[B3] "Feast of Intellect," Spirit of the Times, Jan. 15, 1842

Feast of Intellect.—The Meeting of Flib and Toney Blink.

The other evening, after leaving the sanctum, we found that we had forgotten to take a copy of the Richmond Star home with us, and the consequence was, that we had to retrace our steps.

Opening the door, we were about entering the sacred precinct, when an unexpected sight caused us to start back.

There, seated in our arm chair, his legs thrown up on the editorial table, covered with green baize, was the sanguine haired Flib, with his merry twinkling, although obliquious eyes fixed upon an individual who sat opposite, while his lips were wreathed into a Cheshire cat grin.

The light of the lamp fell fully upon the countenance of Flib, while the whole figure of the unknown person who sat opposite, was enveloped in shade.

"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed the eccentric youth, "now look here. If I ain't found you out at last. I've been a-searchin' for you every whar—I read your police reports, and says I, says I, that feller's got the genius, and no mistake. I did indeed. He's a regular team, he is, says I. And I hunted you every where. I used to stand at the corners o' the streets o' nights a-watching to see any body with a remarkably funny phiz—but I could'nt find any body that I could pitch upon for you, I couldn't. And now I've found you out. So you are the riglar, lively, spicey, racy, and beezar—you are in fact—"

"Hush," said a soft modest voice.

"You are," resumed Flib, "you are Toney Blink!"

There was a low chuckle, and the unknown person came forward to the light. We discovered to our utter astonishment that it was the original Toney. (Who he is, or what he looks like, is our business. He isn't a boy, nor is he an old man. His hair isn't red, brown, or gray. He is, in fact, an indescribable genius.) We stepped behind the stove unobserved, and watched the movements of this eccentric twain.

"Now look here, Toney," continued Flib—"I've got a high respect for you, I have. So let's have a blow out; will ye? Come, if you've got three cents vy I'll get three more, and we can get a mug of beer down in the cellar from Cox's—eh? Will you go in for it?"

"Well, I don't care if I do. (This was the answer of Toney.) You are an eccentric chap—and so am I—and that's a fact. Howsomever, don't you tear your trowsers when you say them witty things?—And then that ring—oh, my!—That was laying the humbug on too thick. Howsomever, you may hurrah with that beer—there's the three cents, and tell 'em to send us a cracker a-piece."

Flib vanished, and in a moment returned with the beer. It was curious to see the gravity with which the two drank each other's health; the politeness with which they both exclaimed,—"Not afore you-oh, certainly not afore you;"-and concluded by each sipping out of one side of the mug at once.

"Well, Toney, I do admire your police reports—I do indeed. But sometimes you do say such queer things—"

"Do I, though," asked Toney, inquiringly.

"Praps you do. That 'boot,' &c, for instance.—But look here. Do you see that?"

He handed Toney a card, about six inches by eight in size, and looking very much like a steamboat advertisement.

"Hello! What's that?" exclaimed Toney, reading—"Lecture on Phrenology, Philosophy, Physiology, Electro-Magnetism, Legal Jurisprudence, Dentistry, and the Belles Lettres. BY AN UNKNOWN LITERATI. To be delivered on Monday evening next. Place—— "

"Well, as for the place," interrupted Flib, "I think I kin git the little back garret up stairs; and with three taller candles, and a band o' music, I think I can get along. I've invited the editor of the Demosthenian Shield, as well as several other distinguished men. Will you come?"

"I shall do myself that honor," replied Toney Blink, bowing very politely.

"Now you're complimentary," replied Flib, with extreme gravity.

"Not at all," replied Toney with equal solemnity. "I consider you a very smart chance of a boy. I do indeed."

"Do you though?" said Flib, burying his hands in his pockets, and lolling his head on his right shoulder, while he leered out of his eyes at his friend Toney. "Do you though? Well, now look here, if I haint thought so a pretty considerable number of times myself. I know I've got the genius in me, and as the spelling book says of a man named Erskine on the floor of Congress, when he was put down, he says, says he, he wouldn't be put down, no how they could fix it. He had the critter in him, and by—"

"Don't swear!" whispered Toney.

"And by golly it must come out. Those are my opinions. I feel the genius a-buzzin' inside of my bosom, like a fly inside a winder, a-wanton to get out but it can't. For why? Cause the very thing which admits the light perwents it; the glass does and be darned to it. Toney Blink—or to speak perlitely, Antoninus Blinkibus—I feel that I am destined for a glorious immortality, as the preacher says—I feel—I feel-well darn me, if the feller ain't asleep. Toney, Toney, I say."

"What did you ob-ob-serve," inquired Toney, faintly unclosing his eyes. "Oh—a-h,—a-a-h,-I don't know what makes me gape so. Oh, a-h, about that lecture. Where did you say it was to be?"

"I told you up stairs, in the back garret. Or may be I can get the animal magnetism room, in the Masonic Hall. The question is, will you report my lecture?"

"Depend upon me, for a full, faithful and entire report."

"Give's us your hand. Here there's a drop left in the mug. Plenty of black mail to ye, old boy."

"Hand us the mug. The same to you, and a new pair of pants into the bargain. Good bye."

"Good bye, Toney."

"Good bye, Flib."

"Good-"

"Bye-" (Exit omnes.)