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
armed-chair, some steps higher than the rest of the company, to keep the
whole room in order. A harp plays all the time at the lower end of the
room; and every now and then one or other of the company rises and
entertains the rest with a song, and (by the by) some are good masters.
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