superfine black silk waistcoat, and, with his red rate-book under his arm, he set off for Mrs. Wombell's dwelling.

Upon his arrival here, he was immediately ushered into the presence of the lady. The room in which she was sitting, did not belie the tale which the gossips of the town had circulated concerning her wealth. Upon the floor was a Brussels carpet, and on a side-board was displayed a quantity of, what appeared to be, massive plate.

Mr. Bender having made his bow, and cast a hasty glance around the room, at once entered into the ostensible object of his visit. "M'am I've taken the liberty of calling-"

"Pray Mr. Bender take a seat."

"Thankee M'am. But M'am I've taken the liberty of calling for one quarter's poor's rates, due last Christmas."

"Lawks Mr. Bender," exclaimed Mrs. Wombell, “If I had'nt forgot all about it. But," added she with a languishing air, "us poor womens carn't be expected to think of them there kind of things. We want a man to manage 'em for us."

"Of course Ma'm," responded Mr. Bender, "such things its a man's business to look after. Have you not a man you can trust?" "I am afraid to trust none of 'em, 'cause what could a poor defenceless woman of the like of me do, if he cheated," answered Mrs. Wombell," and yet," she continued, "its dangerous, is'nt it, to have such a deal of valuable property about one, without a man to defend one?"

In short, the whole conversation turned upon the evil of being without "a man to defend one." Thus they continued for nearly an hour, talking with all the familiarity of old friends. Mr. Bender now began to think ultimate success as certain, for thought he “if she is so fearful of being without a male protector, I think I'll have no great difficulty in persuading her to take me for her husband." Upon Mr. Bender's rising to depart, he discovered that the rain was pouring down in torrents. This produced an invitation from Mrs. Wombell, that he should stop to dinner, which he objected to, as in duty bound, upon the score of pressing engagements; but, after a few such expressions as now do, now," "I wish you would, &c. on the part of Mrs. Wombell, he suffered himself to be prevailed upon, and stayed.

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After dinner he must, of course, have a glass of wine, which said glass being succeeded by divers others, the afternoon began to wear away apace, and the tea-tray made its appearance. It would now have been dreadfully unmannerly to go away without taking a cup of tea; but, which was hardly dispatched, before a female acquaintance of Mrs. Wombell's dropt in, and proposed a game at whist. The time now passed on so pleasantly, and so quickly, that suppertime still found Mr. Bender with his fair companions. In short, it was not until the watchman had called out "half past eleven o'clock, moon-light night," that Mr. Bender took up his hat and departed; and then not without Mrs. Wombell's charging him to be "sure and come again."

Mr. Bender as he left the house, trod the earth with a firmer

tread than he had been wont for many years. "I am sure of her! I am sure of her!" he exclaimed as he walked along. "Yes! there's no fear, soon shall I be a gentleman." His head was filled with dreams of future happiness. He already imagined himself sitting in his crimson morocco chair before a great fire-an independent man! He already saw the tradesmen, as they passed by him in the street, greet him with a reverential touch of the hat; he already saw himself keeping company with the squire as his equal. What bliss! Could any respectable parish clerk desire aught, above such exalted felicity?

The next day witnessed a repetition of his visit; for he was determined that the golden chance, which now presented itself to him, should not be lost. This visit went off even better than the former one. The lady smiled and languished, while he strove to look loving and tender. To day, as before, he dined, teued, and supped, along with Mrs. Wombell.

The third day again found Mr. Bender at Mrs. Wombell's, each party becoming, every hour, more and more pleased with the other. But things could not long continue in this undecided state. The gossips of the town were already whispering about, that the strange widow and the parish clerk were very intimate: the men already began to envy "his good luck" in thus getting on her blind side; and the women, already, were busy at their old trade of calling Mrs. Wombell a great fool, donkey, or something worse, for picking up with such a hog-tub, without a penny.

These rumours saved Mr. Bender a great deal of trouble in the way of protestations, &c.; for it happening to come to the ears of Mrs. Wombell, that the good people of H-, were expecting every Sunday to hear the banns put up, for her marriage with the parish clerk; she became of course immoderately angry-wondered people were so busy with other people's affairs, when they ought to attend to their own-declared that she would not marry the parish clerk, even if he were worth the universe; saying, with her face red with anger, that the very thought of it made her laugh.

