This tavern, a gabled house, stood at the end of a passage leading from Cheapside, near the corner of Bread Street. The long room spread for dinner was two steps lower than the street, and not too well lighted. A narrow table ran down the middle; upon it was spread a fair white cloth; a clean napkin lay for every guest, and a knife. The table was already filled. Loaves of bread were placed at intervals; they were of various shapes, round and square; salt was also placed at regular intervals. When we entered, the company stood up politely till we had found seats. Then all sat down again. We took our seats in a corner, whence we could observe the company. Stow whispered in my ear that this was a shilling ordinary, and one of the best in London, as was proved by the number of guests. "Your city gallant," he said, "scents his dinner like a hound, and is never at fault. We shall dine well." We did dine well; the boys brought us first roast beef with peas and buttered beans. "This," said the old man, "is well--everything in season. At midsummer, beef and beans; at Michaelmas, fresh herrings; at All Saints, pork and souse, sprats and spurlings; in Lent, parsnips and leeks, to soften the saltness of the fish; at Easter, veal and bacon, or at least gammon of bacon, and tansy cake with stained eggs; at Martinmas, salt beef. Let old customs be still maintained. Methinks we are back in the days of bluff King Hal. Well, London was ever a city of plenty. Even the craftsman sits down to his brown-bread and bacon and his ale. Harry, bring me a tankard of March beer--and another dish of beef, tell the carver." [Illustration: THE OLD BULL AND MOUTH INN, ST. MARTIN'S-LE-GRAND (_Now pulled down_)] After the beef, we were served with roast capons and ducks. The absence of forks was partly made up by the use of bread, and no one scrupled to take the bones and suck them or even crunch them. But there was so much politeness and so many compliments passing from one to the other, that those small points passed almost unnoticed, even by my unaccustomed eyes. One quickly learns to think more of the people than of their ways in little things. Apart from their bravery in dress and their habit of compliment, I was struck with the cheerfulness and confidence, even the extravagance, of their talk. Their manner was that of the soldier, sanguine, confident, and rather loud. Some there were who looked ready to ruffle and to swagger. The capon was followed by a course of cakes and fruit. Especially, the confection known as march-pane, in which the explorer lights upon filberts, almonds, and pistachio nuts, buried in sugared cake, hath left a pleasing memory in my mind. Dinner over, the old man, my guide, offered no opposition to a flask of wine, which was brought in a glass measure with sugar thrown in. "For choice," he said, "give me malmsey full and fine, sweetened with sugar. Your French wines are too thin for my old blood. Boy, bring a clean pipe and tobacco."