ACT II.--_After the Event.

_Seraphina_ (_with emphasis_). O! when mamma comes you will not treat me so--you insolent puppy!

_Adolphus_ (_with decided emphasis_). Ah! don't talk to me, you cat!!!

_Curtain falls._

* * * * *

THE BEST SETTLEMENT FOR A RICH WIFE WHO ELOPES.--A penal one.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE SEVEN WONDERS THE SEVEN WONDERS OF A MARRIED MAN. OF A MARRIED WOMAN.

1. NOT going to sleep after 1. NEVER having "a dinner! gown to put on," when invited out anywhere.

2. Never going anywhere 2. Always being down the in the evening, excepting first to breakfast! always "to the club!" being dressed in time for dinner! and never keeping the carriage (or the cab) waiting at the door a minute!

3. Always being good-tempered 3. Not always having over the loss of a "delicate health," about button, and never wreaking the autumn, and being his vengeance on the coals recommended by her medical if the dinner isn't ready man "change of air" exactly to a minute! immediately!

4. Never finding fault with 4. Keeping up her "playing his "dear little wifey", if and singing" the same she happens to be his partner after marriage as before! at whist.

5. Not "wondering," 5. Giving her husband the regularly every week, "how best cup of tea! the money goes!"

6. Resigning himself 6. Never making the house cheerfully, when asked to uncomfortable by continually accompany his wife on "a "putting it to rights!"--nor little shopping!" filling it choke-full with a number of things it does not want, simply because they are "bargains!"

7. Insisting upon the 7. Never alluding, under servants sitting up, sooner the strongest provocation, than take the latchkey with to "the complete sacrifice him!!! she has made of herself!"--nor regretting the "two or three good offers," which she (in common with every married woman) had before she was foolish enough to accept _him_!!--and never, by any accident, calling her husband "a brute!"

* * * * *

ALL FOR MONEY.--Jack Damyan and his wife have just started on their wedding tour. The lady's chief attraction is her income. In this case, Jack's friends call the usual period of seclusion the moneymoon.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

SHE "JESTS AT SCARS," ETC.--_Aunt._ "And how's Louisa, my dear? Where is she?" _Sarcastic Younger Sister_ (_fancy free_). "Oh, pretty well, but she won't be on view these two hours. She's writing to her 'Dear Fred'; at least I fancy I saw her come out of the library with Tupper's Poems and a _Dictionary_!!!"

* * * * *

AN OLD-MAIDISM.--Love is blind, and Hymen is the oculist that generally manages to open his eyes.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

WAITING

Enchantress with the nut-brown hair, Bright genius of the A. B. C., Approach, in beauty past compare, And spell Love's alphabet to me!

Content no more am I each night, Amid a weird, dyspeptic host, To order, with a keen delight, And watch thee bring, the tea and toast.

I covet more transcendent joys; Be mine, and come where Ocean waits Instead of thee, and where annoys No tinkling clash of cups and plates.

There grant to me, beneath the stars, Not buttered scones, but smiles of bliss; Not pastry, that digestion mars, But something sweeter still--a kiss.

* * *

Enchantress with the nut-brown hair, Bright genius of the A. B. C., Ah, heed a lover's anguished prayer, And be not D. E. F. to me!

* * * * *

ADVICE TO HONEYMOONERS ABOUT TO START ON A CONTINENTAL TRIP.--The most appropriate place for "_les noces_" should be "The Hotel Marry-time, Calais."

* * * * *

* * * * *

LITERAL.--_Visitor_ (_to Disconsolate One_). "Rejected you, did she? Oh, what o' that? Often do at first. Try her again. You're not pertinacious enough. You should have pressed her----"

_Dejected One._ "Yes, but--confound her!--she wouldn't let me come near her!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

"UNEQUAL RATING."--A big wife scolding a little husband.

* * * * *

THE DIVORCE MEASURE.--Half and half.

