those good old
times; but there are still to be found amongst the youth of our Clubs
lads who glory in drinking-bouts, and whose faces, quite sickly and
yellow, for the most part are decorated with those marks which Rowland's
Kalydor is said to efface. 'I was SO cut last night--old boy!' Hopkins
says to Tomkins (with amiable confidence). 'I tell you what we did. We
breakfasted with Jack Herring at twelve, and kept up with brandy and
soda-water and weeds till four; then we toddled into the Park for an
hour; then we dined and drank mulled port till half-price; then we
looked in for an hour at the Haymarket; then we came back to the Club,
and had grills and whisky punch till all was blue--Hullo, waiter! Get me
a glass of cherry-brandy.' Club waiters, the civilest, the kindest, the
patientest of men, die under the infliction of these cruel young topers.
But if the reader wishes to see a perfect picture on the stage of this
class of young fellows, I would recommend him to witness the ingenious
comedy of LONDON ASSURANCE--the amiable heroes of which are represented,
not only as drunkards and five-o'clock-in-the-morning men, but as
showing a hundred other delightful traits of swindling, lying, and
general debauchery, quite edifying to witness.

How different is the conduct of these outrageous youths to the decent
behaviour of my friend, Mr. Papworthy; who says to Poppins, the butler
at the Club:--

PAPWORTHY.--'Poppins, I'm thinking of dining early; is there any cold
game in the house?'

POPPINS.--'There's a game pie, sir; there's cold grouse, sir; there's
cold pheasant, sir; there's cold peacock, sir; cold swan, sir; cold
ostrich, sir,' &c. &c. (as the case may be).

PAPWORTHY.--'Hem! What's your best claret now, Poppins?--in pints, I
mean.'

POPPINS.--'There's Cooper and Magnum's Lafitte, sir: there's Lath and
Sawdust's St. Julien, sir; Bung's Leoville is considered remarkably
fine; and I think you'd like Jugger's Chateau-Margaux.'

PAPWORTHY.--'Hum!--hah!--well--give me a crust of bread and a glass of
beer. I'll only LUNCH, Poppins.

Captain Shindy is another sort of Club bore. He has been known to throw
all the Club in an uproar about the quality of his mutton-chop.

'Look at it, sir! Is it cooked, sir? Smell it, sir! Is it meat fit for
a gentleman?' he roars out to the steward, who stands trembling before
him, and who in vain tells him that the Bishop of Bullocksmithy has just
had three from the same loin. All t