Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-01-29

the time or ben JOnSOn- IL was mere, tney
say. that one of the habitues. in chal-
lenge contest as to who could make
couplet the quickest, said:
Kissed your sister.
Ben Jonson quickly retorted:
/. Ben Jonson.
Kissed your wife.
But that isn't rhyme" Sylvester pro-
tested.
NO" said Jonson. but it's true
1t is. in fact. not difficult matter to
conjure a picture of the tavern's old days,
even before the fire Of London. The roar
ing. sputtering blaze under the 1izzling
roast, the lights and shadows cleaning
on the faces of great men, and a queer
little poet, appointed by reclamation,
reading his latest poem of praises to Ben
Jonson.
All, Ben.
Say how and when
Shall we, thy guests.
Meet at these lyric feasts.
Meet at the Sun.
The Cheese. the Triple Tun,
Where such clusters had
AS made us nobly wild, not mad?
And each OF time
Outdid the meat, eutdid the froic wine.
Just who they were-these men by the
flre-can easily be imagined by study of
contemporary literature. The genius
of Chatterton, Voltaire. Pope, Congreve,
Garrick. Dickens. Thackeray and Hood
flashed here, and III later days came
Douglas Jerold. Edmund Yates, George
Augustus Sala and Tennyson., And them
there was one who in his own sphere of
usefulness was as great as any of them
old William the waiter. He was the
only William" of London, and since his
death. which threw the Cheese and its
habitues into mourning for weeks. no per-
son by the name of William has been
employed in the tavern as mark Of re-
spect to the head henchman.
It is recorded Of William that when the
pudding, for which the Cheese is
famous. was being served, he hobbled
around the table Offering further help
ings.
ANY gentleman say pudden." he cried
NO gentleman says pudden?" growled
a surly customer.
"Of course, you'd al two 'elpd already.
sir" was Williams retort
Talking of "pudden." there is really
only one word which the tavern's parrot
can clearly articulate. On one occasion
1t got away and flew all over London 1t
was advertised. and after three days a
man came to the Cheese and asked for
the host. Charlie Moore
II caught parrit," said he
Moore described it. 1t was the Cheese
parrot. undoubtedly. But the man was
not convinced.
your parrot say word?"
Eyes: it says .pudden'.'
That's your patrit. se,'' said the man
It's been on the roof the ole bio ,min
night. yellin' pudden'. till you'd a-thort
it was Christmas. Come n take your
bird away"
These are some Of the Cheese annals
from Ben JoEson to the parrot. The
parrot is alive still. and most of the
other 'Cheeseites'' are dead, but other
wise the tavern is the same as it was
yesterday. except that where DIR. Samuel
Johnson smoked his long clay piEe the
exploring and reverential American sits
I'm the chair.
The other night New Yorker re,gned
at the head of the table, with his family
ranged along each side of the BOARD He
had eaten the tavern's fare and was
quietly pulling at a church warden pipe
Charlie. the host. approached and asked
If he felt the spirit OF DR.. Samuel upon
him.
MN. WE'LL" said the American. lit
may be the peace Of Samuel. or it may
be the soul of the pudding. but I've got
n strong suspicion it's the ale"
Which goes to show that the Cheese"
hath other than mental Establishments.