still heavier torrents; not a creature was to be seen in the streets. To reach
up to the bell was what he did not like; to cry aloud for help would have
availed him little; besides, how ashamed would he have been to be found caught
in a trap, like an outwitted fox! How was he to twist himself through! He saw
clearly that it was his irrevocable destiny to remain a prisoner till dawn,
or, perhaps, even late in the morning; then the smith must be fetched to file
away the bars; but all that would not be done so quickly as he could think
about it. The whole Charity School, just opposite, would be in motion; all the
new booths, with their not very courtier-like swarm of seamen, would join them
out of curiosity, and would greet him with a wild "hurrah!" while he was
standing in his pillory: there would be a mob, a hissing, and rejoicing, and
jeering, ten times worse than in the rows about the Jews some years ago--"Oh,
my blood is mounting to my brain; 'tis enough to drive one mad! I shall go
wild! I know not what to do. Oh! were I but loose; my dizziness would then
cease; oh, were my head but loose!"

You see he ought to have said that sooner; for the moment he expressed the
wish his head was free; and cured of all his paroxysms of love, he hastened
off to his room, where the pains consequent on the fright the Shoes had
prepared for him, did not so soon take their leave.

But you must not think that the affair is over now; it grows much worse.

The night passed, the next day also; but nobody came to fetch the Shoes.

In the evening "Dramatic Readings" were to be given at the little theatre in
King Street. The house was filled to suffocation; and among other pieces to be
recited was a new poem by H. C. Andersen, called, My Aunt's Spectacles; the
contents of which were pretty nearly as follows: