but very few of us, have seen--I myself amongst the
fortunate few! As a piece of furniture this hospitable, but rather
primitive, piece of joinery is not of much account, the top being of
plain deal (_pace_ Thackeray's "_Mahogany_ Tree"), oblong in shape, with
rounded ends. But its associations render it a treasure among treasures,
a rich and priceless gem. For at this Table nearly every man upon the
Staff has, from the day it was made, sat and carved his initials upon
it with a penknife, when officially elevated to _Punch's_ peerage. As
each has died, his successor has taken his place--just as the Institut
de France creates Immortals to fill the chairs made vacant by death--and
he has cut his initials or his mark close by those of the men who
occupied the place before him. There they are, staring at you from the
Table like so many abecedarian skeletons at the feast; and if you take a
furtive and hasty peep from the doorway and lift the green protective
cloth you catch sight nearest you of a "D. M." in close company with a
beautifully-cut "W. M. T." and a monogrammatic leech inside a bottle
flanked by a J. and an L.; and you gaze with deep interest on the
handiwork of them and of the rest, many of whom have carved their names,
as on that Table, deep into England's roll of fame; and of others, too,
who, with less of genius but equal zeal and effort, have a strong claim
on the gratitude and the recollection of a kindly and laughter-loving
people.[7]

[Illustration: SIR JOHN TENNIEL'S MONOGRAM.]

[Illustration: SHIRLEY BROOKS' MONOGRAM.]

For more than forty years, then, this Table has week by week, with few
exceptions, been surrounded by the Staff of the day; and the chair, the
self-same old-fashioned wooden editorial armchair, has been filled by
the reigning Editor. "With few exceptions," I said; for Bouverie Street
has not invariably been the hatching-place of the Cartoon, nor have its
walls resounded with absolute regularity to the laughter and the jests
of the merry-makers. During the summer the Dinner has been, now and
again, and still is, held at Greenwich, at Richmond, Maidenhead, or
elsewhere--Hampton Court and Dulwich rather frequently of old, as well
as once at Harrow, and sometimes at Purfleet, Windsor, and Rosherville.
Sometimes, when occasion has demanded--in the "dead season," maybe, when
the attendance at the Table has dwindled, though for no sustained period
(it is even on record that the "Dinner" has co