vitiated appetite. He thus describes certain "eccentric characters" in the United Service Club :

"One gentleman, who takes a lively interest in the affairs of the club, as he calls it, goes among the other members by the ugly cognomen of 'The Dog of War.' He is celebrated for his love of a good fish dinner, and, in order that his taste in that way may be gratified, he is in the habit every day of making the descent of the kitchen, for the purpose of choosing the largest and best portion of the fish. His olfactory nerves are always, on such occasions, put in requisition to ascertain the comparative qualities of the various 'lots,' as he calls them, of fish exhibited to his delighted gaze. And when once he has nosed out the best 'lot,' which he does with infallible certainty, he takes care to give positive orders that a portion of it be reserved for him. So undeniably worthy of confidence are the testing capabilities of his olfactory nerves, that several other members, also fond of good fish dinners, but not altogether liking to resort to the same means to gratify their taste, make a point of finding out what kind of fish 'The Dog of War' has singled out for his meal, and forthwith, without asking any questions of the waiters, order the requisite quantity of the same.

"Another member, a well-known colonel, is a great admirer and equally great practiser of economy. He is anxious also to see others adopt his economical notions; and knowing, as every true philosopher does, that example is, in all such matters, better than precept, he always orders two mutton chops, with the annexed proviso, that they be 'cut thick, and well done.' He likewise takes care to have them up before four o'clock,' by which means he saves a sixpence, technically called, in this case, the expenses of the table."

Of course the persons thus alluded to must be well known in London; but Mr. Grant does not always think it necessary to employ description to identify his characters, as appears innumberless instances:

Or

"When the Earl of Winchelsea has worked himself into a heat,' by one of his violent speeches in the house of lords, he has only to go to the Carlton Club, and cool himself in one of these baths. Colonel Sibthorpe, again, can at any time purify himself-his body at leastfrom the contamination caught in a 'reformed' house of commons, by immersion in one of the baths of the Junior United Service Club. should Mr. Thomas Attwood, the member from 'Brummagem,' as he himself always pronounces the word, feel feverish while he witnesses the stupidity and criminality of the legislature in not returning to a small note currency-he has only to adopt the advice of the Honourable Mrs. Norton to her husband, and stepping into the Reform Club, 'take a bath and be better.'" p. 155.

"One very great advantage of the clubs is, that the members can dine much more cheaply there than any where else. Every thing is furnished them at cost prices, and they can order as little of any thing as they please. The Duke of Wellington sometimes dines on his joint at the Carlton, at an expense of one shilling, and Mr. Hume does the same at the Reform Club. Though his grace and the honourable member for Middlesex are very different persons, as regards their political opinions, there is a remarkable harmony between them on all matters relating to private economy. The advantage of these one-shilling dinners at the clubs, over dining at an eating or chop-house, is that you save the penny

to the waiter, which both the duke and Mr. Hume consider a matter of great importance." p. 158.

With our author we ask, "Who has not heard of Crockford's? Crockford's-the great gambling establishment-the most splendid "hell" in the world. This house, with its furniture and decorations, cost little less than £100,000, and is represented as exhibiting, in its interior, a greater degree of splendour than any of the mansions of the nobility. It is the resort of aristocratic gamblers, and is patronised by great numbers of noble lords and honourable M. Ps. In fact there is a large club connected with it, which, ostensibly, has the whole management of the establishment, though, in reality, Crockford himself is the deity of the place. The club-rooms are entirely separate from the gambling apartments. He gives "superb suppers," gratis, to all who frequent the house, in which he finds his account, from the effect which his delicious wines produce upon the passions of his dupes, for when "the wine's in, the wit's out." But there are other uses of the suppers in the saloon. There are a certain number of persons called "Greeks," or "Spiders," attached to the establishment, ostensibly members of the club, but without a penny in the worldwho are found to be eminently serviceable to the "concern." Is it asked, "In what way?" Why, in catching flats, or, to use their own phraseology, "in bringing in pigeons to be plucked." These persons must, of course, be well treated ; and as a supper at home is a rare thing with them, one at Crockford's is so much the greater object." Count D'Orsay, the well known gallant of the Countess of Blessington, is represented in this unenviable character of a "stool-pigeon," or "Greek" in technical language. The celebrated Monsieur Oude, Crockford's cook, receives a yearly salary of a thousand guineas, though he seldom superintends the culinary process, leaving this business to an under-cook, whose pay is only five hundred guineas. Crockford's wines, contained in 300,000 bottles, and a large number of hogsheads, are valued at about £70,000. There are thirty-three servants constantly employed in the establishment.

