Richard lectured at the Numismatic, the Royal Geographical, the Anthropological, and several other societies, and we were invited to attend on the Sultan of Zanzibar at the Duchess of Sutherland's, mother of the present Duke, and his Crystal Palace party. The members of the Urban Club gave Richard a dinner and welcome on the 15th of June at St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell. We also had a very pleasant dinner at Mr. Edmund Yates', where we met Wilkie Collins and others, and had some very pleasant literary parties at the Brinsley Sheridans', and Mr. Dicey's. At Lady Derby's we were presented to the Queen of Holland. Her Majesty took a great deal of notice of Richard and me at Lady Salisbury's, and at Lady Egerton of Tatton's, and also at Lady Holland's, and expressed a wish to have his last book, which I had the pleasure of leaving with her secretary. There was a great Licensed Victuallers' dinner at which two thousand were present, Alfred Bates Richards, who was editor of their paper, the _Morning Advertiser_, and Richard's great friend, being the President. Richard was a guest, and was asked to make a speech. Richard had, amongst others, a very remarkable friend; his popular name was "Bob Campbell;" numbers of men knew him well. He was very gentlemanly, very clever, poor, proud, eccentric. He knew Paris as well as London. Richard and he had a very sincere friendship for each other. He lived in an attic, and the second room was a kitchen. He once took it into his head that it was very silly to have to go to the expense of a coffin and not to utilize it during his life, so he went and had himself measured for one, and ordered quite a nice oak and brass, and a plate with his name and everything usual on it, leaving a space for the date, only he had it fitted up inside with crossway shelves, so as to utilize it for keeping cold meat, or bottles, or any other sort of thing. He then told the undertaker to send it on a hearse covered up in the usual way, mutes and all. When it arrived, the landlord ran up in a dreadful state and said, "Sir, what is to be done? there are two mutes at the door with handkerchiefs up to their eyes, and they say the coffin is for one Mr. Robert Campbell. I told them you were not dead, but they say there is no mistake; it is for here, and they won't go away." So Bob Campbell, who had previously arranged the whole scene with the men, went down and told them to bring the coffin up, and put his own handkerchief up to his eyes, saying, "This is a very melancholy occasion indeed; pray bring the coffin upstairs." So it was brought up and set like a little cupboard against the wall, and he gave the mutes something to drink and paid them, and they went away, but the landlord could not get over it at all.