t there must be an O or a MAC to his name by
the _aisy affability_ with which he helped himself to the great chair.
Old Maclaughlin, that blackguard Jew that calls himself Macklin, could
not surpass it for _modesty_." I rose. "Och, to the d--l with your
manners honey," said he, clapping his two hands on my shoulders and
pressing me down into the chair, "stay there since you're in it, and be
d----d to you."

"Well, Whiteley," said my friend, "as you think my advice might be fatal
to the young man, give him some advice yourself. What do you think he
had best do? what do you think fittest for him?" "Any fool can tell him
that," returned Whiteley: "the best and the first thing I advise him to
do, is to eat a hearty meal, and as I dare say he has not a jingle[H] in
his pocket, I advise him to stay here and dine; and you may stay along
with him, if you please." "I cant--I'm engaged," said the other. "Then
if _you_ dont, the d----l a crust shall _he_ crack here." Upon which,
turning to me, he said, "see what you can do with him, boy--if you cant
keep him along with you, you dont get a toothful in this house." I
looked foolishly at my friend, who said, "Well, if that be the case, I
must stay;" upon which W. making me a very low formal bow, gravely said,
"I thank you, sir, for the great honour this gentleman does me, in
condescending to eat a piece of the best leg of mutton in the north of
England."

"W. then sat down, but he overflowed so with oddity, that business was
out of the question. Every three minutes produced an explosion of the
most extravagant kind--often full of humour, sometimes witty, always
coarse. It was in vain that my friend now urged, and now insinuated the
subject of the stage; Whiteley baffled him with a joke or a jeer, or a
story--and sometimes with a transition so extreme, rapid, and
unconnected, that it was impossible to do any thing with him. My
singing was adverted to. "Ay," said Whiteley, "I suspected he was one of
your squallers; I thought from his chalky face and lank carcase that he
was of the Italian breed, and that his story would end in a song. Did
you ever see Signor _Tenducci_, boy?" "No sir." "No matter, you are not
the worse for that; but I have nothing to do with _Italianos_. I have
none but men and women in my company." I then ventured to advert to the
English opera and hinted at my old favourite The Padlock. "Why if I were
disposed to try you, there is nothing in the Padlock that you cou