nd was elected, by a desperate unanimity,
Deputy-Grand-Mistress for life. Though that admirable and courageous
female never subsequently breathed a word with regard to the secrets
of the initiation, yet she inspired all our family with such a terror
regarding the mysteries of Jachin and Boaz, that none of our family have
ever since joined the Society, or worn the dreadful Masonic insignia.

It is known that Orpheus was torn to pieces by some justly indignant
Thracian ladies for belonging to an Harmonic Lodge. 'Let him go back
to Eurydice,' they said, 'whom he is pretending to regret so.' But the
history is given in Dr. Lempriere's elegant dictionary in a manner much
more forcible than any this feeble pen can attempt. At once, then, and
without verbiage, let us take up this subject-matter of Clubs.

Clubs ought not, in my mind, to be permitted to bachelors. If my friend
of the Cuttykilts had not our club, the 'Union Jack,' to go to (I belong
to the 'U.J. and nine other similar institutions), who knows but he
never would be a bachelor at this present moment? Instead of being made
comfortable, and cockered up with every luxury, as they are at Clubs,
bachelors ought to be rendered profoundly miserable, in my opinion.
Every encouragement should be given to the rendering their spare time
disagreeable. There can be no more odious object, according to my
sentiments, than young Smith in the pride of health, commanding his
dinner of three courses; than middle-aged Jones wallowing (as I may
say) in an easy padded arm-chair, over the delicious novel or brilliant
magazine; or than old Brown, that selfish old reprobate for whom mere
literature has no charms, stretched on the best sofa, sitting on the
second edition of THE TIMES, having the MORNING CHRONICLE between his
knees, the HERALD pushed in between his coat and waistcoat, the STANDARD
under his arm, the GLOBE under the other pinion, and the DAILY NEWS
in perusal. 'I'll trouble you for PUNCH, Mr. Wiggins' says the
unconscionable old gormandiser, interrupting our friend, who is laughing
over the periodical in question.

This kind of selfishness ought not to be. No, no. Young Smith, instead
of his dinner and his wine, ought to be, where?--at the festive
tea-table, to be sure, by the side of Miss Higgs, sipping the bohea, or
tasting the harmless muffin; while old Mrs. Higgs looks on, pleased at
their innocent dalliance, and my friend Miss Wirt, the governess, is
performing Thalbe