At these words, there was a sort of scornful laugh from every
venerable person in the garret. Even the old baize gown shook with
merriment; this vexed the sword so completely that he stopped
speaking; and, notwithstanding their entreaties, would not resume
the story or speak another word.

There was a deep silence, for a few moments, which was broken, at
last, by the old wig, who called upon the warming pan to tell her
story; the warming pan obeyed, and spoke as follows:--

"I pass over my early life. Time was when I was thought much of in
this family. Early in the autumn, I was rubbed and polished till you
could see your face in me.

On the first cold night, some nice walnut wood embers were carefully
put into me; I had the pleasure and honor of being passed up and
down my mistress's bed till it was well warmed, and this service I
performed for her constantly till the warm weather returned.

When any one in the family was ill, I was employed on the same
service for him or her; or when guests came to pass the night, I
performed this office for them, and this was all apparently which my
existence was for. A very monotonous life I led, to be sure, but I
am of a quiet nature and care not for much variety.

I remember only one or two things which occurred beyond this dull
routine; these I will relate and then give place to some more
interesting speaker.