twenty years ago the maecenas club, which is now so immensely popular, and admission to which is so difficult, was a very quiet unpretending little place, rather looked down upon and despised by the denizens of the marble palaces in pall mall and the old fogies in st. james's street. the great gaunt stuccoed mansion, with the bust of maecenas in the big hall, then was not; the club was held at a modest little house, only differing from a private residence in the size of its fanlight, in the fact of its having a double flight of steps (delicious steeple-chase ground for the youth of the neighbourhood), and from its hall-door being always open, typical of the hospitality and good-fellowship which reigned within. ah! a glorious place in those days, the maecenas! which, as it stated in its prospectus, was established "for the patronage of literature and the drama, and the bringing together of gentlemen eminent in their respective circles;" but which wisely left literature, the drama, and the eminent gentlemen to take care of themselves, and simply brought together the best and most clubbable fellows it could get hold of. there was something in the little m., as the members fondly abbreviated its name, which was indescribably comfortable and unlike any other club. the waiters were small men, which perhaps had something to do with it; there was no billiard-room, with noisy raffish frequenters; no card-room, with solemn one-idea'd fogies; no drawing-room for great hulking men to lounge about, and put up their dirty boots on yellow satin sofas. there was a capital coffee-room, strangers'-room, writing-room, reading-room, and the best smoking-room in london; a smoking-room whence came three-fourths of the best stories which permeated society, and whither was brought every bit of news and scandal so soon as it was hatched. there was a capital chef who was too true an artist to confine himself to made-dishes, but who looked after the joints and toothsome steaks, for which the m. had such a reputation; and there was a capital cellar. furthermore, the members believed in all this, and believed intensely in one another.

that a dislike to clubs is strongly rooted in the female breast is not a mere aphorism of the comic writer, but is a serious fact. this feeling would be much mitigated, if not entirely eradicated, one would think, if women could only know the real arcana of those much-loathed establishments. life wants something more than good entrées and wine, easy-chairs, big waiters, and a place to smoke in: it wants companionship and geniality--two qualities which are very rare in the club-world. you scowl at the man at the next table, and he scowls at you in return; the man who wants the magazine retained by your elbow growls out something, and you, raising your arm, growl in reply. in the smoking-room there is indeed an attempt at conversation, which is confined to maligning human nature in general, and the acquaintance of the talkers in particular; and as each man leaves the room his character is wrested from him at the door, and torn to shreds by those who remain.

it was its very difference from all these that made the maecenas so pleasant. everybody liked everybody else, and nobody objected to anybody. it was not too pleasant to hear little mr. tocsin, q.c., shrieking some legal question across the coffee-room to a brother barrister; to have your mackerel breathed over by tom o'blather, as he narrated to you a foreign-office scandal, in which you had not the smallest interest; to have to listen to dr. m'gollop's french jokes told in a broad-scotch accent, or to tim dwyer's hunting exploits with his "slash'n meer;" but one bore these things at the m., and bore them patiently. how proud they were of their notable members in those days; not swells, but men who had distinguished themselves by something more than length of whisker and shortness of head--the very "gentlemen eminent in their respective circles" of the prospectus! they were proud, and justly so, of mr. justice ion, whose kindly beaming face, bright eye, and short-cropped gray hair would often be seen amongst them; of smielding and follett, the two great novelists of the day, each of whom had his band of sworn retainers and worshippers; of tatterer, the great tragedian, who would leave king lear's robes and be the delight of the maecenas smoke-room; of gilks the marine-painter; of clobber, who was so great in cathedral interiors; and markham, afterwards the great social caricaturist, then just commencing his career as a wood-draughtsman. the very reciprocity of regard was charming for the few swells who at that time cared for membership; they were immensely popular; and amongst them none so popular as colonel laurence alsager, late of the coldstream guards.

