rimean snow; or he rides
from conquest to conquest in India once more; succoring his countrymen
in the hour of their utmost need; smiting down the scared mutiny, and
trampling out the embers of rebellion; at the head of an heroic army,
a consummate chief. And now his glorious old sword is sheathed, and his
honors are won: and he has bought him a house, and stored it with modest
cheer for his friends (the good old man put water in his own wine, and
a glass or two sufficed him)--behold the end comes, and his legatee
inherits these modest possessions by virtue of a codicil to his
lordship's will, written, "strange to say, upon a sheet of paper,
bearing the 'Athenaeum Club' mark."

It is to this part of the text, my brethren, that I propose to address
myself particularly, and if the remarks I make are offensive to any of
you, you know the doors of our meeting-house are open, and you can
walk out when you will. Around us are magnificent halls and palaces
frequented by such a multitude of men as not even the Roman Forum
assembled together. Yonder are the Martium and the Palladium. Next to
the Palladium is the elegant Viatorium, which Barry gracefully stole
from Rome. By its side is the massive Reformatorium: and the--the
Ultratorium rears its granite columns beyond. Extending down the street
palace after palace rises magnificent, and under their lofty roofs
warriors and lawyers, merchants and nobles, scholars and seamen, the
wealthy, the poor, the busy, the idle assemble. Into the halls built
down this little street and its neighborhood the principal men of all
London come to hear or impart the news; and the affairs of the state
or of private individuals, the quarrels of empires or of authors,
the movements of the court, or the splendid vagaries of fashion, the
intrigues of statesmen or of persons of another sex yet more wily, the
last news of battles in the great occidental continents, nay, the
latest betting for the horse-races, or the advent of a dancer at the
theatre--all that men do is discussed in these Pall Mall agorae, where
we of London daily assemble.

Now among so many talkers, consider how many false reports must fly
about: in such multitudes imagine how many disappointed men there must
be; how many chatterboxes; how many feeble and credulous (whereof I mark
some specimens in my congregation); how many mean, rancorous, prone
to believe ill of their betters, eager to find fault; and then, my
brethren, fancy how t