The very last time that I dined with Lord Houghton I had an amusing experience. It was in the late autumn of 1884. Houghton had just met with a rather severe and painful accident. He had been staying at the Durdans with Lord Rosebery, and during the night had fallen out of bed, fracturing his collar-bone. His own account of the accident was that he had dreamt that Mr. Gladstone was pursuing him in a hansom cab, and in trying to escape he had tumbled off the bed. Although in great pain, he made light, according to his wont, of his injuries, and positively went down to Yorkshire the day after the accident in order to attend a meeting of Quarter Sessions. It was only on his return to town, where he was staying with his sister, the Dowager Viscountess Galway, that he consulted a doctor, who found that the collar-bone was fractured, and at once ordered him complete rest. Complete rest was something for which Houghton was not by nature fitted. I went to call on him whilst he was laid up, and he immediately begged me to arrange a little dinner party for his amusement while he was invalided. The person he was most anxious to secure as a guest was James Payn, and I promised to do what I could to get Payn to dine. But there were difficulties in the way. Payn disliked dining out at any time, and he had, as I have already mentioned, a rooted aversion to evening dress, which, he declared, killed more men than drink. Besides, when he did dine out, he wished to smoke as soon as he had finished eating, and for this reason he objected to dinner parties at which ladies were present. All this I explained to Houghton. "Not wear evening dress? Well, you and he can come in frock-coats. I shall be in a dressing-gown." "And the cigars?" I said. "Oh, well, of course he can smoke if he wishes." "And ladies?" I continued. "That's awkward," said the dear old gentleman, "for this is my sister's house. She must be here. But don't tell him, and then perhaps he'll come." My negotiations with Payn were successful, and on the appointed evening, a Sunday, he and I set forth in a hansom for Rutland Gardens. I remember that on the way Payn, who was in exceptionally high spirits, informed me of the engagement of his daughter Alice to Mr. Buckle, the young editor of the _Times_.