“Ven Providence, my tear dikkon, paremits—­I expect a case of goots at de cushtom-house every day; but my friend vot examins de marchandis, and vot saves me de duties ven I makes it all right mit him, is vary ill, I am sorry for to say, and ve most vait, mit Christian patience, my dear sare, till he get well.  You see dat?”

“Oh, yes; that’s clear enough.  Well, Stanny, I only hope that fellow won’t die.  I don’t think you’d find it so easy to make it all right with any other chap; that’s all!”

“I hope he vill not die.  Ve mosht pray dat he live, my dear dikkon.  I tink it vill be vell if der goot Mr Clayton pray mit der church for him.  You shall speak for him.”

“Well, what have you done about the Eau de Cologne?” continued Jehu Tomkins.  “Have you nailed the fellow?”

“It vos specially about dis matter dat I vish to see you, my dear sare.  I persvade der man to sell ten cases.  He be very nearly vot you call in der mess.  He valk into de Gazette next week.  He shtarve now.  I pity him.  De ten cases cost him ten pounds.  I give fifty shilling—­two pound ten.  He buy meat for de childs, and is tankful.  I take ten shillings for my trouble.  Der Christian satisfied mit vary little.”

“Any good bills in the market, Stanny?”

Stanislaus Levisohn winked.

“Ho—­you don’t say so,” said the deacon.  “Have you got ’em with you?”

“After soppare, my dear sare,” answered Stanislaus, who looked at me, and winked again significantly at Jehu.

Mrs Tomkins returned, accompanied by the vocal Betsy.  The cloth was spread, and real silver forks, and fine cut tumblers, and blue plates with scripture patterns, speedily appeared.  Then came a dish of fried sausages and parsley—­then baked potatoes—­then lamb chops.  Then we all sat round the table, and then, against all order and propriety, Mrs Jehu grossly and publicly insulted her husband at his own board, by calling upon the enlightened foreigner to ask a blessing upon the meal.

The company sat down; but scarcely were we seated before Stanislaus resumed.

“I tank you, my tear goot Mrs Tomkins for dat shop mit der brown, ven it comes to my turn to be sarved.  It look just der ting.”

Mrs Jehu served her guest immediately.

“I vill take a sossage, tear lady, also, if you please.”

“And a baked potato?”

“And a baked potato?  Yase.”

He was served.

“I beg your pardon, Christian lady, have you got, perhaps, der littel pickel-chesnut and der crimson cabbage?”

“Mr Tomkins, go down-stairs and get the pickles,” said the mistress of the house, and Tomkins vanished like a mouse on tiptoe.

Before he could return, Stanislaus had eaten more than half his chop, and discovered that, after all, “it was not just the ting.”  Mrs Jehu entreated him to try another.  He declined at first; but at length suffered himself to be persuaded.  Four chops had graced the dish originally; the remaining two were divided equally between the lady and myself.  I begged that my share might be left for the worthy host, but receiving a recommendation from his wife “not to mind him,” I said no more, but kept Mr Stanislaus Levisohn in countenance.