cifying him! Not vary!'

'Here's a gen'l'man for you, sir,' said the waiter, looking in.

'A wa'at for me?' cried John, as though he thought it must be a letter,
or a parcel.

'A gen'l'man, sir.'

'Stars and garthers, chap!' said John, 'wa'at dost thou coom and say
thot for? In wi' 'un.'

'Are you at home, sir?'

'At whoam!' cried John, 'I wish I wur; I'd ha tea'd two hour ago. Why, I
told t'oother chap to look sharp ootside door, and tell 'un d'rectly he
coom, thot we war faint wi' hoonger. In wi' 'un. Aha! Thee hond, Misther
Nickleby. This is nigh to be the proodest day o' my life, sir. Hoo be
all wi' ye? Ding! But, I'm glod o' this!'

Quite forgetting even his hunger in the heartiness of his salutation,
John Browdie shook Nicholas by the hand again and again, slapping
his palm with great violence between each shake, to add warmth to the
reception.

'Ah! there she be,' said John, observing the look which Nicholas
directed towards his wife. 'There she be--we shan't quarrel about her
noo--eh? Ecod, when I think o' thot--but thou want'st soom'at to eat.
Fall to, mun, fall to, and for wa'at we're aboot to receive--'

No doubt the grace was properly finished, but nothing more was heard,
for John had already begun to play such a knife and fork, that his
speech was, for the time, gone.

'I shall take the usual licence, Mr Browdie,' said Nicholas, as he
placed a chair for the bride.

'Tak' whatever thou like'st,' said John, 'and when a's gane, ca' for
more.'

Without stopping to explain, Nicholas kissed the blushing Mrs Browdie,
and handed her to her seat.

'I say,' said John, rather astounded for the moment, 'mak' theeself
quite at whoam, will 'ee?'

'You may depend upon that,' replied Nicholas; 'on one condition.'

'And wa'at may thot be?' asked John.

'That you make me a godfather the very first time you have occasion for
one.'

'Eh! d'ye hear thot?' cried John, laying down his knife and fork. 'A
godfeyther! Ha! ha! ha! Tilly--hear till 'un--a godfeyther! Divn't say
a word more, ye'll never beat thot. Occasion for 'un--a godfeyther! Ha!
ha! ha!'

Never was man so tickled with a respectable old joke, as John Browdie
was with this. He chuckled, roared, half suffocated himself by laughing
large pieces of beef into his windpipe, roared again, persisted in
eating at the same time, got red in the face and black in the forehead,
coughed, cried, got better, went off again laughing inwardly, got worse,
cho