Whenever I pass by
St. James's Street, having the privilege, like the rest of the world, of
looking in at the windows of 'Blight's,' or 'Foodle's,' or 'Snook's,'
or the great bay at the 'Contemplative Club,' I behold with respectful
appreciation the figures within--the honest rosy old fogies, the mouldy
old dandies, the waist-belts and glossy wigs and tight cravats of those
most vacuous and respectable men. Such men are best there during the
day-time surely. When you part with them, dear ladies, think of the
rapture consequent on their return. You have transacted your household
affairs; you have made your purchases; you have paid your visits; you
have aired your poodle in the Park; your French maid has completed the
toilette which renders you so ravishingly beautiful by candlelight, and
you are fit to make home pleasant to him who has been absent all day.
Such men surely ought to have their Clubs, and we will not class them
among Club Snobs therefore:--on whom let us reserve our attack for the
next chapter.
CHAPTER XXXVIII--CLUB SNOBS
Such a Sensation has been created in the Clubs by the appearance of the
last paper on Club Snobs, as can't but be complimentary to me who am one
of their number.
I belong to many Clubs. The 'Union Jack,' the 'Sash and
Marlin-spike'--Military Clubs. 'The True Blue,' the 'No Surrender,'
the 'Blue and Buff,' the 'Guy Fawkes,' and the 'Cato Street'--Political
Clubs.
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