conveyed to the Skin Market in Bermondsey. Until within about twenty years, there were two places used as skin-markets on the Southwark side of the water; one near Blackfriars Road, and the other near the Southwark Bridge Road: but the tanners and leather-dressers, deeming it desirable to concentrate the whole routine of operations, made arrangements for building the present Leather and Skin Market. They formed a company, subscribed a joint stock, and purchased a large piece of ground a little to the north of Long Lane, Bermondsey; and by about the year 1833 the whole was completed at an expense of nearly fifty thousand pounds. On passing into New Weston Street from Long Lane, we see the front portion of this building on the righthand side. It is a long series of brick warehouses, lighted by a range of windows, and having an arched entrance gateway at either end. These entrances open into a quadrangle or court, covered for the most part with grass, and surrounded by warehouses. In the warehouses is transacted the business of a class of persons who are termed "leather-factors," who sell to the curriers or leather-sellers leather belonging to the tanners; or sell London-tanned leather to country purchasers, or countrytanned leather to London purchasers: in short, they are middle-men in the traffic in leather, as skin-salesmen are in the traffic in skins. Beyond this first quadrangle is a second, called the "Skin Depository," and having four entrances, two from the larger quadrangle, and two from a street leading into Bermondsey Street. This depository is an oblong plot of ground terminated by semicircular ends: it is pitched with common road-stones along the middle, and flagged round with a broad foot-pavement. Over the pavement, through its whole extent, is an arcade supported by pillars; and the portion of pavement included between every two contiguous pillars is called a "bay." There are about fifty of these "bays," which are let out to skin-salesmen at about twelve pounds per annum each; and on the pavement of his bay the salesman exposes the skins which he is commissioned to sell. Here on market-days may be seen a busy scene of traffic between the salesmen on the one hand and the fellmongers on the other. The carts, laden with sheep-skins, come rattling into the place, and draw up in the road-way of the depository; the skins are taken out, and ranged on the pavement of the bays; the sellers and buyers make their bargains; the purchasemoney is paid into the hands of the salesman, and by him transmitted to the butcher; and the skins are removed to the yards of the fellmongers.

In Rag Fair (now Middlesex Street) near Tower Hill, and in Houndsditch, are two markets of a remarkable sort. The one in Rag Fair is nearly, though not entirely, for the sale or exchange of old wearing apparel, even of the veriest refuse that may have served for a scare-crow; and the whole street, indeed, is but a sort of bazaar for the retailing of such articles. The one in Houndsditch occupies a square open area, a little off the street, and is for articles of a more miscellaneous character. Broken umbrellas, old iron, bones, pieces of old harness, all sorts of wearing apparel, everything of the meanest and apparently most useless description, are here brought together; and it is marvellous to witness the anxiety for both sale and purchase evinced by the crowds that assemble, for during the market hours the place is always crowded, and the crowd is constantly changing. It is frequented both by men and women, the great majority of whom are Jews. It may be doubted whether the Stock Exchange could display more energy, vivacity, cupidity, and tact than is here shown: the qualities of the mind are not always developed in proportion merely to the object

to be attained.

Hay markets are held at the east end of Whitechapel, and at Cumberland Market, egent's Park, as well as in Smithfield.

CLUBS.

THE description given by Addison, in one of the early numbers of the 'Spectator,' of the origin of clubs, affords a clue to the nature of the clubs existing a century and a quarter ago: "Man is said to be a social animal, and as an instance of it we may observe, that we take all occasions and pretences of forming ourselves into those little nocturnal assemblies which are commonly known by the name of clubs. When a set of men find themselves agree in any particular, though never so trivial, they establish themselves into a kind of fraternity, and meet once or twice a week upon the account of such a fantastic resemblance."

