Halt! I must resume my Brush and Pallet, and give you, previous to the Ballot, a rough sketch of Sir THOMAS NESBIT. Yet, in preparing my outline, I am much at a loss how or where to begin; for every feature in the character of Sir Thomas is so distinct from its neighbour, that I am afraid of losing the expression of one while I am heightening the effect of another. With his father I was unacquainted, so that I cannot go back to the days of his boyhood, nor describe to you the education which has produced so whimsical and so amusing a composition of eccentricities. I know him only as an Etonian, and as such only I can describe him. He is then, for the time being, the leader or chief of a new sect, which has of late years gained an extensive footing in our little world! I mean that sect, which, by a studied, or sometimes by a natural, roughness of demeanour, and by an assiduous attention to the proper cultivation of slang, has merited and obtained the denomination " Bargee." I must say, however the pursuits of these gentlemen may be at variance with rigid discipline, however they may offend the over-nice tastes of some of their companions, I never yet found any harm in a "Bargee." He is generally possessed of firm integrity, and of inexhaustible good-humour; and the venial errors of a light head and an inconsiderate temper, are, in my estimation, fully compensated by the advantages of an open heart and warm feeling. To sum up his merits, in behalf of an oppressed schoolfellow he will often encounter an antagonist, at the sight of whom the cheek of the sup would grow much paler than it has already become from study, and the jaw of the intimidated Exquisite would chatter within its fence of neckcloth. But Sir Thomas Nesbit is sitting for his picture, and I must waste no more time.

Sir Thomas, as I before observed, is the chief of the class I have been describing, and it is fit he should be so. I do not allude so much to his acquirements in the necessary accomplishments, for in these he has equals, or even superiors. Mr. O'Connor, for instance, has more brass in his face, more bass in his voice, than has my good friend, Sir Thomas. But Sir Thomas grounds his pretensions upon the appearance of originality, which he gives by his quaint expression to the oldest conceits; upon the inexhaustible good-humour

with which he parries the sarcasms of his more nice, though perhaps less worthy, companions; finally, upon the fine sense of honour, and the real warmth of feeling, which it is impossible for him totally to conceal under the mask of affected vulgarity. Warmth of feeling! Mr. Sterling is shaking his head, and the sentimental Gerard considers me guilty of something little better than sacrilege. "I am sorry to differ from you, Gentlemen," as Mr. Oakley says, but I must repeat, that from the veil of coarseness which Sir Thomas has thought fit to throw over a disposition intended by nature for other pursuits, there do occasionally burst forth specimens of a firm religious principle which Martin Sterling might admire, and a glowing generosity of sentiment which Gerard Montgomery might envy. I have been long acquainted with Sir Thomas, and I can safely aver that I have found in him a stronger idea of honourable couduct, a more constant regard for the happiness of his schoolfellows, than is possessed by a hundred of those who walk up Windsor Hill for the purpose of eating warm patties, and think no pleasure on earth comparable to a glass of Maraschino (no disparagement to Maraschino, which I consider a、 good thing in its way.)

I have often wondered what can have induced a young man, gifted as Sir Thomas undoubtedly is, with a quick imagination, and no inconsiderable portion of judgment, to give up externally the appearance and the habits of a gentleman, and pride himself on the assumption of those of a contrary nature. Nature has made him a gentleman, and he labours, but ineffectually, to convert himself into a clown. He cannot divest himself of the first essentials of the character which he dislikes; he cannot "throw to the dogs," or, as he would express it, "to the puppies," his native honour, his innate good-nature. Many of his best friends bitterly regret what they term the abuse of the powers with which he is endowed. Perhaps it is a feeling of selfishness which actuates me when I profess a contrary opinion. I do not, I cannot regret the turn which his pursuits have taken. Had they been directed into a more proper channel, he might have become the Idol of Science, or the Star of Fashion, but he never would have been Sir Thomas Nesbit-the warm, the generous, the ho

nest Sir Thomas Nesbit;-the Sir Thomas Nesbit of our mirth, of our affections,-of our Club.

Of our Club? Yes, reader! after the fervent panegyric which I have bestowed upon my worthy friend, you will not be surprised to hear that he passed through the ballot with success. There appeared against him only one black-ball, (supposed from Mr. Oakley.)

INAUGURATION CEREMONY.

