daughters who were guiltless and ignorant of
the injustice, and who had never behaved
unkindly to my wife, we gave a portion sufficient
to procure them, as soon as it was known, the
choice of a husband suited to their station.
The old folks did not survive our pardon
long. André again indulged in drunken
habits, and again dislocated his thigh. This
time Lemaire could do him no good. He
died from the consequences. The woman,
left alone, fretted and pined, caught a fever,
and soon followed him to the grave. I then
requested my friend Lemaire to take posssesion
of the Folly for me; and we now and then
visit it, in thankfulness and humility, both of
us remembering the happiness we owe to
having perseveringly pursued a right course,
when our conscience told us that we were
acting rightly.

CLUB LAW.

I WAS always very anxious to be member
of a club. There was something so pleasant
in the idea of being one of a joint-stock
company for the production of comfort. I had
secret longings for the cosy, social house-
dinners, the plate and linen in profusion, the
brilliantly lighted drawing-room, the table-
beer for nothing, and the library filled with
books. Another inducement I had to join a
club was the fondness for high society, which
many men have objected to as a weakness;
but in which I glory as a man and an
Englishman. I was once acquainted with a
baronet, and asked him to dine with me two
or three times a week; I was also very
intimate with the third son of an Irish noble-
man; and many persons—I am well aware
of that— thought that I paid for the friendship
of these exalted personages at too high
a rate; but though I confess that I occasionally
lent them small sums of money—
especially the baronet—and often purchased their
horses—especially the honourable's—at a little
above the value, I submit that this was a
better investment of my funds than if I had
lost the amount  at cards, or in betting on
a cock-fight. I therefore still cry, Good
society for ever! and despise the envious
snobs who find fault with my noble
ambition.

At a club I should be sure to meet the rising
aristocracy of the land. The distinguished
friends I have mentioned were not members
of any club in town; for the Honourable
Augustus  (who had always a great love for
the theatre) had gone on the stage at Dover
under the name of Plantagenet (he was
descended, he told me, by the mother's side
from Edward the Third); and Sir Ethelred
had had the misfortune to be corrupted by a
friend's wife (who had a good fortune
independent  of her husband), and lived in the
best society in Paris—with a man-cook, as I
have heard. I was, therefore, thrown on my
own resources to gain the object of my
desire.

Some years before this time, I must tell
you, I had been partner in a firm in the city,
a most respectable firm, and prosperous in
all our transactions. Never will I be the
man to throw contempt on the pursuits of
commerce. They are highly praiseworthy,
admirable pursuits; and Joggs, the senior
partner, had a sister married to the first
cousin of the governor of Barbadoes; and
the others were also very amiable men. We
were wine-merchants—principally sherries
and ports; and by great attention to orders,
and studying the English taste, particularly
London, we had no reason to complain.
Being a wine-merchant is quite genteel, but
selling gin is not (unless it is of your own
making), which is very strange, but
undoubtedly true. Mr. Joggs was a man who
did not stand upon the genteel, in spite of
his high connections, as above; and in
enlarging our commerce (I don't like to call it
trade) proposed to add the spirit business as
a branch, which is very lucrative, I don't
deny that; but certainly it does a little
trench on the indubitable gentility of the
importer and distributor of wine. I objected
with all my might; but the two other partners,
—they were of very humble extraction,
one being the son of a curate somewhere in
the north,—were unanimous in preferring
money to rank, and I was overruled. We
prospered in a pecuniary way more than
ever, but good nature has its limits; and
when Joggs (strange that a man should be
so regardless of high life, with the honourable
connections above), finding the spirit experiment
so successful, actually proposed that we
should extend our transactions to Tea—
"No!" I said: "money is money, but position
is position; if this is persevered  in I
will retire." We did not quarrel—quarrelling
I hold to be very vulgar; but they accepted
my retirement. The firm called in its debts,
prosecuted the defaulters, forced every debtor
to pay; and, on winding up, I found my
share so comfortable, that, being a bachelor,
with only a sister and pony in my establishment,
I determined to enter no more into
active life, and was anxious (as per
commencement of this narrative) to become a
member of a club.

I lived at Peckham Rye, and every
day went into London by the bus. I used
to go down to the old house of business,
and look at the number, and the names of the
firm, from the opposite side of the street.
It was very pleasant to get into a west-end
conveyance, and walk for an hour or two on
the sunny side of Regent Street, while old
Joggs I knew was in that dingy little parlour
in Broad Street. I saw the same people so
constantly in coming into town that at last I
began to know them. There was one gentleman
in particular with whom I had much
conversation, principally about the weather