white waistcoat, white unmentionables, and white silk stockings, with a white cockade, as big as a moderate sized plate, stuck into his button-hole. His curls displayed a plenitude of powder, and shone brightly with oil, while in his cambric shirt front a large diamond pin "shed its lustre" all around. He first politely handed his bride, and her bridemaids, into the coach allotted to them, and then got himself, with some male friends, into the other, causing a visible inclination of the coach to the side where he had seated himself, which augured no good luck to the springs.

Now, then, they proceeded in procession to the church. Each coachman had on his hat, and in his button-hole, an immense cockade, while the horses' heads, and every joint in their harness, were decorated with long pieces of white ribbon. A number of boys, who, having nothing better to do, followed shouting and hallooing at the top of their lungs, completed the line of march, and in this order they arrived at the church.

The ceremony was duly performed. The bride blushed, or tried so to do, and Mr. Bender looked, to use the expression of a person present, "as pleased as Punch."

Meanwhile the boys outside were far from being quiet, and directly Mr. and Mrs. Bender appeared, set up a loud and lengthened shout, at the same time reminding the new married couple that they were desirous of drinking to bride and bridgroom's future happiness. Mr. Bender replied to this appeal, by throwing a handful of coppers among the crowd, at the same time vociferating, "a scramble, boys!"

A regular scramble was accordingly commenced, the effects of which were soon seen in the black eyes, and bloody noses, with which several of the scramblers were pretty quickly endowed.

It would have been well if all had ended in this inoffensive manner; but the fates would have it otherwise. One of the boys, who on account of certain propensities was dignified with the enviable cognomen of "Bob Mischief," happening to catch a glimpse of Mr. Bender's well oiled and powdered poll, could not for his life refrain from asking its owner, in a loud voice, whether "he had'nt soused his wig in the grease-pot, and then shoved it into the flour sack, afore he came out. Mr. Bender very properly resented this insult, by giving the redoubtable Bob Mischief one or two pretty smart cuts over the back with his cane. But Bob's vagabond comrades, who liked nothing better than "getting up a row," as they termed it, would not allow their favourite to be thus treated; and accordingly a thick shower of stones came whirring past the ears of Mr. Bender. Mrs. Bender now began to scream out pretty lustily, "Oh, the blackards will murder hus," which brought two functionaries, with laced hats, bearing respectively the offices of beadle and street-keeper, to her assistance, who after making good use of their official swishes, obliged the "rabble rout" to take shelter in a neighbouring field.

Here, safe from pursuit, they held a consultation as to the ways and means of obtaining revenge on Mr. Bender. At length Bob Mischief exclaimed, "let's give 'em the rough music; that'll

plague 'em enough, I guess." A universal shout of approbation greeted this proposal; and the gentry all began to run away as fast as they could, to procure tin kettles, saucepans, and other instruments of noise, when they were once more arrested by their leader's voice. "Not so fast," bawled he, "not so fast. Don't let's go afore six o'clock to-night, 'cause as how Black Will, and Jack Hardened, vill then be home from work, and you knows as how they be big enough to 'fend us from the old catch 'ems, if so be they vants to cage us, and you know as how they can make twice the noise any of ve can.' It was impossible to resist arguments thus urged, and the proposed expedition was postponed until six o'clock.

CHAPTER IV.

Cold Pig, Broken Heads, and Muddy Windows.

I SHALL not follow the example set by the newspapers, on the occasion of her present Majesty's visit to the Guildhall of this mighty metropolis, in describing each of the dishes that were placed punctually at half-past two o'clock, on the great dinner table at Mr. Bender's. Half past two was certainly not a fashionable dining hour, but Mrs. Bender belonged to the old schocl, and "couldna," as she said, "abide at all the tarnin tae-time into dinner-time. For," would she continue, "when I was a gal, we did'nt so much as 'ear of such a thing, as not havin our dinner at the middle of the day."

Among the persons assembled round the overloaded table, were our old friends, Mr. Polish the broker, and Mr. Peruke the "'ardresser." Sermonising Plum (so called from his propensity to speechify whenever he could find a fitting opportunity), grocer, and the crusty Mr. Crusty, baker, also graced the company with their presence.

