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.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175