(DRAWN FROM LIFE.)
_(For the Mirror.)_
"That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman."
John Laconi was born in the romantic country of Switzerland. He was
educated tolerably well; he was a good musician, and could draw
excellently. He possessed a small, though independent fortune. However,
notwithstanding his advantages and acquirements, he proved, when he became
a lover, to be an idiot.
At a certain period of his life, he fell violently in love with a
beautiful young Swiss lady. She was considerably younger than our hero,
was much taller, and her elegant refinements rendered her a very desirable
object. John had a sister, to whom the young lady paid frequent friendly
visits, and upon such occasions, owing probably to that _mauvaise honte_,
with which he was cursed, he was usually absent from home. I will not
disgust my fair readers with a minute description of _all_ his absurdities;
one example, or so, shall suffice.
One fine evening, in the month of June, after spending the day with
Laconi's sister, the young lady prepared to return alone to her father's
_château_, at the distance of about a mile; and on this occasion, John
determined to give a specimen of his gallantry in escorting the fair one
home, resolving likewise to declare his passion in plain terms.
Accordingly, having put on his hat and cloak, and stationed himself at the
gate, he appeared as formidable as any doughty knight in the days of
romance, ready to offer his protection to some forlorn damsel. No sooner,
however, did the lady appear, than he became so confused as not to be able
to answer her greeting. She was also confused for a moment at his manner,
but immediately began her walk with much disgust and _nonchalance_; while
he, like a silly _valet de chambre_, followed behind, leaving his dear
mistress' questions unanswered, and gazing with a vacant stare at the moon.
At length, to the lady's infinite satisfaction, the white gate of her
father's _château_ appeared in view, and John, finding they had nearly
reached their destination, articulated, in a half suffocated tone, "I--I
beg pardon, ma--madam, I have been considering--." "You have, indeed,
Mr. John," quickly returned the smiling damsel, "but I think you might
have chosen another opportunity, more seasonable than the present, to
consider the moon!" To this retort, he said nothing, but looked extremely
foolish and ridiculous. However, when they had actually gained the gate of
the _château_, he boldly resolved to kiss his fair enslaver; but, after a
moment, his resolution failed, and his legs tottered under him. Without
hearing the lady's sweet "good night," as she tripped gaily from him, he
exclaimed, "Madam, can you love me?" This appeal was not heard by the
flying maiden, who hastily ascended the steps to her father's door, which
opened and concealed her lovely form from the sight of the amazed lover,
who had not courage sufficient to follow her.
Whether our idiot did not comprehend the behaviour of his mistress, I
cannot say; certain it is, he went home well contented with the success he
imagined he had gained towards winning her heart. But, in reality, she was
disgusted with his foolery, and ceased paying any more visits to her
female friend, in order to avoid the sight of so strange a lover.
John, however, was a kind of philosopher, and calmly sustained his love
misfortunes. A particular occurrence happened which will somewhat account
for this passive resignation. One evening, during a solitary walk, he saw
his identical mistress in company with a young French officer. He walked
sullenly home, wrote some verses on the inconstancy of women, drew from
recollection a portrait of the cruel fair, which he hung in his study, and
banished his former pretences. Report says, that he lived the remainder of
his days in a state of celibacy. G.W.N.
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