you, niece Magdalen, I have got five tousand pounds, if you marry him I vil not give you a benny; but look you, what I will gif you, I bromised you a bresent, and I will give you DESE!"
And the old monster produced THOSE VERY BOOTS which Swishtail had made him take back. **** I didn't marry Miss Crutty: I am not sorry for it though. She was a nasty, ugly, ill-tempered wretch, and I've always said so ever since.
And all this arose from those infernal boots, and that unlucky paragraph in the county paper—I'll tell you how.
In the first place, it was taken up as a quiz by one of the wicked, profligate, unprincipled organs of the London press, who chose to be very facetious about the "Marriage in High Life," and made all sorts of jokes about me and my dear Miss Crutty.
Secondly it was read in this London paper by my mortal enemy, Bunting, who had been introduced to old Stiffelkind's acquaintance by my adventure with
