Your invitation to me to be present to-night at the Fourth Annual Dinner given at Cambridge in honour of Charles Lamb's birthday, was one which flattered me not a little; and to-night I am still more gratified to find myself surrounded by so many distinguished leaders of Cambridge thought.

I do not know what could be more touching to my feelings than to stand here, in the midst of the University from which I have received so much, and to which my gratitude and loyalty are due in no ordinary measure, while I enjoy the reception which you have just given to my old friend Francis Darwin's too kind and too indulgent introduction of my name.

This day, the 10th of February, is the 137th anniversary of the birth of Charles Lamb, a date now celebrated every year in Cambridge, the University for which he entertained—it is true, at a considerable distance—an almost idolatrous veneration. Every year renews the old love, the old enthusiasm, as is proper when the source of them is so perennial, yet we may concede that the 137th anniversary must be counted among the minor festivals of the Agnine Church. I will, if you will allow me, tell you something about a major festival, at which I had the good fortune to be present, but which hardly anyone else can possibly remember. I will describe to you the first Charles Lamb Dinner which ever was held, on the 100th anniversary of his birth. At that time—nearly forty years ago, alas!—it was my privilege to be in close relations of friendship with that great poet and very fine gentleman, Algernon Charles Swinburne.