appear to have been down to the interpretation of Daffy; nor
indeed does Bailey or Sheridan seem at all fly to it; and
even slang Grose has no touch of its extensive
signification. The squeamish Fair One who takes it on the
sly, merely to cure the vapours, politely names it to her
friends as White Wine. The Swell chaffs it as Blue Ruin,
to elevate his notions. The Laundress loves dearly a drain
of Ould Tom, from its strength to comfort her inside. The
drag Fiddler can toss off a quartern of Max without making a
wry mug. The Costermonger illumines his ideas with a
flash of lightning.' The hoarse Cyprian owes her existence
to copious draughts of Jacky. The Link-boy and Mud Larks,
in joining their browns together, are for some Stark Naked.
And the Out and Outers, from the addition of bitters to it,
in order to sharpen up a dissipated and damaged Victualling
Office, cannot take any thing but Fuller's Earth. Much it
should seem, therefore, depends upon a name; and as a soft
sound is at all times pleasing to the listener--to have
denominated this Sporting Society the Gin Club would not
only have proved barbarous to the ear, but the vulgarity of
the chant might have deprived it of many of its elegant
friends. It is a subject, however, which it must be
admitted has a good deal of Taste belonging to it--and as a
Sporting Man would be nothing if he was not flash, the Daffy
Club meet under the above title.

~339~~mutual friend, Bob Transit (see plate), in closing my account of
which I have only to say, we were not disappointed in our search after
variety, and came away high in spirits, and perfectly satisfied with the
good-humour and social intercourse of our eccentric associates.

[Illustration: 339]

The sad, the sober, and the sentimental were all gone to roost, before
our merry trio sallied forth from the Castle Tavern, ripe for any sport
or spree. Of all the bucks in this buckish age, your London buck is the
only true fellow of spirit; with him life never begins too early, or
finishes too late; how many of the west-end _roues_ ride twenty miles
out, in a cold morning, to meet the hounds, and after a hard day's run
mount their hack and ride twenty miles home to have the pleasure of
enjoying their own fire-side, or of relating the hair-breadth perils and
escapes they have encountered, to their less