At a small inn at Ongar;
Still, when I called, ’twas almost vain,
He bade me wait the longer.
Another time, years since the last—
At eating-house I sought relief
From present care and troubles past,
In a small plate of round of beef.
“One beef, and taturs,” was the cry,
In tones than mine much stronger;
’Twas the old waiter standing by,