Chapter 3

There were a few minutes unoccupied before the time appointed for the ceremony, and so the Pew-opener thought he could not do better than point out the many excellences of the church to the Bridegroom.

"You see, Sir," he said, "our pulpit is occupied by the best possible talent. The Vicar takes the greatest interest in securing every rising preacher, and thus, Sunday after Sunday, we have the most startling orations."

The Bridegroom (slightly bored) said that if he had happened to live in the neighbourhood, he should certainly have taken sittings.

"But living in the neighbourhood is not necessary, Sir," persisted the Pew-opener. "Let into the sounding-board is a telephone, and so our Vicar can supply the sermons preached here, hot and hot, to residents in the London Postal District. Considering the quality of the discourses, he charges a very low rate. The system has been largely adopted. As a matter of fact the whole service, and not only the pulpit, has been laid on to the principal Hotels and Clubs."

But further conversation was here cut short by the arrival of the Bride, who, led by her brother, advanced towards the altar with an air of confidence that charmed all beholders. This self-possession was the outcome of the lady being--as her grey moiré-antique indicated--a widow. Congratulations passed round amongst the friends and relatives, and then the bridal party was arranged in front of the good old Vicar.

"Have you switched us on?" said he to the Clerk.

"Yes, Sir," was the reply. "We are now in communication with all the principal Hotels and Clubs."

"That's right. I am always anxious that my clients shall have their full money's-worth." And then the Vicar read with much emphasis the exhortation to the public to declare any "just cause or impediment" to the marriage. Naturally there was no response, and an opening hymn was sung by the choir, which, containing some half-dozen verses, lasted quite a quarter of an hour. At its conclusion the Vicar, who had allowed his attention to become distracted, instead of going on with the service, again read the exhortation. He once more gave the names of "HARRY SMITH, bachelor," and "AMY JONES, widow."

"If anyone knows any just cause or impediment," he continued.

"Stop; I do!" interrupted a gentleman in a dressing-gown, who had hurriedly entered the Church. "I heard you about a quarter of an hour ago, while I was breakfasting at the Shaftesbury Avenue Hotel, ask the same question, and came here without changing my coat. Very sorry to interrupt the ceremony, but this lady is my wife! Well, AMY, how are you?"

"What, JOEY!" exclaimed the (now) ex-Bride, delightedly. "We _are_ glad to see you! We thought you were dead!"

Then the gentleman in the dressing-gown was heartily greeted on all sides. He seemed to be a very popular personage.

"But where do I come in?" asked Mr. BROWN, the ex-Bridegroom, who had, during this scene, shown signs of embarrassment.

"O JOEY, I quite forgot to introduce you to HARRY," said the ex-Bride. "You must know one another. I was going to marry him when you, darling, turned up just in the nick of time, like a dear good old boy!"

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Sir," said Mr. JONES, shaking Mr. BROWN warmly by the hand. "And now I must go back to finish my breakfast!"

"Yes, with me," said the ex-Bride. "You must sit, darling, in the seat intended for poor HARRY. I know you won't mind, HARRY (or, perhaps, I ought to call you Mr. BROWN now?), as I have _so_ much to say to dear JOEY. And you can have your breakfast at a side-table--now won't you, just to please me? You always are _so_ kind and considerate!"

And, as the wedding-party left the Church, the Clerk hastily unswitched the electric communication.

"Be quiet, Sir!" he whispered, sternly, to Mr. BROWN, who had been talking to himself. "If our clients heard you, we should be ruined! We guarantee that our telephonic supply shall be perfectly free from bad language!"

* * * * *

PROPHET AND LOSS.--Good Mussulmen, so it is said, object to a play entitled _Mahomet_ being produced in London. The objection was successful in Paris. London Managers (except, perhaps, Sheriff DRURIOLANUS, who revived _Le Prophete_ this season) will be on the side of the objectors, as they would rather have to do with a genuine profit than a fictitious one. Perhaps the non-production of _Mahomet_ may be a loss to Literature and the Drama.

* * * * *

A BACHELOR'S IDYL.

I am not married, but I see No life so pleasant as my own; I think it's good for man to be Alone.

Some marry not who once have been-- A curious process--crossed in love, Who find a life's experience in A glove;

Or else will sentimental grow At recollections of a dance; But, luckily for me, I've no Romance.

Of course I know "love in a cot,"-- The little wife who calls you "hub,"-- But I'm content whilst I have got My Club.

In some fine way, I don't know how, Some fool, some idiot, who lacks A grain of sense, proposes now A tax.

A Tax on Bachelors! Ah, well, If this becomes the law's decree, I cheerfully shall pay the _L._ _S.D._,

Quite happy with my single lot, Convinced beyond a doubt that life Is just worth living it you've not A wife.

(A LITTLE LATER.)

I'll sing exaltedly no more, But sadly in a minor key Will tell what fortune had in store For me.

I rather think, the other day, That someone asked, "Should women woo?" I'll answer that without delay-- They do!

She came--I foolishly was glad-- She took me captive with a glance, Of course I never really had A chance.

And when she bent her pretty head To ask the question, I confess That what at once with joy I said Was "Yes."

She says our wedding is to be On Monday--quite a swell affair. My wife and I shall hope to see You there.

