1830.] The Club Room. 425 



one which exactly suits his head and habits. Another Hughes Ball ii 

 of course to be easily found. 



Friezland. That I deny, unless in some of those fashionable novels, 

 which know as much of high life, as of human nature, and resemble 

 both in their pages, as much as the figure head of your good ship, the 

 Bellona, resembles the profile of the Venus de Medicis. Rakely, where 

 is this Hughes Ball now ? 



Rakely. Enjoying, I should think, the (Es triplex of travel, or the 

 comforts of solitude and soupe-maigre. 



Megrim. Where Brummel is, and where the whole generation of 

 dandies go, as naturally as convicts to New South Wales ; at Calais or 

 Boulogne, speculating on the English coast through a telescope, and 

 rejoicing in the delights of a nostril, filled with the scents of a sea-shore 

 of mud; a stomach groaning over French cookery ; and a mind going out 

 like a single candle, over a solitary newspaper in a dingy coffee-house. 

 But d-propos de bottes, who wrote old Joan's pamphlet ? 



Sir Ronald. Our friend Sheep is suspected ; but I make it a point not 

 to listen to aspersions on any member of the club, without full proof: 

 and where is the man of sense among us, who ever thinks of taking the 

 trouble to vindicate a minister out of power, a friend under a cloud, or 

 above all, a dead man, who naturally can be no use hereafter to any of 

 us ? But, we are growing grave ; here's a health to the Viscountess : 110 

 woman on earth could make a fitter wife for a public man ; for none 

 could give him better reasons for hating the indolence of domestic retire- 

 ment. Like the Spartan mother, who bade her son come back either 

 with his shield, or upon it ; her order was, come back with a place, and 

 a quarter's salary in advance, or stay away as long as you please. But 

 Friezland is concocting some surprise : no man looks an extempore 

 better. His eye rolls on these occasions, as if it were in search of his 

 understanding, and his tongue stammers out the joke by instalments. 

 Suppose my lord, you give us a song ? 



Lord Friezland. Poh ! nonsense : I was thinking of other things ; 

 Allen's last article in the Review, on the impossibility of a devil ; by the 

 by, a little bit of jealousy on Allen's part, who will not consent to 

 a division of the name. " He bears no brother near the throne," as the 

 poet says. But, as to a song, I have lost all voice, let me see how long ; 

 aye, ever since the year I was married, 



Blunderbuss. And just in time, Friezland: for you never dared to 

 make use of it from that day to this. But sing you must, or we shall 

 have an harangue fom Bob Ribbon, for I see him mustering his memo- 

 randums ; your notes, or any notes in place of his. (Aside to Friezland.) 



Friezland (aside). Oh ; in that case, I must try, for the sake of the 

 table. Sir Bob has a faculty of " rending the general ear with horrid 

 speech " that always bring me conviction in the shape of sudden sleep, 

 and a headach next morning. Well then, as I must give you what I can, 

 you shall have a song, which I heard in the Oxford common room, from 

 one of the fellows, who, if rotundity of belly, and rubicundity of nose, 

 are signs of merit, must rise to a high rank in his profession. The song 

 is of the classico-comico-conundrum school, and does infinite honour to 

 the University. It is on Mathews's last exhibition before the heads of 

 the House. He had given the Yankee, the At Home, the Early Adven- 

 tures, and so forth, to the great delight of those most potent, grave and 

 reverend Signors. 



Fickle. Silence, gentlemen ! Sir Ronald, hang it, will you be eternally 

 M.M. New Series* VOL. IX. No. 52. 3 I 



