In the spring of 1885, during my stay in London, I received invitations to various other towns. A war between England and Russia was then pending in consequence of the Pendjdeh affair. The number of letters and telegrams I daily received became so numerous, that I could only master them with the assistance of a private secretary, who had offered his services gratis, from purely patriotic motives. I accepted invitations only to some of the principal provincial towns, as the labour of travelling every day to be honoured every evening with a public reception in a different place, give a lecture and attend a banquet, was too tiring and proved too much for my physical strength. As the most memorable evenings of this tour I would mention my _début_ at Newcastle-on-Tyne and at Brighton. In the first-named great industrial town of the North of England, I gave my lecture, or rather my discourse, in the large theatre. The house was filled to the top, one could have walked over the heads, and the galleries were full to overflowing. Tailor's apprentice, servant, tutor, Effendi, Dervish, I have been pretty well everything in my life, but a stage hero I was now to be for the first time, and although not seized with the fever of the footlights, the masses before me and their enthusiastic reception had an unusual effect upon me. I spoke for an hour and a half, often interrupted for several minutes at a time by loud applause, and when, referring to the danger which threatened the Indian Empire, I called out to my audience, "The spirits of the heroes fallen in the struggle for India, who have enabled this small island to found one of the greatest Asiatic Empires, who have made you mighty and rich, their spirits ask you now, Will you allow the fruits of our labour to perish, and the most precious pearl of the British crown to fall into the enemy's hand?" the frantic, "No! No!" from all parts of the house almost moved me to tears, and I saw with astonishment what a pitch of excitement these people of the foggy North can be led up to. A similar scene awaited me at Brighton, where my speech had also a wonderful effect upon my hearers. At the close of the lecture many, as usual, pressed forward on to the platform to shake hands. Among others an elegantly dressed, elderly lady came up to me, took both my hands and said in a choking voice: "Oh, my dear, precious England, you have indeed done it good service. Sir, it is a glorious, golden land; continue to promote its welfare; God in heaven will reward you." The poor woman trembled as she said this, and as long as I live I shall never forget the look of agitation depicted on her face.