make a splash themselves on a Sunday; besides, my dear, it's a matter of
business now-a-days: many of your kickshaw tradesmen west of Temple Bar
find it as necessary to consult _appearances_ in the park and watch the
_new come outs_, as I do to watch the stock market: if they find their
customers there in good feather and high repute, they venture to cover
another leaf in their ledger; but if, on the contrary, they appear shy,
only show of a Sunday, and are cut by the nobs, why then they understand
it's high time to close the account, and it's very well for them if they
are ever able to _strike a balance_."

At the conclusion of this colloquy, we had arrived at the Gate House,
Highgate, just in time to hear the landlord proclaim that dinner was
that moment about to be served up: the civic rank of the alderman did
not fail to obtain its due share of servile attention from Boniface, who
undertook to escort our party into the room, and having announced the
consequence ~95~~of his guests, placed the alderman and his family at
the head of the table.

I have somewhere read, "there is as much valour expected in feasting as
in fighting; "and if any one doubts the truth of the axiom, let him try
with a hungry stomach to gratify the cravings of nature at a crowded
ordinary--or imagine a well disposed group of twenty persons, all in
high appetite and "eager for the fray" sitting down to a repast scantily
prepared for just half the number, and crammed into a narrow room, where
the waiters are of necessity obliged to wipe every dish against your
back, or deposit a portion of gravy in your pocket, to say nothing of
the sauce with which a remonstrance is sure to fill both your ears. Most
of the company present upon this occasion appeared to have the organs
of destructiveness to an extraordinary degree, and mine host of the
Gate House, who is considered an excellent physiognomist, looked on with
trembling and disastrous countenance, as he marked the eager anxiety of
the expectant _gourmands_ sharpening their knives, and spreading their
napkins, at the shrine of Sensuality, exhibiting the most voracious
symptoms of desire to commence the work of demolition.

A small tureen of mock turtle was half lost on its entrance, by being
upset over the leg of a dancing-master, who capered about the room to
double quick time, from the effects of a severe scalding; on which the
alderman (with a wink) observed, that the gentleman had no doubt caus