Come to the Bilboes.

Don't know the Bilboes?
What a mood you're in to-day." Mr.Gammon flattered himself that he knew the City tolerably well, but with the place of refreshment to which his friend now led him he was totally unacquainted.

It stood or lurked in a very obscure by-way between the Bank and St.Paul's, and looked externally by no means inviting; within, but for the absence of daylight at all times, it was comfortable enough, and peculiarly quiet--something between an old inn and a modern public-house, with several small rooms for eating, drinking, smoking, or any other legitimate occupation.

The few men who were about had a prosperous appearance, and Gammon saw that they did not belong to his special world.
"What does the name mean ?" he inquired, as they seated themselves under a gas-jet in a corner made cosy with a deep divan.
"Bilboes?
Oh, I originated it in the days gone by.

The proprietor was a man called William Bowes--you perceive?
Poor little Jimmy Todd used to roar about it.