"To speak but the truth of my honest friend Ned, The best of all vintners that ever God made; He's free of the beef, and as free of his bread, And washes both down with his glass of rare red, That tops all the town, and commands a good trade; Such wine as will cheer up the drooping King's head, And brisk up the soul, though our body's half dead; He scorns to draw bad, as he hopes to be paid; And now his name's up, he may e'en lie abed; For he'll get an estate--there's no more to be said." We ought to have remarked, that the ox was roasted, cut up, and distributed gratis; a piece of generosity which, by a poetic fiction, is supposed to have inspired the above limping balderdash. SLAUGHTER'S COFFEE-HOUSE. This Coffee-house, famous as the resort of painters and sculptors, in the last century, was situated at the upper end of the west side of St. Martin's-lane, three doors from Newport-street. Its first landlord was Thomas Slaughter, 1692. Mr. Cunningham tells us that a second Slaughter's (New Slaughter's), was established in the same street about 1760, when the original establishment adopted the name of "Old Slaughter's," by which designation it was known till within a few years of the final demolition of the house to make way for the new avenue between Long-acre and Leicester-square, formed 1843-44. For many years previous to the streets of London being completely paved, "Slaughter's" was called "The Coffee-house on the Pavement." In like manner, "The Pavement," Moor fields, received its distinctive name. Besides being the resort of artists, Old Slaughter's was the house of call for Frenchmen.