This, however, broke the ice. It associated the idea of marriage with her previous ideas respecting Mr. Bender; and as second thoughts are best, she soon began to think that Mr. Bender would not be quite so ineligible a cara sposa as she had at first supposed. Was he not in a good business? Thus by little and little, from thinking that he might make a good husband, she soon progressed so far, as to wish that such a man was her husband, and then to the conviction that she would not be able to find a better husband than Mr. Bender in all the kingdom. Having thus reasoned herself into loving Mr. Bender, the prime wish of her heart was that he should "pop the question;" accordingly next time the clerk visited her, there were played off on her part, certain sighs, languishings, whimperings, &c., the meaning of which was too plain to be mistaken. Mr. Bender accordingly did "pop the question;" when, after sundry little pauses, "O dear me's" &c., which every woman uses on such important occasions, Mr. Bender had the happiness to hear the wished-for monysyllabic "Yes," pass the lips of Mrs. Wombell.

N. S.-VOL. I.

3 s

CHAPTER III.

"And O when we are married,

How happy we shall be !"

Ballad of the Maid of Lodi.

It soon, however, appeared that the consideration of Mr. Bender's being in a good business, had no little influence in inducing Mrs. Wombell to give this said affirmative answer, as it was not long before she began to cross-question the parish clerk, as to his worldly prospects. This, to be sure, was but commendable, for if one be ever so rich, one would not wish to marry a beggar. This prudent conduct also, she hoped, would raise her in Mr. Bender's estimation, as a woman who had all her wits about her."

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Now from what we have before stated, the reader must have gathered, that Mr. Bender's affairs were not in a very prosperous condition; but, as might easily be supposed, he was in no wise anxious to be the first to inform his future wife of this degrading fact; but, on the contrary, he would much rather have made her believe, that he was a man "well to do in the world ;" and, indeed, truth obliges me to say, that he was not over nice in exaggerating his resources a little, or in other words, or rather to spare more words, he told her that he was worth three times more than he really possessed; or would have had, supposing that he were out of debt.

Whether this little departure from the strict rule of the moral law was justifiable or not, I shall not for the present opine; but leave the question to be decided, yea, or nay, by such learned divines, as may think it worthy of their attention, and proceed without making any further reflections, as an impartial historian ought to do, in this my important record of facts.

Mrs. Wombell also gave Mr. Bender, what she termed an exact account of her fortune, by which she appeared to be in possession of a clear income of three hundred a year. Every thing thus seeming to be satisfactory on both sides, it only remained to fix the wedding day. This was a matter of great and earnest deliberation to both parties; for first, it was to be ascertained how long it would take Miss. Fal-lal the milliner, to make Mrs. Wombell's wedding dress properly; for the good widow had resolved, that it should be made nicely, not run up in a minute, and so rendered, as she said, "not fit to be seen."

Then was there to be taken into consideration, the time that would necessarily elapse before the requisite preparations could be made, in order to celebrate the marriage with the desired degree of splendour. It was, however, ultimately settled that the wedding should take place that day fortnight.

They having, also, further determined to give a grand wedding dinner, or feast, Mr. Bender, in conjunction with the bride elect, made a list of the persons who were to be invited to partake. It was now discovered, upon counting heads, that Mrs. Wombell did not possess a sufficient number of chairs and tables to accommodate such a large party; and that, therefore, others must be procured

from Mr. Polish the broker, to whom accordingly Mr. Bender sent the following note:

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Benjamine Bender, Esq. would be much obliged if Mr. Polish could find it convenient to step up to his house, at South Terrace, upon business, and to receive a little order; that is to say, if Mr. Polish finds it not inconvenient so to do."

Mr. Polish duly received this note, and went the very same afternoon to Mrs. Wombell's house, where he found Mr. Bender sitting in a great arm-chair, enjoying himself over a glass of old port. Upon the table were four or five bottles, containing as many different sorts of wine, for Mr. Bender, expecting Mr. Polish to arrive about that time, had placed them there to show his consequence.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Polish," said Mr. Bender, rising with dignity out of his great arm-chair, and extending his hand to the broker, "good afternoon; how do you and Mrs. Polish find yourselves?"