* * * * *

FEMININE PERVERSITY.--_Aunt Betsy._ "I wonder, James, at your encouraging young Cadby to be so much with Madeline! He's a bad match, and not a good fellow, I fear!" _Papa._ "Confound him, no! I've given him _carte-blanche_ to come when he likes, and she's getting rather tired of him at last, for I'm always cracking him up!" _Aunt Betsy._ "And that nice fellow, Goodenough? He's never here now?" _Papa._ "No; I've forbidden him the house, and won't even allow his name to be mentioned. She's always thinking of him in consequence. I'm in hopes she'll marry him some day!"

* * * * *

VIRGINIA STOCK'S VIEW OF IT.

Is Marriage a Failure? Why, yes, to be sure. But, oh! abolition won't furnish a cure. Whilst thousands of spinsters in solitude tarry, It's clearly a failure--because men _won't_ marry.

* * * * *

AN "ELASTIC BAND."--The Marriage Tie (in the Divorce Court).

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

SONG OF THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS

I live a mild domestic life, Devoted dearly to my wife, So much so, that from her extends My fond affection to her friends; And first of all--no spooney raw-- Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law!

My pet's old parent's rather stout; I just might clasp her waist about: Some three yards round, and not much more. I've thoughts of widening my front-door, I shouldn't mind the expense one straw. Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law!

At times I may myself forget, Which, if she thinks, she tells my pet; But when I don't do all I should, Her telling tends to make me good; I'm pleased to have her find the flaw. Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law!

The servants that upon her wait A pleasure have which must be great. And yet can we get none to stay. I grieve so when she goes away! Tears from my eyes her turned heels draw. Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law!

A sweet old soul, how pleased I feel To see her at the social meal Of dinner sit, her mouth a chink Ne'er opened save to meat--and drink! And I'll ne'er grudge (I am so free) Her gin and brandy in her tea. I hold her in such filial awe; Oh, don't I love my mother-in-law!

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE STRAIGHT TIP.--"And so now they're engaged! _Well_, Jessie, to think of _you_, with your beauty and accomplishments, and your lovely voice, being cut out by such an ignorant little fright as that Maggie Quickson! You _sang_ to him, I suppose?" "Yes, mamma, by the hour! But _she_ made _him_ sing, you know, and played his accompaniments for him!" "Why, _can_ he sing?" "No, mamma; but she made him _believe_ he could!"

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR A "KISS."--Go it, my two lips.

* * * * *

CROSSED IN LOVE.--A wedding-present cheque.

* * * * *

_Q._ What is the difference between a lover asking the object of his affections to marry him, and a guest who ventures to hint to his host that the Pommery '80 is rather corked?

_A._ The one pops the question, the other questions the pop.

* * * * *

* * * * *

HOW TO MAKE LIFE EMINENTLY DISAGREEABLE

(_By a strong-minded Married Woman_)

Always provide for everything beforehand. As things are sure to turn out differently from what you have arranged, this will familiarise you with disappointment.

Always go back upon a mistake or a misfortune, and so take the opportunity of proving how much better things would have been if something had been done that hasn't.

Never give way in trifles, as there is no saying how soon you may be called upon to give way in matters of more importance.

A mistress may talk _at_ her servants, but should never lower herself so far as to talk _to_ them.

Never dress for your husband, which will teach him to value you for your gifts of mind, not your attractions of person.

Never give expression to your affections, as there is no saying how soon they may alter, and you may thus be guilty of great inconsistency.

Never consult the taste of your husband, or he will in time come to look on his house as a club, where all is comfort and self-indulgence.

* * * * *

TO AN OLD FLAME--(TWENTY YEARS AFTER)

A little girl, a charming tiny tot, I well remember you with many a curl, Although I recollect you said "I'm not A _little_ girl."

We parted. Mid the worry and the whirl Of life, again, alas! I saw you not. I kept you in my memory as a pearl Of winsome childhood. So imagine what A shock it was this morning to unfurl My morning paper, there to see you've got A little girl!

* * * * *

THE POET AND HIS LOVE--(A LAPSUS LINGUÆ.)--_He._ "I see that you wear brown boots, sweetheart--a sign of the falling of the year." _She._ "Yes, it is in concord with the decadence of the leaf." _He._ "Say rather of the cutting of the corn." (_And then the match was broken off through no fault of his._)

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID.--"Well, but if you can't bear her, whatever made you propose?" "Well, we had danced three dances, and I couldn't think of anything else to say!"

