The concert was then resumed, and some hungry citizens and their families had already taken their seats in the supper boxes. During supper the citizen[331] expressed his wonder at the number of the lamps, and said that it must cost a great deal of money every night to light them all. The eldest Miss declared that for her part she liked the dark walk best of all because it was _solentary_. Little Miss thought the last song pretty, and said she would buy it if she could but remember the tune: and the old lady observed that there was a great deal of good company indeed, but the gentlemen were so rude that they perfectly put her out of countenance by staring at her through their spy-glasses. The more fashionable visitors arrived later and had their supper after the concert, often hiring a little band of French horns to play to them. An interesting supper-party might have been seen at the gardens on a June night in 1750, Horace Walpole, Lady Caroline Petersham and “the little Ashe, or the Pollard Ashe as they call her.” In the front of their box--one of the best boxes, of course, near the orchestra and in full view of the company--sat Lady Caroline “with the vizor of her hat erect, and looking gloriously jolly and handsome.” “She had fetched (says Walpole) my brother Orford from the next box, where he was enjoying himself with his _petite partie_, to help us to mince chickens. We minced seven chickens into a china dish, which Lady Caroline stewed over a lamp, with three pats of butter and a flagon of water, stirring and rattling and laughing, and we every minute expecting the dish to fly about our ears. She had brought Betty, the fruit girl, with hampers of strawberries and cherries from Rogers’s, and made her wait upon us, and then made her sup by us at a little table.... In short the whole air of our party was sufficient, as you will easily imagine, to take up the whole attention of the Gardens; so much so, that from eleven o’clock till half an hour after one we had the whole concourse round our booth; at last, they came into the little gardens of each booth on the side of ours, till Harry Vane took up a bumper and drank their healths, and was proceeding to treat them with still greater freedoms. It was three o’clock before we got home” (Walpole to Montague, 23 June, 1750). At this point it seems appropriate to furnish some details of the Vauxhall commissariat, and we cannot do better than transcribe an actual Bill of Provisions sold in the gardens about the year 1762.[332]