* The “Cooks’ Quarter,” or assemblage of public eating- houses by the River Thames, existed in flourishing vigour as early as the reign of Henry the Second, and is affectionately described by Fitzstephen. A good idea of the barbarity of the times, and the utter ignorance of the first principles of commercial reciprocity, may be gleaned from a fact mentioned by that old writer, namely, that “the public cooks sold no wine, while the taverners dressed no meat.” This unnatural state of things existed for more than three centuries, during which time it was impossible to obtain a glass of ale with your ham sandwich, or a chop with your pint of claret. It was not till the reign of Richard the Second that a reform was effected. Then, the great discovery was made, that it was possible to supply all the component parts of a meal, solid as well as fluid, in one establishment. In the simple words of Stowe, “since then the cooks have sold wine, and the taverners dressed meat.” Surely this triumph over the habits and prejudices of ages must have originated in a master mind. Who so likely to feel the evil, so powerful to remedy it, as Sir John Falstaff? Assuming him to have been the Man of the Hour (that is, the dinner hour), in addition to his other claims to immortality, the hero of these pages must be ever revered as the inventor of the noble Art and custom of Dining in the City ‘.--_Vide Fitzstephen and Stowe; Annals and Survey._ “Madam,--You doubtless never thought to hear of me again. Myself never thought to trouble you more with knowledge of my existence. I speak not of paltry money debts. You will do me the kindness (I may not say justice) to believe that I have not injured only to affront you. “I am an old man, madam--fifty-three in birthdays, and I may not say how much in suffering and wickedness. Nay, I must put wickedness first. You, madam,--I am in no mood for flattery,--are not young. You were a widow with three prattling children--Robin, Davy, and Maudlin (they have ne’er a thought for old Uncle Jack now, I warrant me)--when I first knew you eighteen years ago. Would for your sake that time had never been! No matter! I would say you have approached that calm, sober lifetime--and there is so little left to love or sorrow for in me--that you may hear what I have to say without heartrending.