hotel has. And then there is the note-paper, and there are the news-
papers, and the cigars at wholesale prices, and the not-to-be-tipped
waiters, and other blessings for mankind. If the members of this club
had but migrated to some other building, taking their effects and
their constitution with them, the ruin would have been pathetic
enough. But alas! the outward wreck was a symbol, a result, of inner
dissolution. Through the door of the hoarding the two pillars of the
front door told a sorry tale. Pasted on either of them was a dingy
bill, bearing the sinister imprimatur of an auctioneer, and offering
(in capitals of various sizes) Bedroom Suites (Walnut and Mahogany),
Turkey, Indian and Wilton Pile Carpets, Two Full-sized Billiard-
Tables, a Remington Type-writer, a Double Door (Fire-Proof), and other
objects not less useful and delightful. The club, then, had gone to
smash. The members had been disbanded, driven out of this Eden by the
fiery sword of the Law, driven back to their homes. Sighing over the
marcescibility of human happiness, I peered between the pillars into
the excavated and chaotic hall. The porter's hatch was still there, in
the wall. There it was, wondering why no inquiries were made through
it now, or, may be, why it had not been sold into bondage with the
double-door and the rest of the fixtures. A melancholy relic of past
glories! I crossed over to the other side of the road, and passed my
eye over the whole ruin. The roof, the ceilings, most of the inner
walls, had already fallen. Little remained but the grim, familiar
fa‡ade--a thin husk. I noted (that which I had never noted before) two
iron grills in the masonry. Miserable travesties of usefulness,
ventilating the open air! Through the gaping windows, against the wall
of the next building, I saw in mid-air the greenish Lincrusta Walton
of what I guessed to have been the billiard-room--the billiard-room
that had boasted two full-sized tables. Above it ran a frieze of white
and gold. It was interspersed with flat Corinthian columns. The