"You are a vary young gentleman to wear dop boots," said the shoemaker. "I suppose, fellow," says I, "that is my business and not yours; either make the boots or not—but when you speak to a man of my rank, speak respectfully;" and I poured out a number of oaths, in order to impress him with a notion of my respectability. They had the desired effect.—"Stay, sir," says he, "I have a nice littel pair of dop boots dat I tink will jost do for you," and he produced, sure enough, the most elegant things I ever saw. "Day were made," said he, "for de Honourable Mr. Stiffney, of de Gards, but were too small." "Ah, indeed!" said I, "Stiffney is a relation of mine: and what, you scoundrel, will you have the impudence to ask for these things?" He replied, "Three pounds." "Well," said I, "they are confoundedly dear, but as you will have a long time to wait for your money, why I shall have my revenge, you see." The man looked alarmed, and began a speech: "Sare, I cannot let dem go vidout;"—but a bright thought struck me, and I interrupted—"Sir! don't sir me—take off the boots, fellow, and, hark ye! when you speak to a nobleman, don't say—Sir." "A hundert tousand pardons, my lort," says he: "if I had known you were a lort, I vood never have called you, Sir. Vat name shall I put down in my books?" "Name?—oh! why—LORD CORNWALLIS, to be sure," said I, as I walked off in the boots. "And vat shall I do vid my lort's shoes?" "Keep them until I send for them," said I; and, giving him a patronizing bow, I walked out of the shop, as the German tied up my shoes in a paper.... This story I would not have told, but that my whole life turned upon these accursed boots. I walked back to school as proud as a peacock, and easily succeeded in satisfying the boys as to the manner in which I came by my new ornaments. Well, one fatal Monday morning, the blackest of all black-Mondays that ever I knew—as we were all of us playing between school-hours—I saw a posse of boys round a stranger, who seemed to be looking out for one of us—a sudden trembling seized me—I knew it was Stiffelkind: what had brought him here? He talked loud, and seemed angry—so I rushed into the school-room, and, burying my head between my hands, began reading for the dear life. "I vant Lort Cornvallis," said the horrid bootmaker. "His lortship belongs, I know, to dis honourable school, for I saw him vid de boys at church, yesterday." "Lord who?" "Vy, Lort Cornvallis, to be sure—a very fat yong nobleman, vid red hair, he squints a little, and svears dreadfully." "There's no Lord Cornvallis here," said one—and there was a pause. "Stop! I have it!" says that odious Bunting. "_It must be Stubbs_;" and "Stubbs! Stubbs!" every one cried out, while I was so busy at my book as not to hear a word. At last, two of the biggest chaps rushed into the school-room, and seizing each an arm, run me into the play-ground—bolt up against the shoemaker.