AN ALL-NIGHT EATING HOUSE.
The classes about whom we have been speaking take dinner at midnight, and
for some of them at least, the eating house which keeps open till early
morning is indeed a boon. It cannot be decried therefore even though it
be a fact that the night hawks are accommodated thereby. Some of these
places keep open later than others, but, as far as I know, without
exception they are all situated on York street, and are a pleasant
substitute for the whiskey dens which used to flourish there. A series
of visits paid to these places showed that very few of the customers
belonged to the class of toilers. The prowlers of all ranks and degrees
though were well represented. The room is generally apportioned into
little stalls curtained off from the room. It is a common saying that
adversity makes strange bed-fellows, but granting that that is so, it may
also be affirmed that liquor makes strange companions. In one of these
eating houses one night there was observed in one compartment a doctor, a
lion-tamer and a tailor, all on first-rate terms; in another was observed
a commercial traveler, an Irish navvy and a tramp printer, all insisting
on
SPEAKING AT THE SAME TIME
regarding their travels, not so harmonious; in another were banqueting
three “colored pussons” discussing whether Bob Berry was not a greater
oarsman than Hanlan. The only regret experienced by the onlooker was
that he could not sprinkle the “coons” among the other feasters and thus
render the melange complete. In another room a couple of gentlemen were
seated who had been seen on more than one occasion in the police court
explaining how it was that they came to be in a room where a faro lay-out
was also found. These gentry were faring high, as the bottled beer beside
them showed. Dame Fortune had probably smiled on them and now they were
“smiling” back at her.
Oysters are very well in season, but the standard, substantial and
favorite dish at the all-night eating house is the platter of pork and
beans. To the hungry gentleman, who has probably missed his six o’clock
meal, this dish is a reviver of a distinctly perceptible kind. That man
whom you saw skip out just now came in with a weary step, but you now
see the result of his mess of lentils and swine flesh. He steps out as
briskly as a young giant refreshed with wine.
One of the most interesting characters I met with during these visits
was a shabby genteel party, who came in about one in the morning and
occupied a seat at the table at which I sat. I purposely delayed my meal
to observe this specimen. The way in which he chose and ordered his
viands from the rather limited bill of fare, showed an acquaintance of
an earlier day with Jewell & Clow, or some other swell restaurant. His
garments were a study. They were beautifully preserved, and really looked
much younger than their years. His collar, tie and cuffs were not, as
some lesser humorist has remarked before,
PRIMA FACIE EVIDENCE OF A SHIRT.
A ring on his little finger would probably have brought five cents at
a second-hand dealers, but it was chosen with such taste that it might
well pass for “a ring, sir, that my father secured among the loot taken
at the fall of Delhi.” A piece of black ribbon was twisted in one of the
button-holes of his vest, but an unfortunate accident with his fork
flipped out the door-key that was attached to the other end of it.
“That’s rather a novel thing, sir,” he said to me.
“Yes,” I said, somewhat vaguely, thinking that he alluded to the
deception involved.
“I thought that was a clever thing when the idea first struck me.
Frequently in changing my dress of an evening I forgot to transfer my
latch-key from one pocket to the other, and the consequence was that I
was put to the annoyance of waking up my landlady at an unseemly hour.
The last occasion I had to do this I took out my repeater to see what the
hour was and the thought struck me that if I had my key instead of my
watch there would be no trouble. That was enough. I told my landlady my
idea and she thought it was capital, and offered to keep my watch safe
for me. I have worn the key thus ever since. I am not so particular what
time I reach my lodgings, as to be sure of getting in there when I do.”
My communicative vis-a-vis was feeding very heartily during this
interesting conversation. He went on to speak of the Egyptian war and
showed with his knife the exact position of General Gordon, and explained
lucidly and to his own entire satisfaction how the venturesome Englishman
could be rescued very easily, with a comparatively trifling expenditure of
BLOOD AND TREASURE.
This last was a favorite phrase, and he rolled it unctuously over his
tongue when his beans ran out. But his vivacity was evidently on the
wane, and he rose with a tinge of humility in his manner. He approached
the landlord and whispered something. That individual, however, did not
answer with a whisper, but said, with fair power of lungs, “Oh, that be
d⸺d for a yarn. Fork over that quarter now, and no fooling.” I could
just hear my late comrade begin a sentence with “But, my dear sir,”
when the indignant restaurateur would break in, “My dear sir nothing; I
want my money.” With this he relieved his debtor of his hat, expressing
his determination to keep it till he got paid. The shabby genteel one
had furnished a subject for one of these sketches, and thinking that
was worth something, I paid his shot and charged it to THE NEWS. He
immediately became dignified again, recovered his hat, treated the
landlord with cold disdain, and thanked me with a jaunty air, as if to
say, “Old boy, you have helped me out of a little fix; I’ll reciprocate
some other time.”
Poor devil, I saw him three hours after in an early opening bar, looking
very sleepy and fagged. He had probably been walking the streets ever
since I left him, and had taken refuge here in hopes that some fresh
stranger would ask him to take a drink of that liquid for which he had
bartered every comfort in life, and for which he will soon barter life
itself. I did not ask him why he had omitted to use his ingenious key.