Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 427 | Page 3

in
his double function as secretary and treasurer. Subscriptions flow in;
and, to Bowley's infinite gratification, beer and spirits begin to flow out.
The Charitable Chums, though eminently provident, are as bibulous as
they are benevolent; for every sixpence they invest for the
contingencies of the future tense, they imbibe at least half-a-crown for
the exigencies of the present. The society soon rises into a condition of
astonishing prosperity. The terms being liberal beyond all precedent,
the Charitable Chums' becomes wonderfully popular. A guinea a week
during sickness, besides medical attendance, and ten pounds at death,
or half as much at the death of a wife, are assured for half the amount

of subscription payable at the old clubs. The thing is as cheap as dirt.
The clerk has as much as he can do to enregister the names of new
applicants, and keep accounts of the entrance-money. By way of
keeping the society before the public, special meetings are held twice a
month, to report progress, and parade the state of the funds. Before the
new society is a year old, they have nearly one thousand pounds in
hand; and Bowley's house, now known far and wide as the centre and
focus of the Charitable Chums, swarms with that provident brotherhood,
who meet by hundreds under the auspices of 'Mother Bunch,' to
cultivate sympathy and brotherly love, and to irrigate those delicate
plants with libations of Bowley's gin and Bowley's beer. The
Free-and-easy is now every night choke full of wide-mouthed
harmonists. The 'Concert this Evening' is no longer a mere mythic
pretence, but a very substantial and vociferous fact. The old
grand-piano, and the old, ragged player, have been cashiered, and sent
about their business; and a bran-new Broadwood, presided over by a
rattling performer, occupies their place. Bowley's blooming wife,
attended by a brace of alcoholic naiads, blossoms beneath the crimson
drapery of the bar, and dispenses 'nods and becks, and wreathed smiles,'
and 'noggins of max,' and 'three-outers,' to the votaries of benevolence
and 'Mother Bunch;' and the landlord is happy, and in his element,
because the world goes well with him.
When Whitsuntide is drawing near, a general meeting of the club is
convened, for the purpose of considering the subject of properties. A
grand demonstration, with a procession of the members, is resolved
upon: it is to come off upon Whit-Monday. In spite of the remonstrance
of a mean-spirited Mr Nobody--who proposes that, by way of
distinguishing themselves from the rest of the thousand-and-one clubs
who will promenade upon that occasion, with music, flags, banners,
brass-bands, big drums, sashes, aprons, and white wands, they, the
Charitable Chums, shall walk in procession in plain clothes, and save
their money till it is wanted--and in spite of five or six sneaking, stingy
individuals, so beggarly minded as to second his proposition, and who
were summarily coughed down as not fit to be heard, the properties
were voted; and the majority, highly gratified at having their own way,
gave _carte-blanche_ to their officers to do what they thought right, and

for the credit of the society. Accordingly, flags and banners of
portentous size, together with sashes, scarfs, and satin aprons, all inlaid
with the crest of the Charitable Chums--an open hand, with a purse of
money in it--were manufactured at the order of the secretary, and
consigned in magnificent profusion to the care of Mr Bowley, to be in
readiness for the grand demonstration. A monster banner, bearing the
designation of the society in white letters upon a ground of
flame-coloured silk, hung on the morning of the day from the parapet
of Bowley's house, and obscured the good 'Mother Bunch,' as she
swung upon her hinges, in its fluttering folds. The procession, which
went off in irreproachable style, was followed by a dinner at Highbury
Barn, at which above a thousand members sat down to table; and after
which, thanks were voted to the different officers of the club; and, in
addition thereto, a gold snuff-box, with an appropriate inscription, was
presented to Mr Nogoe, for his unparalleled exertions in the sacred
cause of humanity, as represented by their society.
The jovial Whitsuntide soon passed away, and so did the summer, and
the autumn was not long in following; and then came the cold winds,
and fogs, and hoar-frost of November. The autumn had been sickly
with fevers, and Dr Dosem, the club's medical man, had had more cases
of typhus to deal with than he found at all pleasant or profitable,
considering the terms upon which he had undertaken the physicking of
the Charitable Chums. He was heard to say, that it took a deal of drugs
to get the fever out of them; and that, though he worked harder than any
horse, he yet lost more