The other gentleman replied that he would be with them, if possible; and I determined that I would also be there. I recognized the first speaker as one of the most brilliant and noted _literati_ of the day, one who is even now a dweller on earth, courted for his genius, and loved and respected for his benevolent heart and sympathetic soul; at that time he was about fifty years of age, and full of life and energy. I knew him to be a member of a certain literary club, all the members of which were men of brilliant intellect, not a few of whom were well-known in the literary world; and it was this club-meeting that I had determined to visit, partly out of curiosity to hear what might be said of myself, and partly to witness the proceedings, knowing full well that a feast of intellectual dainties awaited whoever should be fortunate enough to enter. The two friends parted at a certain corner, but I remained with the man of genius, resolving that I would not leave him until he arrived at the evening gathering; and I did not. Promptly at the hour appointed, the company gathered in the parlors of the organization, myself among the number. I do not propose to reveal all that was said and done on the occasion. The meeting was a most enjoyable one; gems of thought, original ideas, brilliant repartee, and flowery _bon mots_ circulated freely from mind to mind; in short, the occasion was a feast of intellectual glory, that could not fail to arouse the enthusiasm of any but the most stupefied spirits. The eulogy and the encomiums paid to the memory of Critchley Prince were kind, and well calculated, coming as they did from the hearts of England’s most gifted sons, to awaken a feeling of pride and gratification in the heart of him of whom they were spoken. But, alas, this banquet of ennobling thought and chaste, exquisite expression, which alone would have refreshed and invigorated the soul, and at which even the angels of heaven might have been pleased to preside—this festal board—needs must have been polluted by the presence of costly wines, and rich, rare, body-clogging viands. Aye, it is true that there, where no feast of a material nature was needed, where, indeed, it would only serve to lower the time and place into a scene of sensual festivity, the wine-cup passed from hand to hand, brilliant toasts were given and repeated, and I, in company with others, again tasted the perfumed draught that ever tends to degrade humanity. It is true that I did not drug myself into insensibility, neither did any one of that assembled company; nor did I become so intensely alive in every sense and avenue of feeling as heretofore, yet I partook of the fluid, and again found that I was not strong enough to resist temptation and to overcome the evil habit.