The fighting-man went to the door, and called out, "My dear." A tall, goodlooking woman came to the bar, who made a low curtsey on being presented to the Major.

"My dear," repeated Trotter, "the south side." "The particular, I suppose," she said.

"In course," said he.

So she soon appeared with a bottle of Madeira, which was of such quality that the Major, having tasted it, winked at the prize-fighter, and the latter laughed, and rubbed his hands.
"Now," said the Major, "do you mind telling me whether this Hawker is here alone ?" "He don't live here.

He only comes here of a day, and sometimes stays till late.