But when coffee and sweets were reached, the crowning triumph of Senor Perkins’ oratory was achieved.  After an impassioned burst of enthusiasm towards his hosts in their own tongue, he turned towards his own party with bland felicity.

“And how is it with us, dear friends?  We find ourselves not in the port we were seeking; not in the goal of our ambition, the haven of our hopes; but on the shores of the decaying past.  ‘Ever drifting’ on one of those—­

                       ’Shifting
     Currents of the restless main,’

if our fascinating friend Mrs. Brimmer will permit us to use the words of her accomplished fellow-townsman, H. W. Longfellow, of Boston—­we find ourselves borne not to the busy hum and clatter of modern progress, but to the soft cadences of a dying crusade, and the hush of ecclesiastical repose.  In place of the busy marts of commerce and the towering chimneys of labor, we have the ruined embattlements of a warlike age, and the crumbling church of an ancient Mission.  Towards the close of an eventful voyage, during which we have been guided by the skillful hand and watchful eye of that gallant navigator Captain Bunker, we have turned aside from our onward course of progress to look back for a moment upon the faded footprints of those who have so long preceded us, who have lived according to their lights, and whose record is now before us.  As I have just stated, our journey is near its end, and we may, in some sense, look upon this occasion, with its sumptuous entertainment, and its goodly company of gallant men and fair women, as a parting banquet.  Our voyage has been a successful one.  I do not now especially speak of the daring speculations of the distinguished husband of a beautiful lady whose delightful society is known to us all—­need I say I refer to Quincy Brimmer, Esq., of Boston” (loud applause)—­“whose successful fulfillment of a contract with the Peruvian Government, and the landing of munitions of war at Callao, has checked the uprising of the Quinquinambo insurgents?  I do not refer especially to our keen-sighted business friend Mr. Banks” (applause), “who, by buying up all the flour in Callao, and shipping it to California, has virtually starved into submission the revolutionary party of Ariquipa—­I do not refer to these admirable illustrations of the relations of commerce and politics, for this, my friends—­this is history, and beyond my feeble praise.  Let me rather speak of the social and literary triumphs of our little community, of our floating Arcadia—­may I say Olympus?  Where shall we find another Minerva like Mrs. Markham, another Thalia like Miss Chubb, another Juno like Mrs. Brimmer, worthy of the Jove-like Quincy Brimmer; another Queen of Love and Beauty like—­like”—­continued the gallant Senor, with an effective oratorical pause, and a profound obeisance to Miss Keene, “like one whose mantling maiden blushes forbid me to name?” (Prolonged applause.) “Where shall we find more