* * * * *

THE FIN DE SIÈCLE SUITOR.

I love you in an all-absorbing, fond, unselfish way, I dream of you the long night thro', I think of you each day, Whene'er I hear your voice, my dear, a spell o'er me is cast, The rapture of your presence is (I'm certain) bound to last.

On you I'll pour the loving store and treasures of my heart, With riches of an earthly kind I am more loth to part, I'll sing your praise in loving ways, for are you not my queen? You'll find the verses published in our local magazine.

So deep is my affection I would joyfully propose, But for one great objection, which now I will disclose, Intense is your suspense, so I'll endeavour to be short, The fact is, that _a husband you're not able to support_.

* * * * *

NEW DISH FOR A WEDDING BREAKFAST.--Curried favour.

* * * * *

THE BEST CURE FOR THE HEARTBURN.--Marriage.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

A HUSBAND'S LAMENT

AIR--"_I once had a sweet little Doll, dears._" (_Kingsley's words, set by A. Cecil._)

I once saw a sweet pretty face, boys: Its beauty and grace were divine. And I felt what a swell I should be, boys, Could I boast that such charms were all mine! I wooed. Every man I cut out, boys, At my head deep anathemas hurled:-- But I said as I walked back from church, boys, "I'm the luckiest dog in the world!"

As doves in a cot we began, boys, A cosy and orthodox pair: Till I found at my notable wife, boys, The world was beginning to stare. She liked it. At first, so did I, boys, But, at length, when all over the place She was sketched, hunted, photo'd and mobbed, boys, I cried, "Hang her sweet pretty face!"

Still, we went here and there,--right and left, boys;-- We were asked dozens deep,--I say "we," Though wherever I went not a soul, boys, Could have pointed out Adam from me. But we had a rare social success, boys, Got mixed with the noble and great, Till one's friends, who say kind and nice things, boys, Talked of me as "the man come to wait!"

So, I've no more a sweet pretty wife, boys;-- For the one that I once hoped to own, Belongs, as I've found to my cost, boys, To the great British public alone. So until they've got tired of her face, boys, And a rival, more touzled or curled, Drives her home to her own proper place, boys-- I'm the dullest dull dog in the world!

* * * * *

A SURE AID TO MATRIMONY.--Propingpongquity.

* * * * *

FROM "PUNCH'S SYNONYMS."--The Limited Male: a husband.

* * * * *

A VERY-MUCH MARRIED MAN.--The "hub" of the universe.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

LOVE AND COURTSHIP

(_As they appear from certain Answers to Correspondents_)

VANITAS.--You are not bound to tell him. If the bright golden colour of your naturally dark hair is due to the excellent preparation recommended in another column, and he tells you he does not admire dark girls, why not keep on? The bottles are really quite cheap at nineteen and eleven. Of course, if it weighs upon your conscience, you might give him a hint, but he will probably talk about deceit, and behave in the brutally outspoken male manner so many readers complain of.

AMELIA.--Have you not been rather indiscreet? You should never let him see you cry before you are married. Afterwards it has its uses.

BLANCHE AMORY.--Cheer up. As you very cleverly put it, history does repeat itself. You are now once more in a position to undertake a further instalment of _Mes Larmes_. No. We are overstocked with poetry. The man, of course, is beneath contempt.

TWO STRINGS.--Your _fiancé_ must be a perfect _Othello_. It is, as you justly remark, monstrous that he should object to your cousin seven times removed taking you to the theatre once or twice a week. Of course he is a relative.

SWEET-AND-TWENTY.--Your remarks about tastes in common are perfectly correct. So long as you both collect postcards you will always be able to give pleasure to each other at a distance.

BUSINESS GIRL.--If you have found out that he only gave twenty-five pounds for your engagement ring, it may be, as you shrewdly observe, that he has a contract with the tradesman for a periodical supply of such articles. The fact that his income is under a hundred a year makes it only the more probable that he would adopt such an arrangement for economy's sake. Be very careful.

