hat with debates, an' readings, an'
lectures, an' maybe a soiree now and then, with music and speeches, to
say nothing of tea an' cakes."

As Phil Maylands warmed with his subject his friend became excited. He
ceased to chaff and raise objections, and finally began to see the
matter through Phil's rose-coloured glasses.

"Capital," he exclaimed heartily. "It'll do, Phil. It'll work--like
everything else you put your hand to. But"--here his chubby little
visage elongated--"how about funds? Nothin' in this world gets along
without funds; an' then we've no place to meet in."

"We must content ourselves with funds of humour to begin with," returned
Phil, resuming his work on the watch. "As for a meeting-room, wouldn't
this do? Pegaway Hall is not a bad place, and quite enough room in it
when the lumber's cleared out o' the way. Then, as to members, we would
only admit those who showed a strong desire to join us."

"Just so--who showed literary tastes, like you an' me," suggested Pax.

"Exactly so," said Phil, "for, you see, I don't want to have our society
flourished about in the eyes of people as a public Post-Office affair.
We must make it private and very select."

"Yes, _uncommon_ select," echoed Pax.

"It would never do, you know," continued the other, "to let in every
shallow young snipe that wanted to have a lark, and make game of the
affair. We will make our rules very stringent."

"Of course," murmured Pax, with a solemn look, "_tremendously_
stringent. For first offences of any kind--a sousin' with dirty water.
For second offences--a woppin' and a fine. For third--dismissal, with
ears and noses chopped off, or such other mutilation as a committee of
the house may invent. But, Phil, who d'yee think would be suitable men
to make members of?"

"Well, let me see," said Phil, again laying down his tools, and looking
at the floor with a thoughtful air, "there's Long Poker, he's a
long-legged, good-hearted fellow--fond o' the newspapers."

"Yes," put in Pax, "Poker'll do for one. He'd be a capital member.
Long and thin as a literary c'racter ought to be, and pliable too. We
could make a'most anything of him, except a fire-screen or a tablecloth.
Then there's Big Jack--he's got strong sedate habits."

"Too fond of punning," objected Phil.

"A little punishment in the mutilation way would stop that," said Pax.

"And there's Jim Brown," rejoined Phil. "He's a steady, enthusiastic
fellow; and li