All of them, however, have faded from my treacherous memory
except one, which I will endeavor to relate. I fear, however, it
derived its chief zest from the manner in which it was told, and
the peculiar air and appearance of the narrator. He was a
corpulent old Swiss, who had the look of a veteran traveller. He
was dressed in a tarnished green travelling-jacket, with a broad
belt round his waist, and a pair of overalls with buttons from
the hips to the ankles. He was of a full rubicund countenance,
with a double chin, aquiline nose, and a pleasant twinkling eye.
His hair was light, and curled from under an old green velvet
travelling-cap stuck on one side of his head. He was interrupted
more than once by the arrival of guests or the remarks of his
auditors, and paused now and then to replenish his pipe; at which
times he had generally a roguish leer and a sly joke for the
buxom kitchen-maid.
I wish my readers could imagine the old fellow lolling in a huge
arm-chair, one arm a-kimbo, the other holding a curiously twisted
tobacco-pipe formed of genuine ecume de mer, decorated with
silver chain and silken tassel, his head cocked on one side, and
a whimsical cut of the eye occasionally as he related the
following story.
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