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Commissioner Dubobwig was very funny about it. “So Doctor Swishtail would not pay you for the boots, eh, Mr. Stiffelkind?”

“No: he said, ven I asked him for payment, dey was ordered by a yong boy, and I ought to have gone to his schoolmaster.”

“What! then you came on a BOOTLESS errand, ay, sir?” (A laugh.)

“Bootless! no sare, I brought de boots back vid me. How de devil else could I show dem to you?” (Another laugh.)

“You’ve never SOLED ’em since, Mr. Tickleshins?”

“I never would sell dem; I svore I never vood, on porpus to be revenged on dat Stobbs.”

“What! your wound has never been HEALED, eh?”

“Vat do you mean vid your bootless errands, and your soling and healing? I tell you I have done vat I svore to do: I have exposed him at school; I have broak off a marriage for him, ven he vould have had tventy tousand pound; and now I have showed him up in a court of justice. Dat is vat I ‘ave done, and dat’s enough.” And then the old wretch went down, whilst everybody was giggling and staring at poor me–as if I was not miserable enough already.

“This seems the dearest pair of boots you ever had in your life, Mr. Stubbs,” said Commissioner Dubobwig very archly, and then he began to inquire about the rest of my misfortunes.

In the fulness of my heart I told him the whole of them: how Mr. Solomonson the attorney had introduced me to the rich widow, Mrs. Manasseh, who had fifty thousand pounds, and an estate in the West Indies. How I was married, and arrested on coming to town, and cast in an action for two thousand pounds brought against me by this very Solomonson for my wife’s debts.

“Stop!” says a lawyer in the court. “Is this woman a showy black-haired woman with one eye? very often drunk, with three children?–Solomonson, short, with red hair?”

“Exactly so,” said I, with tears in my eyes.

“That woman has married THREE MEN within the last two years. One in Ireland, and one at Bath. A Solomonson is, I believe, her husband, and they both are off for America ten days ago.”

“But why did you not keep your 2,000L.?” said the lawyer.

“Sir, they attached it.”

“Oh, well, we may pass you. You have been unlucky, Mr. Stubbs, but it seems as if the biter had been bit in this affair.”

“No,” said Mr. Dubobwig. “Mr. Stubbs is the victim of a FATAL ATTACHMENT.”

NOVEMBER.–A GENERAL POST DELIVERY.

I was a free man when I went out of the Court; but I was a beggar–I, Captain Stubbs, of the bold North Bungays, did not know where I could get a bed, or a dinner.

As I was marching sadly down Portugal Street, I felt a hand on my shoulder and a rough voice which I knew well.

“Vell, Mr. Stobbs, have I not kept my promise? I told you dem boots would be your ruin.”

I was much too miserable to reply; and only cast my eyes towards the roofs of the houses, which I could not see for the tears.

“Vat! you begin to gry and blobber like a shild? you vood marry, vood you? and noting vood do for you but a vife vid monny–ha, ha–but you vere de pigeon, and she was de grow. She has plocked you, too, pretty vell–eh? ha! ha!”

“Oh, Mr. Stiffelkind,” said I, “don’t laugh at my misery: she has not left me a single shilling under heaven. And I shall starve: I do believe I shall starve.” And I began to cry fit to break my heart.

“Starf! stoff and nonsense! You vill never die of starfing–you vill die of HANGING, I tink–ho! ho!–and it is moch easier vay too.” I didn’t say a word, but cried on; till everybody in the street turned round and stared.

“Come, come,” said Stiffelkind, “do not gry, Gaptain Stobbs–it is not goot for a Gaptain to gry–ha! ha! Dere–come vid me, and you shall have a dinner, and a bregfast too,–vich shall gost you nothing, until you can bay vid your earnings.”