“Lord bless your eye sight,” replied Martlet, “there an't no occasion whatsomdever for your honours to stay—if you'll only give the order, and push about the possibles, the business is all done. Come, shovel up the sensible,” continued he to the landlord, “mind you give us the real double XX. I don't think your coat is any the worse, it would sarve me for a Sunday swell toggery for a twelve-month to come yet; for our dirt down here is as I may say clean dirt, and d———me if I don't think it looks all the better for it.”
“Thank you, my friend,” said Bob; “that will do very well,” and the landlord having by this time completed his cookery, produced the good stuff, as Martlet termed it.
“Come, gentlemen, this is the real right sort, nothing but the bang-up article, arn't it, my master? But as I always likes the landlord to taste it first, by way of setting a good example, just be after telling us what you think of it.”
“With all my heart,” said the landlord; who declared it was as prime a pot of hot as he had made for the last fortnight. .
With this recommendation our friends tried it; and after tipping, took their departure, under the positive assurance of Martlet, that he should be very glad to see them again at any time.
They now pursued their way through other subterraneous passages, where they met waggons, carts, and horses, apparently as actively and usefully employed as those above ground.
“Come,” said Tom, “we have suffered time to steal a inarch upon us,” as they reached the Strand; “we will therefore take the first” rattler we can meet with, and make the best of our way for the City.”—This was soon accomplished, and jumping into the coach, the old Jarvey was desired to drive them as expeditiously as possible to the corner of King-street, Cheapside.
CHAPTER XVI
“How wretched those who tasteless live, And say this world no joys can give: Why tempts yon turtle sprawling, Why smoaks the glorious haunch, Are these not joys still calling To bless our mortal paunch? O 'tis merry in the Hall When beards wag all, What a noise and what a din; How they glitter round the chin; Give me fowl and give me fish, Now for some of that nice dish; Cut me this, Sir, cut me that, Send me crust, and send me fat. Some for tit bits pulling hauling, Legs, wings, breast, head,—some for liquor, scolding, bawling, Hock, port, white, red, here 'tis cramming, cutting, slashing, There the grease and gravy splashing, Look, Sir, look, Sir, what you've done, Zounds, you've cut off the Alderman's thumb.”