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.
“Fiddle-de-dee, Moultrie,” said Abel to him, laughing; “the South is no more insulted because Major Scuppernong, of North Carolina, gets drunk and makes a fool of himself than the North is insulted because General Smith, of Vermont, and the Honorable Dinks, of Boston, make fools of themselves without getting drunk. Do you suppose that, at this time of night, any of these people have the remotest idea of the points of the compass? Their sole interest at the present moment is to know whether the gallant Major will tumble under the table before he gets through his speech.”
But the gallant Major did not get through his speech at all, because he never began it. The longer he stood the unsteadier he grew, and the more profusely he wept. Once or twice he made a motion, as if straightening himself to begin. The noise at table then subsided a little. The guests cried “H’st.” There was a moment of silence, during which the eloquent and gallant Major mopped the lingering tears with his napkin, then his mouth opened in a maudlin smile; the roar began again, until at last the smile changed into a burst of sobbing, and to Abel Newt’s extreme discomfiture, and Sligo Moultrie’s secret amusement, Major Scuppernong suddenly turned and fell upon Abel’s neck, and tenderly embraced him, whispering with tipsy tenderness, “My dearest Belch, I love you! Yes, by Heaven! I swear I love you!”
Abel called the waiters, and had the gallant and eloquent Major removed to a sofa.
“He enjoys life, the Major, Sir,” said Captain Lamb, of Pennsylvania, at Abel’s left hand; “a generous, large-hearted man. So is our host, Sir. General Belch is a man who knows enough to go in when it rains.”