The former host of the Gate House was a bit of a screw, and old Tat knew
this; so calling in one day, as if by accident, Tat sat him down to a
cold round of beef, by way of luncheon, and having taken some half ounce
of the meat, with a few pickles, requested to know what he had to pay
for his eating. 'Three shillings, sir,' said the waiter. 'Three devils!'
ejaculated Tat, with strong symptoms of surprise, for in those days
three shillings would have nearly purchased the whole round: 'send in
your master.' In walks the host, and Tat renewed his question, receiving
in reply a reiteration of the demand, but accompanied with this
explanation, that peck high or peck low, it was all the same price: 'in
short, sir,' said the host, 'I keep this house, and I mean the house
should keep me, and the only way I find to insure that is to make the
short stomachs pay for the long ones.' 'Very well,' said Tat, paying the
demand, 'I shall remember this, and bring a friend to dine with you
another day.' At this time Tat had in his employ a fellow called Oxford
Will, notorious for his excessive gluttony, a very famine breeder, who
had won several matches by eating for a wager, and who had obtained the
appellation of Tattersall's beef-eater. This fellow Tat dressed in
decent style, and fixing him by his side in the chaise, drove up to the
Gate House on a Sunday to dine at the ordinary, taking care to be in
excellent time, and making a previous appointment with a few friends
~102~~to enjoy the joke.
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