Mr. Smellingscheck by Henry Lawson — Read

I met him in a sixpenny restaurant -- "All meals, 6d. -- Good beds, 1s. " That was before sixpenny restaurants rose to a third-class position, and became possibly respectable places to live in, through the establishment, beneath them, of fourpenny hash-houses (good beds, 6d.), and, beneath THEM again, of THREE-penny "dining-rooms -- CLEAN beds, 4d."

There were five beds in our apartment, the head of one against the foot of the next, and so on round the room, with a space where the door and washstand were. I chose the bed the head of which was near the foot of his, because he looked like a man who took his bath regularly. I should like, in the interests of sentiment, to describe the place as a miserable, filthy, evil-smelling garret; but I can't -- because it wasn't. The room was large and airy; the floor was scrubbed and the windows cleaned at least once a week, and the beds kept fresh and neat, which is more -- a good deal more -- than can be said of many genteel private boarding-houses. The lodgers were mostly respectable unemployed, and one or two -- fortunate men!