The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman in a twinkling; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce assault upon the eggs and ham. He was just as much a greater master than any other I ever saw, as he was a greater judge of time and measure. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. She followed the official back into his room. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly.
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