Page:The London Magazine, volume 7 (January–June 1823).djvu/522

 the ball wi’ some painted doll—looking babies in her eyes—quite forgetting me that has to sit up for you at home pining and grieving: and all isn’t enough, but at last you must trot off to another inn.

“What then,” said Mr. Schnackenberger, “is it fact that I’m not at the Golden Sow?”

“Charming!” said Mrs. Sweetbread; “and so you would make believe you don’t know it; but I shall match you, or find them as will: rest you sure of that.”

“Children!” said Mr. Schnackenberger to the waiter and boots, who were listening in astonishment with the door half-open; “of all loves, rid me of this monster.”

“Aye, what!” said she in a voice of wrath; and put herself on the defensive. But a word or two of abuse against the landlord of the Double-barreled Gun, which escaped her in her heat, irritated the men to that degree, that in a few moments afterwards Mrs. Sweetbread was venting her wrath in the street—to the wonder of all passers-by, who looked after her until she vanished into the house of a well-known attorney.

Meantime, Mr. Schnackenberger, having on inquiry learned from the waiter in what manner he had come to the inn—and the night-scene which had followed, was apologizing to the owner of No. 5,—when to his great alarm the church clock struck eleven. “Nine,” he remembered, was the hour fixed by the billet: and the more offence he might have given to the princess by his absurdities over-night, of which he had some obscure recollection, so much the more necessary was it that he should keep the appointment. The botanic garden was two miles off: so, shutting up Juno, he ordered a horse; and in default of boots, which, alas! existed no longer in that shape, he mounted in silk stockings and pumps; and rode off at a hand gallop.

The student was a good way advanced on his road, when he descried the princess, attended by another lady and a gentleman approaching in an open carriage. As soon, however, as he was near enough to be recognized by the party in the carriage, the princess turned away her head with manifest signs of displeasure—purely, as it appeared, to avoid noticing Mr. Jeremiah. Scarcely, however, was the carriage past him, together with Mr. Von Pilsen, who galloped by him in a tumult of laughter, when the ill-fate of our hero so ordered it, that all eyes which would not notice him for his honour should be reverted upon his disgrace. The white turnpike gate so frightened our rider’s horse, that he positively refused to pass it: neither whip nor spur would bring him to reason. Meantime, up comes an old butterwoman. At the very moment when she was passing, the horse in his panic steps back and deposits one of his hind legs in the basket of the butterwoman: down comes the basket with all its eggs, rotten and sound; and down comes the old woman, squash, into the midst of them. “Murder! Murder!” shouted the butterwoman; and forthwith every individual thing that could command a pair or two pair of legs ran out of the turnpike-house; the carriage of the princess drew up, to give the ladies a distant view of Mr. Schnackenberger engaged with the butterwoman; and Mr. Von Pilsen wheeled his horse round into a favourable station for seeing any thing the ladies might overlook. Rage gave the old butterwoman strength; she jumped up nimbly, and seized Mr. Schnackenberger so stoutly by the laps of his coat, that he vainly endeavoured to extricate himself from her grasp. At this crisis, up came Juno, and took her usual side in such disputes. But to do this with effect, Juno found it necessary first of all to tear off the coat lap; for, the old woman keeping such firm hold of it, how else could Juno lay her down on her back—set her paws upon her breast—and then look up to her master, as if asking for a cer-