_Birch's_, the little green house which, although now "run" by those eminent caterers, Messrs. Ring and Brymer, is still known by the name of the old Alderman who deserved so well of his fellow citizens, and who, whilst a _cordon bleu_ of some celebrity, had also a pretty taste as a playwright. The old house has not changed one jot, either in appearance, customs, or fare. At the little counter on the ground floor may be obtained the same cheesecakes, tartlets, baked custards, and calf's-foot jellies which delighted our grandfathers, and the same brand of Scottish whisky. Upstairs, in the soup-rooms, some of the tables are covered with damask tablecloths, whilst at others a small square of napery but partially obscures the view of the well-polished mahogany. _Turtle Soup_ is still served on silver plates, whilst the cheaper juices of the bullock, the calf, and the pea, "with the usual trimmings," repose temporarily on china or earthenware. _Pâtés_, whether of oyster, lobster, chicken, or veal-and-ham, are still in favour with _habitué_ and chance customer alike, and no wonder, for these are something like _pâtés_. The "filling" is kept hot like the soups, in huge stewpans, on the range, and when required is ladled out into a plate, and furnished with top and bottom crust--and such crust, flaky and light to a degree; and how different to the confectioner's or railway-refreshment _pâté_, which, when an orifice be made in the covering with a pickaxe, reveals nothing more appetising than what appear to be four small cubes of frost-bitten india-rubber, with a portion or two of candle end. A more advanced meal is served in Leadenhall Street, at "_The Ship and Turtle_," said to be the oldest tavern in London, and which has been more than once swept and garnished, and reformed altogether, since its establishment during the reign of King Richard II. But they could have known but little about the superior advantages offered by the turtle as a life-sustainer, in those days; whereas at the present day some hundreds of the succulent reptiles die the death on the premises, within a month, in order that city companies, and stockbrokers, and merchants of sorts, and mining millionaires, and bicycle makers, and other estimable people, may dine and lunch. Then there are the numerous clubs, not forgetting one almost at the very door of "The House," where the 2000 odd (some of them _very_ odd) members are regaled on the fat of the land in general, and of the turtle in particular, day by day; and that mammoth underground palace the "Palmerston," where any kind of banquet can be served up at a few minutes' notice, and where "special Greek dishes" are provided for the gamblers in wheat and other cereals, at the adjacent "Baltic." There be also other eating-houses, far too numerous to mention, but most of them worth a visit. A "filling" sort of luncheon is a portion of a