charter members, plus the high-spirited
acolyte, made their way along West Street toward the Cortlandt
Street ferry. It was plain from the outset that fortune had favoured
the organization with a new member of the most sparkling quality.
Every few yards a gallant witticism fell from him. Some of these the
two others were able to juggle and return, but many were too
flashing for them to cope with. In front of the ferry house lay a
deep and quaggish puddle of slime, crossable only by ginger-footed
work upon sheets of tin. Endymion rafted his tenuous form across
with a delicate straddle of spidery limbs. The secretary followed,
with a more solid squashing technique. "Ha," cried the new member;
"grace before meat!" Endymion and the secretary exchanged secret
glances. Lawton, although he knew it not, was elected from that
moment.

The ritual of the club, while stern toward initiates, is not brutal.
Since you are bursar for the lunch, said the secretary, I will buy
the ferry tickets, and he did so. On the boat these carefree men
gazed blithely upon the shipping. "Little did I think," said Lawton,
"that I was going for a sea voyage." "That," said the club, "is the
kind of fellows we are. Whimsical. As soon as we think of a thing,
we don't do it."

"Is that the _Leviathan_ up there?" said one of the members,
pointing toward a gray hull on the Hoboken horizon. No one knew, but
the secretary was reminded of an adventure during the war. "One time
I was crossing on this ferry," he said, "and the _Leviathan_ passed
right by us. It was just at dusk and her camouflage was wonderful.
Her blotches and stripes were so arranged that from a little
distance, in the twilight, she gave the impression of a much smaller
vessel, going the other way. All her upper works seemed to fade out
in the haze and she became a much smaller ship." "That would be a
wonderful plan for some of these copious dowagers one sees," said
the irreverent Lawton. "Yes," we said; "instead of a stout lady
going in to dinner, you would see a slim flapper coming out."

Something was then said about a good friend of the club who had at
one time worked for the Y.M.C.A. "What is he doing now?" asked one.
"He's with Grace and Company," said the secretary. The candidate was
unabashed. "Think," he said, "of a Y.M.C.A. man getting grace at
last."

The club found the Jersey City terminal much as usual, and to our
surprise the candidate kept up his courage nobly as he was ste