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So it was when I was invited to attend a banquet given to Doctor Cook in Copenhagen, when he made his claim of having discovered the North Pole. For reasons which I shall tell later in these memories, it was of great importance to me to be present at that dinner, where Doctor Cook was expected to tell the story of his amazing journey. But I had traveled across Europe with a razor and a toothbrush, and had no evening clothes. For a shilling translated into Danish money, I borrowed the dress suit of an obliging young waiter. He was a taller man than I, and the sleeves of his coat fell almost to my wrists, and the trousers bagged horribly below the knees. His waistcoat was also rather grease-stained by the accidents inevitable to his honorable avocation. In this attire I proceeded self-consciously to the Tivoli Palace where the banquet was held. I had to ascend a tall flight of marble steps, and, being late, I was alone and conspicuous.

Feeling like Hop-o’-my-Thumb in the giant’s clothes, I pulled myself together, hitched up my waiter’s trousers, and advanced up the marble stairs. Suddenly I was aware of a fantastic happening. I found myself, as the fairy tales say, receiving a salute from a guard of honor. Swords flashed from their scabbards and my fevered vision was conscious of a double line of figures dressed in the scarlet coats and buckskin breeches of the English Life Guards.