* * * * *

"IS THIS THE HEND?"

The following, headed _Scottish Leader_, was sent to us as a quotation:--

"The Duke of FIFE has sold the estate of Eden, near Banff, to Mr. THOMAS ADAM, Deputy Chairman of the Great North of Scotland Railway Company."

If the above information be correct, this transfer of "Eden" to "ADAM" looks uncommonly like "Paradise Regained."

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Baron must say a word about _Voces Populi_, by F. ANSTEY, author of the immortal _Vice Versâ_. That the series contained in this volume appeared in _Mr. Punch's_ pages is sufficient guarantee for the excellence of its quality, and more than this it would not become the Baron to say; but of the illustrations by J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE the Baron can speak--and speak in terms of the highest admiration of them--as works of genuinely artistic humour. There are twenty illustrations, that is, ten brace of Partridges, if he will allow the Baron so far to make game of him. The book is published by LONGMANS, GREEN & Co.

The Leadenhall Press has brought out, in Pocket form, _Prince Dorus_, by CHARLES LAMB, with nine coloured illustrations, following the original Edition of 1811. The lines are not very Lamb-like, but the illustrations are very quaint, and the Pocket Volume is a curiosity of literature.

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

A REALLY VALUABLE SUGGESTION.

(_TO THE EDITOR OF PUNCH._)

DEAR SIR,--As the conductor of the recognised organ of the legal profession, I have the honour to address you. My learned and accomplished friend. Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, Q.C., complained the other day that there was a right of appeal from the Police Court to the Bench of Middlesex Magistrates. He said that his colleagues were barristers and gentlemen of considerable eminence, and in those characters were better able to decide upon the merits of a case than the persons who compose the Tribunal to which appeal from their decision is permissible. I have not recently looked through the list of Metropolitan Police Magistrates, but, if they have been chosen from the ranks of literature and law, as they were thirty years ago, I can well understand that they are an exceedingly capable body of men. That so accomplished a _littérateur_ and admirable an advocate as my friend Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS himself should have been raised to the Magisterial bench, is a proof that the standard has been maintained. But, Sir, can nothing be done for the other tribunal?

Would it not be possible to appoint a certain proportion of stipendiaries, with ample salaries, to that body? What is wanted are men with a perfect knowledge of the law, and a large experience of the adversities as well as the pleasures of life. If they occasionally dabble in literature, so much the better. But, it may be said, where are such men to be found? I answer, in very many places, and, to encourage the authorities in their search, shall be most happy to personally head the list.

Yours, very faithfully,

(_Signed_) A. BRIEFLESS, JUNIOR. _Pump-handle Court, Oct. 4th, 1890._

* * * * *

THE GROAN OF THE GUSHLESS.

(_A SONG À LA SHENSTONE._)

["What is described as an Anti-Gush Society has, according to a Pittsburg paper, been formed in New York, its object being to check the growing tendency, especially noticeable among young people of the period, to express themselves in exaggerated language."]

_Girl Member of the A.G.S. loq._:--

Ye maidens, so cheerful and gay, Whose words ever fulsomely fall, Oh, pity your friend, who to-day Has become a Society's thrall. Allow me to muse and to sigh, Nor talk of the change that ye find; None once was more happy than I; But, alas! I've left Gushing behind!

Now I know what it is to have strove[1] With the tortures of verbal desire. I must use measured terms, where I love, And be moderate, when I admire. No slang must my diction adorn, I must never say "awfully swell." Alas! I feel flat and forlorn, I have bidden Girl-Gushing farewell!

Since I put down my name in that book I have never called bonnets "divine," For our Sec. with a soul-shaking look, Would be down on your friend with a fine. So the milliners now I pass by; Though dearly they pleased me of yore; If a girl musn't gush, squirm, and sigh, Even shopping becomes quite a bore.

For "gorgeous" I languish in vain, And I pine for a "love"--and a "dear." Oh! why did I vow to be plain-- In my speech? It sounds awfully queer! Stop! "Awfully" is not allowed. Though it _will_ slip out sometimes, I own. Oh, I might as well sit in my shroud, As use moderate language alone.

To force us fair nymphs to forego The hyperbole dear to our heart, And the slang without which speech is "slow," Is to make us a "people apart." Oh, to say (without fines) "quite too-too!" For dear "awfully jolly" I yearn. I would "chuck" all my friends, sweet--save you-- To the pathways of Gush to return.

Eh? "_Chuck_" did I say? That is Slang! And "_Sweet_?" That's decidedly Gush! Oh, let the A.G.S. go hang! My old love returns with a rush. It is "gorgeous" once more to be free, O'er a frock or a first night to glow. Come to-morrow! Go shopping with me, _Ownest own_--and we'll gush as we go!

[Footnote 1: SHENSTONE, not _Mr. Punch_, is responsible for the peccant participle.]

* * * * *

THE MODERN NELSON MOTTO.--At the Church Congress. Lord NELSON expressed a strong desire for the union of Dissenters with Churchmen. If his Lordship's reading of the old Nelsonian motto is "England expects that every clergyman (Dissenter or Churchman) should do somebody else's duty," then England will have to wait a considerable time for the Utopian realisation of this pious wish.

* * * * *

NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.