Page:Knight's Quarterly Magazine series 1 volume 3 (August–November 1824).djvu/455



four-and-twenty windows in the house of Mr. Mule, all but one were glittering in the moonlight; and, for any thing that could be seen in these twenty-three, every soul about the house might be dead: but, in the twenty-fourth, matters looked different. It was open, and there were symptoms of life; for in the foreground stood a rose-tree in a flower-pot. Secondly, behind the rose of the flower-pot stood another and more lovely rose—viz. Miss Fanny Blumauer. This latter rose was about sixteen years old, and just now in high spirits. And for what? For very odd reasons indeed—first, because she heard a certain obstinate old uncle of her’s with whom she lived, viz., the aforesaid Mr. Mule, at this moment groaning or moaning in a peculiar way which announced that he was fast asleep; secondly, because she heard a certain old female dragon, a maiden aunt of her’s (who had been called in to the aid of Mr. Mule, by way of ‘relief-guard’ in watching his young treasure), at high words with some ideal Fanny in her dreams. The amiable employment of her waking hours this good lady was accustomed to pursue in her sleep; and the theme upon which she was now opening, viz., the intense wickedness of the male sex, was at all times too faithful to admit of any abrupt peroration. Upon the whole, therefore, it might be assumed that the dragons of the house—all and some—were profoundly asleep.

But of what consequence was that to Fanny?—Most inquisitive reader! it was of the greatest: for she was going to try an experiment. She coughed gently once or twice, and then paused to listen for an echo. Echoes are of various kinds, sorts, and sizes. In particular all readers must remember that courteous Irish echo, in a celebrated treatise on Irish Bulls, which, on being summoned by the words—“How do you, Pat?” would reply—“Pretty well, I thank you.” But this echo was still more accomplished; it was an echo that could be seen as well as heard; and not only repeated Fanny’s cough [as the most churlish echo would have done], but absolutely leaped over a wall in the person of a young cornet, and advanced hastily to the window. If any townsman had met this echo by day-light, he would certainly have called it Mr. Ferdinand Lawler; and even by moonlight it was very clear that this echo wore a handsome hussar uniform.

But now, considering that Mr. Ferdinand Lawler lived at the very next door,—what in heaven induced these young people