or my part I likes a coffee-room,
but having been used to commercial houses when I travelled, I knows what
the charges ought to be. Now, this room is snug enough though small, and
won't require no great keeping up.

_Stranger_. No--but this room is smaller than the generality of them,
you know. They frequently have two fires in them, besides no end of oil
burning.--I know the expense of these things, for I have a very large
house in the country, and rely upon it, innkeepers have not such immense
profits as many people imagines--but, as I said before, "live and let
live."

_Jorrocks_. So says I, "live and let live"--but wot I complains of is,
that some innkeepers charge so much that they won't let people live.
No man is fonder of eating than myself, but I don't like to pay by the
mouthful, or yet to drink tea at so much a thimbleful. By the way, Sar,
if you are not previously engaged, I should be werry happy to supply you
with red Mocho or best Twankay at a very reasonable figure indeed for
cash?

_Stranger._ Thank you, sir, thank you. Those are things I never
interfere with--leave all these things to my people. My housekeeper
sends me in her book every quarter day, with an account of what she
pays. I just look at the amount--add so much for wages, and write a
cheque--"live and let live!" say I. However, added he, pulling out his
watch, and ringing the bell for the chambermaid, "I hate to get up very
early, so I think it is time to go to bed, and I wish you a very good
night, gentlemen all."

Jorrocks gets up, advances half-way to the door, makes him one of his
most obsequious bows, and wishes him a werry good night. Having heard
him tramp upstairs and safely deposited in his bedroom, they pulled
their chairs together again, and making a smaller circle round the fire,
proceeded to canvass their departed friend. Jorrocks began--"I say, wot
a regular swell the chap is--a Meltonian, too.--I wonders who the deuce
he is. Wish Mr. Nimrod was among us, he could tell us all about him, I
dare say. I'm blowed if I didn't take him for a commercial gentleman at
first, until he spoke about his carriages. I likes to see gentlemen
of fortune making themselves sociable by coming into the coffee-room,
instead of sticking themselves up in private sitting-rooms, as if nobody
was good enough for them. You know Melton, Mr. York; did you ever see
the gentleman out?"

"I can't say that I ever did," said his friend, "but people look so
d