"That's
where it is, sir. That's what I always say myself, sir. Such a
many of us Swidgers! - Pepper. Why there's my father, sir,
superannuated keeper and custodian of this Institution, eighty-
seven year old. He's a Swidger! - Spoon."
"True, William," was the patient and abstracted answer, when he
stopped again.
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Swidger. "That's what I always say, sir. You
may call him the trunk of the tree! - Bread. Then you come to his
successor, my unworthy self - Salt - and Mrs. William, Swidgers
both. - Knife and fork. Then you come to all my brothers and their
families, Swidgers, man and woman, boy and girl. Why, what with
cousins, uncles, aunts, and relationships of this, that, and
t'other degree, and whatnot degree, and marriages, and lyings-in,
the Swidgers - Tumbler - might take hold of hands, and make a ring
round England!
Receiving no reply at all here, from the thoughtful man whom he
addressed, Mr. William approached, him nearer, and made a feint of
accidentally knocking the table with a decanter, to rouse him. The
moment he succeeded, he went on, as if in great alacrity of
acquiescence.
"Yes, sir! That's just what I say myself, sir. Mrs. William and
me have often said so. 'There's Swidgers enough,' we say, 'without
OUR voluntary contributions,' - Butter.
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