Sleepy, and unwilling to leave his cozy bed, for the sake of enjoying the damp morning air, Mr. Fabian addressed his spouse with all the tenderness which his state of mind would permit: 

“Dear Ulgenie, you—­”

Mistress Ulrica, however, did not permit herself to be moved by this gentle epithet.

“Fabian,” said she, shaking his shoulder roughly, “you are going to sleep again.  Quick! get up!  I have had your top boots nicely greased, and on the chair you will find your hunting coat and game-bag.  Everything is made as comfortable as possible.”

“Sweet Ulgenie,” expostulated Mr. Fabian.

The amiable lady smiled as she heard him speak, and had not an unfortunate yawn accompanied those two tender words, in all probability they would have terminated this chapter.  But the word yawn is not found in Love’s dictionary, and consequently the unlucky husband was forced to rise from his bed preparatory to going forth to perform deeds of valor in obedience to the commands of his mistress.

“Do not neglect to awaken Gottlieb.  He also must learn the noble art of hunting.”

“I will, my dear, I will,” said her husband, perspiring with his exertions, as he forced himself into his hunting garments which Mistress Ulrica had made from a pattern of her own invention.  But when Mr. Fabian had completed his toilette, he hastened from the house, intentionally forgetting to awaken Gottlieb, for, as we shall soon discover, he had urgent reasons for wishing to perform his hunting exploits without the hindrance of a companion.  As Sir Fabian was, so to speak, his wife’s butler, he had provided himself with a deputy butler, who generally received a hint of the day and the hour, when stern fate would compel his master to encase his feet in heavy hunting boots.

We now see this martyr to the holy cause of matrimony, puffing and blowing beneath the weight of his heavy gun, as he wends his way across the fields towards a certain spot in the forest at which he finally arrives.  He looks around him with searching eyes; his brow is clouded with anxiety and impatience.  Suddenly his eyes gleam with an expression of joy; but he instantly recovers himself and assumes an air of dignified composure, while he gazes angrily upon the form of a man, who is approaching him through the trees.

“Fool! you have kept me waiting!” said he harshly as the man advanced.

Humbly but with a humility which was more assumed than natural, the “Butler,” presented Mr. Fabian with two hares, and two partridges; which would fill his game-bag uncommonly well and ensure a loving welcome upon his return home.  After this ceremony was performed Mr. H——­ threw his accomplice a few pieces of silver, and when the last named performer in this little scene had vanished, our huntsman fatigued by his arduous exertions cast himself upon a moss-covered bank and was soon continuing the dream which had been so unpleasantly interrupted by his sweet Ulgenie.