can return, boasting, to any less fortunate
brethren of the counter, of his acquaintances.
So with the young soldier from. Aldershot,
so with the "city man," the "gent," the
"swell," and the curious species known
as the "Champagne Charlie." There are
various ways of showing oneself "a real
gentleman;" but here we can see there is
one true touchstone, that is, remunerating
everybody magnificently. To have the
good word or the recognition of the
strong men in uniform and of the glorious
army of red waiters—they serve us in
flame-coloured jackets— is indeed most
precious. I see high-spirited young fellows,
of "the true breed," giving their five
shilling pieces and half sovereigns to these
noble giants, who obsequiously touch their
caps and go on before them, making way.
To be well known at the Royal Pandemonium
is grand. Many a gay spark
pays heavily, but cannot succeed, for there
is an art in doing this. To be "admitted
to the canteen," to have that entrée, is
indeed happiness. There, as Lamb says,
"earth touched heaven." This select abode
is under the stage, and is crowded by lovely
burdens; but mark—hither resort the ladies
of the stage, enwrapped in cloaks; here is
your true bouquet and charm.

Many sigh to enter here, but a strong
man, of yet vaster proportions than his
brethren, is told off specially to guard.
Only "real" gentlemen and friends of the
house are admitted. The powers of recognition
in the strong men must be carefully
kept alive, or they forget old friends in the
strangest way. But to reach the stage is
bliss, reserved but for very few indeed.
The tenderest friendship with the strong
men, based on true pecuniary esteem, will
not purchase that. Happy warders! Their
lives are laid in smooth places; with them
it is eternal drink, their friends treating
them, from the very pride of that office.
Indeed, to be even one of the army of
waiters, wearing a flame-coloured jacket,
seems almost a competence. Every one
loads them with benefactions. At the
various brilliant bars they come in for their
seizings, in the shape of, I fear, unauthorised
draughts. In every corner, too, are little
stalls for cigars and trinkets—fans, what
not, each controlled by a fascinating and
highly decorated shopwoman. With these
the white-tied Elegans in their apprenticeship
to life, converse easily and with pleasant
badinage, so as to be the envy of
their friends and despair of young clerks,
but have to buy their favours very dearly
—a sovereign for, perhaps, ten minutes'
banter, is high. Gold is expected. Everywhere
gold and silver is pouring out. The
admiring shopboy would give the world to
have gold to give away in this fashion.

Hark to M. Breviary's orchestra, full
and crashing. The flame- coloured curtains
have gone up for the opening of the superb
ballet. The Loves of the Water Lilies,
with the skies and mountains even, rising
behind, with the exquisite colours dazzling,
and the waterfall trickling down with a
melodious gush. In this department the
Royal Pandemonium holds its own: to
give the proprietor his due, so does it hold
its own also, as the thousand and one
limbs group and wind, and fall into artistic
shapes to the sweetest music, and the fairy-
like dresses glitter. Then a cave opens, and
down the centre, from Paradise surely it
seems to the boy clerks and shopmen, comes
the famous NUDITA, bounding down as if
stepping on a cloud. Nudita is from some
great Italian house, her services, we are
told, being purchased at an enormous sum.
These services are certainly of the most
amazing sort, and an excess of modesty,
which should have been left outside, causes
some of us to droop our eyes in confusion.
At another time the incomparable Minette,
lured at great cost from some French dancing
garden, throws us into ecstasies of delight
by her diverting piquancies, kicking a
supernumerary's hat off with one skilful touch,
introducing for the first time to us the
archest and most midnight of Paris dances.
The best music hall singing, the best
tumbling, the best glees sung decorously in
black suits and evening dresses—for the
tone of the house must be kept up—the best
of everything. The army of entertainers
behind the curtain is prodigious—no cost
is spared. The beggarly shillings that Cox
the shopkeeper gives for self and wife surely
do not pay for this, neither does the profit
on his meagre pint. It is wonderful how
it can be done!

Such is the romantic view of the Royal
Pandemonium Palace. So it appears to
the young mind behind desk or counter, all
the day long. It is an enchanting and
fascinating temple; and he longs for night
to set in, when he can go down with a
friend and cheaply learn what life is. To
know a real "Pandemonium girl" with that
rank, is considered the height of ton, that is,
provided it be known that he knows one.
To this end vast sacrifices are made. To
devote the Sunday to taking down one of
these young ladies to Greenwich, with a