eaming
in his noble countenance, and an eye brilliant and expressive as the
evening star; the rich juice of the Tuscan grape had diffused an unusual
glow over his features, and inspired him with a playful animation, that
but rarely illumined the misanthropic gloominess of his too sensitive
mind. An histrionic star alike distinguished for talent and eccentricity
accompanied him--the gallant, gay Lothario, Kean. But I should consume
the remnant of the night to retrace more of the fading recollections of
the _Finish_. That it was a scene where prudence did not always preside,
is true; but there was a rich union of talent and character always to be
found within its circle, that

12 Mother Butler, the queen of Covent-garden, for many years
kept the celebrated Finish, where, if shut out of your
lodging, you might take shelter till morning, very often in
the very best of company. The house has, since she left it,
been shut up through the suspension of its licence. Mother
Butler was a witty, generous-hearted, and very extraordinary
woman. She is, I believe, still living, and in good
circumstances.

~353~~prevented any very violent outrage upon propriety or decorum.
In the present day, there is nothing like it--the Phoenix,{13}
Offley's,{14} the Coal-hole,{15} and what yet remains of the dismembered
Eccentrics,{16} bears no comparison to the ripe drolleries and

13 A society established at the Wrekin tavern in Broad-
court, in imitation of the celebrated club at Brazennose
College, Oxford, and of whom I purpose to take some notice
hereafter.

14 The Burton ale rooms; frequented by baby bucks, black-
legs and half-pay officers.

15 A tavern in Fountain-court, Strand, kept by the poet
Rhodes; celebrated for the Saturday ordinary.

16 In the room, where of old the Eccentrics {*} met; When
mortals were Brilliants, and fond of a whet, And _Hecate_
environ'd all London in jet. Where Adolphus, and
Shorri',{**} and famed Charley Fox, With a hundred good
whigs led by Alderman Cox, Put their names in the books, and
their cash in the box; Where perpetual Whittle,{***}
facetiously grand, On the president's throne each night took
his stand, With his three-curly wig, and his hammer in hand:
Then Brownly, with eloquence florid and clear, Pour'd a
torrent of metaphor into the ear, With well-rounded periods,