by the time that laurence alsager was gazetted as captain and lieutenant-colonel, he had had quite enough of regimental duty, quite enough of transition from portman barracks to wellington barracks, from winchester to windsor; quite enough of trooping the guard at st. james's and watching over the treasures hidden away in the bank-cellars; of leaning out of the little window in the old guards club in st. james's street; quite enough of derby drags and ballet balls, and ryde pier and cowes regatta, and scotch moor and norway fishery, and leamington steeple-chase and limmer's, and all those things which make up the life of a properly-regulated guardsman. the younger men in the household brigade could not understand this "having had quite enough." they thought him the most enviable fellow in the world. they dressed at him, they walked like him, they grew their whiskers as nearly like his as they could (mutton-chop whiskers were then the fashion, and beards and moustaches were only worn by foreign fiddlers and cavalry regiments), they bragged of him in every possible way, and one of them having heard him spoken of, from the variety of his accomplishments, as the admirable crichton, declared that he was infinitely better than crichton, or any other admiral that had ever been in the sister service. the deux-temps valse had just been imported in those days, and alsager danced it with a long, quick, swinging step which no one else could accomplish; he played the cornet almost as well as koenig; while at windsor he went into training and beat the hammersmith flyer, a professional brought down by the envious to degrade him, in a half-mile race with twelve flights of hurdles; he was a splendid amateur actor; and had covered the rough walls of the barrack-room at windsor with capital caricatures of all his brother officers. he knew all the mysteries of "battalion drill" too, and had been adjutant of the regiment. when, therefore, he threw up his commission and sold out, everybody was utterly astonished, and all sorts of rumours were at once put into circulation. he had had a quarrel with his governor, old sir peregrine alsager, some said, and left the army to spite him. he was bitten with a theatrical mania, and going to turn actor ("was he, by g--!" said ledger, the light comedian, hitherto his warmest admirer; "we want none of your imitation mock-turtle on the boards!"); he had got a religious craze, and was going to become a trappist monk; he had taken to drinking; he had lost his head, and was with a keeper in a villa in st. john's wood. all these things were said about him by his kind friends; but it is probable that none of them were so near the mark as honest jock m'laren, of the scots fusiliers, a great gaunt scotchman, but the very best ferret in the world in certain matters; who said, "ye may depen' upon it there's a wummin in it. awlsager's a deevil among the sax; and there's a wummin in it, i'll bet a croon." this was a heavy stake for jock, and showed that he was in earnest.

be this as it may, how that laurence alsager sold out from her majesty's regiment of coldstream guards, and that he was succeeded by peregrine wilks (whose grandfather, par parenthèse, kept a ham-and-beef shop in st. martin's court), is it not written in the chronicles of the london gazette? immediately after the business had been settled, colonel alsager left england for the continent. he was heard of at munich, at berlin, at vienna (where he remained for some considerable time), and at trieste, where all absolute trace of him was lost, though it was believed he had gone off in an austrian lloyds' steamer to the piraeus, and that he intended travelling through greece, the holy land, and egypt, before he returned home. these were rumours in which only a very few people interested themselves; society has too much to do to take account of the proceedings of its absent members; and after two years had elapsed laurence alsager's name was almost forgotten, when, on a dull january morning, two letters from him arrived in loudon,--one addressed to the steward of the maecenas ordering a good dinner for two for the next saturday night at six; the other to the honourable george bertram of the foreign office, requesting that distinguished public servant to meet his old friend l. a. at the maecenas, dine with him, and go with him afterwards to the parthenium theatre, where a new piece was announced.

honest mr. turquand, the club steward, by nature a reticent man, and one immersed in perpetual calculation as to ways and means, gave his orders to the cook, but said never a word to any one else as to the contents of his letter. george bertram, known among his colleagues at the foreign office as "blab bertram," from the fact that he never spoke to anybody unless spoken to, and even then seldom answered, was equally silent; so that colonel alsager's arrival at the maecenas was thoroughly unexpected by the members. the trimly-shaved old gentlemen at the various tables stared with wonder, not unmixed with horror, at the long black beard which alsager had grown during his absence. they thought he was some stranger who had entered the sacred precincts by mistake; some even had a horrible suspicion that it might be a newly-elected man, whose beard had never been mentioned to the committee; and it was not until they heard laurence's clear ringing voice, and saw his eye light up with the old fire, that they recognized their long-absent friend. then they crowded round him, and wanted to hear all his two-years' adventures and wanderings told in a breath; but he laughingly shook them off, promising full particulars at a later period; and went over to a small corner-table, which he had been accustomed to select before he went away, and which mr. turquand had retained for him, where he was shortly joined by george bertram.

it is probable that no man on earth had a greater love for another than had george bertram for laurence alsager. when he saw his old friend seated at the table, his heart leapt within him, and a great knot rose in his throat; but he was a thorough englishman, so he mastered his feelings, and, as he gripped laurence's outstretched hand, merely said, "how do?"

