again. Must really be more
careful.

_April 2_.--In with the rest of them, for a (North-) Easter outing.
HACKING, in the train, tried to palm me off upon HORNBLOWER, who had
actually the impudence to affect that he "_couldn't see me_"; as if
I hadn't obviously made his reputation for years! The best of it is,
that HORNBLOWER is always airing me in public, and dropping me in
private. Blow HORNBLOWER!

_April 3_.--Out to dinner. What a hypocrite Society is! Everyone
pretended never to have heard me before. I was allotted to Miss
HORNBLOWER (worse luck!) and she positively called me "Her own!"--at
my age, too! It's indecent. Complained to HORNBLOWER, who now faced
round, and maintained that he was the first to bring me out. I could
almost have cried. No wonder I fell flat, and injured myself. Why,
Sir, SIDNEY SMITH was my godfather, and was always trotting me out as
a prodigy, and trading on me. I supported him, Sir, when I was but an
infant phenomenon; I supported him--but I can't support HORNBLOWER.

_April 4_.--Went to the theatre, as I was told I figured in the play;
claimed a free pass to the Stalls from the box-office boy, who was
rude; showed him my card; he looked scared, and said it was all right.
The actors were full of me: very gratifying; but everybody laughed!
Just like their cheek! There's nothing laughable, I should fancy,
about anything so played out as _I've_ become. Ugh! how I detest
irreverence! HORNBLOWER and HACKING have both written to the papers,
maintaining that I belong to them, and that the theatre has no
right to have me impersonated on the Stage; they term it "Thought
Transference," "The Brain-Wave," or something outlandish; and to think
that HACKING, who reviews HORNBLOWER's effusions, once spoke of me as
stale! They had better not try my patience too far, I can tell them.

_April 5_.--_Sunday_. Want change, and rest. Made for the O'WILDE's
sanctum. Cabman took the change, and O'WILDE the rest. Have known all
the celebrities of the century, but like O'W. the most. For one so
young, he's truly affable; made me quite at home; promised to put
me up--or in, I forget which; and then he uttered this remarkable
"preface"--"Jokes are neither old nor young: they are simply mine or
thine--that is all." Nevertheless. I'm sure to be in his bad books
before long.

_April 6_.--"Horrible outrage--an Old Joke, in trouble again"--so run
the newspaper placards--was collared forcibly by two masked ruffians