Besides these worthies, were there present the Cheesemonger, the Publican, the Great Market Gardener, and numberless others, whose names and occupations it is needless to specify.

But some London friends of Mrs. Bender's were the most remarkable These consisted of Miss Prim, an old maid between forty and fifty, but who gave herself all the airs of a girl of sixteen, and would gladly have been mistaken for one; Miss Williams, a "young lady," very fond of reading novels; Mr. Tomkins, a professed fop, but who was generally supposed to be a good player upon the fiddle; and his friend, Mr. Willis, whose abilities as a singer had never been disputed.

in the whole company. personages

Dinner passed off quietly enough. Each person was too deeply engaged in discussing his portion of the good things before him, to care for aught else. Silence prevailed among the whole company, it appearing to be the general opinion that the operation of mastication could not be properly performed, if the tongue were set at liberty.

After each, however, had satisfied their corporeal wants, this taciturnity vanished. After wiping their mouths, some upon their handkerchiefs, others less polite, upon the table-cloth, the guests began to exercise their hitherto dormant colloquial powers. Sermonising Plum hummed and ha'd, as if clearing his throat preparatory to some long-winded speech. Miss Prim smiled, laughed, and chattered about fifty thousand silly matters. Miss Williams was busily employed giving Mrs. Croft, the cheesemonger's wife, who happened to sit near her, a full and particular account of the last new novel. Mr. Tomkins and Mr. Willis were equally busy, examining some new songs, with which they proposed to entertain the company; while Mr. Crusty amused himself with making ill natured remarks upon every body present, in an under tone to his wife.

I need not say that the table was speedily furnished with all kinds of wine, and other "spirituous liquors."

"Miss. Prim, my dear," began Mrs. Bender, "I hopes you likes the 'oosberry wine? I makes it always my own self."

"I must confess, my dear Mrs. Bender," answered the lady addressed, "that I think it particularly excellent."

"Excellent, indeed!" whispered Mr. Crusty to his spouse, "excellent, indeed! I would as soon drink so much hog-wash. The dear lady had better take care of her bowels."

Mr. Crusty, however, was evidently not much afraid of his own, for he drained one glass of the condemned wine to the bottom, and poured out another, qualifying the action by observing, that he "merely did it out of compliment, as it would'nt do to affront the ugly old creature on her wedding day."

"Well!" pursued Mrs. Bender, "I think its the werry best that ever I made. How lucky, was'nt it, that there was some left for to-day?"

"Yes, my dear Mrs. Bender," replied Miss Prim, "and I hope you may be as happy as you deserve to be."

"I sincerely hope it may be so," began sermonising Plum, “I sincerely hope that you and your husband may be an exception to the ordinary fate of married couples. And as I see there are some young folk present, I will e'en drop them a word of advice on this momentous topic. And first, you young men I will address in the words of a song, whieh I have in my pocket-I hav'nt forgot it sure," exclaimed he, as he emptied first his waistcoat, and then each of his coat pockets, "O no-here it is, entitled Good Advice to Bachelors and Maids, in Choosing Husbands and Wives,' not one of your profane, nasty, love-sick, songs only fit to be thrown into the fire, but a good moral one, that ought to be in the hands of every young 'un. You should never marry, my young friends, for money, [here Mr. Bender started, and coloured a great deal] for never does any good come of it. As the song says,

'Some men have slighted girls they lov'd, they said,

For being poor, or but a servant maid;

These men have oft been taken in by those,

With some small savings, and a few fine clothes.'

Then follows a little story, illustrative of the ill-effects produced by such "take-ins :"

A gay young lady Simple Simon found,
Who had a fortune of one hundred pound;
He married her, and got a prize he thought,
But had fared better with a wife with nought.
For this fine lady she must keep a maid,
Which could not be supported by the trade:
And though he worked hard, it was all in vain,
He but reproaches got from her again.

It was not long before they made a break,
Then Simple Simon found out his mistake.'

No! No! never seek after the pelf, but always look out for an industrious wife, for as the song says truly enough—

'Some men are gaping for a little pelf,
But a good wife's a fortune in herself;
A brighter jewel in her husband's view,
Than all the gold and diamonds in Peru;
And Solomon himself says, such a wife
Will be his comfort during his whole life.'

