¶ 3 Leave a comment on paragraph 3 0 At 7 ½ P.M. a brass-band of 26 performers in uniform and plumes, surround the little dry fountain in the narrow but hansome park between the Hotel and lake, and make passably good music for an hour, presenting a picturesque appearance from our upper windows, a bright lantern before each player in a circle, assisted by a luster gas chandelier behind them holding a score of globes, throwing a mellow light over the variagated [sic] flower and shrubbery beds each side of them, more charming because it was our first Hotel brass band not counting the Geneva stringband, but we afterwards learn that these players are expected only once or twice a week. They are Boatmen, amateurs, and the landlord treats them to bottles and glasses for their pay.
¶ 4 Leave a comment on paragraph 4 0 While they are playing Jep and I visit the hansome billiard table, here furnished free to guests. The cues are so hansome and everything looks new, we wait impatiently for the little noisy boys to finish their game…but disappointment! the Cues are sharpened like toothpics [sic], filled with lead at the butts, awkward as a crow bar, the balls are too small and run under the cushions and a few minutes soon disgusts us.