bed.

"Well, Youth," he accosts me, "have you thought better of your surly,
huffing manner of this morning and this afternoon?"

I told him that I had, and that I desired nothing better than to enter
forthwith into the service of Bartholomew Pinchin, Esquire, of
Hampstead.

"That's well," said his Reverence, nodding at me over his punch. "You've
had your supper behind yon screen, haven't you?"

I answered, "Yes, and my Burgundy likewise."

"That you mustn't expect every day," he continues, "but only on
extraordinary occasions such as that of to-night. What the living is
like, you have seen. The best of fish, flesh, and fowl, and plenty of
it. As to your Clothes and your Wages, we will hold discourse of that in
the morning; for 'twill take your Master half the morning to beat you
down a penny a Month, and quarrel with the Tailor about the cheapest
kind of serge for your Livery. Leave it to me, however, and I'll engage
that you have no reason to complain either of one or the other. What did
you say your name was, friend? As for Recommendations, you have none to
Give, and I seek not any from you. I will be content to take your
character from your Face and Speech."

I began to stammer and bow and thank his Honour's Reverence for his good
opinion.

"Don't thank me before you're asked," answers Mr. Hodge, with a grin.
"The academy of compliments is not held here. By your speech you have
given every sign of being a very Saucy Fellow, and, to judge from your
face, you have all the elements in you of a complete Scoundrel."

I bowed, and was silent.

"But your name," he pursued, "that has escaped me."

I answered Respectfully that I had used to be called John Dangerous.

"Tut, tut!" Mr. Hodge cried out hastily. "Fie upon the name! John is all
very well; but Dangerous will never do. Why, our Patron would think
directly he heard it that you were bent on cutting his throat, or
running away with his valise."

I submitted, again with much respect, that it was the only name I had.

"Well, thou art a straightforward youth," said the Chaplain
good-humouredly, "and I will not press thee to take up an alias. John
will serve excellently well for the present; and, if more be wanted,
thou shalt be John D. But understand that the name of Dangerous is to
remain a secret between me and thee and the Post."

"With all my heart," I cried, "so long as the Post be not a gallows."

"Well said, John D.," murmured Mr. Hodge, upon whom