A CLUB NIGHT.
"The secretary will read the journal of the last meeting," said
President Brandon.
Tracy rose, and read a brief report, which was accepted, according to
form.
"Is there any business to come before the club?" inquired the president.
"I would like to nominate a friend of mine as a member of the club,"
said Burgess.
"What's his name?" inquired a member.
"Henry Drayton."
"Will Mr. Burgess give some account of his friend, so that the members
can vote intelligently on his election?" requested Brandon.
"He's a jolly sort of fellow, and a good singer," said Burgess. "He'll
help make our meetings lively. He's about my age--"
"In his second childhood," suggested Wilmot.
This produced a laugh at the expense of Burgess, who took it
good-naturedly.
"Has he got five dollars?" inquired another member.
"His father is a rich man," said Burgess. "There will be no fear about
his not paying his assessments."
"That's the principal thing," said Wilmot. "I second the nomination."
A vote was taken which was unanimously affirmative.
"Mr. Drayton is unanimously elected a member of the Madison Club,"
announced the president. "Notification will be duly sent him by the
secretary. Is there any other business to come before the club?"
As there appeared to be none, Brandon added, "Then we will proceed to
the more agreeable duties which have brought us hither."
He rang a small bell.
Jackson answered the summons.
"Jackson, is the punch ready?" inquired the president.
"Yes, sir," said Jackson.
"Then bring it in. I appoint Wilmot and Burgess to lend you the
necessary aid."
A large flagon of hot whiskey punch was brought in and placed on a
table. Glasses were produced from a closet in the corner of the room,
and it was served out to the members.
"How do you like it, Roswell?" inquired Ralph Graham.
"It's--rather strong," said Roswell, coughing.
"Oh, you'll soon be used to it. The fellows will begin to be jolly
after they've drunk a glass or two."
"Do they ever get tight?" whispered Roswell.
"A little lively,--that's all."
The effect predicted soon followed.
"Wilmot, give us a song," said Burgess.
"What will you have?" said Wilmot, whose flushed face showed that the
punch had begun to affect him.
"Oh, you can give us an air from one of the operas."
"Villikens and his Dinah?" suggested Tracy.
"Very good," said Wilmot.
Wilmot was one of those, who, with no voice or musical ear, are under
the delusion that they are admirable singers. He executed the song
in his usual style, and was rewarded with vociferous applause, which
appeared to gratify him.
"Gentleman," he said, laying his hand upon his heart, "I am deeply
grateful for your kind appreciation of my--"
"Admirable singing," suggested Dunbar.
"Of my admirable singing," repeated Wilmot, gravely.
This speech was naturally followed by an outburst of laughter. Wilmot
looked around him in grave surprise.
"I don't see what you fellows are laughing at," he said, "unless you're
all drunk."
He sat down amid a round of applause, evidently puzzled to understand
the effect of his words.
After this, David Green arose, and rehearsed amid great applause a
stump speech which he had heard at some minstrel entertainment which he
had attended.
"How do you like it, Roswell?" again inquired Ralph Graham.
"It's splendid," said Roswell, enthusiastically.
"Are you glad you joined?"
"Yes; I wouldn't have missed it for a good deal."
"I knew you'd say so. Have your glass filled. Here Jackson, fill this
gentleman's glass."
Roswell was beginning to feel a little light-headed; but the punch had
excited him, and he had become in a degree reckless of consequences. So
he made no opposition to the proposal, but held out his glass, which
was soon returned to him filled to the brim.
"Speech from the new member!" called Dunbar, after a while.
"Yes, speech, speech!"
All eyes were turned towards Roswell.
"You'd better say something," said Ralph.
Roswell rose to his feet, but found it necessary to hold on to his
chair for support.
"Mr. President," commenced Roswell, gazing about him in a vacant way,
"this is a great occasion."
"Of course it is," said Burgess.
"We are assembled to-night--"
"So we are. Bright boy!" said David Green.
"I am a gentleman's son," continued Roswell.
"What's the gentleman's name?" interrupted Wilmot.
"And I think it's a shame that I should only be paid six dollars a week
for my services."
"Bring your employer here, and we'll lynch him," said Tracy. "Such mean
treatment of a member of the Madison Club should meet with the severest
punishment. Go ahead."
"I don't think I've got anything more to say," said Roswell. "As my
head doesn't feel just right, I'll sit down."
There was a round of applause, and Wilmot arose.
"Mr. President," he said, gravely, "I have been very much impressed
with the remarks of the gentleman who has just sat down. They do equal
credit to his head and his heart. His reference to his salary was most
touching. If you will allow me, I will pause a moment and wipe away
an unbidden tear." (Here amid laughter and applause, Wilmot made an
imposing demonstration with a large handkerchief. He then proceeded.)
"Excuse my emotion, gentlemen. I merely arose to make the motion that
the gentleman should furnish us a copy of his remarks, that they may
be engrossed on parchment, and a copy sent to the principal libraries
in Europe and America."
Roswell was hardly in a condition to understand that fun was being made
of him, but listened soberly, sipping from time to time from his glass.
"The motion is not in order," said Brandon. "The hour for business has
gone by."
The punch was now removed, and cards were produced. The remainder of
the evening was spent in playing euchre and other games. Roswell took
a hand, but found he was too dizzy to play correctly, and for the
remainder of the evening contented himself with looking on. Small sums
were staked among some of the players, and thus a taste for gambling
was fostered which might hereafter lead to moral shipwreck and ruin.
This was the way in which the members of the Madison Club spent
their evenings,--a very poor way, as my young readers will readily
acknowledge. I heartily approve of societies organized by young people
for debate and mutual improvement. They are oftentimes productive of
great good. Some of our distinguished men date their first impulse to
improve and advance themselves to their connection with such a society.
But the Madison Club had no salutary object in view. It was adapted to
inspire a taste for gambling and drinking, and the money spent by the
members to sustain it was worse than wasted.
Roswell, however, who would have found nothing to interest or attract
him in a Debating Society, was very favorably impressed by what he
had seen of the Madison Club. He got an erroneous impression that it
was likely to introduce him into the society of gentlemen, and his
aristocratic predilections were, as we know, one of Roswell's hobbies.
It was about eleven when the club broke up its meeting. Previous to
this there was a personal difficulty between Wilmot and Tracy, which
resulted in a rough-and-tumble fight, in which Wilmot got the worst of
it. How the quarrel arose no one could remember,--the principals least
of all. At last they were reconciled, and were persuaded to shake hands.
They issued into the street, a noisy throng. Roswell's head ached, the
punch, to which he was not accustomed, having affected him in this way.
Besides this he felt a little dizzy.
"I wish you'd come home with me, Ralph," he said to his friend. "I
don't feel quite right."
"Oh, you'll feel all right to-morrow. Your head will become as strong
as mine after a while. I'm as cool as a cucumber."
"It's rather late, isn't it?" asked Roswell.
"Hark, there's the clock striking. I'll count the strokes. Eleven
o'clock!" he said, after counting. "That isn't very late."
Ralph accompanied Roswell to the door of his mother's house in Clinton
Place.
"Good-night, old fellow!" he said. "You'll be all right in the morning."
"Good-night," said Roswell.
He crept up to bed, but his brain was excited by the punch he had
drank, and it was only after tossing about for two hours that he at
length sank into a troubled sleep.