ued existence as a Club, was due solely to the proprietor of the
restaurant and two of his waiters, and that we were actually "run"
by them. When the suggestion of our meeting regularly there was first
broached to the proprietor--a German of slow but deep emotions--he
received it with a "So" of such impressive satisfaction that it might
have been the beginning of our vainglory. From that moment he became at
once our patron and our devoted slave. To linger near our table once or
twice during dinner with an air of respectful vacuity,--as of one who
knew himself too well to be guilty of the presumption of attempting
to understand our brilliancy,--to wear a certain parental pride and
unconsciousness in our fame, and yet to never go further in seeming to
comprehend it than to obligingly translate the name of the Club as "a
leedle more and nod quide so much"--was to him sufficient happiness.
That he ever experienced any business profit from the custom of the
Club, or its advertisement, may be greatly doubted; on the contrary,
that a few plain customers, nettled at our self-satisfaction, might
have resented his favoritism seemed more probable. Equally vague,
disinterested, and loyal was the attachment of the two waiters,--one
an Italian, faintly reminiscent of better days and possibly superior
extraction; the other a rough but kindly Western man, who might have
taken this menial position from temporary stress of circumstances, yet
who continued in it from sheer dominance of habit and some feebleness of
will. They both vied with each other to please us. It may have been they
considered their attendance upon a reputed intellectual company less
degrading than ministering to the purely animal and silent wants of
the average customers. It may have been that they were attracted by
our general youthfulness. Indeed, I am inclined to think that they
themselves were much more distinctive and interesting than any members
of the Club, and it is to introduce THEM that I venture to recall so
much of its history.

A few months after our advent at the restaurant, one evening, Joe
Tallant, the mining secretary, one of our liveliest members, was
observed to be awkward and distrait during dinner, forgetting even to
offer the usual gratuity to the Italian waiter who handed him his hat,
although he stared at him with an imbecile smile. As we chanced to leave
the restaurant together, I was rallying him upon his abstraction, when
to my surprise he s