re
a neat sanded floor, a large Windsor chair, and a glass of hot something
and water, make him as happy as any of the clubmen in their magnificent
saloons.

At the "Bootjack" was, as we have said, a very genteel and select
society, called the "Kidney Club," from the fact that on Saturday
evenings a little graceful supper of broiled kidneys was usually
discussed by the members of the club. Saturday was their grand night;
not but that they met on all other nights in the week when inclined for
festivity: and indeed some of them could not come on Saturdays in the
summer having elegant villas in the suburbs, where they passed the
six-and-thirty hours of recreation that are happily to be found at the
end of every week.

There was Mr. Balls, the great grocer of South Audley Street, a warm
man, who, they say, had his twenty thousand pounds; Jack Snaffle, of the
mews hard by, a capital fellow for a song; Clinker, the ironmonger:
all married gentlemen, and in the best line of business; Tressle, the
undertaker, etc. No liveries were admitted into the room, as may be
imagined, but one or two select butlers and major-domos joined the
circle; for the persons composing it knew very well how important it
was to be on good terms with these gentlemen and many a time my lord's
account would never have been paid, and my lady's large order never have
been given, but for the conversation which took place at the "Bootjack,"
and the friendly intercourse subsisting between all the members of the
society.

The tiptop men of the society were two bachelors, and two as fashionable
tradesmen as any in the town: Mr. Woolsey, from Stultz's, of the famous
house of Linsey, Woolsey and Co. of Conduit Street, Tailors; and Mr.
Eglantine, the celebrated perruquier and perfumer of Bond Street, whose
soaps, razors, and patent ventilating scalps are know throughout Europe.
Linsey, the senior partner of the tailors' firm had his handsome mansion
in Regent's Park, drove his buggy, and did little more than lend his
name to the house. Woolsey lived in it, was the working man of the firm,
and it was said that his cut was as magnificent as that of any man in
the profession. Woolsey and Eglantine were rivals in many ways--rivals
in fashion, rivals in wit, and, above all, rivals for the hand of
an amiable young lady whom we have already mentioned, the dark-eyed
songstress Morgiana Crump. They were both desperately in love with her,
that was the truth; and each, i