Note 335 — Chapter XLIX · ADJUTANT-GENERAL—Continued

On the following 2nd May I received an order that all officers attending the Royal Academy dinner were to appear in full dress uniform, so I duly passed it on to a General who I knew had received an invitation. Late in the afternoon I received a telegram cancelling the orders which had been issued to me, not only by the Adjutant-General but by the private secretary of the Commander-in-Chief. I was unable to communicate with my General, who was the only person in uniform, but was much less annoyed than most of us would have been, while I was amused at the excitement of a court official who highly disapproved of officers appearing as such at this function.

The dinner was to me very pleasant, as I sat between the Dean of Westminster and Mr. Ouless, the Royal Academician, who were both delightful companions. Mr. Ouless capped my story of the corporal recognising me as an officer by my bad language when I was lying wounded under the Redan in 1855, by telling us one of an artist, celebrated as etcher and author, who was walking one winter’s day on Hampstead Heath, and passing near one of the ponds, which was frozen over, he saw a crowd collected round it watching a small dog, which having ventured on the ice, had fallen through into the water. The ice was just so strong it could not get out, and yet would not support its weight. The excited owner was shouting, “Half a crown for anyone who will save my dog.” The artist plunged in, and having rescued the animal put it down on the edge of the pond and started running at top speed towards his house at Highgate. He heard a panting man behind him, but fearing rheumatism ran on to change his clothes, till the man caught him up, shouting, “Hi, hi,” and as he reached him called out, “Here’s your money.” Mr. Ouless’ friend being very cold and cross said, “Damn you! Damn your dog; damn your half-crown.” The man touched his cap and said, “Beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t know you was a gentleman.”