Mr. Golightly left the room, and returned in a few minutes, accompanied by the Member Elect. There was a deep silence. Mr. Peregrine Courtenay, as the representative of the King of Clubs, threw into his august countenance a double portion of solidity and wisdom, in order to receive with due decorum the homage of his new vassal. The other Members preserved a like degree of dignity. On this occasion the loquacious Rowley seemed to assume the contemplative manners of Le Blanc, and the broad unthinking physiognomy of Robert Musgrave laboured to screw itself into the sedate gravity of Martin Sterling. Meantime Mr. Golightly led Sir Thomas to the throne, and the punch-bowl, which, as Mr. Musgrave expressed it, seemed to have taken off its horses at the O'Connor Public-house, was handed to the top of the table. Sir Thomas threw himself on one knee. The scene was most impressive. The Secretary was called upon to read the Oath of Fealty, which I did in a clerkly manner.

"You shall swear faithful vassalage to your liege Lord the King of Clubs, his crown and dignity: you shall swear to drink his health, once a week, in Champaigne, Claret, Port, Punch, or Porter, as seemeth to you best; you shall swear to do what you can for the amusement of your schoolfellows, whether by prose or verse, wit or absurdity, song or sonnet, as seemeth to you best all this you shall swear in the name of your liege Lord the King, and the Club which he wields, and the Punch which he drinks."

:

Then Sir Thomas, laying his hand to his heart, replied, with all the originality of expression for which he is so deservedly celebrated,

"I SWEAR."

The Ceremony was completed by compotation. Each Member, in succession, drank to the health of his new fellow-subject, who returned the compliment by turns to the whole body of his future associates. By the time he had arrived at the end of the list, he was evidently on terms of familiarity with every gentleman present, and felt himself (to use his own expression) "a Good Fellow to the bottom of the soul and the bottom of the bowl."

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Some conversation arose among a few gentlemen who felt doubts upon the meaning of Sir T. Nesbit's expression, “a Good Fellow."-Mr. Le Blanc understood it to mean "Regiæ Societatis Socius," a Member of the King of Clubs." Mr. Sterling hoped no sarcasm was intended at the Fellows of the College, many of whom he was sure were sincere friends to the undertaking. Sir T. Nesbit was finally requested to draw up a few remarks on the words in question, and to publish the said remarks in "The Etonian," under the title of "Sir Thomas Nesbit's Definition of a Good Fellow." Sir Thomas promised to comply with the wish of the Meeting, and concluded a neat address by paying a high and deserved compliment to Mr. Golightly, who, he was sure, although he asked for a definition of a Good Fellow, was by no means in want of a definition of " Good Punch.”—N.B. The bowl had been replenished.

MR. BURTON'S SONNET ON THE ASSES'-bridge.

Here the harmony of the Meeting was disturbed by loud snoring from Mr. Burton. Gerard Montgomery was preparing to wake him from these delicious slumbers, when a small piece of neat Bath paper was observed projecting from his waistcoat-pocket. Gerard motioned to the company to be silent, and deprived the unconscious sleeper of the treaGerard immediately proceeded to unfold the precious MS., and gave much entertainment to the Meeting by the recital of Mr. Burton's first offering to the Muses.

sure.

"The Asses'-Bridge, for ages doom'd to hear

The deafening surge assault his wooden ear."—CANNING.

GREAT A! that on thy balanced elevation

Lookest serenely from these columns high,
How beautifully in their meet gradation
B C, F G, D E, beneath thee lie:

Angles and space, Great A! thou dost bestride,
Like a Colossus; and thy subject letters,
Beneath thee bound in Adamantine fetters,
Look trembling up to thine imperial pride;
Like the fell Titans, when they madly strove
To top the cloud-conceal'd Olympus-vain,
Vain was the toil!-Labour, and Rout, and Pain
O'erturn'd the earth-born !—and Almighty Jove
Struck, and was King ;-not thine a weaker sway!
Sit on thy matchless throne !-sit ever thus, Great A!

Mr. BURTON, upon his waking, (which event was possibly occasioned, or rather, accelerated, by the laughter and cheers of the Club), was saluted by the congratulations of all his friends, which he received with an affected appearance of astonishment, and look of conscious satisfaction, which gave room for conjecture that he had heard all that passed, feigning sleep in order to save blushes.