His dress was a tight-fitting swallow-tailed
      black coat (from one of whose pockets dangled a vast length of
      white handkerchief), black kerseymere knee-breeches, black
      stockings, and stumpy-looking pumps, with huge bunches of black
      satin ribbon for bows. Under one arm he carried a huge
      _chapeau-de-bras_, and under the other a fiddle nearly five times
      as big as himself. In his left hand was a gold snuff-box, from
      which, as he capered down the hill, cutting all manner of
      fantastic steps, he took snuff incessantly with an air of the
      greatest possible self-satisfaction. God bless me!—here was a
      sight for the honest burghers of Vondervotteimittiss! To speak plainly, the fellow had, in spite of his grinning, an
      audacious and sinister kind of face; and as he curvetted right
      into the village, the old stumpy appearance of his pumps excited
      no little suspicion; and many a burgher who beheld him that day
      would have given a trifle for a peep beneath the white cambric
      handkerchief which hung so obtrusively from the pocket of his
      swallow-tailed coat. But what mainly occasioned a righteous
      indignation was, that the scoundrelly popinjay, while he cut a
      fandango here, and a whirligig there, did not seem to have the
      remotest idea in the world of such a thing as keeping time in his
      steps. The good people of the borough had scarcely a chance, however, to
      get their eyes thoroughly open, when, just as it wanted half a
      minute of noon, the rascal bounced, as I say, right into the
      midst of them; gave a _chassez_ here, and a _balancez_ there; and
      then, after a _pirouette_ and a _pas-de-zephyr_, pigeon-winged
      himself right up into the belfry of the House of the Town
      Council, where the wonder-stricken belfry-man sat smoking in a
      state of dignity and dismay. But the little chap seized him at
      once by the nose; gave it a swing and a pull; clapped the big
      _chapeau-de-bras_ upon his head; knocked it down over his eyes
      and mouth; and then, lifting up the big fiddle, beat him with it
      so long and so soundly, that what with the belfry-man being so
      fat, and the fiddle being so hollow, you would have sworn that
      there was a regiment of double-bass drummers all beating the
      devil’s tattoo up in the belfry of the steeple of
      Vondervotteimittiss. There is no knowing to what desperate act of vengeance this
      unprincipled attack might have aroused the inhabitants, but for
      the important fact that it now wanted only half a second of noon. The bell was about to strike, and it was a matter of absolute and
      pre-eminent necessity that every body should look well at his
      watch. It was evident, however, that just at this moment the
      fellow in the steeple was doing something that he had no business
      to do with the clock. But as it now began to strike, nobody had
      any time to attend to his manœuvres, for they had all to count
      the strokes of the bell as it sounded. “One!” said the clock. “Von!” echoed every little old gentleman in every
      leather-bottomed arm-chair in Vondervotteimittiss. “Von!” said
      his watch also; “von!” said the watch of his vrow; and “von!”
      said the watches of the boys, and the little gilt repeaters on
      the tails of the cat and pig. “Two!” continued the big bell; and

      “Doo!” repeated all the repeaters. “Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!” said the bell. “Dree! Vour! Fibe! Sax! Seben! Aight! Noin! Den!” answered the
      others. “Eleven!” said the big one. “Eleben!” assented the little ones. “Twelve!” said the bell. “Dvelf!” they replied perfectly satisfied, and dropping their
      voices. “Und dvelf it is!” said all the little old gentlemen, putting up
      their watches. But the big bell had not done with them yet. “Thirteen!” said he. “Der Teufel!” gasped the little old gentlemen, turning pale,
      dropping their pipes, and putting down all their right legs from
      over their left knees. “Der Teufel!” groaned they, “Dirteen! Dirteen! !—Mein Gott, it is
      Dirteen o’clock! !”

      Why attempt to describe the terrible scene which ensued? All
      Vondervotteimittiss flew at once into a lamentable state of
      uproar. “Vot is cum’d to mein pelly?” roared all the boys—“I’ve been
      ongry for dis hour!”

      “Vot is com’d to mein kraut?” screamed all the vrows, “It has
      been done to rags for this hour!”

      “Vot is cum’d to mein pipe?” swore all the little old gentlemen,
      “Donder and Blitzen; it has been smoked out for dis hour!”—and
      they filled them up again in a great rage, and sinking back in
      their arm-chairs, puffed away so fast and so fiercely that the
      whole valley was immediately filled with impenetrable smoke. Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and it
      seemed as if old Nick himself had taken possession of every thing
      in the shape of a timepiece. The clocks carved upon the furniture
      took to dancing as if bewitched, while those upon the
      mantel-pieces could scarcely contain themselves for fury, and
      kept such a continual striking of thirteen, and such a frisking
      and wriggling of their pendulums as was really horrible to see. But, worse than all, neither the cats nor the pigs could put up
      any longer with the behavior of the little repeaters tied to
      their tails, and resented it by scampering all over the place,
      scratching and poking, and squeaking and screeching, and
      caterwauling and squalling, and flying into the faces, and
      running under the petticoats of the people, and creating
      altogether the most abominable din and confusion which it is
      possible for a reasonable person to conceive. And to make matters
      still more distressing, the rascally little scape-grace in the
      steeple was evidently exerting himself to the utmost. Every now
      and then one might catch a glimpse of the scoundrel through the
      smoke. There he sat in the belfry upon the belfry-man, who was
      lying flat upon his back. In his teeth the villain held the
      bell-rope, which he kept jerking about with his head, raising
      such a clatter that my ears ring again even to think of it. On
      his lap lay the big fiddle, at which he was scraping, out of all
      time and tune, with both hands, making a great show, the
      nincompoop! of playing “Judy O’Flannagan and Paddy O’Rafferty.”

      Affairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in
      disgust, and now appeal for aid to all lovers of correct time and
      fine kraut. Let us proceed in a body to the borough, and restore
      the ancient order of things in Vondervotteimittiss by ejecting
      that little fellow from the steeple. LIONIZING


     —— all people went
     Upon their ten toes in wild wonderment.