CHAPTER XXIV.
BUTTON'S IN PALL MALL.
Those who frequent the dismal and enormous Mansions of Silence which
society has raised to Ennui in that Omphalos of town, Pall Mall, and
which, because they knock you down with their dulness, are called Clubs
no doubt; those who yawn from a bay-window in St. James's Street, at a
half-score of other dandies gaping from another bay-window over the way;
those who consult a dreary evening paper for news, or satisfy themselves
with the jokes of the miserable Punch by way of wit; the men about town
of the present day, in a word, can have but little idea of London some
six or eight score years back. Thou pudding-sided old dandy of St.
James's Street, with thy lacquered boots, thy dyed whiskers, and thy
suffocating waistband, what art thou to thy brilliant predecessor in the
same quarter? The Brougham from which thou descendest at the portal of
the "Carlton" or the "Travellers'," is like everybody else's; thy
black coat has no more plaits, nor buttons, nor fancy in it than thy
neighbor's; thy hat was made on the very block on which Lord Addlepate's
was cast, who has just entered the Club before thee. You and he yawn
together out of the same omnibus-box every night; you fancy yourselves
men of pleasure; you fancy yourselves men of fashion; you fancy
yourselves men of taste; in fancy, in taste, in opinion, in philosophy,
the newspaper legislates for you; it is there you get your jokes and
your thoughts, and your facts and your wisdom--poor Pall Mall dullards.
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