able, and perhaps needless
to say peacock feathers will abound, whilst the knives and forks will be
crossed, and any quantity of salt will be split. During the evening the
toastmaster on this somewhat memorable occasion, instead of informing
the assembled company that the Chairman will be happy to take wine with
them, will vary this stereotyped declaration by announcing that the
Chairman will be happy to spill salt with them. The Club salt-cellars,
it is stated, are coffin-shaped, whilst the best 'dim religious light'
obtainable from skull-shaped lamps will light up the banqueting-hall,
before entering which the company will pass under the Club ladder. Other
details too gruesome to mention will perhaps only be revealed to the
company who will sit down to this weird feast, which promises to make a
record, nothing of the kind having yet been attempted in London."

[Illustration: MR. W. H. BLANCH.]

These paragraphs rather frightened me. What had I let myself in for?
Where would it all end?

Then other notices, inspired no doubt by the President, made their
appearance from time to time, and heaped upon my devoted head all manner
of responsibilities. Waiters suffering from obliquity of vision were to
be sought out and fastened on to me:

"The Secretary of the London Thirteen Club has requested the manager of
the Holborn Restaurant to provide, if possible, cross-eyed waiters on
the occasion of the New Year's dinner of the Club over which Mr. Harry
Furniss is announced to preside on the 13th inst. Mr. Hamp, the manager,
while undertaking that the Chairman's table shall be waitered as
requested, has grave doubts whether the supply of waiters blessed in the
way described will be equal to the large demand so suddenly sprung upon
him."

[Illustration: THE BROKEN LOOKING-GLASS.]

[Illustration: THE BADGE.]

Other dreadful proposals there were, too, "too gruesome to mention." I
may at once frankly admit that I do not like the introduction of the
"gruesome" graveyard element. The ladder we all had to walk under, the
peacock's feathers, the black cat, the spilling of salt, breaking of
mirrors, presenting of knives, wearing of green ties (not that I wore
one--the colour doesn't suit my complexion) or opal rings, are fair fun,
and I think that in future it would be as well to limit the satire to
these ceremonies, to the exclusion of the funereal part of the business.
For badges each wore in his button-hole a small coffin to whi