As I reasoned thus, I passed various ordinaries, stopping with a kind of instinct at each, to gaze at the luscious rounds of beef so daintily tricked out with sprigs of parsley; the appetizing cold sirloins, so beautifully stratified with fat and lean; with hams that might tempt a rabbi; not to speak of certain provocative little paragraphs about "Ox-tail and Gravy ready at all hours." "Queer world it is," said I; "and there are passing at every instant, by tens and twenties, men and women and children, famishing and hungry, who see all these things separated from them by a pane of window-glass; and yet they only gather their rags more closely together, clench their thin lips tighter, and move on. Not that alone; but here am I, with means to buy what I want, and yet I must not venture to cross that threshold, as though my rags should be an insult to their broadcloth." "Move on, youngster," quoth a policeman at this moment, and thus put an end to my soliloquy. Wearied with rambling, and almost despairing of myself, I was about to cross Carlisle Bridge, when the blazing effulgence of a great ruby-colored lamplight attracted my attention, over which, in bright letters, ran the words, "Killeen's Tavern and Chop House," and beneath: "Steak, potatoes, and a pint of stout, one shilling and fourpence." Armed with a bold thought, I turned and approached the house. Two or three waiters, in white aprons, were standing at the door, and showed little inclination to make way for me as I advanced. "Well," cried one, "who are you? Nobody sent for you." "Tramp, my smart fellow," said the other; "this an't your shop." "Is n't this Killeen's?" said I, stoutly. "Just so," said the first, a little surprised at my coolness. "Well, then, a young gentleman from the college sent me to order dinner for him at once, and pay for it at the same time." "What will he have?" "Soup, and a steak, with a pint of port," said I; just the kind of dinner I had often heard the old half-pay officers talking of at the door of the Club in Foster Place. "What hour did he say?" "This instant. He's coming down; and as he starts by the mail at seven, he told me to have it on the table when he came." "All right; four-and-six," said the waiter, holding out his hand for the money. I gave him my crown piece; and as he fumbled for the sixpence I insinuated myself quietly into the hall. "There's your change, boy," said the waiter; "you need n't stop." "Will you be so good, sir," said I, "to write 'paid' on a slip of paper for me, just to show the gentleman?" "Of course," said he, taken possibly by the flattering civility of my address; and he stepped into the bar, and soon reappeared with a small scrap of paper, with these words: "Dinner and a pint of port, 4s. 6d.--paid." "I'm to wait for him here, sir," said I, most obsequiously. "Very well, so you can," replied he, passing on to the coffee-room.