The Wilkinsons were having a small party,--it consisted of themselves
and Uncle Bagges--at which the younger members of the family, home
for the holidays, had been just admitted to assist after dinner. Uncle
Bagges was a gentleman from whom his affectionate relatives cherished
expectations of a testamentary nature. Hence the greatest attention
was paid by them to the wishes of Mr. Bagges, as well as to every
observation which he might be pleased to make.

"Eh! what? you sir," said Mr. Bagges, facetiously addressing himself
to his eldest nephew, Harry,--"Eh! what? I am glad to hear, sir, that
you are doing well at school. Now--eh? now, are you clever enough to
tell where was Moses when he put the candle out?"

"That depends, uncle," said the young gentleman, "on whether he had
lighted the candle to see with at night, or by daylight, to seal a
letter."

"Eh! Very good, now! 'Pon my word, very good," exclaimed Uncle Bagges.
"You must be Lord Chancellor, sir--Lord Chancellor, one of these
days."

"And now, uncle," asked Harry, who was a favorite with his uncle, "can
you tell me what you do when you put a candle out?"

"Clap an extinguisher on it, you young rogue, to be sure."

"Oh! but I mean, you cut off its supply of oxygen," said Master Harry.

"Cut off its ox's--eh? what? I shall cut off your nose, you young dog,
one of these fine days."