behind the standard of morals they suppose. Would it not often greatly "exalt our delight" if our dull dinners were enlivened by the presence of ladies? Ought we not always to remember the caution about discussing theology in our cups? And the censure on those who "publish what's said or what's done" in the confidence of private society should never be forgotten.

Old Ben was probably over-fond of "Canary," but the morality of these rules, like the Latin, is faultless. Clubs, in his age, had a raciness and an unaffected heartiness about them which must have made them more like a family gathering for social enjoyment than meetings devoted to display and excess. After a long study, or the wearying pursuits of business, whether on the crowded mart, in the senate, or at the bar, gifted minds found a suitable relaxation in the society of kindred spirits; and if ever, in the heyday of merriment, they passed the boundaries of reason, let us not judge their errors too severely, but rather endeavour to mingle with the inanity and stiffness of fashionable intercourse the harmless gaiety and innocent freedom of a club made classical by such master spirits as Shakspeare, Jonson, and Beaumont.

208

GARRAWAY'S COFFEE-HOUSE.

FEW things are more dreary and uninviting than ordinary City auctions. Ordinary furniture or art sales become exciting from the associations connected with them; and we pity the "broken bankrupt," or sympathize in the glory of the illustrious painter, as the hammer rises and. falls; but when tea, indigo, and cotton are the valuables to be disposed of, except that the heart of the speculator may beat rather quicker when a venture worth thousands of pounds is declared to be his, all proceeds in such a businesslike way, that interest or amusement is out of the question. They manage such matters better at Garraway's.

Most persons believe that the best time to ask a favour of a millionnaire is at his dessert, when the generous food and the good wine have made him, perhaps, a little somnolent, by opening all the flood-gates of his benevolence, readily accessible to every kindly emotion. Some wine merchant of the olden times, considering this well-ascertained fact, and having rich cargoes to dispose of, thought within himself, "Why should a sale be such a dry affair? A pleasant bowl of punch, a glass of old wine, or even coffee and muffins, would make my auction far more popular. A sale by inch of candle-good, for it gives time, but not too much time, for the buyers to deliberate; but why not a sale with friendly nods of recognition,

whispered health-drinking, and queries as to children and womankind?" The thought was a happy one, and it soon became a fact at Garraway's. Sales of wood-especially of hard wood, such as mahogany, Spanish and Honduraswere, at the period I refer to, the staple there; and it was really a cheerful sight, entering the coffee-room from the fog and cold of a November afternoon, to find all so genial; a capital sea-coal fire, red and blazing (in really cold weather there is nothing pleasanter to the outward man than a bright conglomerate of gasy coals); a curious arrangement of dwarf spits, or rather polyform forks, all armed with muffins, twirling round and round most temptingly, and implying, with dumb eloquence, "Come eat us;" guests imbibing wine, sipping coffee, or munching toast, and casting at intervals a satisfied look over the catalogues of the sales just due. The warmth and the good cheer have smoothed the wrinkles from every man's face. These intending buyers are no longer in a hardbargaining mood. Oh, no! If the mahogany suits them, why should they fidget so much as to price? The punch is undeniably excellent, and they cannot fail to realize a large profit on their ventures. The reasoning may be inconsequential, but after charity dinners, if the subscribers always narrowly balanced their means and responsibilities, the sovereigns in the plates would be much. fewer. A dealer with warm feet and unrepining stomach is sure to bid more freely than a frost-nipped chapman, worrying himself about the fate of his dinner at Kentish Town.

Many years since, when still but a wee young thing," fond of exploring every untrodden nook and diving into every secret corner, I used often to attach myself to the skirts of a kind and good relative-long lost—then a dealer in hard wood, and under his auspices often found a eat at Garraway's. One snowy day late in December

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(the sun, I well recollect, was just disappearing behind the tower of the old Exchange)-I went with him, for the first time, to that famous coffee-house. To speak truth, I did not feel any intense interest about the logs or the sale, but was extremely fond of muffins, and was happy in a first-rate appetite. Entering the wide, low-roofed coffeeroom, we found nearly every box and seat occupied, but at length discovered a vacant recess, where we two (I was but a little one) secured places. My conductor, doubtless divining my thoughts, said, "You can call for what you like." My most pressing wish was for a muffin from the little legion so pleasantly browning at the fire. What a tremendous, capacious grate it seemed! and all the bars were red-hot. Waiter, coffee and a muffin." Sam responded most cordially. In less than ten minutes I made a second demand, and nothing but some lingering remains of boyish modesty prevented me asking for a third muffin. The muffins of that day were certainly far superior to the muffins of 1862; indeed, my private opinion is that even the crumpets we now consume, though so neatly shaped, are by no means equal to those that took any shape they pleased on the ovens of Hanwayyard. A bell rings; coffee and stronger beverages are deserted-all ascend the broad, centre stair, to the saleroom. Folks seemed in admirable humour; sly jokes were circulating from ear to ear; everybody appeared to know everybody; and the auctioneer was so cordially greeted on ascending his rostrum that you might have fancied the wood was to be had as a gift, instead of a purchase. Yet in the next hour many thousands of pounds would change hands, and the lots offered obtain very liberal prices.

There are considerable temptations at an auction. When you are assured that a most invaluable bargain is "going going — going" for a mere song, you

naturally wish to bid for it, and often are induced to purchase what you have no use for, merely because it is "so cheap." I knew a gentleman who could not refrain from buying a lot of cracked brass guns, because he thought they were selling under price, though he had to pay warehouse-room for them, and ultimately had to get rid of them at a fourth of the cost. Another friend went

to a succession of picture sales, and became so fascinated with the old masters that he spent more than £1,000 in purchasing warranted originals, notoriously manufactured for the Wardour-street art unions. Indeed, once venturing into Robins's Piazza Sale-room for general property, I felt the acquisitive passion very strongly, and could hardly tear myself away, after buying a piece of Irish linen at double the shop price, twenty odd volumes of the "Annual Register," and a faded Madonna, with an eye out.

Merrily went the mahogany sale-large lots and smaller were knocked down with startling celerity, and all at a satisfactory figure. The buyers formed quite a happy family, and the competition, when any arose, touching some log with an unusually fine curl, was of the politest and blandest character. Quarrels are not uncommon at auctions, and an ordinary condition of sale is, "That if a dispute shall arise about one or more lots, the auctioneer shall be allowed to put them up a second time.” Where such a rule is necessary, the bidders have not been coaxed into amenity and generosity by the due administration of comfortable refreshments-they are the hard, dry, griping men of trade, who have fasted since their eight o'clock breakfast, and are sorely anxious for a late lunch or a family dinner. Commend me to such a sale as that at Garraway's, ushered in by due complements to the inner man, and a proper polishing away of unpleasant outward influences; where blazing fires are infallible