“When my spirits are low, for relief and delight, I still place your splendid Memorial in sight; And call to my Muse, when care strives to pursue, ‘Bring the Steaks to my Mem’ry, the Bowl to my view.’” The bowl in question eventually passed into the hands of the present Beefsteak Club; most unfortunately, it was some years ago taken away by thieves, who managed to obtain access to the club premises, and it has never been recovered. Charles Morris had very slender means to support his family, but owing to the generosity of the old Duke of Norfolk he was able to retire to a charming rural retreat near Dorking, embosomed amidst the undulating elevations of Surrey. Here, however, he seems not to have been entirely at ease, regretting no doubt the sweet, shady side of Pall Mall, of which he had so gracefully sung. The Duke assisted Morris, owing, it was said, to the kindly suggestion of Kemble, the actor, who one night had been dining at Norfolk House when the Beefsteak bard had also formed one of the party. When the latter had gone, a few guests only remaining with the Duke, who liked late sittings, His Grace began to deplore, somewhat pathetically, the smallness of the stipend upon which poor Charles was obliged to support his family, observing that it was a discredit to the age that a man who had so long gladdened the lives of so many titled and opulent associates should be left to struggle with the difficulties of an inadequate income at a time of life when he had no reasonable hope of augmenting it. Kemble, who had been listening attentively, then broke out in peculiarly emphatic tones: “And does your Grace sincerely lament the destitute condition of your friend, with whom you have passed so many agreeable hours? Your Grace has described that condition most feelingly. But is it possible that the greatest peer of the realm, luxuriating amidst the prodigalities of fortune, should lament the distress which he does not relieve? The empty phrase of benevolence, the mere breath and vapour of generous sentiment, become no man; they certainly are unworthy of your Grace. Providence, my Lord Duke, has placed you in a station where the wish to do good and the doing it are the same thing. An annuity from your overflowing coffers, or a small nook of land clipped from your unbounded domains, would scarcely be felt by your Grace; but you would be repaid with usury, with tears of grateful joy, with prayers warm from a bosom which your bounty will have rendered happy.” The Duke said nothing at the time, except stare with astonishment at so unexpected a lecture; but not a month elapsed before Charles Morris was snugly invested in a beautiful sequestered retreat surrounded by pretty grounds.