After the battle of Assaye, at a _fête_, I recollect, on one of these
occasions, a rather illiterate character, who used to say that "Father
and he fit, caise he sold the beastesses for too little money; so he
coummed out a cadet," sat as vice-president; the toast of "General
Wellesley, and the heroes of Assaye," was, as usual, given from the
chair; when Mr. Vice, rising majestically, and holding aloft his
brimming glass, with a sonorous voice, and north-country accent, echoed
the toast in the words, "General Wellesley, and here he is I
say!"--_Twelve Years' Military Adventures, &c_.

* * * * *


THE MUG-HOUSE CLUB.

(_From "A Journey through England," 1722_.)


In the City of London, almost every parish hath its separate club, where
the citizens, after the fatigue of the day is over in their shops, and
on the Exchange, unbend their thoughts before they go to bed.

But the most diverting, or amusing of all, is the Mug-House-Club in
Long-Acre, where, every Wednesday and Saturday, a mixture of gentlemen,
lawyers, and tradesmen, meet in a great room, and are seldom under a
hundred.

They have a grave old gentleman in his own gray hairs, now within a few
months of ninety years old, who is their president; and sits in an