Some clubs have numberless sub-committees to deal with different details of management—wine committee, cigar committee, and goodness knows what else. It is, however, doubtful whether the united efforts of all the committee-men and sub-committee-men in the world are as successful as those of one dominating individual, who knows exactly what the needs of a club really are, and gets them satisfied. On the whole, the cooking and food in West End clubs is very fair, and in many cases, if some further degree of attention were devoted to minor details, would be above criticism. A deplorable tendency, however, is the neglect of that old-fashioned English cookery which in perfection is the delight of true gastronomists. What is wanted in clubs is the very best material properly served and cooked. Alas! it is to be feared that, with the exception of a very few clubs, the best of everything now goes to the palatial restaurants, who absolutely will not purchase the indifferent meat, game, and vegetables which are foisted upon more easy-going customers. The craze for elaborate cooking in clubs would appear to have been originated by George IV when Prince Regent. During dinner one evening at Carlton House, the conversation chancing to turn upon club dinners, Sir Thomas Stepney described them as being intensely dull, owing to their eternal joints, beefsteaks, or boiled fowl with oyster sauce, followed by an apple tart. Upon this the Prince, who was much interested, sent for Watier, his own chef, and invited him then and there to take a house and organize a dinner club. Accordingly a club was started at 81 Piccadilly, by Watier; Madison, the Prince’s page, being manager; and Labourier, one of the cooks from the royal kitchen, chef. It was soon joined by the principal dandies, including Beau Brummell, and became the scene of much high play, chiefly at macao. Brummell one day, when he had lost a large sum, called to the waiter: “Bring me a flat candlestick and a pistol”; upon which another member, Mr. Hythe, reputed as mad as a hatter, produced a couple of loaded pistols from his pocket, which he placed on the table, coolly saying: “Mr. Brummell, if you wish to put an end to your existence, I am extremely happy to offer you the means without troubling the waiter.” During another evening’s play, Raikes began to rally Jack Bouverie, brother of Lord Heytesbury, on his bad luck, and the latter took it in such bad part that he threw his play-bowl full of counters at Raikes’s head. A great row ensued. Watier’s closed about 1819, many of its leading members being then utterly ruined. After this the club-house was run by a set of blacklegs as a common gaming-house, which eventually was taken over by Crockford, who, in partnership with a man named Taylor, set up a very successful hazard bank.