PITTI-SING.--Your only course is to box his ears. Let us know how you get on.

BELLONA.--Sorry to disappoint you, but this is not the place to describe the undress uniform of the Grenadier Guards.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

MY NEIGHBOUR

Next door the summer roses bloom And breathe their hearts out day by day To please a gentle gardener whom 'Twere happiness to thus obey: For her each rose a fragrance gives That roses grudge to common labour, And there, next door, among them lives My neighbour.

I watch her in her garden fair, And think what joy my life would bless Could she and I but wander there, A shepherd and a shepherdess, As blithe as those of ancient myth That danced and sang to pipe and tabor: Who would not thus be happy with My neighbour?

Blue eyes, and hair of sunny brown, A form of such exceeding grace, And features in whose smile and frown Such tender beauty I can trace That here to sketch her free from flaw Defies the pencil of a Faber, And yet I yearn so much to draw My neighbour!

I'm keeping one commandment--an Epitome of all the ten-- So if I, when my life began, Was born in sin like other men, To innocence that shames the dove, I've mellowed since I was a babe, or How could I so devoutly love My neighbour?

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE SNUB CONNUBIAL.--_Loving Wife._ "Charles, dear, I wish you would put down that horrid novel and talk to me; I feel so dull; and--oh, Charles! my foot's asleep----" _Charles._ "Hush--sh! my dear, you might wake it!"

* * * * *

THE OLDEST AND THE SHORTEST DRAMA IN THE WORLD.--_He._ "Will you?" _She._ "Oh! I do not know!" (_Which "know" meant that she said "yes._")

* * * * *

ADVICE TO GIRL GRADUATES

(_After Charles Kingsley--at a respectful distance_)

Dress well, sweet maid, and let who will be _clever_. Dance, flirt, and sing! Don't study all day long. Or else you'll find, When other girls get married, You'll sing a different song!

* * * * *

FAULTS ON BOTH SIDES.--Man and wife are like a pair of scissors, so long as they are together, but they become daggers so soon as they are disunited.

* * * * *

PARTNERSHIP WITHOUT LIMITED LIABILITY.--Marriage.

* * * * *

* * * * *

READING BETWEEN THE MARRIAGE LINES

(_By a Recent Victim_)

One of the first troubles to be faced by the young wife is the difficulty of getting servants. It will be found that a cook is almost indispensable. Rather than be without one, take time by the forelock and, during the engagement, try the following advertisement (one is bound to offer additional attractions nowadays):--"Wanted, at once, a good plain cook. If necessary, _advertiser would be willing to make her a bridesmaid_. Must be able to wear blue."

* * *

Or again:--"Newly married couple require cook and parlour maid. _All china, glass, &c., in house new and unused and never been broken before._"

* * *

In taking a house, remember that it is absolutely necessary to have an attic--in which to place some of the presents. It is all very well to say that they can be put in the servants' hall, but it must not be forgotten that it is now very difficult to keep servants, even under the most favourable circumstances.

* * *

You cannot be too careful in giving instructions for your house decoration. "In the dining-room I think I would like a dado," I said one day to the paper-man. The paper-man's face turned almost white at the suggestion. "You cannot, sir," he said in a hushed voice, "_the dado is extinct_." Then he explained that persons of taste have friezes nowadays, both in summer and winter.

* * *

To avoid a rush at the end, it will be worth the bride's while to write out beforehand a large number of letters of thanks for wedding-presents. The most handy form is, "DEAR ----, We both thank you so very much for your ---- present." When the present arrives you can fill in the missing word as circumstances require. On no account leave the blank.

* * *

Another happy form is, "DEAR ----, Thank you so much for your charming and useful present. Please, what is it for?"

* * *

But beware of the following form, as some persons do not take it in the way in which it is meant, "DEAR ----, Many thanks for your present. It is very good of you to have sent anything."

* * *

Nothing looks so solidly generous in the list of presents as the vague word, Cheque. Many mean people now send as a present a cheque for ten-and-six.

