Should get into a crowded club—a most select society,—
While solitude and mutton-cutlets serve infelix uxor, he
May have his club, like Hercules, and revel there in luxury.
Yes, clubs knock taverns on the head. E’en Hatchett’s can’t demolish ’em;
Joy grieves to see their magnitude, and Long longs to abolish ’em.
The Inns are out. Hotels for single men scarce keep alive on it,
While none but houses that are in the family way thrive on it.
There’s first the Athenæum Club; so wise, there’s not a man of it
That has not sense enough for six—in fact, that is the plan of it.
The very waiters answer you with eloquence Socratical,