By Celia's Arbor, Chapters XXXIX-XLV [pp. 451-473]

BY CELIA'S ARBOR.
BY CELIA'S
CHAPTER XXXIX.
BORROWED PLUMES.
rem
EANTIME, we had not forgotten our old mon
NIV friend Moses. deri
The Blue Anchor was a music-hall before that the
kind of entertainment was supposed to be invented.
That is to say, long before the name of music was you
debased and song dragged in the dust before Lon- dan
don audiences of shop-boys and flashy gents, the quei
thing was already flourishing in our seaport-towns prot
for the benefit of soldiers and sailors. The Anchor, cons
as it was lovingly called, stood in a crowded street, row
where every second house was a beer-shop, and the reso
house between a pawnbroker's. It had a parterre, to h
or pit, the entrance to which was free, where Jack fello
the Sailor, Joe the Marine, and the Boiled Lobster, the
could sit in comfort and dignity, each man with his hitcl
pipe in his mouth and his pot before him. It was a ceed
long, high, and narrow room. At the end stood a excl
platform, where the performances took place, and siste
under the platform, just as you may see in the pres- a ha
ent London houses, was a table where the proprie- ever
tor, acting as chairman, announced the songs and ski,
dances, called order, and superintended the comfort -hi
of his guests. A small and select band of admirers
rallied round the chairman, and were privileged, not your
only to call for drinks to assuage the great man's cam
thirst, but also from time to time to take the ham- he a
mer of authority. At the other end of the hall was dle
a small gallery, where young naval officers and sub- ens
alterns sometimes honored the representations by the
their appearance. It was to this gallery that we repaired, Leonard and I, accompanied by a second- and
lieutenant of the navy. He was a cheerful youth, due
of smiling demeanor, whose chief merit in my eyes togs
was his unbounded admiration for Leonard. He and
met us by accident, and volunteered to join us, not othe
knowing the nature of our quest; on being in- and
formed that there might be a row, he became the a g
more eager to come with us. The fervent prayer of cun
every young naval officer on every possible occasion into
that there may be a row is surely a healthy distin- like
guishing characteristic of the navy. Certainly the dish
members of no other service or profession with which acrc
I am acquainted are desirous of a fight on any possible occasion.
We went, therefore, into the gallery, where there
were a dozen of noisy middies and young naval fellows, who had been dining not wisely, but too well.
There was an interval in the performance, and
a buzz of conversation going on. Now and then
one of the audience would lift up his voice with a
snatch of a chorus, to be taken up by his neighbors,
or, if it was a favorite, by the whole audience.
We looked about the room. No Moses had arrived yet. That was quite certain. Because from
our gallery we could see everybody in the hall, and
there was no doubt about our recognizing Mosesso old a friend.
ARBOR.
We sat down in the front row and looked on.
Down came the hammer, with some inaudible
arks from the chair. There was silence for a
nent, and then a shout, not of applause, but of
sion, as a man, dressed in sailor-rig, bounded on
stage and began to dance a hornpipe.
' Where was you shipped, mate? "-" When was
last paid off?" There was no denying the
ce, which was faithfully executed, but, in consence of the absence of some professional detail,
ably in the dancer's get-up, the sailors with one
ent refused to recognize him as a brother. The
grew tremendous as the performer went on,
lutely refusing to recognize any objection raised
is personal appearance. At last a stalwart young
w bounded from a table in the auditorium to
platform, coolly hustled the professional with a
h or two of his shoulder off the stage, and proled to execute the hornpipe himself, amid the
amations of his comrades and brethren of the
r services. The band, consisting of two fiddles,
*rp, and a cornet, went on playing steadily what happened in the house. It was like Wassielewfiddling while the sailors sung, drank, and danced
imself unregarding.
The dance over, and the applause subsided, the
ng fellow jumped back to his place, and down
e the chairman's knocker again. Sam Trolloper,
nnounced, this time-without any prefix or hanto the name, as if one would say Charles Dickor Julius Caesar-was about to sing the song of
day.
The illustrious Sam, who was a popular favorite,
received the vociferous applause as something
to real merit, appeared in a suit of shore-going
. He wore a coat all tails, with a hat all brim,
trousers of which one leg was gone, and the
r going. Boots without socks, a ragged shirt,
a red kerchief tied around his neck, completed
arb which, coupled with the fellow's face of low
ning and inextinguishable drollery, made him up
as complete an habitual criminal as you are
ly to meet outside of Short's Gardens. He braned a short stick, with a short, preliminary walk
ss the stage, and then began the following:
'Tis 0! for a gay and gallant bark,
A brisk and a lively breeze,
A bully crew, and a captain too,
To carry me o'er the seas To carry me o'er the seas, my boys,
To my own true love so gay,
For she's taking of a trip
In a government ship,
Ten thousand miles away.
Then blow, ye winds, heigho!
For a-roaming we will go,
I'll stay no more on England's shore:
Then let the music play,
For I'm off by the morning train
Across the raging main,
I'm on the rove to my own true love,
Ten thousand miles away.
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