“The table was got in shape again, and things moved along smoothly and pleasantly for some time, until Polk and Sothern became engaged in apparently a very angry and excited dispute about the merits of the North and South, in the midst of which Mr. Sothern suddenly arose to his feet, and, drawing a revolver, fired it directly over Polk’s head. Immediately a scene of the wildest excitement ensued. In less than twenty minutes twenty shots from revolvers had been fired across the table. Polk, Gaylor, McCullough, Montague, Seymour, Bryant and Sothern were not only firing blank cartridges from revolvers, but were brandishing huge knives over one another’s heads. Dickinson, Cooper and Brown had by this time discovered the affair was a joke and simply added to the tumult. The terror of the Englishman was almost pitiable. He begged to be allowed to go, but his friends were so thoroughly in love with him that they would not let him depart. There was upon the table at this particular juncture a large dish of asparagus, covered with drawn butter, and most of the combatants, who were crawling across the table to carve one another’s hearts out, managed to get their hands into this mess, and, while thus besmeared, they could take turns in jumping around to where I was holding Lee in place, and, bringing their palms down upon his shoulders, would beg of him to be seated and assured him that the difficulty was simply a trifling one, and that they would regret it to their dying day should he leave them. So frequent were these expressions of hospitality that Lee was smeared from head to foot with drawn butter. I shall never forget the spectacle that the lamented John McCullough presented on that occasion. Having fired his revolver, he drew a long Roman sword from his boot, and, with a swirl, cut off the neck of a champagne bottle as if he were decapitating a foe, and then waving it threateningly over the heads of Lee and myself, he exclaimed, ‘Why does not the gallant Florence stand by his friends? Where is his revolver to-night? I have traveled with him through the West, and then he never went without his arsenal and scarcely a day passed without his killing a man.’ * * * * *