As we went from thence, turning down into a steep narrow lane, irregularly pav’d with rugged flints, like the bottom of a mountain in _North-Wales_, a damn’d greasy great fellow, with his hair thrust under a dirty night-cap, in a dimity-wastcoat and buff-breeches, with a hugh bucks-horn-handle-knife hanging by a silver-chain at his apron-strings, came puffing and blowing up the hill against us, like a _crampus_ before a storm, sweating as if he had been doing the drudgery of _Sisyphus_, and coming near us he makes a halt, and looking me full in my face, gives a mannerly bow, and cries, _Your servant noble captain: Friend_, said I, _I don’t know thee. Ah! master_, said he, _time was, when you condescended to eat many a sop in the pan in my poor kitchin; I kept the sign of the gridiron in_ Waterlane _for many years together, but have been damn’d, the lord help me, above these nine months, for only cozening my customers with slink veal_. I told him I was sorry for his condition, and hop’d I did not owe him any thing: _No, worthy master_, says he, _not a farthing, for you never had more at a meal than a half-penny rowl, and I always, because you were a gentleman, allow’d you the benefit of my dripping-pan, and every time you came, you paid me for my bread very honestly_. I did not much approve of the rogue’s memory, so bid him farewel: but my friend _Weden_, like a bantering dog, did so terrify my ears about my half-penny ordinary, that I had rather for the time been flung naked into a tuft of nettles.