For some few years, then, the _Punch_ Club flourished. In Hal Baylis it
had an ideal chairman, roystering, jovial, witty, side-splitting--the
only man, in the opinion of many, who could draw his sword and maintain
his ground against Jerrold's cut and thrust. So good were his sayings,
or so adaptable to _Punch's_ purpose, that his position in the Club was
respected, and he was put upon the free list, and received his weekly
copy of the paper up to the day of his death. He was originally a
printer, then a newspaper proprietor and editor; but fate had been
unkind to him, and in the days of his presidency he had come to be an
advertisement canvasser. He ruled with royal dignity, but knew the limit
to his powers; and when Landells made his appeal to "the boys" at one of
the dinners to "see him righted" in connection with his quarrel with
Bradbury and Evans, he comforted the ex-engraver as best he could, and
skilfully passed to the "Order of the day."

Of Baylis's judgment of character and capacity Landells has left the
following example: "One evening at the _Punch_ Club there had been more
than the usual amount of chaff going on between Henry Baylis and Douglas
Jerrold, when the former suddenly said, 'If you will give me a pen and
ink I will make a prophecy that shall be fulfilled within two years. It
shall be sealed up and given to Daddy Longlegs [myself] upon his
undertaking not to open it before the expiration of that time.' The
paper was handed to me, and carefully put by. Time passed, and I had
forgotten the circumstance altogether, when some years afterwards,
looking over some old pocket-books, I found a sealed letter addressed to
'Daddy Longlegs, Esq.--to be opened two years after date.' On breaking
the seal I found the following: 'I, Henry Baylis, do hereby prophesy
that within two years from this date Douglas Jerrold will write
something that shall be as popular as anything that Charles Dickens ever
wrote.'" Within those two years the "Caudle Lectures" had been produced
and Baylis's prophecy fulfilled.

Nothing of the old Club now remains--it passed away with the Old Guard
of _Punch's_ youthful days; and just as _Punch_ himself from a mere
street-show puppet rose to reigning wit and arch-philosopher, so
practically has his Club-house been lost to Drury Lane and instead lends
dignity to Garrick Street.

One other club--essentially also a _Punch_ coterie--remains to be
mentioned: the "Two Pins Club." A riding club