le in its throat, you fell into Telson's down two steps, and
came to your senses in a miserable little shop with two little counters,
where the oldest of men made your cheque shake as if the wind rustled
it, while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which
were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet Street, and which were
made the dingier by their own iron bars and the heavy shadow of Temple
Bar. If your business necessitated your seeing 'the House,' you were put
into a species of Condemned Hold at the back, where you meditated on a
mis-spent life, until the House came with its hands in its pockets, and
you could hardly blink at it in the dismal twilight."

In 1788 (George III.) the firm purchased the renowned "Devil Tavern,"
next door eastward, and upon the site erected the retiring row of houses
up a dim court, now called Child's Place, finally absorbing the old
place of revelry and hushing the unseemly clatter of pewter pots and the
clamorous shouts of "Score a pint of sherry in the Apollo" for ever.

The noisy "Devil Tavern" (No. 2, Fleet Street) had stood next the quiet
goldsmith's shop ever since the time of James I. Shakespeare himself
must, day after day, have looked up at the old sign of St. Dunstan
tweaking the Devil by the nose, that flaunted in the wind near the Bar.
Perhaps the sign was originally a compliment to the goldsmith's men who
frequented it, for St. Dunstan was, like St. Eloy, a patron saint of
goldsmiths, and himself worked at the forge as an amateur artificer of
church plate. It may, however, have only been a mark of respect to the
saint, whose church stood hard by, to the east of Chancery Lane. At the
"Devil" the Apollo Club, almost the first institution of the kind in
London, held its merry meetings, presided over by that grim yet jovial
despot, Ben Jonson. The bust of Apollo, skilfully modelled from the head
of the Apollo Belvidere, that once kept watch over the door, and heard
in its time millions of witty things and scores of fond recollections of
Shakespeare by those who personally knew and loved him, is still
preserved at Child's bank. They also show there among their heirlooms
"The Welcome," probably written by immortal Ben himself, which is full
of a jovial inspiration that speaks well for the canary at the "Devil."
It used to stand over the chimney-piece, written in gilt letters on a
black board, and some of the wittiest and wisest men of the reigns of
James an