But still, cheap as this appears, he pays it the aggregate, for there are frequently 500 or 600 diners daily at these Establishments; and the waiter, who generally purchases his place, and provides glass, cloths, etc. not only makes a ‘good thing of it,’ but frequently accumulates sufficient to set up on his own account, in which case, he is almost sure of being followed by the regular customers.

For he is universally so obliging, and possesses such a memory, and an aptness in discovering the various tastes of his visitors, that he seldom fails in making most of the every-day feeders his fast friends.

“Tom, bring me a small plate of boiled beef and potatoes,” cries one of his regulars.  Placing his hand upon the table-cloth; and knocking off the crumbs with his napkin, he bends to the gentleman, and in a small. confidential voice informs him,

“The beef won’t do for you, Sir,—­it’s too low, it’s bin in cut a hour.  Fine ribs o’ lamb, jist up.”

“That will do, Tom,” says the gratified customer.

“Grass or spinach, Sir? fine ’grass,’—­first this season.”

“Bring it, and quick, Tom,” replies the gentleman, pleased with the assiduous care he takes in not permitting him to have an indifferent cut of a half cold joint.

The most extraordinary part of the business is, the ready manner in which he ‘casts up’ all you have eaten, takes the reckoning, and then is off again in a twinkling.

A stranger, and one unaccustomed to feed in public, is recognised in a moment by his uneasy movements.  He generally slinks into the nearest vacant seat, and is evidently taken aback by the apparently abrupt and rapid annunciation of the voluble and active waiter, and, in the hurry and confusion, very frequently decides upon the dish least pleasant to his palate.

A respectable gentleman of the old school, of a mild and reverend appearance, and a lean and hungry figure, once dropped into a settle where we were discussing a rump steak and a shallot, tender as an infant, and fragrant as a flower garden!  Tom pounced upon him in a moment, and uttered the mystic roll.  The worthy senior was evidently confused and startled, but necessity so far overcame his diffidence that he softly said,

“A small portion of veal and ham, well done.”

Tom, whirled round, continuing the application of his eternal napkin to a tumbler which he was polishing, bawled out in a stentorian voice,

“Plate o’ weal, an’ dam well done!”

We shall never sponge from the slate of our memory the utter astonishment expressed in the bland countenance of the startled old gentleman at this peculiar echo of his wishes.

SCENE X.(b)

“This is a werry lonely spot, Sir; I wonder you ar’n’t afeard of being robbed.”

Job Timmins was a tailor bold,
And well he knew his trade,
And though he was no fighting man
Had often dress’d a blade!