(BY ATLANTIC CABLE.)
Your representative's little speech at the great PUNCHINELLO dinner may
be better imagined than described. A few words, however, may give you
its _animus_.
"If," said I, "in this illustrious company, one may indulge in a
Wellerism"--
"Spell it with a _we_, sir, if you please," whispered SAMIVEL, who stood
right behind me.
I resumed. "I have to say, that my feelings at this hour are too many
for me. Perhaps I might add, that the courses have been so also. As my
friend SOYER used to observe when we were together in the Crimea,
astronomical and gastronomical laws are alike fixed. And one of them is,
that the precession of the dinner-plates, and the nutation of the
glasses, do not promote the music of the spheres. But, Mr. PUNCH and
gentlemen, although not one of the heavenly bodies, indeed altogether
terrestrial, one feels, naturally, rounder in his orbit, and a little
more likely to see stars, after such a dinner as this, than before. Do I
not, indeed, see around me now, all the stars of the intellectual
firmament? Are not SIRIUS and ARCTURUS here, in their glory, as well as
ORION and the rest? As my old friend CRISPIN would say, their name is
legion! _I_ would blaze, gentlemen, too, if possible, in honor of the
occasion; but, as I can't Comet, meteors fall in lamentation of my poor
ability.
"The day we celebrate is truly a great one. Since the time of OLAF, the
Northman, our Anglo-Saxon-Celtic race has loved its jesting
philosophers. No fools are they, in fact, even when to that name they
'stoop to conquer.'
'The wise man's folly is anatomized
Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.'
"The sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination
wraps me, is a most humorous sadness.
"But, gentlemen, your walls have, if not ears, tongues, to recall the
glorious humor and wit of our race. HOGARTH looks down upon us. ADDISON
tells us of dear old Sir ROGER de COVERLEY; I am sure he must have been
the grandfather of Mr. PICKWICK. STERNE makes us weep on one side and
smile on the other, at the mention of my UNCLE TOBY; GOLDSMITH, at the
remembrance of himself. And so does TOM HOOD, the prince of humorists.
THACKERAY we all remember; and neither he nor his Vanity Fair will ever
be forgotten. DOUGLAS JERROLD, and JOHN LEECH, too--the only tears they
ever made men shed were at their graves. And who can fail to feel like a
"pendulum betwixt a smile and tear," when he remembers our ARTEMUS WARD?
Over the water now we have some yet; of whom we count "the TWAIN one;"
and we can get up as good BILLINGS-gate as ever went to market. Then,
for right Saxon wit, have we not SAXE himself? And, for the luminous,
PETROLEUM, the ex-postmaster of the Cross-roads?
"I represent a name, gentlemen, new with us, yet old in Europe. You are
well aware that, in Italy"--
"_That_ might 'uv been tuk for granted; as the donkey said ven his dam
called him a hass"--whispered, rather loudly, SAMIVEL, behind me.
Now whether it was the Thames atmosphere that had got into my head, or
whether it was SAM WELLER'S unexpected remark, I am unable, to this day,
to say. But, somehow or other, my speech had, by this time, gone up. So
I went down. If the speech was a rocket, I represented a stick. Perhaps
JENKINS may yet wake up to the importance to the civilization of the
century of reporting in full CHARLES DICKENS' speech, and BULWER'S, and
the rest. If so, I will send them on. PUNCHINELLO, however, was honored
as he deserves, at this dinner. Now for a little serious news.