The history of the proprietor of this "hell" is curious. Crockford was once a small fishmonger, in the neighbourhood of Temple Bar. He had a particular talent for the calculation of chances, and commenced gambling in an humble way. Success crowned his adventures, and with his spoils he increased his stock in trade at the fish-market. At length he was able to purchase, for £100, the fourth share of a gambling bank. From this time he gradually grew rich in this unholy avocation, until, in 1825, he was able to build the immense and splendid house where he now sets all laws at defiance. He is

tall, corpulent, lame in one leg, and exceedingly illiterate and vulgar. The following is given as a specimen of his manners and conversation :—

"One night in June last, Lord Ashgrove lost 40007., which, he observed to the Earl of Linkwood, was the last farthing of ready cash at his command. The noble lord, however, had undeniable prospective resources. Excuse me, my lud,' said Crockford, making a very clumsy bow, but still it was the best at his disposal-'excuse me, my lud, did I hear you say as how you had no more ready money? My lud, this 'ere is the bank (pointing at the bank); if your ludship wishes it, 1000l. or 20007. is at your ludship's service.'

"Really, Mr. Crockford, you are very obliging; but I don't think I shall play any more to-night.'

"Ashgrove,' said Count Whiskero-'Ashgrove, do accept Mr. Crockford's liberal offer of the 2000l.; perhaps you may win back all you have lost.'

"Nothink, I azure your ludship, vill give me greater pleasur than to give you the money,' said Crockford.

"Well let me have 2000l.'

"Crockford dipped his fingers into the bank, took out the 2000l., and handed it to his lordship.

"Per'aps your ludship vould obleege me vith an I O U, and pay the amount at your convenians.'

"I shall be able to pay it you in a couple of months,' said his lordship, handing the ex-fishmonger the I O U.

"Your ludship's werry kind-werry.'

"Lord Ashgrove resumed the game; in an hour and a half he was again pennyless."

There are near twenty other hells in the metropolis, of all ranks beneath that of Crockford's. The author reckons that seven or eight millions of pounds are every year lost in these establishments. At least one million, it is said, has been turned over-though, of course, not all lost-at Crockford's in a single night. The amount of crime and misery which these institutions produce is incalculable; and the passions which urge on the gambler to his ruin-stifling every good feeling of his soul, and brutalizing him in body and mind-are the most ungovernable and all-absorbing which ever riot upon weak human nature. The author has written several thrilling pages on this subject, with the object, we believe, of opening the eyes of his fellow citizens. Would that his power were commensurate with his zeal. But parliament will never take a step to eradicate an evil openly countenanced by so many members of both houses; private individuals cannot denounce, to judicial condemnation, these dens of infamy and crime, so long as there is money to bribe, or bullies and assassins to terrify or murder informers.

