* * *

I hope in the course of the above little pause, every single member
of a club who reads this has profited by the perusal. He may
belong, I say, to eight clubs; he will die, and not be missed by any
of the five thousand members. Peace be to him; the waiters will
forget him, and his name will pass away, and another great-coat will
hang on the hook whence his own used to be dependent.

And this, I need not say, is the beauty of the club-institutions.
If it were otherwise--if, forsooth, we were to be sorry when our
friends died, or to draw out our purses when our friends were in
want, we should be insolvent, and life would be miserable. Be it
ours to button up our pockets and our hearts; and to make merry--it
is enough to swim down this life-stream for ourselves; if Poverty is
clutching hold of our heels, or Friendship would catch an arm, kick
them both off. Every man for himself, is the word, and plenty to do
too.

My friend Captain Walker had practised the above maxims so long and
resolutely as to be quite aware when he came himself to be in
distress, that not a single soul in the whole universe would help
him, and he took his measures accordingly.

When carried to Mr. Bendigo's lock-up house, he summoned that
gentleman in a very haughty way, took a blank banker's cheque out of
his pocket-book, and filling it up for the exact sum of the writ,
orders Mr. Bendigo forthwith to open the door and let him go forth.

Mr. Bendigo, smiling with exceeding archness, and putting a finger