* * *

A novelty at wedding-receptions, and very _chic_, is to have in the present-room, in place of a detective, a parrot which has been trained to cry out every now and then, "Put that back! Put that back!"

* * *

Another novelty is to have a stall for the sale of duplicate articles.

* * * * *

The custom by which the bridegroom, on the night before the wedding, gives a farewell dinner to his bachelor friends is falling into desuetude. As a consequence one sees less frequently the announcement:--"On the ---- instant, by the Rev. Mr. ----, _assisted by_ the Rev. Mr. ----, &c."

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

WAIT FOR AGE.

_Seventeen._ "_Is_ marriage a failure? I _should_ like to know!" _Seven-and-Twenty._ "My dear, when as long as myself you have tarried, You will not need much demonstration to show That the only true failure is--not getting married!"

* * * * *

FEMALE DEFINITION OF LEAP YEAR.--Miss Understood.

* * * * *

* * * * *

EVOLUTION

She sketched a husband strong and brave On whom her heart might lean; None but a hero would she have-- This girl of 17.

Her fancy subsequently turned From deeds of derring do; For brainy intercourse she yearned When she was 22.

The years sped on, ambition taught A worldly-wise design; A man of wealth was what she sought When she was 29.

But Time has modified her plan; Weak, imbecile, or poor-- She's simply looking for a _man_ Now she is 34.

* * * * *

OUR VILLAGE INDUSTRIAL COMPETITION.--_Husband (just home from the City)._ "My angel!--crying!--whatever's the matter?" _Wife._ "They've--awarded me--prize medal"--_(sobbing)_--"f' my sponge cake!" _Husband (soothingly)._ "And I'm quite sure it deserv----" _Wife (hysterically)._ "Oh--but--'t said--'twas--for the best specimen--o' concrete!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

AN ENGAGEMENT

(_A Page from a Diary_)

_Monday._--Delightful news! My sister Nellie is engaged to be married! It came upon us all as a great surprise. I never had the slightest suspicion that Nellie cared twopence about old Goodbody St. Leger. He is such a staid, solemn old party, a regular fossilised bachelor we all thought. Not at all the sort of man to give way to emotions or to be in love. However, it's a capital match for Nellie as St. Leger's firm are about the largest accountants in the city. My wife thinks it will be a good thing in another way, too, as my other six sisters may now have a chance of going off. It seems that when once this kind of epidemic gets into a family, all the unmarried sisters go popping off like blazes one after another. Called with my wife this afternoon to congratulate Nellie. Rather a trial for the poor girl, as all sorts of female relatives had called full of enthusiasm and congratulations. Goodbody was there (Nellie calls him "Goodie") and seemed rather overwhelmed.

He went away early and didn't kiss Nellie. I thought this funny, and chaffed Nellie about it afterwards. She said she'd soon make that all right.

_Tuesday._--Goodbody is getting on. We had a family dinner at home to-night. He came rather late and entered the drawing-room with an air of great determination, marched straight up to Nellie and kissed her violently. It was splendidly done and we all felt inclined to cheer. He kissed her again when he went away, and lingered so long in saying good-night to my mother that we all thought he was going to kiss her too. But he didn't. My wife said that the suspense of those moments was dreadful.

_Wednesday._--He has kissed my mother--on both cheeks. I must say the old lady took it extraordinarily well, though she was not in the very least prepared for it. It happened at five o'clock tea, in an interval of complete silence, and those two sounding smacks simply reverberated through the room. Mother was quite cheerful afterwards, and spoke to Nellie about the trousseau in her usual calm and collected frame of mind. Still I can see that the incident has made a deep impression upon her. My wife told Maggie it would be her turn next.

_Thursday._--It _has_ been Maggie's turn. Goodbody called at home on his way from the City, and set to work as soon as he got into the drawing-room. He first kissed Nellie, then repeated the performance with my poor mother, and, finding that Maggie was close behind him, he kissed her on the forehead. Where will this end?

