n a little coarser, and russet boots with a little thicker soles,
turned out directly: and away galloped the whole train, with spears in
their hands like lacquered area railings, to hunt down the boars, or
perhaps encounter a bear: in which latter case the baron killed him
first, and greased his whiskers with him afterwards.

'This was a merry life for the Baron of Grogzwig, and a merrier still
for the baron's retainers, who drank Rhine wine every night till they
fell under the table, and then had the bottles on the floor, and called
for pipes. Never were such jolly, roystering, rollicking, merry-making
blades, as the jovial crew of Grogzwig.

'But the pleasures of the table, or the pleasures of under the table,
require a little variety; especially when the same five-and-twenty
people sit daily down to the same board, to discuss the same subjects,
and tell the same stories. The baron grew weary, and wanted excitement.
He took to quarrelling with his gentlemen, and tried kicking two or
three of them every day after dinner. This was a pleasant change at
first; but it became monotonous after a week or so, and the baron felt
quite out of sorts, and cast about, in despair, for some new amusement.

'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 gentlemen who had been honoured with the dangerous
distinction of sitting on his right and left, imitated him to a miracle
in the drinking, and frowned at each other.

'"I will!" cried the baron suddenly, smiting the table with his right
hand, and twirling his moustache with his left. "Fill to the Lady of
Grogzwig!"

'The four-and-twenty Lincoln greens turned pale, with the exception of
their four-and-twenty noses, which were unchangeable.

'"I said to the Lady of Grogzwig," repeated the baron, looking round the
board.

'"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