The dinner at the Parker House, after the fatigues of the day, was a brilliant success.  The Great International Walking-Match was over; America had won, and England was nowhere.  The victor and the vanquished were the heroes of the occasion, for both had shown great powers of endurance and done their work in capital time.  We had no set speeches at the table, for we had voted eloquence a bore before we sat down.  David Copperfield, Hyperion, Hosea Biglow, the Autocrat, and the Bad Boy were present, and there was no need of set speeches.  The ladies present, being all daughters of America, smiled upon the champion, and we had a great, good time.  The banquet provided by Dickens was profusely decorated with flowers, arranged by himself.  The master of the feast was in his best mood, albeit his country had lost; and we all declared, when we bade him good night, that none of us had ever enjoyed a festival more.

Soon after this Dickens started on his reading travels again, and I received from him frequent letters from various parts of the country.  On the 8th of March, 1868, he writes from a Western city:—­

    Sunday, 8th March, 1868.

My Dear Fields:  We came here yesterday most comfortably in a “drawing-room car,” of which (Rule Britannia!) we bought exclusive possession. ——­ is rather a depressing feather in the eagle’s wing, when considered on a Sunday and in a thaw.  Its hotel is likewise a dreary institution.  But I have an impression that we must be in the wrong one, and buoy myself up with a devout belief in the other, over the way.  The awakening to consciousness this morning on a lop-sided bedstead facing nowhere, in a room holding nothing but sour dust, was more terrible than the being afraid to go to bed last night.  To keep ourselves up we played whist (double dummy) until neither of us could bear to speak to the other any more.  We had previously supped on a tough old nightmare named buffalo.

What do you think of a “Fowl de poulet”? or a “Paettie de Shay”? or “Celary”? or “Murange with cream”?  Because all these delicacies are in the printed bill of fare!  If Mrs. Fields would like the recipe, how to make a “Paettie de Shay,” telegraph instantly, and the recipe shall be purchased.  We asked the Irish waiter what this dish was, and he said it was “the Frinch name the steward giv’ to oyster pattie.”  It is usually washed down, I believe, with “Movseaux,” or “Table Madeira,” or “Abasinthe,” or “Curraco,” all of which drinks are on the wine list.  I mean to drink my love to ——­ after dinner in Movseaux.  Your ruggeder nature shall be pledged in Abasinthe.

    Ever affectionately,

    CHARLES DICKENS.

On the 19th of March he writes from Albany:—­

    Albany, 19th March, 1868.