THE FIRST AND LAST DINNER
1.TWELVE friends，much about the same age，and fixed by their pursuits，their family connections，and other local interests，as permanent inhabitants of the metropolis，agreed，one day，when they were drinking wine at the Star and Garter at Richmond，to institute an annual dinner among themselves，under the following regulations：That they should dine alternately at each others’houses on the first and last day of the year；and the first bottle of wine uncorked at the first dinner should be re-corked and put away，to be drank by him who should be the last of their number：that they should never admit a new member；that，when one died，eleven should meet，and when another died，ten should meet，and so on；and when only one remained，he should，on these two days，dine by himself，and sit the usual hours at his solitary table；but the first time he had so dined，lest it should be the only one，he should then uncork the first bottle，and in the first glass drink to the memory of all who were gone.
2.Some thirty years had now glided away，and only ten remained；but the stealing hand of time had written sundry changes in most legible characters.Raven locks had become grizzled；two or three heads had not as many locks as may be reckoned in a walk of half a mile along the Regent‘s Canal；one was actually covered with a brown wig；the crows’feet were visible in the corner of the eye：good old port and warm Madeira carried it against hock，claret，red Burgundy，and champagne；stews，hashes，and ragouts，grew into favor；crusts were rarely called for to relish the cheese after dinner；conversation was less boisterous，and it turned chiefly upon politics and the state of the funds，or the value of landed property；apologies were made for coming in thick shoes and warm stockings；the doors and windows were more carefully provided with list and sand-bags；the fire was in more request；and a quiet game of whist filled up the hours that were wont to be devoted to drinking，singing，and riotous merriment.
3.Two rubbers，a cup of coffee，and at home by eleven o‘clock，was the usual cry，when the fifth or sixth glass had gone round after the removal of the cloth.At parting，too，there was now a long ceremony in the hall；buttoning up great coats，tying on woolen comforters，fixing silk handkerchiefs over the mouth and up to the ears，and grasping sturdy walking-canes to support unsteady feet.
4.Their fiftieth anniversary came，and death had indeed been busy.Four little old men，of withered appearance and decrepit walk，with cracked voices，and dim，rayless eyes，sat down，by the mercy of Heaven，（as they tremulously declared，）to celebrate for the fiftieth time，the first day of the year，to observe the frolic compact，which，half a century before，they had entered into at the Star and Garter at Richmond.Eight were in their graves！The four that remained stood upon its confines.
5.Yet they chirped cheerily over their glass，though they could scarcely carry it to their lips，if more than half full；and cracked their jokes，though they articulated their words with difficulty，and heard each other with still greater difficulty.They mumbled，they chattered，they laughed，（if a sort of strangled wheezing might be called a laugh，）and as the wine sent their icy blood in warmer pulses through their veins，they talked of their past as if it were but a yesterday that had slipped by them；and of their future as if it were a busy century that lay before them.