_Friday._--He has regularly broken loose. He dined at home to-day, and, without a word of warning, kissed the whole family--my mother, Nellie, Maggie, Alice, Mabel, Polly, Maud, and little Beta. He quite forgot he had begun with my mother, and, after he had kissed Beta, got confused, and began all over again. At this moment my wife and I came in with Aunt Catherine, whom we had brought in our carriage. Both my wife and Aunt Catherine tried to escape, but it was no good. He kissed them both, and was just advancing towards me, when the butler fortunately announced dinner. Matters are getting quite desperate, and we none of us know what ought to be done. Aunt Catherine had a violent fit of hysterics in the spare bedroom after dinner.

_Saturday._--The engagement is broken off. A great relief. It has been a lesson for all of us.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

_She._ "I told you that your old aunt had a will of her own."

_He (tired of waiting)._ "I know she has. I only wish she'd enable us to probate it!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

DROP BY DROP

_Nine Stages of a Love Story_

First place, I dropped my eye on her, And she dropped hers, so blushfully! Then I "dropped in,"--her sire sold fur,-- Then "dropped a line," most gushfully. I dropped a deal of ready cash On her and her relations, Then dropped some hints--that course proved rash-- About her "expectations." She dropped on me, daring to ask _Such_ questions. Here I stopped her. Her--bankrupt--sire then dropped the mask, And I--well then, I dropped her!

* * * * *

DEFINITIONS.--Mater: One who finds _mates_ for her daughters. Check Mate: A husband with money.

* * * * *

* * * * *

A YOUNG HUSBAND'S LAMENT

Oh, I am weary, weary, Of that pretty pinky face, Of the blank of its no meaning, The gush of its grimace.

And I am weary, weary, Of her silly, simpering ways, Bugles, buckles, buttons, spangles, Tight tiebacks, tighter stays.

And I am weary, weary, Of that hollow little laugh, Of the slang that stands for humour, Of the chatter and the chaff.

Sick of the inch-deep feeling Of that hollow little heart, Its "too lovely" latest fashions, Its "too exquisite" high Art.

Its Church high, higher, highest, Their curates and their clothes, Their intonings, genuflections, Masqueradings, mops and mows.

But I must curb my temper, Grumbling helps not wedlock's ills. Fashion, High Church, or Æsthetics, Let me grin and pay the bills!

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE EDUCATION OF HUSBANDS

How suggestive is the new year of bills; and bills of housekeeping. It is fearful to reflect how many persons rush into matrimony, totally unprepared for the awful change that awaits them. A man may take a wife at twenty-one, before he knows the difference between a chip and a Leghorn! We would no more grant a marriage licence to anybody simply because he is of age, than a licence, on that ground only, to practise as an apothecary. Husbands ought to be educated. We should like to have the following questions put to young and inexperienced "Persons about to Marry:"--

Are you aware, sir, of the price of coals and candles?

Do you know which is more economical, the aitch-bone, or the round?

How far, young man, will a leg of mutton go in a small family?

How much dearer, now, is silver than Britannia?

Please to give the average price of a four-poster.

Declare, if you can, rash youth, the sum, per annum, that chemisettes, pelerines, cardinals, bonnets, veils, caps, ribbons, flowers, gloves, cuffs, and collars, would probably come to in the lump.

If unable to answer these inquiries, we would say to him, "Go back to school."

He that would be a husband should also undergo a training, physical and moral. He should be further examined thus:--

Can you read or write amid the yells of a nursery?

Can you wait any given time for breakfast?

Can you maintain your serenity during a washing-day?

Can you cut your old friends?

Can you stand being contradicted in the face of all reason?

Can you keep your temper when you are not listened to?

Can you do what you are told without being told why?

In a word, young sir, have you the patience of Job?

If you can lay your hand upon your heart and answer "Yes," take your licence and marry--not else.

* * * * *

TO POLICEMEN ABOUT TO MARRY.--When you are about to marry, visit as many cooks as you can, so as to give you the widest possible area for your choice. Avoid housemaids, whose occupation does not admit of the accumulation of much dust to come down with; and remember that there is nothing like kitchen-stuff for greasing the wheel of fortune. When married, a policeman will be justified in living above his station--if he can get a room there for nothing.

