These I forbear to relate, lest my readers should not be as
curious in these matters as myself. Suffice it to say, the
neighbors, one and all, about Eastcheap, believe that Falstaff
and his merry crew actually lived and revelled there. Nay, there
are several legendary anecdotes concerning him still extant among
the oldest frequenters of the Mason's Arms, which they give as
transmitted down from their forefathers; and Mr. M'Kash, an Irish
hair-dresser, whose shop stands on the site of the old Boar's
Head, has several dry jokes of Fat Jack's, not laid down in the
books, with which he makes his customers ready to die of
laughter.
I now turned to my friend the sexton to make some further
inquiries, but I found him sunk in pensive meditation. His head
had declined a little on one side; a deep sigh heaved from the
very bottom of his stomach, and, though I could not see a tear
trembling in his eye, yet a moisture was evidently stealing from
a corner of his mouth. I followed the direction of his eye
through the door which stood open, and found it fixed wistfully
on the savory breast of lamb, roasting in dripping richness
before the fire.
I now called to mind that in the eagerness of my recondite
investigation, I was keeping the poor man from his dinner.
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