I proceeded to London, and, though clad merely in jacket and trousers, was kindly received by some friends of high rank and influence. After a brief stay in the metropolis, I visited a much-esteemed friend at his seat in Suffolk, who gave me a hearty welcome. Availing myself of the quiet retirement of his country residence, I secluded myself for a time and wrote an account of the Icelandic revolution, which I presented to Sir Joseph Banks One day, while I was busily engaged with my pen, still clad as I was, in my sailor's garb, a gentleman of high rank, who had come to visit my friend, seeing me seated at the table with my papers around me, inquired who that strange-looking man was. “Oh,” said my host, “allow me to introduce you to my friend the King of Iceland.” We shook hands and engaged for some time in agreeable conversation. Having received pecuniary supplies from my friends in Copenhagen, and also had my funds replenished by some friends in England, to whom I had rendered some important services, I returned to London, where, I regret to say, I again yielded to my tempter, launched into extravagance, and made myself penniless once more.

At this time an important event of my life occurred. Amongst the acquaintanceships that I had formed during my confinement in Tothill Fields prison, was one with Count Dillon, a French captive.