he Baron Von Koeldwethout, of Grogzwig in Germany, was as likely a
young baron as you would wish to see. I needn't say that he lived in a
castle, because that's of course; neither need I say that he lived in
an old castle; for what German baron ever lived in a new one? There were
many strange circumstances connected with this venerable building, among
which, not the least startling and mysterious were, that when the wind
blew, it rumbled in the chimneys, or even howled among the trees in the
neighbouring forest; and that when the moon shone, she found her way
through certain small loopholes in the wall, and actually made some
parts of the wide halls and galleries quite light, while she left others
in gloomy shadow. I believe that one of the baron's ancestors, being
short of money, had inserted a dagger in a gentleman who called
one night to ask his way, and it WAS supposed that these miraculous
occurrences took place in consequence. And yet I hardly know how that
could have been, either, because the baron's ancestor, who was an
amiable man, felt very sorry afterwards for having been so rash, and
laying violent hands upon a quantity of stone and timber which belonged
to a weaker baron, built a chapel as an apology, and so took a receipt
from Heaven, in full of all demands.
'Talking of the baron's ancestor puts me in mind of the baron's great
claims to respect, on the score of his pedigree. I am afraid to say,
I am sure, how many ancestors the baron had; but I know that he had a
great many more than any other man of his time; and I only wish that
he had lived in these latter days, that he might have had more. It is a
very hard thing upon the great men of past centuries, that they should
have come into the world so soon, because a man who was born three or
four hundred years ago, cannot reasonably be expected to have had as
many relations before him, as a man who is born now. 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! He was a fine swarthy
fellow, with dark hair and large moustachios, who rode a-hunting in
clothes of Lincoln green, with russet boots on his feet, and a bugle
slung over his shoulder like the guard of a long stage. When he blew
this bugle, four-and-twenty other gentlemen of inferior rank, in Lincoln
gree
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