* * * * *

LINES TO MY LADY-LOVE

(_By a Commonplace Person_)

To thee, were I a humble bee, I'd hourly wing my honeyed flight; To thee, were I a ship at sea, I'd sail, tho' land were in my sight: To thee, were I a pussy cat, I'd spring, as tho' 'twere on a rat!

To thee, were I a stickleback I'd swim as fast as fins could move; To thee, were I a hunter's hack, I'd gallop on the hoofs of love: But as I'm but a simple man, I'll come by train, love--if I can!

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

WHOM NOT TO MARRY:

_Or, Diogenes the Younger_

_The Lady with a Mission._--She will fill your house with parsons or professors, lecture you on her pet hobby when she can get no other audience (which will be pretty often), consider all your old friends frivolous, and treat you with supreme contempt if you venture to hint that you like your dinner punctually, and properly cooked.

_The Lady of Fashion._--She will regard you as an appendage, a cheque-drawing animal, a useful purveyor of equipages and dresses and diamonds and lace, a person to be ignored as much as possible in Society.

_The Millionaire's Daughter._--She will persistently make you aware that it is _her_ house you live in, _her_ carriage you drive, that the servants are _hers_, the dinners _hers_--that, in fact, she has bought you, and given for you much more than you are really worth.

_The Pious-Parochial Lady._--She will devote all her time to the distribution of tracts, the inspection of cottages, the collection of gossip, and interviews with the curate. Each curate will be a more "blessed" man than his predecessor, especially if he have the shifty eyes, aggressive teeth, narrow forehead, and shambling knees which modern curatism has developed.

_The Female Novelist._ She will sit up all night writing improprieties, and pass all day in town, worrying publishers, who are at present sad victims of the irrepressible petticoat.

_The Horsey Woman._ She will laugh at you as a muff if you don't ride across country, buy "screws" from her particular friends that you will have to sell for as many tens as she gave hundreds, and cost you a fortune in doctors' bills by breaking her collar-bone at least once every season.

_The Gushing Female._ She will devour you with kisses, to the injury of your shirt-front, or weep on your bosom, with much the same result. To her either is equally delightful.

_The Widow._ Diogenes pauses. The theme is too great for him. _Vide Mr. Weller, sen._, in _Pickwick, passim._

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TRITE BUT TRUE

"Music's the food of love" they say, This is a passage every one now quotes; The truth is clear, for in the present day, Young love is fed entirely _on notes._

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"OUR FAILURES."--_Husband._ "I say, Lizzie, what on earth did you make this mint-sauce of?"

_Young Wife (who has been "helping" Cook)._ "Parsley, to be sure!"

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ADVICE TO MATCH-MAKING MAMMAS.--The first and only thing requisite is simply, as Mrs. Glass very wisely says, "First catch your heir."

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A HAPPY HOLIDAY.--_The Bachelor._ "So you're looking after the house while your wife is taking a holiday? I hope she's enjoying the change?"

_The Benedict._ "I know _I_ am."

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"CREATURE COMFORTS."--Good wives.

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HOW TO CURE AN IMPRUDENT ATTACHMENT.--_Materfamilias._ "What _is_ to be done, my dear? He positively _dotes_ on her!" _Paterfamilias._ "Well, we must try to find him an _antidote_."

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DIVORCE.--A matrimonial ticket-of-leave.

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THE DESIRE OF PLEASING.--"May I be married, ma?" said a lovely girl of fifteen to her mother the other morning. "Married!" exclaimed the astonished matron, "what put such an idea into your head?" "Little Emily, here, has never seen a wedding; and I'd like to amuse the child," replied the obliging sister, with fascinating _naïveté_.

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A WOMAN'S WILL.--Won't!!!

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A CONTRADICTION IN TERMS.--Man and wife.

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AUTOMATIC COUPLINGS.--Scotch marriages.

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THE FAMILY HERALD.--A monthly nurse.

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THE WORST RESULT OF VIVISECTION.--Eve.

(_By an incorrigible Old Bachelor, who is hiding himself for fear of consequences._)

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BRADBURY. AGNEW & CO. LD. PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE