Accordingly the manager—­a roundabout, red-faced, consequential little cockney—­mounted the rostrum, and begged to announce to the company that that “celebrated wocalist, Mr. James Green, so well known as a distinguished amateur and conwivialist, both at Bagnigge Wells, and Vite Conduit House, LONDON, had werry kindly consented, in order to promote the hilarity of the evening, to favour the company with a song immediately after the drawing of the next lottery,” and after a few high-flown compliments, which elicited a laugh from those who were up to Jemmy’s mode of doing business, he concluded by offering a papier-mache tea-caddy for public competition, in shilling lots as before.

As soon as the drawing was over, they gave the organ a grind, and Jemmy popped up with a hop, step, and a jump, with his woolly white hat under his arm, and presented himself with a scrape and a bow to the company.  After a few preparatory “hems and haws,” he pulled up his gills and spoke as follows:  “Ladies and gentlemen! hem”—­another pull at his gills—­“ladies and gentlemen—­my walued friend, Mr. Kitey Graves, has announced that I will entertain the company with a song; though nothing, I assure you—­hem—­could be farther from my idea—­hem—­when my excellent friend asked me,”—­“Hookey Walker!” exclaimed someone who had heard Jemmy declare the same thing half a dozen times—­“and, indeed, ladies and gentlemen—­hem—­nothing but the werry great regard I have for Mr. Kitey Graves, who I have known and loved ever since he was the height of sixpennorth of coppers” a loud laugh followed this allusion, seeing that eighteenpenny-worth would almost measure out the speaker.  On giving another “hem,” and again pulling up his gills, an old Kentish farmer, in a brown coat and mahogany-coloured tops, holloaed out, “I say, sir!  I’m afear’d you’ll be catching cold!” “I ’opes not,” replied Jemmy in a fluster, “is it raining?  I’ve no umbrella, and my werry best coat on!” “No! raining, no!” replied the farmer, “only you’ve pulled at your shirt so long that I think you must be bare behind!  Haw! haw! haw!” at which all the males roared with laughter, and the females hid their faces in their handkerchiefs, and tittered and giggled, and tried to be shocked.  “ORDER!  ORDER!” cried Mr. Jorrocks, in a loud and sonorous voice, which had the effect of quelling the riot and drawing all eyes upon himself.  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, taking off his cap with great gravity, and extending his right arm,

  Immodest words admit of no defence,
  For want of decency is want of sense;

a couplet so apropos, and so well delivered, as to have the immediate effect of restoring order and making the farmer look foolish.  Encouraged by the voice of his great patron, Green once more essayed to finish his speech, which he did by a fresh assurance of the surprise by which he had been taken by the request of his friend, Kitey Graves, and an exhortation for the company to make allowance for any deficiency of “woice,” inasmuch as how as labouring under “a wiolent ’orseness,” for which he had long been taking pectoral lozenges.  He then gave his gills another pull, felt if they were even, and struck up: