should be so. Do not wedding-breakfasts take
place by daylight? And are not speeches made
on those occasions? And, after all, why should
we not look upon this very meal as, to a
certain extent, a wedding-breakfast? You seem
surprised, gentlemen, at this inquiry, but I will
ask you whether the event we are met together
to celebrate—the event of this—morning has
not been the first act of a drama which we all
hope will terminate in a wedding—the wedding
of our noble and courageous friend?"

It was a curious thing that, just when our
chairman had got as far as this in his speech,
the cheering we had heard before was repeated;
though now much more loudly. It was also
a curious thing that the bells of the village
church, which was not very far off, began to
ring a merry peal. There might not be much to
concern us, in this, but still it was curious.
The attention of Mr. Dewsnap's audience began
to wander, and their glances were, from time to
time, directed towards the window. Mr.
Dewsnap's own attention began also to wander, and
the thread of his discourse seemed once more to
elude his grasp.

"Gentlemen," he began again, resolved, like
a true orator as he was, to avail himself of
accident, " I was remarking that this festive meal
was, in some sort and by a figure of speech, a
kind of wedding-breakfast, and while the words
were yet upon my lips, behold the bells of the
village church break out into a joyous peal!
Gentlemen, there is something almost
supernatural about this. It is a happy augury, and
as such I accept it."

The bells were becoming quite frantic now,
and the cheering was louder.

"And as such I accept it!" repeated Mr.
Dewsnap. "Gentlemen, I should not be
surprised if this were an ovation offered to our
noble and courageous friend. The villagers
have heard of his noble and courageous conduct,
and arc approaching the inn to offer their humble
congratulations."

It was quite certain that the villagers were
approaching the inn, for the sound of their
voices became every moment louder and louder.
We all began to be restless under our chairman's
eloquence, and when at length the sound
of wheels rapidly approaching was added to the
cheering and the bell-ringing, I could bear it
no longer, and rushed hastily to the window,
followed by everybody else in the room, the
chair himself included.

A carriage and pair drove swiftly past
the window. Major, I sicken while I speak.
There was a postilion on the near horse, and
on that postilion's jacket was a—Oho!—
Excuse me, I beg—a wedding-favour. It was
an open carriage, and in it were seated two
persons; one, was the gentleman, who had
made me that humble apology not much more
than an hour ago; the other, was Mary Nuttlebury,
now, if I were to believe the evidence of
my senses, Mary Huffell. They both laughed
when they saw me at the window, and kissed
their hands to me as they whirled away.

I became as one frantic. I pushed my friends,
who in vain sought to restrain me, on one side.
I rushed out into the village street. I yelled
after the carriage. I gesticulated at the carriage.
I ran after the carriage. But to what purpose?
It was over. The thing was done. I had to
return to the inn, the laughing-stock of the
rude and ignorant populace.

I know no more. I don't know what became
of me, how my bill at the inn was defrayed, how
I got away. I only know that I am finally,
hopelessly, and irretrievably under a cloud;
that all my old companions, and my old habits
have become odious to me; and that even the
very lodgings in which I formerly resided were
so unbearable, owing to the furniture being
impregnated with painful associations, that I was
obliged to remove and take up my quarters
elsewhere. This, sir, is how I came to occupy these
rooms, and I may here mention if indeed the
testimonial of a blighted wretch is of any value
that I have no cause to regret my change of
abode, and that I regard Mrs. Lirriper as a
most unexceptionable person, labouring indeed,
as far as I can see, under only one defect.
She is A WOMAN.

VII.
HOW THE PARLOURS ADDED A FEW WORDS.

I have the honour of presenting myself by
the name of Jackman. I esteem it a proud
privilege to go down to posterity through the
instrumentality of the most remarkable boy that
ever lived—by the name of JEMMY JACKMAN
LIRRIPER—and of my most worthy and most
highly respected friend, Mrs. Emma Lirriper, of
Eighty-one, Norfolk-street, Strand, in the County
of Middlesex, in the United Kingdom of Great
Britain and Ireland.

It is not for me to express the rapture with
which we received that dear and eminently
remarkable boy, on the occurrence of his first
Christmas holidays. Suffice it to observe that
when he came flying into the house with two
splendid prizes (Arithmetic, and Exemplary
Conduct), Mrs. Lirriper and myself embraced
with emotion, and instantly took him to the
Play, where we were all three admirably
entertained.

Nor, is it to render homage to the virtues of
the best of her good and honoured sex—whom,
in deference to her unassuming worth, I will
only here designate by the initials E. L.—that
I add this record to the bundle of papers with
which our, in a most distinguished degree,
remarkable boy has expressed himself delighted,
before re-consigning the same to the left-hand
glass closet of Mrs. Lirriper's little bookcase.

Neither, is it to obtrude the name of the old
original superannuated obscure Jemmy Jackman,
once (to his degradation) of Wozenham's, long
(to his elevation) of Lirriper's. If I could be
consciously guilty of that piece of bad taste, it
would indeed be a work of supererogation, now
that the name is borne by JEMMY JACKMAN
LIRRIPER.