working-man, from the zest with which he addresses
himself to the board. Eatin-g is a necessity, and
there are no frills about it. He brings in with him
a primitive voraciousness, and, I am confident,
carries away with him a fairly healthy appetite.
When you see such a man, on his way to work in
the morning, order a pint of tea, which is no more
tea than it is ambrosia, pull a hunk of dry bread
from his pocket, and wash the one down with the
other, depend upon it, that man has not the right
sort of stuff in his belly, nor enough of the wrong
sort of stuff, to fit him for his day s work. And
further, depend upon it, he and a thousand of his kind
will not turn out the quantity or quality of work
that a thousand men will who have eaten heartily
of meat and potatoes and drunk coffee that is coffee.

A pint of tea, kipper (or bloater), and two slices
(bread and butter) are a very good breakfast for a
London workman. I have looked in vain for him
to order a five-penny or six-penny steak (the cheap
est to be had); while, when I ordered one for myself,
I have usually had to wait till the proprietor could
send out to the nearest butchershop and buy one.

As a vagrant in the Hobo of a California jail,
I have been served better food and drink than the
London workman receives in his coffee-houses;
while as an American laborer I have eaten a
breakfast for twelvepence such as the British

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v?