The newly-elected member was then brought in blindfolded, accompanied on his right by the Bishop with his mitre on, and holding the volume in which the oath of allegiance to the rules of the society was inscribed, while on his left stood some other member holding the sword of state. Behind were the halberdiers. These were all decked out in the most incongruous and absurd dresses—in all probability originally obtained from Covent Garden Theatre. “The charge” was then delivered by the Recorder. In it he dwelt on the solemnity of the obligations the new member was about to take on himself. He was made to understand, in tones alternately serious and gay, the true brotherly spirit of the Sublime Society of Beefsteaks; that while a perfect equality existed among the Brethren, such equality never should be permitted to degenerate into undue familiarity; that while badinage was encouraged in the freest sense of the word, such badinage must never approach to a personality; and that good fellowship must be united with good breeding. Above all, attention was drawn to the Horatian motto over the chimney-piece, and the aspirant was warned that ignominious expulsion was the fate of him who carried beyond those walls words uttered there in friendship’s confidence. That done, the following oath, dating from the origin of the society, was administered: OATH. YOU SHALL ATTEND DULY, VOTE IMPARTIALLY, AND CONFORM TO OUR LAWS AND ORDERS OBEDIENTLY. YOU SHALL SUPPORT OUR DIGNITY, PROMOTE OUR WELFARE, AND AT ALL TIMES BEHAVE AS A WORTHY MEMBER IN THIS SUBLIME SOCIETY. SO BEEF AND LIBERTY BE YOUR REWARD. This was read aloud, clause by clause, by the Bishop, and repeated by the candidate; at the end the book was rapidly exchanged by the cook, who was called the Serjeant, for the bone of beef that had served for the day’s dinner, carefully protected by a napkin, and after the words “SO BEEF AND LIBERTY BE MY REWARD” he was desired to kiss the book. Instead of this he kissed its substitute, and by reason of a friendly downward pressure from behind he generally did so most devoutly. The bandage was then removed from his eyes; the book on which he had sworn the oath was still before him; and amid the laughter and congratulations of his Brethren he again took his seat as a member of the Sublime Society, and the excluded guests were readmitted. The Serjeant was a very important figure at the meetings of the Sublime Society, and the office was well filled by Heardson, the cook, whose picture was engraved by J. R. Smith (the print hangs in the modern Beefsteak). So great was his affection for the “Society” that one of his last requests was to be carried into the club-room to take a farewell glance at the familiar scene, and this he was allowed to do.