I cannot do better than take my cue from your distinguished President，and refer in my first remarks to his remarks in connection with the old，natural，association between you and me. When I received an invitation from a private association of working members of the press of New York to dine with them today，I accepted that compliment in grateful remembrance of a calling that was once my own，and in loyal sympathy towards a brotherhood which，in the spirit，I have never quitted. To the wholesome training of severe newspaper work，when I was a very young man，I constantly refer my first successes；and my sons will hereafter testify to their father that he was always steadily proud of that ladder by which he rose. If it were otherwise，I should have but a very poor opinion of their father，which，perhaps，upon the whole，I have not. Hence，gentlemen，under any circumstances，this company would have been exceptionally interesting and gratifying to me. But whereas I supposed that like the fairies’ pavilion in the“Arabian Nights，”it would be but a mere handful，and I find it turn out like the same elastic pavilion，capable of comprehending a multitude，so much the more proud am I of the honor of being your guest；for you will readily believe that the more widely representative of the press in America my entertainers are，the more I must feel the good-will and the kindly sentiments towards me of that vast institution.
Gentlemen，I henceforth charge myself，not only here but on every suitable occasion whatsoever and wheresoever，to express my high and grateful sense of my second reception in America，and to bear my honest testimony to the national generosity and magnanimity. Also，to declare how astounded I have been by the amazing changes that I have seen around me on every side. Nor am I believe me so arrogant as to suppose that in twenty five years there have been no changes in me，and that I had nothing to learn and no extreme impressions to correct when I was here first.
Gentlemen，the transition from my own feelings towards and interest in America to those of the mass of my countrymen seems to be a natural one；but，whether or not，I make it with an express object. I was asked in this very city，about last Christmas time，whether an American was not at some disadvantage in England as a foreigner. The notion of an American being regarded in England as a foreigner at all，of his ever being thought of or spoken of in that character，was so uncommonly incongruous and absurd to me，that my gravity was，for the moment，quite overpowered. As soon as I was restored，I said that for years and years past I hoped I had had as many American friends and had received as many American visitors as almost any Englishman living，and that my unvarying experience，fortified by theirs，was that it was enough in England to be an American to be received with the readiest respect and recognition anywhere. Hereupon，out of half-a-dozed people，suddenly spoke out two，one an American gentleman，with a cultivated taste for art，who，finding himself on a certain Sunday outside the walls of a certain historical English castle，famous for its pictures，was refused admission there. According to the strict rules of the establishment on that day，but who，on merely representing that he was an American gentleman，on his travels，had，not to say the picture gallery，but the whole castle，placed at his immediate disposal. The other was a lady，who，being in London，and having a great desire to see the famous reading-room of the British Museum，was assured by the English family with whom she stayed that it was unfortunately impossible，because the place was closed for a week，and she had only three days there. Upon that lady’s going to the Museum，as she assured me，alone to the gate，self-introduced as an American lady，the gate flew open，as it were，magically. I am unwillingly bound to add that she certainly was young and exceedingly pretty. Still，the porter of that institution is of an obese habit，and，according to the best of my observation of him，not very impressible.