back even as far as the time of the ancient Greeks, was the first business
in order--came the social hour, which meant much to the dwellers in those
dull, comfortless old barracks--for the great castles of that day were
little better than barracks. The chief gave the signal for talk, music, or
story, previous to which, any inquiries or conversation, other than the
briefest question and answer about the food or other necessary things,
would have been considered inappropriate and disrespectful. There probably
was present some guest, who came under circumstances that awakened the
strongest curiosity or who had a claim upon his entertainer. Such a guest
was placed at the board in a position corresponding to his rank.

After resting and partaking of the repast, it was pertinent to hear what
account he could give of himself, and courtesy permitted the host to
levy an intellectual tax upon him, as a contribution to the joy of the
hour. Seated at the head of the table the chief, or, in his absence, a
representative, made the opening speech--the address of welcome, to use the
term familiar to ourselves. This might be very brief or at considerable
length; it might suggest inquiries of any of the company or merely pledge
an attentive and courteous hearing to whatever the guest might utter; it
might refer to the past glory of the castle and its lord, or vaunt its
present greatness and active occupation.

But whatever form it might take it was sure to consist--as addresses of
welcome in all ages have done--of two words, by dexterously using which,
any man can make a good speech of this character. These two words are "We"
and "You;" and all else not connected with these is irrelevant and useless.
They do not constitute two parts of the same speech but ordinarily play
back and forth, like a game of battledore. Who "we" are; what "we" have
done; how "we" saw "you;" what "we" have heard of "you;" how great and good
"you" are thought to be; the joy at "your" coming; what "we" now want to