The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

218: WAVERLEY NOVELS.
never drinks strong potations, sir, unless to oblige Lord Hluntinglen -- take
heed, sir-or any other person who asks him forth to breakfast-but single
beer he always drinks at Ned's, with his broiled bone of beef or muttonor, it may be, lamb at the season - but not pork, though Ned is famous for
his griskins. But the Scots never eat pork-strange that? some folks think
they are a sort of Jews. There is a resemblance, sir-Do you not think so?
Then they call our most gracious Sovereign the second Solomon, and Solomon, you know, was King of the Jews; so the thing bears a face, you see.
I believe, sir, you will find yourself trimmed now to your content. I will
be judged by the fair mistress of your affections. Crave pardon-no offence,
I trust. Pray, consult the glass-one touch of the crisping tongs, to reduce
this straggler.-Thank your munificence, sir-hope your custom while you
stay in Greenwich. Would you have a tune on that ghittern, to put your
temper in concord for the day? —Twang, twang —twang, twang, dillo.
Something out of tune, sir - too many hands to touch it - we cannot keep
4these things like artists. Let me help you with your cloak, sir —yes, sirYou would not play yourself, sir, would you? —Way to Sir Munko's eatinghouse? — Yes, sir; but it is Ned's eating-house, not Sir Munko's. - The
knight, to be sure, eats there, and that makes it his eating-house in some
sense, sir - ha, ha! Yonder it is, removed from over the way, new whitewashed posts, and red lattice - fat man in his doublet at the door — Ned
himself, sir-worth a thousand pounds, they say-better singeing pig's faces
than trimming courtiers -but ours is the less mechanical vocation.-Farewell, sir; hope your custom." So saying, he at length permitted Nigel to
depart, whose ears, so long tormented with his continued babble, tingled
when it had ceased, as if a bell had been rung close to them for the same
space of time.
Upon his arrival at the eating-house, where he proposed to meet with Sir
Mungo Malagrowther, from whom, in despair of better advice, he trusted
to receive some information as to the best mode of introducing himself into
the royal presence, Lord Glenvarloch found, in the host with whom he colmmuned, the consequential taciturnity of an Englishman well to pass in the
world. Ned Kilderkin spoke as a banker writes, only touching the needful.
Being asked if Sir Mungo Malagrowther was there? he replied, No. Being
interrogated, whether he was expected? he said, Yes. And, being required
to say wt,7he he was expected, he answered, Presently. As Lord Glenvarloch
next inquired, whether he himself could have any breakfast? the landlord
wasted not even a syllable in reply, but, ushering him into a neat room
where there were several tables, he placed one of them before an arm-chair,
and beckoning Lord Glenvarloch to take possession, he set before him, in a
very few minutes, a substantial repast of roast-beef, together with a foaming tankard, to which refreshment the keen air of the river disposed him,
notwithstanding his mental embarrassments, to do much honour.
While Nigel was thus engaged in discussing his commons, but raising his
head at the same time whenever he heard the door of the apartment open,
eagerly desiring the arrival of Sir Mungo Malagrowther, (an event which
had seldom been expected by any one with so much anxious interest,) a
personage, as it seemed, of at least equal importance with the knight, entered
into the apartment, and began to hold earnest colloquy with the publican,
who thought proper to carry on the conference on his side unbonneted.
This important gentleman's occupation might be guessed from his dress.
A milk-white jerkin, and hose of white kersey; a white apron twisted around
his body in the manner of a sash, in which, instead of a warlike dagger, was
stuck a long-bladed knife, hilted with buck's-horn; a white nightcap on his
head, under which his hair was neatly tucked, sufficiently portrayed him as
one of those priests of Comus whom the vulgar call cooks; and the air with
which he rated the publican for having neglected to send some provisions to
the Palace, showed that he ministeredto royalty itself.