He had it seems come off by the Brighton ten o'clock coach, and was now, "according to his usual custom i' the afternoon," on the look-out for an invite to a good dinner and a bottle. As I knew he would prove an agreeable, if not a very useful companion in our present enterprise, I did not hesitate to present him to Echo and Transit, who, upon my very flattering introduction, received him graciously; although Bob hinted he was rather too old for a play-fellow, and Echo whispered me to keep a sharp lookout, as he strongly suspected he was a staff officer of the new Greek corps of Sappers and Miners. In London you can neither rob nor be robbed genteelly without a formal introduction: how Echo had contrived it I know not, but we were very politely ushered into the grand club-room, a splendid apartment of considerable extent, with a bow-window in front, exactly facing White's.

To speak correctly of the elegance and taste displayed in the decorations and furniture, not omitting the costly sideboard of richly-chased plate, I can only say it rivalled any thing I had ever before witnessed, and was calculated to impress the young mind with the most extravagant ideas of the wealth and magnificence of the members or committee. The Honourable Mr. B——, one of the brothers of the Earl of R——, was the procureur to whom, I found, we were indebted, for the present honour—a gay man, of some fashionable notoriety, whose fortune is said to have suffered severely by his attachment to the orthodox orgies at the once celebrated Gothic Hall, when Parson John Ambrose used to officiate as the presiding minister. "Here he is a member of the committee," said Crony, "and, with his brother and the old Lord F——, the Marquis H——, Colonel C——, and the Earl of G——, forms the secret directory of the New Club, which is considered almost as good a thing as a Mexican mine; for, if report speaks truly, the amount of the profits in the last season exceeded one hundred thousand pounds, after payment of expenses." A sudden crash in the street at this moment drew the attention of all to the window, where an accident presented a very ominous warning to those within (see plate). "A regular break down," said Echo. "Floored" said Transit, "but not much the matter." "I beg your pardon, sir," said a wry-mouthed portly-looking gentleman, who stood next to Bob; "it is a very awkward circumstance to have occurred just here: I'll bet ten to one it spoils all the play to-night; and if any of those newspaper fellows get to hear of it, Fishmongers' Hall and its members will figure in print again to-morrow;" and with that he bustled off to the street to assist in re-producing a move with all possible celerity. "Who the deuce was the queer-looking cawker?" we all at once inquired of Crony. "What, gentlemen! not know the director-general, the accomplished commander-in-chief, the thrice-renowned Cocker Crockford? (so named from his admirable tact at calculation): why, I thought every one who had witnessed a horse-race, or a boxing-match, or betted a guinea at Tattersall's, must have known the director, who has been a notorious character among the sporting circles for the last thirty years: and, if truth be told, is not the worst of a bad lot. About five-and-twenty years since I remember him," said Crony, "keeping a snug little fishmonger's shop, at the corner of Essex-street, in the Strand, where I have often betted a guinea with him on a trotting match, for he was then fond of the thing, and attended the races and fights in company with old Jerry Cloves, the lighterman, who is now as well breeched as himself. It is a very extraordinary fact," continued Crony, "and one which certainly excites suspicion, that almost all those who have made large fortunes by the turf or play are men of obscure origin, who, but a few years since, were not worth a guinea, while those by whom they have risen are now reduced to beggary." How many representatives of noble houses, and splendid patrimonies, handed down with increasing care from generation, to generation, have been ruined and dissipated by this pernicious vice! —the gay and inexperienced nipped in the very bud of life, and plunged into irretrievable misery—while the high-spirited and the noble-minded victims to false honour, too often seek a refuge from despair in the grave of the suicide! Such were the reflections that oppressed my mind while contemplating the scene before me: I was, however, roused from my reverie by Crony's continuation of the director's history. "He bears the character of an honourable man," said our Mentor, "among the play world, and has the credit of being scrupulously particular in all matters of play and pay. For the fashion of his manners, they might be much improved, certainly; but for generosity and a kind action, there are very few among the Greeks who excel the old fishmonger. He was formerly associated with T—l-r and others in the French Hazard Bank, at Watier's Club House, corner of Bolton-row; but T—l-r, having purchased the house without the knowledge of his partners, wanted so many exclusive advantages for himself, that the director withdrew, just in time to save himself from the obloquy of an affair which occurred shortly afterwards, in which certain persons were charged with using false dice. The complainant, a young sprig of fashion, seized the unhallowed bones, and bore them off in triumph to a stick shop in the neighbourhood; where, for some time afterwards, they were exhibited to the gaze of many a fashionable dupe. The circumstance produced more than one good effect—it prevented a return of any disposition to play on the part of the detector, and closed the house for ever since." After the dinner, which was served up in a princely style, we were invited by the Honourable to view the upper apartment, called the Grand Saloon, a true picture of which accompanies this, from the pencil of my friend, Bob Transit, and into which he has contrived to introduce the affair of the cogged dice (see plate), a licence always allowable to poets and painters in the union of time and place. The characters here will speak for themselves.

