This gives us a very fair insight into the sober relaxations of our great-great-grandfathers: and that the White Conduit House was, about this time, a resort for harmless recreation; and, certainly, it would rejoice the modern temperance enthusiasts to find that the principal beverages there drank were "non-intoxicants." Oliver Goldsmith used frequently to go there, walking from his house at Islington; and, in his "Citizen of the World," letter 122, he writes, "After having surveyed the Curiosities of this fair and beautiful town, I proceeded forward, leaving a fair stone building on my right; here the inhabitants of London often assemble to celebrate a feast of hot rolls and butter. Seeing such numbers, each with their little tables before them, employed on this occasion, must no doubt be a very amusing sight to the looker-on, but still more so to those who perform in the Solemnity." And the same story of simplicity of amusement, and refreshment, is amusingly told in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for May, 1760, vol. xxx. p. 242, in a short poem by William Woty, the author of the "Shrubs of Parnassus, consisting of a variety of poetical essays, moral and comic, by I. Copywell, of Lincoln's Inn, Esq. 1760." "_And to_ White Conduit _House We will go, will go, will go_." Grub Street _Register_. "Wish'd Sunday's come--mirth brightens ev'ry face, And paints the rose upon the housemaid's cheek _Harriot_, or _Mol_ more ruddy. Now the heart Of prentice resident in ample street, Or alley, Kennel-wash'd _Cheapside_, _Cornhill_ Or _Cranborne_, thee, for calcuments renown'd, With joy distends. His meal meridian o'er, With switch in hand, he to _White Conduit_ house Hies merry hearted. Human beings here In couples multitudinous assemble, Forming the drollest groupe, that ever trod Fair Islingtonian plains. Male after male, Dog after dog, succeeding--husbands--wives-- Fathers and mothers--brothers--sisters--friends-- And _pretty little boys and girls_. _Around, Across, along_, the garden's shrubby maze, They walk, they sit, they stand. What crowds press on, Eager to mount the stairs, eager to catch First vacant bench or chair in _long-room_ plac'd. Here prig with prig holds conference polite, And indiscriminate, the gaudy beau, And sloven mix. Here _he_, who all the week Took bearded mortals by the nose, or sat Weaving dead hairs, and whistling wretched strain, And eke the sturdy youth, whose trade it is Stout oxen to contend, with gold bound hat, And silken stocking strut. The red-arm'd belle Here shews her _tasty_ gown, proud to be thought The butterfly of fashion: and, forsooth, Her haughty mistress deigns for once to tread The same unhallow'd floor. 'Tis hurry all, And ratling cups and saucers. Waiter here, And waiter there, and waiter here _and_ there, At once is call'd--_Joe--Joe--Joe--Joe--Joe-- Joe_ on the right--and _Joe_ upon the left,