ight be seen
his cousin, Lengthy Monroe, who enacted the hard old codgers at the same
establishment. That fine fellow, Ned Sandford, must not be forgotten;
neither must Sam Lake, the clever little dancer. Rube Meer was
invariably to be found in company with a pot of malt; and he was usually
assisted by P. Jones, a personage who never allowed himself to be funny
until he had consumed four pints. Charley Saunders, the comedian and
dramatist, the author of "Rosina Meadows" and many other popular
plays--kept the "table in a roar," by his wit and also by his
excruciatingly bad puns. Bird, of "Pea-nut Palace" notoriety, held forth
in nasal accents to Bill Colwell, the husband of the pretty and
accomplished Anna Cruise. Big Sam Johnson, a heavy actor, a gallant
Hibernian and a splendid fellow, discussed old Jamaica with his friend
and boon companion, Sam Palmer, alias "Chucks." The mysterious Frank
Whitman captures his brother-actor at the Museum, Jack Adams, and
imprisoning him in a corner from which there was no escape, imparts to
him the most tremendous secrets. Ned Wilkings--one of the best reporters
in the city--tells the last "funny thing" to John Young; while Joe
Bradley, proprietor of the Mail, touches glasses with Jim McKinney.
Meanwhile, the two waiters, Handiboe and Abbott, circulate around with
the greatest activity, fetching on the liquors and removing the dirty
glasses, from which they slyly contrive to drain a few drops now and
then, for their bodily refreshment. As an instance of the "base uses" to
which genius may "come at last," I will state that Handiboe, whom we now
find in such a menial position, was once quite a literary character;
while poor Abbott, to whom I now throw a few small coins in charity, was
a setter of type. The rest of the party is made up of Pete Cunningham,
Sam Glenn, Bill Dimond, Jim Brand, Bill Donaldson, Dan Townsend, Jack
Weaver, Cal Smith, and a host of others whom it would puzzle the very
devil himself to remember.

Such was the "Uncle and Nephew Club," of which I had the honor to be a
prominent member. Almost every man belonging to it was a wit, a punster
or a humorist of some kind; and I will venture to say, that had some
industrious individual taken the pains to preserve and publish one-half
the good things that were said at our meetings, a large volume might be
formed that would be no contemptible specimen of genius. Whenever a
member had the audacity to perpetrate some shocking