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The last man, whoever he is and he may be a cobbler or some low vulgar dog for aught we know will have a longer pedigree than the greatest nobleman now alive; and I contend that this is not fair. 'Well, but the Baron Von Koeldwethout of Grogzwig!
The Grogzwig coffers ran low, though the Swillenhausen family had looked upon them as inexhaustible; and just when the baroness was on the point of making a thirteenth addition to the family pedigree, Von Koeldwethout discovered that he had no means of replenishing them. "I don't see what is to be done," said the baron. "I think I'll kill myself." 'This was a bright idea.
The damsel held her peace, however, when an early messenger bore the request of Von Koeldwethout next morning, and modestly retired to her chamber, from the casement of which she watched the coming of the suitor and his retinue.
'One night, after a day's sport in which he had outdone Nimrod or Gillingwater, and slaughtered "another fine bear," and brought him home in triumph, the Baron Von Koeldwethout sat moodily at the head of his table, eyeing the smoky roof of the hall with a discontented aspect. He swallowed huge bumpers of wine, but the more he swallowed, the more he frowned.
'The figure fell back a pace or two, regarding the baron meanwhile with a look of intense terror, and when he had ceased, caught up the stake, plunged it violently into its body, uttered a frightful howl, and disappeared. 'Von Koeldwethout never saw it again.
"To the Lady of Grogzwig!" shouted the Lincoln greens; and down their four-and-twenty throats went four-and-twenty imperial pints of such rare old hock, that they smacked their eight-and-forty lips, and winked again. "The fair daughter of the Baron Von Swillenhausen," said Koeldwethout, condescending to explain. "We will demand her in marriage of her father, ere the sun goes down tomorrow.
Put a flask of wine and the largest pipe in the little vaulted room behind the hall." 'One of the domestics, in a very kind manner, executed the baron's order in the course of half an hour or so, and Von Koeldwethout being apprised thereof, strode to the vaulted room, the walls of which, being of dark shining wood, gleamed in the light of the blazing logs which were piled upon the hearth.
"Why, certainly," said Von Koeldwethout, "nothing is too bad to be retrieved." "Except empty coffers," cried the genius. "Well; but they may be one day filled again," said the baron. "Scolding wives," snarled the genius. "Oh! They may be made quiet," said the baron. "Thirteen children," shouted the genius. "Can't all go wrong, surely," said the baron.
Upon every one of these anniversaries, the venerable Baroness Von Swillenhausen was nervously sensitive for the well-being of her child the Baroness Von Koeldwethout; and although it was not found that the good lady ever did anything material towards contributing to her child's recovery, still she made it a point of duty to be as nervous as possible at the castle of Grogzwig, and to divide her time between moral observations on the baron's housekeeping, and bewailing the hard lot of her unhappy daughter.
After a very brief silence, the merry-faced gentleman sent round the punch, and glancing slyly at the fastidious lady, who seemed desperately apprehensive that he was going to relate something improper, began 'The Baron Von Koeldwethout, of Grogzwig in Germany, was as likely a young baron as you would wish to see.
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