he was assailed with a battery of glances from
the members that must have completely cowed him, unless he were a man of
more than usual strength of nerve; but as this rarely happened, all such
outward manifestations of contempt were kept within due bounds. Business
was, of course, tabooed; even politics were only admitted on sufferance
and by a special permission of the chairman. There was one evening in
the year, however, when the chairman never granted any such permission,
and that was on the anniversary of the founding of the club. On this
evening such subjects as business and politics would have been cried
down, and the daring introducer of the obnoxious themes would have been
condemned to drink a cup of cold water on his bended knees by way of
expiating his offence. No subjects of public or private interest were
tolerated on this evening, or, indeed, on any other. The chief delight
of this club was to tell or to listen to stories which were all more or
less of the marvellous class, and which each took it by turn to relate
to the rest, the strictest silence and order being preserved during the
recital. The evening that we are about to describe to the reader was the
tenth anniversary of the founding of the club. This was a very grand
event. For any one of its members or guests, whether married or single,
to have been absent, on this occasion would have been little less than
an insult to the rest. Let us try to give our readers a glimpse of the
club room and its guests on this memorable evening.

Imagine, then, a large room with low ceiling and walls of dark oak
panel, a large old-fashioned fireplace with dogs, and a Yule log blazing
on the hearth. The curtains are old and embroidered, and closely drawn.
The room is well lighted, and in the middle is a long table, at which,
through a cloud of tobacco smoke, a party of nine--all lords of the
creation--may be discovered. A bowl of punch is in the centre of the
table, at which every now and then each guest replenishes his glass. Mr.
Oldstone, the antiquary, has been elected chairman. Watch with what
dignity he fills his post of honour. Look! he rises and thumps the
table. He is going to make a speech. The strictest silence reigns; you
might hear a pin drop.

"Gentlemen," began the worthy chairman, after one or two preliminary
"hems," "it is with feelings of mixed pride and pleasure that I feel
myself called upon to-night to preside at this most honourable meeting."
(He