man and wife at the small charge of seven
shillings altogether, with a degree of certainty
which nothing but an Act of Parliament
price one thousand pounds can undo. If
Jones be rich, he can shorten the probationary
three weeks to seven days, by paying
a somewhat higher fee; and if the happy
couple please they can adjourn from the
Registrar's to any church or chapel, there
to go through any further forms they may
think good—as the ladies often insist upon
doing—but the few words—the very brief
dialogue just recapitulated, and the few
minutes in the presence of the Registrar, have
been the essential and only requisite legal
steps to bind them together in the chain
matrimonial, "for better for worse, till death
shall them part."

But though five minutes may complete a
wedding, and permit the couple to go their
way rejoicing—and though an equally short
space of time may suffice for the registration
of their first-born, or the registration of a
death these brief duties of the public in a
district office are but the beginning of the
process we are about to trace through its various
stages, till its completion for national purposes.

Let us suppose a case, for the sake of
illustration. The Superintendant Registrar of
Polton-cum-Chalvey has been going on his
way, certifying the babies, the weddings, and
the mortal departures of his district, when
some evening, just as he has smoked his pipe,
and is thinking about supper, he is told
"a gentleman from London wishes to see him."
His prophetic heart leaps to his mouth, and as
he shuffles on his slippers, he mentally runs
over his books, for he knows very well, before
he sees the mysterious stranger, that he is about
to meet one of the Inspectors—gentlemen of
great keenness, who travel about all the year
round, never telling when they are likely to
visit any place, and, like bagmen, ever on the
move, and seldom sleeping two nights together
in the same place. Civil greetings are soon
followed by an examination of the doings ot
the Polton-cum-Chalvey office. Formidable-
looking papers are at hand, in which our
Registrars know very well that his character
will shortly be written down—his name, his
address, his other occupations; where his
office is; whether it be used for other purposes
than those of registration; whether his books
are kept in the fire-proof box provided by
Government for the purpose,—if not, where;
what kind of repository the books have;
whether or not the place is damp; whether
it seems safe from fire, and whether capable
of being securely closed; whether he has
gathered together all the documents he should
possess—the returns of minor Registrars, and
of the clerical certificates of marriages
performed hi churches; whether he does his own
work, or employs a deputy; whether his place
displays, in general, any want of order or
arrangement; And, finally, he knows that in
the corner of the formidable paper there is a
ready-made frame for the insertion of his
own official portrait, to be sketched by the
Inspector at his leisure, in manner following:—

"Different degrees of Efficiency being
represented by Numbers up to 6,—utter
Inefficiency being indicated by 0, and           {Image: Square Box}
complete Efficiency by 6,—write in the
adjoining space the figure which most
nearly expresses your opinion of the
Efficiency of this Superintendent Registrar.

                         —————— Signature of the Inspector.

That square is to contain the Inspector's
opinion of his character. No. 1 is by no
means the figure he wishes to stand at on
this occasion; for he knows that numeral
means but one step from 0, or, in other words,
dismissal. Seven was the olden mystic
number, but with the Registrars six is the favourite
figure, but what figure really stands against
him in the archives of Somerset Place is to
him a secret. The Inspector goes away as
quietly and mysteriously as he came; his
report is forwarded to head-quarters; and the
result at Polton-cum-Chalvey is known very
few posts afterwards, if said Polton-cum-
Chalvey house has not been found to be in
apple-pie order.

The Inspector of the books of the minor
Registrars goes even to more minute
particulars than in the case of the Superintendants.
The colour of the ink is noted—for bad ink
might lead to the loss of a large estate to its
owner by the loss of the entry of his birth or
of his parent's wedding. Any erasure is a
deadly sin, and so is the cancelling of any
entry. Mis-spelling of names and
discrepancies between the spelling of surnames in
different parts of a certificate are other great
faults often committed, but almost always
discovered, rebuked, and corrected. In an
entry of a birth, the omission of the former
name of a mother who has been twice married,
is a heavy fault, and so also, in the registration
of twins, is the non-indication of which of the
two is the elder. Only by a ceaseless vigilance
can all these points, seemingly unimportant to
many whose attention is required to them, but
in fact all-essential to the perfection of the
national documents of which each entry forms
a part, be correctly ascertained.

By these several registering offices spread
over England and "Wales, about twelve
hundred thousand names are, in round numbers,
entered every year upon the official books.
Every three months each local Registrar
makes an exact copy of his register, and
taking both original and copy, goes with them
to the Superintendant of his district, who
examines the transcript to see if it be correct,
and then, after certifying its accuracy, sends
it to the London Central Office in Somerset
Place, himself retaining the original book.
Any person wanting a certificate within the
current quarter, may therefore obtain it from
the local Registrar; but after the expiration
of that time can only inspect the original