The Isaac Bickerstaffs and Will Honeycombs of Anne's reign introduce us to many clubs, in which oddity, good fellowship, and eating and drinking seem to have gone hand in hand. Thus the Beef-steak Club and the October Club convey in their names sufficient indication that the genius of good living was worshipped by the members. When we come down to a later period of the last century, to the days of Johnson, of Goldsmith, of Reynolds, of Burke, and of other bright names in the intellectual world, we find clubs still existing, or starting into existence, among men removed from the humble stations of society; but still widely different from the clubs of our own day. They were clubs, not for exclusive orders of society or exclusive professions, not for breakfasts, dinners, and suppers, but attractive foci or centres, to which orators, poets, statesmen, painters, and composers tended. What were the precise steps by which the clubs of the Johnson era gave way to those of the present day, need not be catalogued:—war, commercial enterprise, manufacturing invention, education-all have acted a part in bringing about social changes which have affected clubs as well as other institutions. The clubs of the West End present features in which the social club of the last century is combined with the hotel of the present. Each club elects its own members by ballot, so that no one can gain admission without the free goodwill of a prescribed majority of the members already admitted. Generally speaking, too, the members have, either in opinion or professional avocation, something which serves as a bond of union, and which distinguishes one club from another. Altogether there are about thirty of these clubs at the Court end of the town, of which twothirds are located either in St. James's Street or in Pall Mall. There is scarcely any feature in London more remarkable than the growth of magnificent club-houses on the south side of Pall Mall, where the most distinguished are situated, within the last few years. The old houses in Pall Mall have been demolished one by one, or rather group by group, and replaced by elegant and imposing structures.

But it is in reference to their hotel-like regulations that we chiefly notice these clubs here. Every member, when elected by ballot, pays an entrance fee, and afterwards an annual subscription, for which he has the full use of all the advantages afforded by the club-house. Then all the refreshments which he has, whether breakfast, dinner, supper, wine, or any other kind, are furnished to him at cost price, all the other expenses of the system being defrayed out of the annual subscriptions. Perhaps we cannot do better than describe the working of this system in the words of the late Mr. Walker, in his 'Original:'

"One of the greatest and most important modern changes in society is the present system of clubs. The facilities of living have been wonderfully increased by them in many ways, whilst the expense has been greatly diminished. For a few pounds

a-year, advantages are to be enjoyed which no fortunes except the most ample can procure. I can best illustrate this by a particular instance. The only club I belong to is the 'Athenæum,' which consists of twelve hundred members, amongst whom are to be reckoned a large proportion of the most eminent persons in the land, in every line-civil, military, and ecclesiastical, peers spiritual and temporal (ninety-five noblemen and twelve bishops), commoners, men of the learned professions, those connected with science, the arts, and commerce, in all its principal branches, as well as the distinguished who do not belong to any particular class. Many of these are to be met with every day, living with the same freedom as at their own houses. For six guineas a year every member has the command of an excellent library, with maps, the daily papers, English and foreign, the principal periodicals, and every material for writing, with attendance for whatever is wanted. The building is a sort of palace, and is kept with the same exactness and comfort as a private dwelling. Every member is a master, without any of the trouble of a master. He can come when he pleases, and stay away as long as he pleases, without anything going wrong. He has the command of regular servants, without having to pay or to manage them. He can have whatever meal or refreshment he wants, at all hours, and served up with the cleanliness and comfort of his own house. He orders just what he pleases, having no interest to think of but his own. In short, it is impossible to suppose a greater degree of liberty in living. Clubs, as far as my observation gces, are favourable to economy of time. There is a fixed place to go to; everything is served with comparative expedition, and it is not customary or general to remain long at table. They are favourable to temperance. It seems that when people can freely please themselves, and when they have an opportunity of living simply, excess is seldom committed. From an account I have, of the expenses at the 'Athenæum' in the year 1832, it appears that 17,323 dinners cost on the average, 2s. 9ąd. each; and that the average quantity of wine for each person was a small fraction more than half a pint."

The buildings used as Club Houses divide themselves into two classes; in one the Club has found a home in some of the large houses inhabited by the old nobility, in the other they have raised structures for their special accommodation which have given quite a character to the house architecture of London, and among them are now some of our very finest mansions. These two classes are nearly equal in number; seventeen, like cuckoos, have expelled some other birds from their nests, while fifteen have constructed nests of their own. Of the first class, chiefly the old established clubs, having spoken of the general character and constitution of clubs, we have nothing to add; Boodle's, Brookes's, the Cocoa Tree, and White's, have historical and literary associations that would carry us too far if pursued. Of the second class we shall notice the architecture of some of the more distinguished of them. The first in order of construction was Arthur's, in St. James's Street, an old club, for which Thomas Hopper designed a front; a rusticated lower story, with Corinthian pilasters between the windows on the first floor, a pediment, and a balustraded roof, were thought when erected, some thirty years back, to be a great advance in house architecture. The next in age of any pretension was the United Service Club, built in 1826, by Nash, at the east corner of Pall Mall and the opening into the Park. The building is massive, and not heavy, but the decorations are mean. The cornice is particularly insignificant, and appears worse from the contrast with its opposite neighbour, the Athenæum. The next was the University Club House in Pall Mall, East. The architects were