and Brinscombe Yacht Club. My attire
itself is as completely transformed as though
I were to dress for the Rosicrucians after
having previously performed the part of
William in Black-eyed Susan. Instead of
trousers tight at the knee, I wear a leathern
apron profusely illustrated with hieroglyphics;
in the place of my telescope I hold a silver
trowel of extraordinary splendour; and I
pass my time no longer in lounging upon the
jetty, but in climbing up diminutive ladders
and playing with imaginary mortar and
bricks. There is a tremendous secret belonging
to the Bricklayers' Society, which
has ramifications over the whole of the civilised
world, whereof the Harmouth and
Brinscombe, Brinscombe and Harmouth, is
not the least important branch. This secret
has been preserved from the time of the building
of the Tower of Babel, or thereabouts, until
this present. Females, therefore, have, of
course, never been entrusted with it. Solomon
knew it, but never did one of all his wives
manage to become possessed of it. Mr.
Caudle knew it—as we most of us remember—
but even HIS wife failed in extracting the
Bricklayers' secret from him, during all their
sleepless nights. One lady only, who hid
herself in a clock-case in a meeting-room of
one of our branches, managed upon a certain
occasion to overhear it; but before she could
tell it to a single lady of her acquaintance the
Bricklayers' arms were round her, and she was
solemnly bound to secrecy. I trust, however,
to the inquiring character of the age,
to the local constabulary, and to a revolver
which I shall in future always carry about
my person for my protection, when I now
announce my intention of proclaiming the
Bricklayers' secret, at all risks of vengeance
from the brethren, in this periodical, and at
the conclusion of this my paper. That I have
taken several oaths never to reveal it, is very
true; but I took those oaths under compulsion,
and with a red-hot iron in my immediate
vicinity.

The great moralist, Dr. Paley, has affirmed
that we are at liberty to break such promises,
when we think more good can be done—that
is to say, more general pleasure imparted—
by breaking them than by keeping them; and
it will certainly be for the greatest happiness
of the greatest number that I should disclose
this secret.

I got made a Bricklayer for a particular
reason, and that reason has now ceased to exist.
I became a Bricklayer on the occasion of an
expedition I was compelled to make to the
Spanish Peninsula, where they told me it
might be of the greatest service in saving me
from the dagger of the assassin. I had letters
of introduction to the Consul of the town
at which I landed, and to him I related my
precaution:

"Hush! signor," cried he, locking the
door, and assuming the appearance of one in
abject terror, "on your life, be silent! The
Bricklayers are a doomed race throughout
this kingdom. They are Propagandist.
It is death, death, without benefit of
clergy, to be in possession of the Bricklayers'
secret."

It is quite obvious from this account of
the Consul, that the secret is harmful, and
therefore ought to be exposed. Are you
aware that one Bricklayer recognises another
wherever he meets him, at first sight, or, as
we should say, in the H.B.S.C.Y.C., by the
mere cut of his jib? A wink of the eye, a
drop of the nose, a snapping of the finger,
a pointing over the left shoulder—the
slightest sign—is sufficient, and the signaller
and I (for instance) are brothers, and must be,
whether we like it or not, from that moment,
until we go to the T.G.A.O.T.U., in the
obituary of the Bricklayers' Magazine, of the
month in which we decease. To illustrate
this tremendous secret the more clearly, I
will give you an example, word for word, of
an address I took up the other day, as the
Deputy Grand of the Harmouth and Brinscombe,
Brinscombe and Harmouth, to the
Brinscombe Benevolent Bricklayers' Lodge of
which the H.B.B.H. is in truth but the offspring.

Worshipful Master of the Brinscombe Benevolent,
we come as a deputation from the Harmouth and
Brinscombe, Brinscombe and Harmouth, to express our
brotherly sentiments for the Brinscombe Benevolent,
and to assure you that it is the earnest desire of the
Harmouth and Brinscombe, Brinscombe and Harmouth,
to be always on terms of friendly union with
the Brinscombe Benevolent. And we hope, sir, that
at the next meeting of the Brinscombe Benevolent, it
will reciprocate by sending a similar deputation to the
Harmouth and Brinscombe, Brinscombe and Harmouth,
conveying to us the same sentiments of regard
on the part of the Brinscombe Benevolent for the
Harmouth arnd Brinscombe, Brinscombe and Harmouth,
which the Harmouth and Brinscombe, Brinscombe
and Harmouth, are now expressing towards the
Brinscombe Benevolent. And it is, sir, our humble
hope that the Brinscombe Benevolent and the Harmouth
and Brinscombe, Brinscombe and Harmouth,
will ever maintain these friendly relations, the Brinscombe
Benevolent viewing the Harmouth and Brinscombe,
Brinscome and Harmouth, with the kindly
feelings of a mother for a hopeful daughter, while
nothing but the veneration of a daughter for a worthy
mother is ever experienced towards the Brinscombe
Benevolent by the Harmouth and Brinscombe, Brinscombe
and Harmouth.

There, sir, is the peck of pepper I, in the
character of Peter Piper, had to pick! If
you have not guessed the Bricklayers' secret
by this time, permit me, in conclusion, to tell
it you, more directly. The secret—there is a
sort of affinity in the matter between my two
very small clubs, and that is why I have
placed them together—the secret of the
Harmouth and Brinscombe, Brinscombe
and Harmouth, and, by consequence, of all
Bricklayers' Lodges, consists in this:

"ln conveying as little as you can, in as
many big words as possible."