Then came the greatest moment of all - the official recognition, so to speak. Punch magazine showed a cartoon of me! In a single instant this changed me from someone who was notorious to someone who was famous! Yes, my name and reputation were secure now; my place was established. I might be still joked about, but with respect, not rudely. I could be smiled at, but not laughed at. The time for that had gone by. Punch had pictured me dressed in rags, bargaining with a Beefeater for the Tower of London. Well, you can imagine how this affected a young fellow like me. No-one had ever taken notice of me before, and now suddenly I couldn't say anything that didn't catch on and get repeated everywhere.

When I left the house I kept overhearing people telling each other, 'There he goes; that's him!'. I couldn't eat breakfast without a crowd watching me; couldn't appear at the opera without being watched by a thousand opera glasses. Why, I just swam in glory all day long - that is all I can say about it.

You know, I even kept my old suit of rags. Every now and then I went out in them. I enjoyed the old pleasure of buying something unimportant and being insulted, and then showing the person insulting me the million-pound banknote. But I couldn't keep that up. The illustrated papers made the suit well-known. Now when I went out in it I was recognized at once and a crowd followed me. If I tried to buy something the man would offer me his whole shop on credit before I could even pull my note on him.