"my dear old george," said laurence heartily, "what an age since we met! how splendidly well you seem to be! a little stouter, perhaps, but not aged a day. well, i've a thousand questions to ask, and a thousand things to tell you. what the deuce are you staring at?"

"beard!" said mr. bertram, who had never taken his eyes off laurence's chin since he sat down opposite to him.

"o, ah, yes!" said laurence. "that's a relic of savage life which i shall get rid of in a few days; but i didn't like to have him off suddenly, on account of the change of climate. i suppose it shocks the old gentlemen here; but i can't help it. well, now, you've got oceans of news to tell me. it's full a twelvemonth since i had letters from england; not a line since i left jerusalem; and--ah, by jove! i've never told you how i happened to come in such a hurry. it's horribly absurd and ridiculous, you know; i hadn't the least idea of returning for at least another year. but one sultry evening, far up the nile, as i was lying back in my kandjia,--boat, you know,--being towed up by three naked chaps, pulling away like grim death, we met another kandjia coming down. in it were two unmistakable englishmen; fellows in all-round collars and stiff wideawakes, with puggerees put on all the wrong way. they were chattering to each other; and i thought, under that burning sky and solemn stillness, and surrounded by all the memorials of the past, they would probably be quoting herodotus, or gardner wilkinson, or, better than all, eothen; but, just as they passed me, what do you think i heard one of them say to the other? 'no, no, jack,' said he, 'you're wrong there: it was buckstone that played box!' he did, by jove! under the shadow of the pyramids, and close by the sphinx, and the vocal memnon, and cheops and cephrenes, and all the rest of it, to hear of buckstone and box and cox! you can't tell the singular effect it had on me. i began to feel an awful longing for home; what the germans call heimweh came upon me at once. i longed to get back once more, and see the clubs and the theatres, and all the old life, which i had fled from so willingly; and i ordered the arabs to turn the boat round and get me back to cairo as quickly as possible. when we got to cairo, i went to shepherd's, and found the house full of a lot of cadets and fellows going out; and one of them had a times, and in it i saw the announcement of the new piece at the parthenium; and, i don't know why,--i fixed upon that as a sort of date-mark, and i said, i'll be back in england to see that first night;' and the next day i started for alexandria. and on board the p.-and-o. boat i made the acquaintance of the post-office courier in charge of the indian mail, a very good fellow, who, when he found my anxiety to get on, took me with him in his fourgon, brought me through from marseilles to calais without an instant's delay; let me come on board the special boat waiting for him, and landed me at london bridge last night, having got through my journey wonderfully. and i'm in time for the first night at the parthenium; and--now tell me all your news."

"blab" bertram had been dreading the command, which he knew involved his talking more in twenty minutes than he was in the habit of doing in a month. he had been delighted to hear laurence rattling on about his own adventures, and fondly hoped that he should avoid any revelations for that night at least. but the dread edict had been issued, and george knew his friend too well not to obey. so he said with a sigh, drawing out a small notebook, "yes, i knew you'd be naturally anxious to hear about people, and what had happened since you've been away; and so, as i'm not much good at telling things, i got alick geddes of our office--you know him, lord m'mull's brother--to put down some notes, and i'll read them to you."

