Contributions to All The Year Round | Page 6

that draws the beer to be at the club-room by six
o'clock every evening, and stay till ten; but in the event of no member
being there, he may leave at nine; on failing so to attend, a penalty of
sixpence to be paid to the club.
6.--Any member giving beer to a stranger in this club-room, excepting
to his wife or family, shall be liable to the penalty of one shilling.
7.--Any member lifting his hand to strike another in this club-room
shall be liable to the penalty of sixpence.
8.--Any member swearing in this club-room shall be liable to a penalty
of twopence each time.
9.--Any member selling beer shall be expelled from the club.
10.--Any member wishing to give up his allotment, may apply to the
committee, and they shall value the crop and the condition of the
ground. The amount of the valuation shall be paid by the succeeding
tenant, who shall be allowed to enter on any part of the allotment which
is uncropped at the time of notice of the leaving tenant.
11.--Any member not keeping his allotment-garden clear from seed-
weeds, or otherwise injuring his neighbours, may be turned out of his
garden by the votes of two-thirds of the committee, one month's notice
being given to him.

12.--Any member carelessly breaking a mug, is to pay the cost of
replacing the same.
I was soliciting the attention of Philosewers to some old old bonnets
hanging in the Allotment-gardens to frighten the birds, and the fashion
of which I should think would terrify a French bird to death at any
distance, when Philosewers solicited my attention to the scrapers at the
club-house door. The amount of the soil of England which every
member brought there on his feet, was indeed surprising; and even I,
who am professedly a salad-eater, could have grown a salad for my
dinner, in the earth on any member's frock or hat.
"Now," said Friar Bacon, looking at his watch, "for the Pig-clubs!"
The dreary Sage entreated explanation.
"Why, a pig is so very valuable to a poor labouring man, and it is so
very difficult for him at this time of the year to get money enough to
buy one, that I lend him a pound for the purpose. But, I do it in this way.
I leave such of the club members as choose it and desire it, to form
themselves into parties of five. To every man in each company of five,
I lend a pound, to buy a pig. But, each man of the five becomes bound
for every other man, as to the repayment of his money. Consequently,
they look after one another, and pick out their partners with care;
selecting men in whom they have confidence."
"They repay the money, I suppose, when the pig is fattened, killed, and
sold?"
"Yes. Then they repay the money. And they do repay it. I had one man,
last year, who was a little tardy (he was in the habit of going to the
public-house); but even he did pay. It is an immense Advantage to one
of these poor fellows to have a pig. The pig consumes the refuse from
the man's cottage and allotment-garden, and the pig's refuse enriches
the man's garden besides. The pig is the poor man's friend. Come into
the club-house again."
The poor man's friend. Yes. I have often wondered who really was the
poor man's friend among a great number of competitors, and I now
clearly perceive him to be the pig. HE never makes any flourishes
about the poor man. HE never gammons the poor man--except to his
manifest advantage in the article of bacon. HE never comes down to
this house, or goes down to his constituents. He openly declares to the
poor man, "I want my sty because I am a Pig. I desire to have as much

to eat as you can by any means stuff me with, because I am a Pig." HE
never gives the poor man a sovereign for bringing up a family. HE
never grunts the poor man's name in vain. And when he dies in the
odour of Porkity, he cuts up, a highly useful creature and a blessing to
the poor man, from the ring in his snout to the curl in his tail. Which of
the poor man's other friends can say as much? Where is the M.P. who
means Mere Pork?
The dreary Sage had glided into these reflections, when he found
himself sitting by the club-house fire, surrounded by green smock-
frocks and shapeless hats: with Friar Bacon lively, busy, and expert, at
a little table near him.
"Now, then, come. The first five!" said Friar Bacon. "Where are you?"
"Order!" cried a merry-faced little man, who had