And above all when you are married, and your wives won't do as you would have them, mind you don't strike them.

advise you, also, never to marry a flashy wife, for

'Some wear a veil, and on their breast a locket,

That have not got one shilling in their pocket.'

And I'd

There are dreadful snares which you must avoid. And, above all, never marry without the consent of your parents."

"Not marry without our parents' consent," exclaimed Miss Williams, interrupting Mr. Plum's long harangue, which had been listened to with great impatience, "if that was to become the fashion, what would novel writers do for plots."

"Dn all novel writers," ejaculated sermonising Plum, "they do more harm than a hundred thousand devils could, with their books of lies! I wish they would make a bonfire of all the novels that were ever written, and put that Walter Scott on the top of it. It would be rare fun."

"Indeed I can't agree to that, not at all I can't," replied Mrs. Bender, taking up the cudgels, as novel-reading formed part of her daily employment; though, I must admit, they did her more harm than good, "I own I'm werry, werry, fond of 'ovels, they are so werry amusing."

"They send people to Bedlam," exclaimed Plum vehemently, -are the ruin of young girls."

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Nay! nay, Mr. Plum," said Miss Prim.

"None of your nays to me, Madam," continued Plum still more vehemently," they are the curse of the country-the ruin of the nation. If I knew that a daughter of mine had ever opened a novel, I'd disown her-turn her out of doors."

"I am glad I'm not your daughter then," said Miss Williams, laughing, for I have exhausted three libraries."

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More shame for you then," bawled Plum, "and what do you

expect to come to, after filling your head with all this nonsense, eh? Do you expect to obtain a respectable husband? or iron bars and a strait waistcoat in Bedlam? Yes, Miss, you will come to Bedlam, or perhaps to worse; novel reading being the parent of every kind of wickedness and crime. You may laugh at what I say, you may despise my warning voice, but my words will not fall empty to the ground. Oh for the good old times, when people thought not of teaching young girls to read; then had we duteous daughters, and industrious housewives; but now, every thing is changed; and every dirty drab of a servant maid, the moment her mistress's back is turned, sits down to read her novel, in the place of doing her work. Such are the boasted results of what the sentimental folk call the march of intellect. March of intellect, indeed! call it rather the march of wickedness, devilry, blasphemy, yea, and of every evil under the sun."

Here the orator was interrupted by a long snore, proceeding from the nasal organ of Benjamin Bender, Esq., intimating that the combined effects of some strong brandy and water, and of Mr. Plum's two speeches, had sent that important personage fast asleep.

This induced Mr. Plum to look around him, for hitherto his indignation against novel readers, and novel writers, had prevented him from observing whether his audience well or ill performed their parts as listeners.

What, then, must have been his surprise and anger, to find all the company, otherwise employed than in attending to his eloquent tirades? All the ladies, including Miss Williams, were engaged in a learned discussion as to the merits of Mrs. Bender's wedding-dress; Mr. Willis was loudly declaring that, in his opinion, the singer, Wilson, was "an abominable squaller;" while Mr. Tomkins, having made the discovery that he only, of all the company, had seen the new opera, was favouring the males with an acute (and to them unintelligible) criticism upon it. Others of the company were loudly disputing about Corn Laws, politics, high rent, and a thousand other similar topics; in short, as each person had something to say, and was determined to say it, the place had become little better than a second Babel. Mr. Plum perceiving how the case stood, and most likely thinking that, without listeners, it was useless to speechify, sat down with the melancholy ejaculation of"But I see its no use talking, you wont mind me; so I'll hold my tongue."

At length Mr. Tomkins having finished his critique, very much to his own satisfaction, proposed that they should have a song. This was assented to by all the company, with the exception of Mr. Plum, who, forgetting the neglect with which his superexcellent oratory had lately been received by the party, began to declaim vehemently against the proposal, exerting the whole force of his sentorian lungs.

"Is this the way," he exclaimed, "we ought to spend our time, when we meet together; squalling horrid songs, capering about the floor, throwing the body into all kinds of fantastic shapes, dis

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