For an hour or two the promenade and the concert were sufficiently amusing, and the crowd gathered before the orchestra, when Lowe or Miss Stevenson came forward with a new song. Music is the food of love, and the Vauxhall songs were (as Mr. Dobson has remarked) “abjectly sentimental.” Incidents like the following described by an amorous advertiser in the _London Chronicle_ for 5 August, 1758, must have been not uncommon at the gardens:--“A young lady who was at Vauxhall on Thursday night last in company with two gentlemen, could not but observe a young gentleman in blue and a gold laced hat, who being near her by the orchestra during the performance, especially the last song, gazed upon her with the utmost attention. He earnestly hopes (if unmarried) she will favour him with a line directed to A. D. at the bar of the Temple Exchange Coffee-house, Temple Bar, to inform him whether fortune, family and character may not entitle him upon a further knowledge, to hope an interest in her heart.” At nine o’clock a bell rang, and the company hurried to the north side of the gardens to get a view of the Cascade. A curtain being drawn aside disclosed a landscape scene illuminated by concealed lights. In the foreground was a miller’s house and a waterfall. “The exact appearance of water” was seen flowing down a declivity and turning the wheel of a mill: the water rose up in foam at the bottom, and then glided away. This simple exhibition was a favourite at Vauxhall, though it lasted but a few minutes and was spoken of contemptuously in _The Connoisseur_ and other journals as the “tin cascade.”[330] [Illustration: THE CITIZEN AT VAUXHALL, 1755.]