But perhaps there is nothing in London so exasperating as the _Lodging-house keeper_. This is a creature not unknown to other regions, but reserved for its most perfect and exquisite finish for the Metropolis of the World (as the English like to call London). This being starves you, freezes you, cheats you, waits upon you, steals from you, lies to you, flatters you, and backbites you; reads your private papers, has keys for all your boxes and drawers, and a complete inventory of all your effects. She chooses from your handkerchiefs, smoothes her hair with your brushes, scents it with your perfumes, "makes herself beautiful" at your toilet. She examines your boots, and finds a pair which you "will never miss," for her _James_. She brushes your trowsers, and takes care of any loose change. She waits at your table, counts the oranges, and thinks she will try one. When you ask for that _pie_, she has given it to the dog--"I thought you were done with it, Sir." She cracks a window pane, and charges it to you in the bill. She eats your bread, drinks your beer, _tastes_ your wine; and charges you a shilling for a pinch of salt. She demands pay for coals you have not burned, and for gas you have not used. She gives you sheets that are worn out, and makes you pay the price of new when you stick your toes through them. She demands the _wash_ for coverings which you have not soiled, and for _tidys_ that were never tidy. She has a lot of cracked cheap glasses and crockery, which she makes you pay "for cracking, Sir"--as she has already made others many times before. In truth, these are invaluable to her--"she get new ones, not she"! (as she says to her drudge of all work). You pay for clean table-linen and towels weekly (and weakly)--but if you ask for a fresh table-cloth, "I have a friend to dine"--you get it, and a charge for it _extra_. If you intimate that you _could_ not have had "so much butter"--you are reminded that you are speaking to a lady, who has been accustomed to have _gentlemen_ in her rooms! You sleep on "hobbles," and are blotched in a curious manner. You hint to the servant that you have seen _something_ as well as felt; but "nothing of that sort was ever in my house." At last, when you find it quite impossible to satisfy the ever-increasing rapacity, you "think you will leave." You are very forcibly reminded that you are bound to "a month's notice, Sir." And, happy to get off any way, this you waive and pay for. Nor do you flinch when, on exhibiting the final account, "my lady" has recorded a list of casualties, very startling:--