Page:The London Magazine, volume 7 (January–June 1823).djvu/670

 he; “No, no: I must make an example of him.”

Hereupon, Mr. Jeremiah observed, that wig-makers were not the only people who sometimes failed in the point of courage: “Nay,” said he, “I have known even mayors who by no means shone in that department of duty: and in particular, I am acquainted with some who would look exceedingly blue, aye blue indeed, if a student whom I have the honour to know should take it into his head to bring before the public a little incident in which they figured, embellished with wood-cuts, representing a retreat by forced marches towards a bell in the back-ground.”

Mr. Mayor changed colour; and pausing a little to think, at length he said—“Sir, you are in the right; every man has his weak moments. But it would be unhandsome to expose them to the scoffs of the public.”

“Why, yes, upon certain conditions.”

“Which conditions I comply with,” said his worship; and forthwith he commuted the punishment for a reprimand and a short confinement.

On these terms Mr. Schnackenberger assured him of his entire silence with respect to all that had passed.

“Beg your pardon, Sir, are you Mr. Schnackenberger?” said a young man to our hero, as he was riding out of the city gate.

“Yes, Sir, I’m the man; what would you have with me?” and, at the same time looking earnestly at him, he remembered his face amongst the footmen on the birth-night.

“At the Forester’s house—about eleven o’clock,” whispered the man mysteriously.

“Very good,” said Mr. Schnackenberger, nodding significantly; and forthwith, upon the wings of rapturous anticipation, he flew to the place of rendezvous.

On riding into the Forester’s court-yard, among several other open carriages, he observed one lined with celestial blue, which, with a strange grossness of taste, exhibited upon the cushions a medley of hams, sausages, &c. On entering the house, he was at no loss to discover the owner of the carriage; for in a window-seat of the bar sate the landlady of the Golden Sow, no longer in widow’s weeds, but arrayed in colours brighter than a bed of tulips.

Mr. Schnackenberger was congratulating himself on his quarrel with her, which he flattered himself must preclude all amicable intercourse, when she saw him, and to his horror approached with a smiling countenance. Some overtures towards reconciliation he saw were in the wind: but, as these could not be listened to except on one condition, he determined to meet her with a test question: accordingly, as she drew near, simpering and languishing,

“Have you executed?” said he abruptly, “Have you executed?”

“Have I what?” said Mrs. Sweetbread.

“Executed? Have you executed the release?”

“Oh! you bad man! But come now: I know”

At this moment, however, up came some acquaintances of Mrs. Sweetbread’s, who had ridden out to see the hunt; and, whilst her attention was for one moment drawn off to them, Mr. Schnackenberger slipped unobserved into a parlour: it was now half-past ten by the Forester’s clock; and he resolved to wait here until the time fixed by the Princess. Whilst sitting in this situation, he heard in an adjoining room (separated only by a slight partition) his own name often repeated: the voice was that of Mr. Von Pilsen; loud laughter followed every sentence; and on attending more closely, Mr. Schnackenberger perceived that he was just terminating an account of his own adventures at the Golden Sow, and of his consequent embroilment with the amorous landlady. All this, however, our student would have borne with equanimity. But next followed a disclosure which mortified his vanity in the uttermost degree. A few words sufficed to unfold to him that Mr. Von Pilsen, in concert