Page:The London Magazine, volume 7 (January–June 1823).djvu/677

 without troubling herself about the drawn swords, she drove right at the pit of Mr. Sebastian’s stomach, knocked the breath out of his body, the sword out of his hand, and himself upon his back.

“Ah! my goddess, my Juno!” cried Mr. Schnackenberger; “Nec vox hominem sonat, oh Dea certe!” “Nec vox hominem sonat?” said Mr. Fabian, rising: “Faith, you’re right there; for I never heard a voice more like a brute’s in my life.”

“Down then, down Juno,” said Mr. Schnackenberger, as Juno was preparing for a second campaign against Mr. Fabian’s stomach: Mr. Fabian, on his part, held out his hand to his brother student—saying, “all quarrels are now ended.” Mr. Jeremiah accepted his hand cordially. Mr. Fabian offered to resign “the article,” however agitating to his feelings. Mr. Jeremiah, though no less agitated, protested he should not. “I will, by all that’s magnanimous,” said Mr. Fabian. “By the memory of Curtius, or whatever else is most sacred in self-sacrifice, you shall not,” said Mr. Jeremiah. “Hear me, thou light of day,” said Mr. Fabian, kneeling. “Hear me,” interrupted Mr. Jeremiah, kneeling also: yes, the Schnackenberger knelt, but carefully and by circumstantial degrees; for he was big and heavy as a rhinoceros, and afraid of capsizing, and perspired freely. Mr. Fabian kneeled like a dactyle: Mr. Jeremiah kneeled like a spondee, or rather like a molossus. Juno, meantime, whose feelings were less affected, did not kneel at all; but, like a tribrach, amused herself with chacing a hare which just then crossed one of the forest ridings. A moment after was heard the report of a fowling-piece. Bitter presentiment of the truth caused the kneeling duelists to turn their heads at the same instant. Alas! the subject of their high-wrought contest was no more: English Juno lay stretched in her blood! Up started the “dactyle;” up started the “spondee;” out flew their swords; curses, dactylic and spondaic, began to roll; and the gemini of the university of X., side by side, strode after the Junonicide, who proved to be a forester. The forester wisely retreated, before the storm, into his cottage; from an upper window of which he read to the two coroners, in this inquest after blood, a section of the forest-laws, which so fully justified what he had done—that, like the reading of the English riot act, it dispersed the gemini, both dactylic and spondaic, who now held it advisable to pursue the matter no further.

“Sir, my brother,” said Mr. Fabian, embracing his friend over the corpse of Juno, “see what comes of our imitating Kotzebue’s plays! Nothing but our nefarious magnanimity was the cause of Juno’s untimely end. For had we, instead of kneeling (which by the way seemed to ‘punish’ you a good deal), had we, I say, vested the property in one or other of us, she, instead of diverting her ennui by hunting, would have been trotting home by the side of her master—and the article would have been still living.”

“Now then,” said Mr. Schnackenberger, entering the Double-barreled Gun with his friend,—“Now, waiter, let us have Rhenish and Champagne, and all other good things with which your Gun is charged: fire off both barrels upon us: Come, you dog, make ready—present; for we solemnize a funeral to-day:” and, at the same time, he flung down the purchase-money of Juno upon the table. The waiter hastened to obey his orders.

The longer the two masters of Juno drank together, the more did they convince themselves that her death was a real blessing to herself, who had thus obviously escaped a life of severe cudgeling, which her voracity would have entailed upon her: “yes,” they both exclaimed; “a blessing to herself—to her friends in particular—and to the public in general.”

To conclude, the price of Juno was honourably drunk up to the last farthing, in celebration of her obsequies at this one sitting.