to the statement that, never having made a speech before, he must leave it to a much more distinguished man, his friend Mr. William Black, to respond to the toast. It was obvious to Black that he could not say ditto to this speech, and he had, accordingly, to make a serious attempt to reply for fiction.