gentlemen be reconciled to one another.
Woolsey, indeed, sent a challenge to the perfumer to meet him with
pistols, which the latter declined, saying, justly, that tradesmen had
no business with such weapons; on this the tailor proposed to meet
him with coats off, and have it out like men, in the presence of their
friends of the "Kidney Club". The perfumer said he would be party to no
such vulgar transaction; on which, Woolsey, exasperated, made an oath
that he would tweak the perfumer's nose so surely as he ever entered the
club-room; and thus ONE member of the "Kidneys" was compelled to vacate
his armchair.

Woolsey himself attended every meeting regularly, but he did not evince
that gaiety and good-humour which render men's company agreeable in
clubs. On arriving, he would order the boy to "tell him when that
scoundrel Eglantine came;" and, hanging up his hat on a peg, would scowl
round the room, and tuck up his sleeves very high, and stretch, and
shake his fingers and wrists, as if getting them ready for that pull
of the nose which he intended to bestow upon his rival. So prepared, he
would sit down and smoke his pipe quite silently, glaring at all, and
jumping up, and hitching up his coat-sleeves, when anyone entered the
room.

The "Kidneys" did not like this behaviour. Clinker ceased to come.
Bustard, the poulterer, ceased to come. As for Snaffle, he also
disappeared, for Woolsey wished to make him answerable for the
misbehaviour of Eglantine, and proposed to him the duel which the latter
had declined. So Snaffle went. Presently they all went, except the
tailor and Tressle, who lived down the street, and these two would
sit and pug their tobacco, one on each side of Crump, the landlord, as
silent as Indian chiefs in a wigwam. There grew to be more and more room
for poor old Crump in his chair and in his clothes; the "Kidneys" were
gone, and why should he remain? One Saturday he did not come down to
preside at the club (as he still fondly called it), and the Saturday
following Tressle had made a coffin for him; and Woolsey, with the
undertaker by his side, followed to the grave the father of the
"Kidneys."

Mrs. Crump was now alone in the world. "How alone?" says some innocent
and respected reader. Ah! my dear sir, do you know so little of human
nature as not to be aware that, one week after the Richmond affair,
Morgiana married Captain Walker? That did she privately, of course; and,
after the ceremony, came tr