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They are all sketches from the life, and as like the originals as the reflection of their persons would be in a looking-glass. By the frequenters of such places they will be immediately recognised; while to the uninitiated the family cognomen is of little consequence, and is omitted, as it might give pain to worthy bosoms who are not yet irrecoverably lost. By the strict rules of Fishmongers' Hall, the members of Brookes', White's, Boodle's, the Cocoa Tree, Alfred and Travellers' clubs only are admissible; but this restriction is not always enforced, particularly where there is a chance of a good bite. The principal game played here is French Hazard, the director and friends supplying the bank, the premium for which, with what the box-money produces, forms no inconsiderable source of profit. It is ridiculous to suppose any unfair practices are ever resorted to in the general game; in a mixed company they would be easily detected, and must end in the ruin of the house: but the chances of the game, calculation, and superior play, give proficients every advantage, and should teach the inexperienced caution. "It is heart-rending," said Crony, whom I had smuggled into one corner of the room, for the purpose of enjoying his remarks free from observation, "to observe the progress of the unfortunate votaries to this destructive vice, as they gradually proceed through the various stages of its seductive influence. The young and thoughtless are delighted with the fascination of the scene: to the more profligate sensualist it affords an opportunity of enjoying the choicest liqueurs, coffee, and wines, free of expense; and, although he may have no money to lose himself, he can do the house a good turn, by introducing some pigeon who has just come out; and he is therefore always a welcome visitor. At Crockford's, all games where the aid of mechanism would be necessary are cautiously avoided, not from any moral dislike to Rouge et Noir or Roulette, but from the apprehension of an occasional visit from the police, and the danger attending the discovery of such apparatus, which, from its bulk, cannot easily be concealed. In the space of an hour Echo had lost all the money he possessed, and had given his I O U for a very considerable sum; although frequently urged to desist by Transit, who, with all his love of life and frolic, is yet a decided enemy to gaming. One excess generally leads to another. From Tattersall's we had passed to Crockford's; and on quitting the latter it was proposed we should visit Tom Belcher's, the Castle Tavern, Holborn, particularly as on this night there was a weekly musical muster of the fancy, yclept the Daffy Club; a scene rich in promise for the pencil of our friend Bob, of sporting information to Echo, and full of characteristic subject for the observation of the English Spy—of that eccentric being, of whom, I hope, I may continue to sing 'esto perpétua!'

Life is, with him, a golden dream,
A milky way, where all's serene.
Wit's treasured stores his humour wait,—
His volume, man in every state,—
From grave to gay, from rich to poor,
From gilded dome to rustic door.
Through all degrees life's varied page,
He shows the manners of the age.

The Daffy Club presents to the eye of a calm observer a fund of entertainment; to the merry mad-wag who is fond of life, blowing his steamer, and drinking blue ruin, until all is blue before him, a source of infinite amusement; the convivial finds his antidote to the rubs and jeers of this world in a rum chaunt; while the out and outer may here open his mag-azine of tooth-powder, cause a grand explosion, and never fear to meet a broadside in return. The knowing cove finds his account in looking out for the green ones, and the greens find their head sometimes a little heavier, and their pockets lighter, by an accidental rencontre with the fancy. To see the place in perfection, a stranger should choose the night previous to some important mill, when our host of the Castle plays second, and all the lads are mustered to stump up their blunt, or to catch the important whisper where the scene of action is likely to be (for there is always due caution used in the disclosure), to take a peep at the pugilists present, and trot off as well satisfied as if he had partaken of a splendid banquet with the Great Mogul.

