A portrait of George IV was formerly over the fireplace. Sir Thomas Lawrence, its painter, was engaged in finishing the sword-knot and orders only a few hours before his death. He intended to present it to the club, but, as his executors declined to part with it, the painting was eventually purchased for £128 10s. This portrait is now in the museum of the Royal Pavilion at Brighton, having been handed over to the Corporation of that town in 1858. Busts of Dr. Johnson (presented by Mr. Percy Fitzgerald) and of Pope (a bequest) are here, together with the carved armchair used by Dickens at Gad’s Hill, in which, on the day of his death, the great novelist had been sitting at work on “Edwin Drood.” Many will remember “The Empty Chair” which appeared in the then newly-founded _Graphic_ in June 1870. Macaulay’s corner, near the books on English history, is a well-known feature of this library, which the late Mark Pattison said he thought the most delightful place in the world, especially on a Sunday morning. At the table in the south-west corner Thackeray used constantly to work. A great habitué of the library in the early days of the club was Isaac Disraeli, who, as befitted the author of the “Curiosities of Literature,” was one of the earliest members—indeed, one of the founders of the club. His invariable costume consisted of a blue coat with brass buttons, a yellow waistcoat, and knee-breeches. A similar fashion was followed by another member—Dr. Booth—as late as 1863. One evening, in or about the year 1830, a non-member, young Benjamin Disraeli, in defiance of the club rules, coolly walked upstairs to the library, and there proceeded to confer with his father. He was duly requested to withdraw, and it is perhaps not extraordinary that the future Prime Minister should have been blackballed in 1832. The reason given at the time for this rejection was that his proposer or seconder had rendered himself particularly unpopular. It was not until thirty-four years later that the great statesman became a member of the Athenæum, to which he was admitted under the rule allowing the committee to elect annually a limited number of persons “who have attained to distinguished eminence.” As Lord Beaconsfield he seems to have used the club but little, although, according to tradition, he abstracted from the library his own “Revolutionary Epick,” written in 1834.