It was a delightful poet who made those verses.

As for the beer itself--that, I think, must have been made from the root of all evil! A single glass of it insured an uninterrupted pain for twenty-four hours.
The influence of my liberality working on Charley Marden--for it was I who paid for the beer--he presently invited us all to take an ice-cream with him at Pettingil's saloon.

Pettingil was the Delmonico of Rivermouth.

He furnished ices and confectionery for aristocratic balls and parties, and didn't disdain to officiate as leader of the orchestra at the same; for Pettingil played on the violin, as Pepper Whitcomb described it, "like Old Scratch." Pettingil's confectionery store was on the corner of Willow and High Streets.

The saloon, separated from the shop by a flight of three steps leading to a door hung with faded red drapery, had about it an air of mystery and seclusion quite delightful.