justice, to approach, as I have done on two former occasions, a
question of literary interest. I claim that justice be done; and I
prefer this claim as one who has a right to speak and be heard. I
have only to add that I shall be as true to you as you have been to
me. I recognize in your enthusiastic approval of the creatures of
my fancy, your enlightened care for the happiness of the many, your
tender regard for the afflicted, your sympathy for the downcast,
your plans for correcting and improving the bad, and for
encouraging the good; and to advance these great objects shall be,
to the end of my life, my earnest endeavour, to the extent of my
humble ability. Having said thus much with reference to myself, I
shall have the pleasure of saying a few words with reference to
somebody else.

There is in this city a gentleman who, at the reception of one of
my books--I well remember it was the Old Curiosity Shop--wrote to
me in England a letter so generous, so affectionate, and so manly,
that if I had written the book under every circumstance of
disappointment, of discouragement, and difficulty, instead of the
reverse, I should have found in the receipt of that letter my best
and most happy reward. I answered him, {5} and he answered me, and
so we kept shaking hands autographically, as if no ocean rolled
between us. I came here to this city eager to see him, and [laying
his hand it upon Irving's shoulder] here he sits! I need not tell
you how happy and delighted I am to see him here to-night in this
capacity.

Washington Irving! Why, gentlemen, I don't go upstairs to bed two
nights out of the seven--as a very creditable witness near at hand
can testify--I say I do not go to bed two nights out of the seven