The remaining chapters of this volume contain an examination of the social condition of the metropolis:-first, of the higher; secondly, of the middle; and, lastly, of the lower classes. The chapter on the aristocracy is a formal bill of

indictment, accusing them of the most heinous offences against good manners and good morals. Their character stands out from Mr. Grant's canvass in the darkest colours, with scarcely a trace of light to relieve the picture. He has certainly written with too little discrimination; he has permitted feeling and prejudice to get the better of his reason. At the same time, we are fully prepared to admit the truth of many of his representations, making some allowance for party antipathies. There can be no doubt that luxury ministers to every sort of licentiousness, and that it blunts some of the finest feelings of the soul. The higher and lower classes-the two extremes-are, in every community, the most profligate; and the reason is evident. The rich are tempted by the multitude of seducing pleasures which glitter, all around, within their reach; they go astray, because the ways of vice are spread with flowers. "The destruction of the poor is their poverty." While sin is not presented before them in such alluring colours, their inducement to the practice of virtue is less strong than with their superiors. The necessities of life, too, are so sparingly allotted to them, that crime is the natural resort for improving their condition crime and profligacy are always inseparable companions.

We have called the first chapter, devoted to the subject of "Metropolitan Society," a formal bill of indictment against the higher classes: let us examine its several counts. Imprimis, comes a charge of a great disregard of truth among the aristocracy. The principal evidence to support this charge is the practice of being "not at home" to visiters. We agree perfectly with Mr. Grant in condemning the habit, but do not think it will support his broad accusations. As nearly allied to their alleged disregard of truth, and indeed as springing from it, he animadverts upon the insincerity which characterizes social intercourse in the higher circles. The substance of his complaint is, that conventional forms of politeness are used between persons who hate each other-that "the greatest bore" is greeted with "My dear"-and that men, before and after fighting a duel, shake hands. Wealth and rank always entail upon their possessors a multitude of heartless forms and ceremonies; but we are by no means sure that society would be benefited if all conventional civilities were abolished, and no one used any expression of common politeness, in which the feelings of his heart would not bear him out.

A large part of this chapter is taken up with observations on the profligacy of the higher classes, as exhibited in conjugal infidelity, and the decided preference given, in society, to the character of the roue. We do not admire the author's taste, exhibited in dwelling so long on this subject, neither can we

give implicit belief to all his statements. He quotes the Countess of Blessington as an authority on this point. In her "Conversations with Lord Byron" she says, that "the crime of conjugal infidelity on the part of aristocratical ladies does not, in the estimation of the members of their sex, consist in the mere fact itself, but in allowing it to be detected." We are not disposed to take Lady Blessington's dictum as decisive; this is a delicate subject for her ladyship to give testimony upon.

But then the dishonesty of the aristocracy-noble lords do not pay their tradesmen's bills regularly. Again, they disregard the precepts of religion; they profane the Sabbath. In all these remarks we think the author is too sweeping. Every species of irreligion and profligacy may exist to a frightful extent among the higher classes, and yet we believe that there are many-very many-to whom these charges are by no means applicable.

We have already spoken of some of the natural and invariable consequences of wealth and rank; another, is the notions they produce in regard to the marriage contract-that it ought to be a mere bargain and sale. The author portrays, in strong colours, the mischiefs which arise from the chaperoning system, so prevalent. No doubt he is correct here in the main. is it not using rather strong language to say that where a noble husband really loves his wife, he draws down ridicule upon himself for so doing?

But

Again, the aristocracy are represented as entirely devoid of benevolent feelings, of sympathy with the woes of their fellowmen. It is said that all benevolent schemes originate among the middle classes, and are supported by them. This subject gives the author an opportunity of venting his wrath upon the house of lords, by whom he confidently asserts that no measure, having the good of the people for its object, has ever been set on foot, or heartily supported. Literary men are patronized by the nobility, and invited to their houses, as he contends, merely on account of their talent of entertaining by brilliant conversation, just as Malibran was patronized because of her splendid vocal powers. The author complains further of the treatment which all below them, and servants especially, meet at the hands of aristocratic superiors and masters. All this, and much more that he says, which it would be needless to repeat, we receive with many grains of allowance.

Again, the amusements of the higher classes are frivolous. So are the amusements of every class. Of course, where a person's station in life makes it unnecessary for him to work, his whole time must be spent in the search for pleasure; and that which, as a casual amusement, appears well enough, becomes frivolous when it becomes a business. Lord Brougham's