Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 64, No. 397, November 1848Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 64, No. 397, November 1848
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
I was leisurely washing down my evening cutlet with the contents of
a flask of _Liebfrauenmilch_, and wondering whether the pleasant
_cafés_ outside the city gates were still in existence, when a huge
colossus of a man entered the _salle-à-manger_, seated himself
immediately opposite me at table, and demanded a double portion of
_kalbs-braten_. I could not refrain from taking a deliberate view of
the stranger. He appeared to be upwards of sixty, was curiously clad
in duffle, possessed a double, nay, a triple chin, and his small pig
eyes peered out from under their pent-house above a mass of pendulous
and quivering cheek. His stomach, enormous in its development, seemed
to extend from his neck to his knees; his short stubby fingers were
girded with divers seal-rings of solid bullion, and he spoke in the
husky accents of an ogre after too plentiful a repast in the nursery.
As I gazed upon this marked victim for apoplexy, his features
gradually seemed to become familiar to my eyes. I was certain that
I had heard that short asthmatic wheeze, and seen that pendulous
lip before. Strange suspicions crossed my mind, but it was not
until I saw him produce from his pocket a pipe well known to me in
former days, that I felt assured of being in the presence of my old
preceptor the Herr Professor Klingemann.
The worthy man had, in the mean time, honoured me with a reciprocal
survey; but either his eyes had failed him, or his memory was not
so retentive as mine, for he betrayed no symptoms of recognising
his quondam pupil. Much affected, I rose up, extended my hand, and
inquired if he did not know me.
He stared at me in bewilderment until I mentioned my name, and then
suddenly, with a chuckle of delight, he extended his arms, as if to
embrace me across the table--a ceremony which I wisely avoided, as I
have observed that glasses broken in a hotel are invariably charged
at double the original cost. I made the circuit, however, and, after
undergoing the usual hug, and a world of preliminary inquiries, sat
down by the side of my former guide, philosopher, and friend.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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