Having joined our father at his office, he would invariably take us to a chop-house situated at the end of a blind alley which lay concealed somewhere in the neighborhood of Walnut and Third Streets, and where we ate a most wonderful luncheon of English chops and apple pie.

As the luncheon drew to its close I remember how Richard and I used to fret and fume while my father in a most leisurely manner used to finish off his mug of musty ale.

But at last the three of us, hand in hand, my father between us, were walking briskly toward our happy destination.
At that time there were only a few first-class theatres in Philadelphia--the Arch Street Theatre, owned by Mrs.John Drew; the Chestnut Street, and the Walnut Street--all of which had stock companies, but which on the occasion of a visiting star acted as the supporting company.

These were the days of Booth, Jefferson, Adelaide Neilson, Charles Fletcher, Lotta, John McCullough, John Sleeper Clark, and the elder Sothern.

And how Richard and I worshipped them all--not only these but every small-bit actor in every stock company in town.
Indeed, so many favorites of the stage did my brother and I admire that ordinary frames would not begin to hold them all, and to overcome this defect we had our bedroom entirely redecorated.