About five, or half-past, he slowly dismounts from his accustomed stool, and again changing his coat, proceeds to his usual dining-place, somewhere near Bucklersbury.

The waiter recites the bill of fare in a rather confidential manner--for he is a regular customer--and after inquiring 'What's in the best cut ?' and 'What was up last ?' he orders a small plate of roast beef, with greens, and half-a-pint of porter.

He has a small plate to-day, because greens are a penny more than potatoes, and he had 'two breads' yesterday, with the additional enormity of 'a cheese' the day before.

This important point settled, he hangs up his hat--he took it off the moment he sat down--and bespeaks the paper after the next gentleman.

If he can get it while he is at dinner, he eats with much greater zest; balancing it against the water-bottle, and eating a bit of beef, and reading a line or two, alternately.