The most Italian of any restaurant that I have discovered in my explorations in Soho is the Treviglio in Church Street, a little restaurant that might have been lifted bodily from a canal-side in Venice or a small street in Florence. It is whole-heartedly Italian, and puts to the forefront of its window a list of the specialities of Italian cookery on which it prides itself. It is a favoured haunt of the Italian journalists in London, and that, I think, can be taken as a certificate that its cookery is not only thoroughly Italian but is also good Italian. Signori Pozzi and Valdoni are its proprietors. Pinoli's is a restaurant in Lower Wardour Street that offers almost as much at its two-shilling _table d'hôte_ dinner as some other restaurants do at twice or more that price. A quiet, flourishing restaurant owned by an Italian, Signor Antonio Audagna, who began life as a waiter at Romano's, is the Comedy Restaurant, in Panton Street, Haymarket. It is a comfortable restaurant, with cream walls and oval mirrors and pink-shaded lamps, and its back rooms are on a higher level than those of its Panton Street front. Its customers are very faithful to it, and, as its proprietor once told me, "when the fathers die the sons take their places as customers." There was some time ago a proposal to extend it so as to give it a front to the Haymarket, but that plan came to naught, and the Comedy goes on just as before in its old premises. This is a menu of the Comedy _table d'hôte_ dinner, and its proprietor apparently took a hint from Philippe of the Cavour for the menu bears the legend, "No beer served with this dinner": Hors d'œuvre Variés. Queue de Bœuf Printanière Crème Chasseur. Sole à la Bourguignonne. Noisette de Pré-Salé Volnay. Spaghetti al Sugo. Poulet en Casserole. Salade. Glacé Comedy. Dessert. Another quiet restaurant with a faithful clientele is Signor Pratti's, the Ship, in Whitehall. His _table d'hôte_ dinners are half-a-crown and three-and-six, and his eighteenpenny lunch, I fancy, brings to the restaurant many of the hard-worked gentlemen from Cox's Bank, just across the way, and from the Admiralty, which is suitably just behind the Ship. Signor Pratti, if I remember rightly, fines teetotalers by charging them sixpence extra.