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!

Quoth he, one day--"I have not had
A holiday for years,
So I'm resolv'd to go and fish,
And cut for once the shears."

So donning quick his Sunday's suit,
He took both rod and line,
And bait for fish--and prog for one,
And eke a flask of wine.

For he was one who loved to live,
And said--"Where'er I roam
I like to feed--and though abroad,
To make myself at home."

Beneath a shady grove o