for the Deracination of Puns. But Lawton managed to kick over his
traces, and the club safely gained the quiet haven of a Cedar Street
chophouse. Here, when the members were duly squeezed into a stall,
the Doctor gazed cheerfully upon Endymion and the Secretary who held
the inward places. "Now is my chance," he cried, "to kill two bards
with one stone."

Lawton, says the stenographic report, was in excellent form, and
committed a good deal of unforgivable syntax. He was somewhat
apprehensive when he saw the bill of fare inscribed "Ye Olde Chop
House," for he asserts that the use of the word "Ye" always involves
extra overhead expense--and a quotation from Shakespeare on the back
of the menu, he doubted, might mean a couvert charge. But he was
distinctly cheered when the kidneys and bacon arrived--a long strip
of bacon gloriously balanced on four very spherical and
well-lubricated kidneys. Smiling demurely, even blandly, Lawton
rolled his sheave of bacon to and fro upon its kidneys. "This is the
first time I ever saw bacon with ball bearings," he ejaculated. He
gazed with the eye of a connoisseur upon the rather candid works of
art hanging over the club's corner. He said they reminded him of Mr.
Coles Phillips's calf-tones. The Doctor was speaking of having
read an interesting dispatch by Mr. Grasty in the _Times_. "I
understand," said Lawton, "that he is going to collect some of his
articles in a book, to be called 'Leaves of Grasty'."

Duly ambered with strict and cloudy cider, the meal progressed,
served with humorous comments by the waitress whom the club calls
the Venus of Mealo. The motto of the club is _Tres Horas Non Numero
Nisi Serenas_, and as the afternoon was still juvenile the gathering
was transferred to the waterfront. Passing onto the pier, Lawton