"that'll do, george," said laurence, laughing; "like the police, 'from information you have received,' eh? never mind, so long as i hear it.--mr. turquand, they've not finished that bin of thompson and crofts' 20 during my absence? no. then bring us a bottle, please. --and now, george, fire away!"

for the purposes of this story it would be needless to recount all the bits of scandal and chit-chat, interesting and amusing to those acquainted with the various actors in the drama, but utterly vapid to every one else, which the combined memories of messrs. alexander geddes and george bertram, clerks in the foreign office, and gentlemen going a great deal into all kinds of society, had furbished up and put together for the delectation of colonel alsager. it was the old, old story of london life, known to every one, and, mutatis nominibus, narrated of so many people. tom's marriage, dick's divorce, and harry's going to the bad. jack considine left the service, and become sheep-farmer in australia. little tim stratum, of the treasury, son of old dr. stratum the geologist, marrying that big indian widow woman, and becoming a heavy swell, with a house in grosvenor square. ned walters dead,--fit of heart disease, or some infernal thing,--dead, by jove; and that pretty wife of his, and all those nice little children, gone--god knows where! lady cecilia married? oh, yes; and she and townshend get on very well, they say; but that italian chap, di varese, with the black beard and the tenor voice, always hanging about the house. gertrude netherby rapidly becoming an old woman, thin as a whipping-post, by george! and general notion of nose-and-chinniness. florence sackville, as lovely and as jolly as ever, was asking after you only last night. these and a hundred other little bits of gossip about men in his old regiment, and women, reputable and disreputable, formerly of his acquaintance, of turf matters and club scandals, interspersed with such anecdotes, seasoned with gros sel, as circulate when the ladies have left the dinner-table, did laurence alsager listen to; and when george bertram stopped speaking and shut up his notebook, he found himself warmly complimented on his capital budget of news by his recently-arrived friend.

"you've done admirably, old fellow," said laurence. "'pon my oath i don't think there's hardly any one we know that you haven't had something pleasantly unpleasant to say about. now," taking out his watch, "we must be off to the theatre, and we've just time to smoke a cigarette as we walk down there. you took the two stalls?"

"well--no," replied george bertram, hesitating rather suspiciously; "i only took one for you; i--i'm going-that is--i've got a seat in a box."

"george, you old vagabond, you don't mean to say you're going to desert me the first night i come back?"

"well, i couldn't help it. you see i was engaged to go with these people before you wrote; and--"

"all right; what people are they?"

"the mitfords."

"mitfords? connais pas."

"oh, yes; you know them fast enough; oh, i forgot--all since you left; only just happened."

"look here, george: i've had quite enough of the sphinx during the last six months, and i don't want any of the enigma business. what has only just happened?"

"mitford--and all that. you'll give me no peace till i tell you. you recollect mitford? with us at oxford--brasenose man, not christ church."

"mitford, mitford! oh, i recollect; big, fair man, goodish-looking. his father failed and smashed up; didn't he? and our man went into a line regiment. oh, by jove, yes! and came to grief about mistaking somebody else's name for his own, and backing a bill with it; didn't he? at canterbury, or somewhere where he was quartered?"

"same man. had to leave service, and came to awful grief. ran away, and nothing heard of him. his uncle, sir percy, and two little boys drowned off malta, and title came to our man. couldn't find him anywhere; at last some jew lawyer was employed, put detectives on, and hunted up mitford, nearly starved, in some public in wapping, or somewhere in the east-end. when he heard what a swell he'd become, he had a fit, and they thought he'd die. but he's been all square ever since; acted like a gentleman; went down to the place in devonshire where his people lived before the smash; married the clergyman's daughter to whom he had been engaged in the old days; and they've just come up to town for the winter."

"married the clergyman's daughter to whom he had been engaged in the old days, eh? george bertram, i saw a blush mantle on your ingenuous cheek, sir, when you alluded to the lady. what is she like?"

"stuff, laurence! you did nothing of the kind. lady mitford is a very delightful woman."

"caramba, master george! if i were sir mitford, and heard you speak of my lady in that earnest manner, i should keep a sharp eye upon you. so you've not improved in that respect."

george bertram, whose amourettes were of the most innocent description, but to accuse whom of the wildest profligacy was a favourite joke with his friends, deeper than ever, and only uttered an indignant "too bad, too bad!"

"come along, sir," said laurence: "i'll sit in the silent solitude of the stalls while you are basking in beauty in a box."

"but you'll come up and be introduced, laurence?"

"not i. thank you; i'll leave the field clear for you."

"but sir charles mitford would be so glad to renew his old acquaintance with you."

"would he? then sir charles mitford must reserve that delight for another occasion. i shall be here after the play, and we can have a further talk if you can descend to mundane matters after your felicity. now come along." and they strolled out together.