surprise to hear that I had a _thick speech_, since I had always
been considered a remarkably clear speaker and good singer, and had
frequently both sung and recited in public, at amateur entertainments.

After a distressing interval of silence, during which they all continued
regarding me with unabated curiosity, the old gentleman condescended to
address me again and asked me my name and country.

"My country," said I, with the natural pride of a Briton, "is England,
and my name is Smith."

"No such country is known to me," he returned; "nor have I ever heard
such a name as yours."

I was rather taken aback at his words, and yet did not just then by any
means realize their full import. I was thinking only about my name; for
without having penetrated into any perfectly savage country, I had been
about the world a great deal for a young man, visiting the Colonies,
India, Yokohama, and other distant places, and I had never yet been told
that the name of Smith was an unfamiliar one.

"I hardly know what to say," I returned, for he was evidently waiting
for me to add something more to what I had stated. "It rather staggers
me to hear that my name-well, you have not heard of _me_, of
course, but there have been a great many distinguished men of the same
name: Sydney Smith, for instance, and--and several others." It mortified
me just then to find that I had forgotten all the other distinguished
Smiths.

He shook his head, and continued watching my face.