The student of human nature is like the proverbial traveller--he sees strange things; and, what is more, he gets into queer company. To study human nature in its happiest moments, study it over its dinner--be it the three courses and a dessert, preceded by removes, partaken of in Belgravia, Berkleyria, or Transgibbetia; the public feed at a great tavern, with a real MP in the chair, and all the delicacies of the season upon the table, with toasts, speeches, cheers, reporters, and a long and particular account to follow in the morning paper; the dinner at the club, _a la_ Sprouts--a nubbly potato from a can, peppered with gingery dust; the meal brought in a basin, "kivered" with a plate, tied up in a blue cotton "wipe," and partaken of perchance upon the bricks waiting for piling in father's hod when he has had his "wittles"; or the three-halfpenny saveloy and "penny buster," forming in combination the delicacy popularly known as a "dustman's sandwich," and said, in connection with porter, to form a large portion of that gentleman's sustenance; each, every, either of these dinners gives a certain glow to the countenance of the recipient and undoubtedly it will be found that human nature will be at its best about feeding-time. Listen, then, and know all ye of the softer sex; and if you want anything out of this same human nature, wait till the corn is planted, and then look out for your harvest. Knowing all this, and how mollifying is the influence of food, we should prefer the interval following his last anthropophagia in our visit to the cannibal; and, therefore, urged by a desire to see our enemy of the badge at his best, we walk down "this street to the left," and somewhere about half-way down we find a perennial fountain in the shape of an iron post with a hole in its side by which to wind it up. There are some squat, tubby-looking little pails in a row; while close by stands a shiny-hatted straw-bit besprinkled Triton blowing his pipe. The water looks cool and limpid, but hard by is the gin--a trap within an open door. Gin and water--a potent mixture; but in this case the master takes the gin, and the horse the water. The horses look hot and stuffy this sunshiny day, as they stand with their cabs in a row down the long street, nose-bagged and contemplative, but they evidently find considerable enjoyment in banging their chaff-holding receptacles against the back of the cab in front, or resting them upon spring or wheel. But where are the drivers--the supplanters of the Jehu, the jarvey of hackney-coach days--the men who place a bit in the mouths of their steeds, but prefer a sup in their own--the men who guide and rein them in their course and check the prancings of their hoofs--where are they? At their best. Cabby dineth! Dine we with him.