social event, would "never think of intruding on the sacred Wednesday evenings". On the other hand, Thomas Moore, a penniless Irish poet admired for his breeding and social graces, was a member. The ballroom was partitioned off for the dancers by crimson ropes. In the early 19th century, the orchestra was from Edinburgh, and conducted by Nathaniel Gow, son of the celebrated Niel Gow; later on, in the early Victorian era, Weippert and Collinet's band provided the music. To avoid any suggestion of impropriety, dances were initially limited to English country dances and Scotch reels. This changed some time after the declaration of the Regency, when first the quadrille and then the waltz, at that time more like the modern polka, were introduced. According to Raikes, these were first danced at Almack's in 1813, to Gronow in 1815, and to Dancing in the Badminton Library, in 1816. The introduction of the quadrille is strongly associated with Lady Jersey, and the waltz definitely linked to Countess de Lieven. As late as 1823, this could still lead to offence: "I went two nights ago to a costume ball at Almack's for a Welsh charity. It was very brilliant & there was a quadrille that was beautiful…The quadrille, however, gave great offence, for they danced together all night & took the upper end of the room, which was considered a great impertinence." By 1837, matters had so far changed that the gallopade and the waltz were now the only things danced at the Almack's balls. The club took pains not to resemble expensive private balls by avoiding sumptuous repasts. In the Regency period, refreshments in the supper rooms consisted of thinly-sliced bread (which must be a day old to be sliced that thinly) with fresh butter, and dry cake (dry meaning unfrosted, without icing, not stale), probably similar to pound cake. To avoid drunkenness, only tea and lemonade were served in the supper rooms. By the 1830s, refreshments had fallen off in quality: "Now there is no supper; there is nothing in the shape of refreshments but tea and lemonade, and the worst of it is, that both articles are so miserably bad that it requires an effort to drink either. The lemonade is sour as vinegar; while to apply the word tea to the stuff called by that name at Almack's, were one of the most unwarrantable perversions of language ever perpetrated.