The long room is neatly fitted up, and lighted with gas; and the numerous sporting subjects, elegantly framed and glazed, have rather an imposing effect upon the entrance of the visitor, and among which may be recognised animated likenesses of the late renowned Jem Belcher, and his daring competitor (that inordinate glutton) Burke. The fine whole-length portrait of Mr. Jackson stands between those of the Champion and Tom Belcher; the father of the present race of boxers, old Joe Ward; the Jew phenomenon, Dutch Sam; Bob Gregson, in water colours, by the late John Emery, of Covent Garden theatre; the scientific contest between Humphreys and Mendoza; also the battle between Crib and Jem Belcher; a finely executed portrait of the late tremendous Molineux; portraits of Gulley, Randall, Harmer, Turner, Painter, Tom Owen, and Scroggins, with a variety of other subjects connected with the turf, chase, &c, including a good likeness of the dog Trusty, the champion of the canine race in fifty battles, and the favourite animal of Jem Belcher, the gift of Lord Camelford—the whole forming a characteristic trait of the sporting world. The long table, or the ring, as it is facetiously termed, is where the old slanders generally perch themselves to receive the visits of the swells, and give each other the office relative to passing events: and what set of men are better able to speak of society in all its various ramifications, from the cabinet-counsellor to the cosey costermonger? Jemmy Soares, the president, must be considered a downy one; having served five apprenticeships to the office of sheriffs representative, and is as good a fellow in his way as ever tapped a shy one upon the shoulder-joint, or let fly a ca sa at your goods and chattels. Lucky Bob is a fellow of another stamp, "a nation good vice" as ever was attached to the house of Brunswick. Then comes our host, a civil, well-behaved man, without any of the exterior appearance of the ruffian, or perhaps I should say of his profession, and with all the good-natured qualifications for a peaceable citizen, and an obliging, merry landlord: next to him you will perceive the immortal typo, the all-accomplished Pierce Egan; an eccentric in his way, both in manner and person, but not deficient in that peculiar species of wit which fits him for the high office of historian of the ring. The ironical praise of Blackwood he has the good sense to turn to a right account, laughs at their satire, and pretends to believe it is all meant in right-down earnest approbation of his extraordinary merits. For a long while after his great instructor's neglect of his friends, Pierce kept undisturbed possession of the throne; but recently competitors have shown themselves in the field well found in all particulars, and carrying such witty and weighty ammunition wherewithal, that they more than threaten "to push the hero from his stool."{1} Tom 1 The editors of the Annals of Sporting, and Bell's Life in London, are both fellows of infinite wit.

Spring, who is fond of cocking as well as fighting, is seen with his bag in the right-hand corner, chaffing with the Duck-lane doss man; while Lawyer L——e, a true sportsman, whether for the turf or chase, is betting the odds with brother Adey, Greek against Greek. Behind them are seen the heroes Scroggins and Turner; and at the opposite end of the table, a Wake-ful one, but a grosser man than either, and something of the levanter: the bald-headed stag on his right goes by the quaint cognomen of the Japan oracle, from the retentive memory he possesses on all sporting and pugilistic events. The old waiter is a picture every frequenter will recognise, and the smoking a dozer no unusual bit of a spree. Here, my dear Bernard, you have before you a true portrait of the celebrated Daffy{2} Club, done from the life by our

2 The great lexicographer of the fancy gives the following
definition of the word Daffy. The phrase was coined at
the mint of the Fancy, and has since passed current without
ever being overhauled as queer. The Colossus of
Literature, after all his nous and acute researches to
explain the synonyms of the English language, does not
appear to have been down to the interpretation of Daffy; nor
indeed does Bailey or Sheridan seem at all fly to it; and
even slang Grose has no touch of its extensive
signification. The squeamish Fair One who takes it on the
sly, merely to cure the vapours, politely names it to her
friends as White Wine. The Swell chaffs it as Blue Ruin,
to elevate his notions. The Laundress loves dearly a drain
of Ould Tom, from its strength to comfort her inside. The
drag Fiddler can toss off a quartern of Max without making a
wry mug. The Costermonger illumines his ideas with a
flash of lightning.' The hoarse Cyprian owes her existence
to copious draughts of Jacky. The Link-boy and Mud Larks,
in joining their browns together, are for some Stark Naked.
And the Out and Outers, from the addition of bitters to it,
in order to sharpen up a dissipated and damaged Victualling
Office, cannot take any thing but Fuller's Earth. Much it
should seem, therefore, depends upon a name; and as a soft
sound is at all times pleasing to the listener—to have
denominated this Sporting Society the Gin Club would not
only have proved barbarous to the ear, but the vulgarity of
the chant might have deprived it of many of its elegant
friends. It is a subject, however, which it must be
admitted has a good deal of Taste belonging to it—and as a
Sporting Man would be nothing if he was not flash, the Daffy
Club meet under the above title.