~352~~Rocrea whiskey, would hold forth in powerful contention, until
mine hostess of the _Finish_{12} would put an end to the debate; and the
irritation it would sometimes engender, by disencumbering herself of
a few of her Milesian monosyllables. Then would bounce into the room,
Felix M'Carthy, the very cream of comicalities, and the warm-hearted
James Hay ne, and Frank Phippen, and Michael Nugent, and the eloquent
David Power, and memory Middleton, and father Proby, just to sip an
emulsion after the close of their labours in reporting a long debate in
the House of Commons. Here, too, I remember to have seen for the first
time in my life, the wayward Byron, with the light of genius beaming
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.
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