as when the principal harpiste of the King of Saxony and his first
fiddler happened to be passing through Mowbray, merely by accident, or
on a tour of pleasure and instruction, to witness the famous scenes of
British industry. Otherwise the audience of the Cat and Fiddle, we mean
the Temple of the Muses, were fain to be content with four Bohemian
brothers, or an equal number of Swiss sisters. The most popular
amusements however were the "Thespian recitations:" by amateurs, or
novices who wished to become professional. They tried their metal on an
audience which could be critical.

A sharp waiter, with a keen eye on the entering guests, immediately
saluted Gerard and his friend, with profuse offers of hospitality:
insisting that they wanted much refreshment; that they were both
very hungry and very thirsty: that, if not hungry, they should order
something to drink that would give them an appetite: if not inclined to
quaff, something to eat that would make them athirst. In the midst of
these embarrassing attentions, he was pushed aside by his master with,
"There, go; hands wanted at the upper end; two American gentlemen from
Lowell singing out for Sherry Cobler; don't know what it is; give them
our bar mixture; if they complain, say it's the Mowbray slap-bang, and
no mistake. Must have a name, Mr Morley; name's everything; made the
fortune of the Temple: if I had called it the Saloon, it never would
have filled, and perhaps the magistrates never have granted a licence."

The speaker was a very portly man who had passed the maturity of
manhood, but active as Harlequin. He had a well-favoured countenance;
fair, good-humoured, but very sly. He was dressed like the head butler
of the London Tavern, and was particular as to his white waistcoats and
black silk stockings, punctilious as to his knee-buckles, proud of his
diamond pin; that is to say when he officiated at the Temple.

"Your mistress told us we should find you here," said Stephen, "and that
you wished to see us.

"Plenty to tell you," said their host putting his finger to his
nose. "If information is wanted in this part of the world, I flatter
myself--Come, Master Gerard, here's a table; what shall I call for?
glass of the Mowbray slap-bang? No better; the receipt has been in our
family these fifty years. Mr Morley I know won't join us. Did you say
a cup of tea, Mr Morley? Water, only water; well, that's strange. Boy
alive there, do you hear me call? Water wanted