toasted rose, and expressed his opinion of the state of the country, to the general effect that General Jackson—­Sir, and fellow-citizens—­I mean my friends, and you, Mr. Speaker—­I beg pardon, General Belch, that General Jackson, gentlemen and ladies, that is to say, the relatives here present—­I mean—­yes—­is one of the very greatest—­I venture to say, and thrust it in the teeth and down the throat of calumny—­the greatest human being that now lives, or ever did live, or ever can live.

Mr. Ele sat down amidst a fury of applause.  Major Scuppernong, of North Carolina, and Captain Lamb, of Pennsylvania, turned simultaneously to the young gentleman who sat between them, and who had been introduced to them by General Belch as Mr. Newt, son of our old Tammany friend Boniface Newt, and said to him, with hysterical fervor,

“By G—­, Sir! that is one of the greatest men in this country.  He does honor, Sir, to the American name!”

The gentlemen, without waiting for a reply, each seized a decanter and filled their glasses.  Abel smiled and bowed on each side of him, filled his own glass and lighted a cigar.

Of course, after General Belch had spoken and Mr. Ele had responded, it was necessary that every body else should be brought to a speech.  General Belch mentioned the key-stone of the arch of States; and Captain Lamb, in reply, enlarged upon the swarthy sons of Pennsylvania.  General Smith, of Vermont, when green mountains were gracefully alluded to by General Belch, was proud to say that he came—­or, rather, he might say—­yes, he would say, hailed from the hills of Ethan Allen; and, in closing, treated the company to the tale of Ticonderoga.  The glittering mouth of the Father of Waters was a beautiful metaphor which brought Colonol le Fay, of Louisiana, to his feet; and the Colonel said that really he did not know what to say.  “Say that the Mississippi has more water in its mouth than ever you had!” roared Major Scuppernong, with great hilarity.  The company laughed, and the Colonel sat down.  When General Belch mentioned Plymouth Hock, the Honorable Budlong Dinks sprang upon it, and congratulated himself and the festive circle he saw around him upon the inestimable boon of religious liberty which, he might say, was planted upon the rock of Plymouth, and blazed until it had marched all over the land, dispensing from its vivifying wings the healing dew of charity, like the briny tears that lave its base.

“Beautiful! beautiful!  My God, Sir, what a poetic idea!” murmured, or rather gurgled, Major Scuppernong to Abel at his side.

But when General Belch rose and said that eloquence was unnecessary when he mentioned one name, and that he therefore merely requested his friends to fill and pledge, without further introduction, “The old North State,” there was a prolonged burst of enthusiasm, during which Major Scuppernong tottered on to his feet and wavered there, blubbering in maudlin woe, and wiping his eyes with a napkin; while the company, who perceived his condition, rattled the table, and shouted, and laughed, until Sligo Moultrie, who sat opposite Abel, declared to him across the table that it was an abominable shame, that the whole South was insulted, and that he should say something.