As the axe of reform is just laid to the watching system of London, we may profit by the example of our Northern brethren; for it appears, they not only watch over the temporal, but spiritual concerns of their citizens, and it should seem, with salutary effect: but the vespers and matins, of a watchman in England, would meet with many unholy interruptions.
SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.
LONDON CLUB-HOUSES.
Club-houses are by no means a new invention; and yet the improvements upon the old plan, which was itself an improvement upon the former coffee-house, is sufficiently interesting, and sufficiently unknown to the people in general, to render some account of their advantages not superfluous. The modern club is a tavern and newsroom, where the members are both guests and landlord. The capital is derived from a sum paid by each member on entrance, and the general annual expenses, such as house-rent, servants, &c. are defrayed by an annual subscription. The society elects a committee for its execution and government, and meets at stated intervals for legislative measures. The committee appoint a steward to manage its affairs, and a secretary to keep the accounts, to take minutes of the proceedings of meetings, and transact the business of correspondence. The domestic servants are placed under the immediate direction of the steward; but above all in the choice of a cook, the discretion of the committee is most especially exerted. A house being thus established where the society is at home, the rooms are thrown open for their various accommodation. In the apartments destined for eating, members may breakfast, lunch, dine, and sup, as they list; a bill of fare of great variety is prepared; and the gourmand has nothing more to do than to study its contents, and write the names of the dishes he desires on a bill prepared for the purpose; to mention whether he orders dinner for himself alone, or in company with others; and at what time he chooses to dine, whether immediately, or at some subsequent hour. At the close of his dinner this bill or demand is presented to him with the prices annexed, and prompt payment is the law.
Wine is bottled in quarts, pints, and even half-pints, and may be had at some institutions even in glasses: it is not needless to observe, moreover, that there is no necessity either of fashion or regulation to drink it at all. At an inn, a bottle of wine must be ordered for the "good of the house," that the waiter may not despise you and be surly: that, in short, the guest may be tolerably accommodated in other matters; although, perhaps, the wine itself (wretched stuff generally at inns) is his abhorrence—though he may never drink any thing but water, and may send the decanter away untouched—the tax must be paid. Besides this entertainment for the grosser senses, the more refined appetites are considered. In some clubs, the "Travellers" for instance, a library is provided; and at most of them, even the most unintellectual, a library of reference is supplied. Here all the periodicals of the day are laid upon the tables—both those of Great Britain and of the continent, together with the newspapers, metropolitan and provincial, and in some instances the political journals of Paris. This part of the house may be considered the general resort of the gossippers and quidnuncs; and here, or in other more commodious places, materials for writing, paper, pens, lights, &c. are found. Drawing-rooms, one or more, are next to be mentioned—here the members take their tea or their ease; and where cards are played, this is the scene of operation. A billiard-room is an agreeable addition to the accommodation of the society's house, and several of the inferior apartments are always devoted to serve as dressing-rooms. It is clear, that a bachelor wants nothing beyond this but a bed; if he chooses to live in this sort of public privacy he may; and should he be only a sojourner in town, the convenience of a resort of this kind wherein he may make his appointments, receive and write his letters, see society, take his dinner, spend his evening, if not otherwise engaged, over the books, the newspapers, or a rubber of whist, and do all but sleep—a bed in the neighbourhood may supply the article of repose.—Thus all physical wants, and many social ones, are abundantly, and even luxuriously supplied.—London Magazine.
[While upon "clubs," we may as well advert to the prospectus of "The Literary Club," which has reached us since our last. It professes to be "associated for the assistance of men of letters, the development of talent, and the furtherance of the interests of literature." It not only aims at charitable provision for the weaknesses and infirmities of nature, but anticipates "harmony and friendship" among literary men, and "as little as possible on any system of exclusion." This is as it should be; but we fear the workings and conflicts of passion and interest are still too strong to admit of such harmony among the sons of genius. Authorship is becoming, if not already become, too much of a trade or craft to admit of such a pacificatory scheme: but the object of the association is one of the highest importance to literature, and we heartily wish it success.—ED. MIRROR.]