asked me what my intentions were?--'To commence wig-maker on my own
bottom,' answered I.--'But with respect to my daughter, sir?'--'Why, to
be sure, to make her mistress, sir.'--'Mistress!' quoth he, 'did I hear
you right, sir?'--'I hope you are not hard of hearing, Mr. Mainspring.
I wish, sir--between us, sir--you understand, sir--to marry her,
sir.'--'Then you can't have her, sir.'--'But I must, sir, for I can't
do without her, sir.'--'Then you may buy a rope.'--'Ah! you would not
sign my death-warrant--wouldn't you not now, Mr. Mainspring?'--'Before
going,' said he, rummaging his huge coat-pockets with both hands at
once, 'there is your letter, which I read over patiently, instead of my
daughter, who has never seen it; and I hope you will excuse the liberty
I take of calling you a great fool, and wishing you a good morning.'

"Now, though a lad of mettle, you know, sir, it would not have been
quite the thing to have called out my intended father-in-law; so, with
amazing forbearance, bridling my passion, I allowed him to march off
triumphantly, and stood, with the letter in my hand, looking down the
alley after him, strutting along, staff in hand, like a recruiting
sergeant, as if he had been a phoenix.

"A man of my penetration was not long in scenting out who was the
formidable rival to whom Daddy Mainspring alluded. _Sacre_! to
think the mercenary old hunks could dream of sacrificing my lovely
Lucy to such a hobgoblin of a fellow as a superannuated dragoon
quartermaster, with a beak like Bardolph's in the play. But I had some
confidence in my own qualifications; and as I gave a sly glance down at
my nether person, 'Dash-the-wig-of-him!' thought I to myself, 'if he can
sport a leg like that of Toby Tims.' I accordingly determined not to be
discomfited, and took the earliest opportunity of presenting Miss Lucy,
through a sure channel, with a passionate billet doux, a patent pair of
gilt bracelets, and a box of Ruspini's tooth-powder. By St. Patrick and
all the powers, it was shocking to suppose that such an angel as the
cherry-cheeked Lucy should be stolen from me by such an apology for a
gallant, as Quartermaster Bottlenose of the Tipperary Rangers. 'Twas
murder, by Jupiter."

"I perfectly agree with you, Mr. Tims; Did you challenge him to the
duello?"

"A _leetle_ patience, if you please, sir, and you shall hear
all. During the violence of my love-fits, I committed a variety of
professional mistakes. I sent a