FROM twelve o'clock until four, the eating houses of the City are crammed with hungry clerks.

Bills of fare have not yet been introduced,—the more's the pity; but, in lieu thereof, you are no sooner seated in one of the snug inviting little settles, with a table laid for four or six, spread with a snowy cloth, still bearing the fresh quadrangular marks impressed by the mangle, and rather damp, than the dapper, ubiquitous waiter, napkin in hand, stands before you, and rapidly runs over a detailed account of the tempting viands all smoking hot, and ready to be served up.

"Beef, boiled and roast; veal and ham; line of pork, roast; leg boiled, with pease pudding; cutlets, chops and steaks, greens, taters, and pease," etc. etc.

Some are fastidious, and hesitate; the waiter, whose eyes are 'all about him,' leaves you to meditate and decide, while he hastens to inform a new arrival, and mechanically repeats his catalogue of dainties; and, bawling out at the top of his voice, "One roast beaf and one taters," you echo his words, and he straightway reports your wishes in the same voice and manner to the invisible purveyors below, and ten to one but you get a piece of boiled fat to eke out your roast meat.

In some houses, new and stale bread, at discretion, are provided; and many a stripling, lean and hungry as a greyhound, with a large appetite and a small purse, calls for a small plate, without vegetables, and fills up the craving crannies with an immoderate proportion of the staff of life, while the reckoning simply stands, "one small plate 6d., one bread 1d., one waiter 1d.;" and at this economical price satisfies the demands of his young appetite.

But still, cheap as this appears, he pays it the aggregate, for there are frequently 500 or 600 diners daily at these Establishments; and the waiter, who generally purchases his place, and provides glass, cloths, etc. not only makes a 'good thing of it,' but frequently accumulates sufficient to set up on his own account, in which case, he is almost sure of being followed by the regular customers.

For he is universally so obliging, and possesses such a memory, and an aptness in discovering the various tastes of his visitors, that he seldom fails in making most of the every-day feeders his fast friends.

"Tom, bring me a small plate of boiled beef and potatoes," cries one of his regulars. Placing his hand upon the table-cloth; and knocking off the crumbs with his napkin, he bends to the gentleman, and in a small. confidential voice informs him,

"The beef won't do for you, Sir,—it's too low, it's bin in cut a hour. Fine ribs o' lamb, jist up."

"That will do, Tom," says the gratified customer.

"Grass or spinach, Sir? fine 'grass,'—first this season."

"Bring it, and quick, Tom," replies the gentleman, pleased with the assiduous care he takes in not permitting him to have an indifferent cut of a half cold joint.

The most extraordinary part of the business is, the ready manner in which he 'casts up' all you have eaten, takes the reckoning, and then is off again in a twinkling.

A stranger, and one unaccustomed to feed in public, is recognised in a moment by his uneasy movements. He generally slinks into the nearest vacant seat, and is evidently taken aback by the apparently abrupt and rapid annunciation of the voluble and active waiter, and, in the hurry and confusion, very frequently decides upon the dish least pleasant to his palate.

A respectable gentleman of the old school, of a mild and reverend appearance, and a lean and hungry figure, once dropped into a settle where we were discussing a rump steak and a shallot, tender as an infant, and fragrant as a flower garden! Tom pounced upon him in a moment, and uttered the mystic roll. The worthy senior was evidently confused and startled, but necessity so far overcame his diffidence that he softly said,

Tom, whirled round, continuing the application of his eternal napkin to a tumbler which he was polishing, bawled out in a stentorian voice,

We shall never sponge from the slate of our memory the utter astonishment expressed in the bland countenance of the startled old gentleman at this peculiar echo of his wishes.