"Same as usual, Mr. Bender; we get on in the old dog-trot manner," responded the broker, taking a seat, and drawing it to the fire.

"Glad of that. What will you take, Mr. Polish. You can have your choice. Here's Madeira, Port, Sherry, Champagne, Claret, Hock."

"Excused! Stuff! I shall be offended if you won't have a glass. Better wine you never tasted."

Mr. Polish of course resisted no longer, and took a glass of Madeira.

"Well, you know, Mr. Polish," began our hero, "that I am going to be married to a great fortune, three hundred a year. Well, and you know I am going to give a very large party on my wedding-day, and I am in want of a great many chairs, and some tables, and I thought you might perhaps be able to let me have 'em." "Of course I can," answered Mr. Polish; "would you like to buy or borrow them."

"I shall borrow nothing now, Mr. Polish," replied Mr. Bender, with a toss of the head; "I am above that. Of course I shall buy them; and let them be of the very best, Mr. Polish, and never mind the price, for I am not at all particular to a few pounds."

It was only at the expense of biting his lip that Mr. Polish could restrain his inclination to laugh outright at this little display of vanity in a man who only, about two months before, had grumbled because bread was a farthing a loaf dearer than it used to be, and who was constantly declaring, if times did not soon mend, he should be obliged to take refuge in the work-house.

"I shall be sure to let you have the very, very best," answered Mr. Polish, with a concealed smile; "they shall be of the most expensive Spanish mahogany."

"Mind you don't forget; the very best ;-but, by-the-bye," repeated Mr. Bender, seeing that the broker was making prepara

tion for departure," won't you come to my great dinner, Mr. Polish? You must come. It will be a splendid concern; the parish of

H- will never see such another."

"Certainly," replied Mr. Polish, "I shall have great pleasure in partaking of your good cheer, Mr. Bender."

Very well, I shall expect you; mind you come. No Lord Mayor's feast will rival mine."

The broker now took his leave, inwardly determining to make Mr. Bender pay the best price for his worst chairs, and to render due justice to the eatables at the feast.

At length dawned the important wedding-day, big, if not with the fate of nations, at least with that of Mr. Bender. Now, were I an ordinary novel writer, I should attempt to enlist the sympathies of the reader for my hero (and thereby obtain a little applause for myself), by representing the slumbers of the bridegroom as restless and uneasy, disturbed by dreadful dreams and dire portents; but, alas! here I can only figure as an humble recorder of facts, and must relate events as they actually occurred. My veracity, therefore, will not allow me to flourish away as I would wish, as Mr. Bender not only slept fast and long on the night in question, but was even so unpoetical as to snore audibly!

Thus, gentle reader, are you deprived of sundry grandiloquent sentences, and well-turned periods, with which I should otherwise have regaled you, while I have lost an opportunity of perhaps adding considerably to my fame as a "fine writer," all through my respect for truth. Can you now, then, gentle reader, refuse to believe whatever I shall write, after I have given you such a proof of my utter incapacity to practise on your credulity?

Yes, Mr. Bender slept long and fast. If he had dreams, they were doubtless those of happiness: but herein history sayeth not. All I know for certain is, that he woke not until he had been informed of the important fact, that Mr. Peruke, the barber (a 'ardresser, as Mrs. Wombell termed this personage) was waiting for him below.

He accordingly ordered Mr. Peruke to be conducted up into a room, styled by him his "dressing-closet." Now commenced the operations of curling, and otherwise be-frizzing the somewhat (it must be owned) thin and shaggy locks of Mr. Bender's poll. I wish not to play the part of the renowned Paul Pry, by peeping too narrowly into the mysteries of the "dressing-closet," else would I let the reader into the secret of how much oil was expended upon the person of Mr. Bender; how often he combed his whiskers before they attained a satisfactory state of smoothness, and how long he stood looking into the glass when all was completed. No! reader, thon must imagine all this!

Well, at last the two coaches arrived at the door which were to take the wedding-party to church. First, out marched Mr. Bender, with a swagger in his gait, that he had never been observed to throw into it before: no, not even when strutting into the desk on a Sunday. His outward man was adorned with a black coat,