"That's him, my dear Jemima," exclaimed the linen-draper, "I know his
knock," and then he skipped as quickly to his chair again.

The door of the apartment was opened by a servant girl, who entered the
room alone and approached her mistress with a card. Mrs Tomkins looked
at it through her eye-glass, said "she was most happy," and the servant
then retired. The card was placed upon the table near me, and, as I
believe, for my inspection. I took it up, and read the following words,
"_Mr Stanislaus Levisohn_." They were engraven in the centre of the
paper, and were surrounded by a circle of rays, which in its turn was
enveloped in a circle of clouds. In the very corner of the card, and in
very small characters, the words "_general merchant_" were written.

There was a noise of shoe-cleaning outside the door for about five
minutes, then the door was opened again by the domestic, and a
remarkable gentleman walked very slowly in. He was a tall individual,
with small cunning eyes, black eye-brows, and a beard. He was rather
shabbily attired, and not washed with care. He had thick boorish hands,
and he smelt unpleasantly of tobacco smoke; an affected grin at variance
with every feature, was planted on his face, and sickened an
unprejudiced observer at the very first gaze. His mode of uttering
English betrayed him for a foreigner. He was a native of Poland. Before
uttering a syllable, the interesting stranger walked to a corner of the
room, turned himself to the wall, and muttered a few undistinguishable
words. He then bowed lowly to the company, and took a chair, grinning
all the while.

"Is that a Polish move?" asked Mr Tomkins.

"It vos de coshtom mit de anshent tribes, my tear sare, vor alles tings,