the fair president for a couple of tickets for each of which he paid
threepence; a sum however, according to the printed declaration of
the voucher, convertible into potential liquid refreshments, no great
compensation to a very strict member of the Temperance Society of
Mowbray.

A handsome staircase with bright brass bannisters led them to an ample
landing-place, on which opened a door, now closed and by which sate a
boy who collected the tickets of those who would enter it. The portal
was of considerable dimensions and of architectural pretension; it was
painted of a bright green colour, the panels gilt. Within the pediment,
described in letters of flaming gas, you read, "THE TEMPLE OF THE
MUSES."

Gerard and Morley entered an apartment very long and sufficiently lofty,
though rather narrow for such proportions. The ceiling was even richly
decorated; the walls were painted, and by a brush of considerable power.
Each panel represented some well-known scene from Shakespeare, Byron,
or Scott: King Richard, Mazeppa, the Lady of the Lake were easily
recognized: in one panel, Hubert menaced Arthur; here Haidee rescued
Juan; and there Jeanie Deans curtsied before the Queen. The room was
very full; some three or four hundred persons were seated in different
groups at different tables, eating, drinking, talking, laughing, and
even smoking, for notwithstanding the pictures and the gilding it was
found impossible to forbid, though there were efforts to discourage,
this practice, in the Temple of the Muses. Nothing however could be more
decorous than the general conduct of the company, though they consisted
principally of factory people. The waiters flew about with as much
agility as if they were serving nobles. In general the noise was great,
though not disagreeable; sometimes a bell rang and there was comparative
silence, while a curtain drew up at the further end of the room,
opposite to the entrance, and where there was a theatre, the stage
raised at a due elevation, and adorned with side scenes from which
issued a lady in a fancy dress who sang a favourite ballad; or a
gentleman elaborately habited in a farmer's costume of the old comedy,
a bob-wig, silver buttons and buckles, and blue stockings, and who
favoured the company with that melancholy effusion called a comic song.
Some nights there was music on the stage; a young lady in a white robe
with a golden harp, and attended by a gentleman in black mustachios.
This w