ves to bring his friends and those of,
his sweetheart together. The very fact of their accepting the "thrate,"
on either side, or both, is a good omen, and considered tantamount to
a mutual consent of their respective connections. This, however, is not
always so; for it often happens that a match is broken off after many
a friendly compotation has been held "upon the head of it," which means
upon that subject. Let the reader stand with us for a few minutes, and
we will point out to him one or two groups who have met for the purpose
of settling a marriage. Do you see that tall _sthreel_ of a fellow,
who slings awkwardly along, for which reason he is nicknamed by his
acquaintances "a sling-poke"? Observe the lazy grotesque repose of his
three-featured face, for more it does not present, viz.--mouth, eyes,
and nose. His long legs are without calves, and he is in-kneed; yet the
fellow has such taste, that in order to show his shape he must needs
wear breeches! Look at his coat, which was made for him about five years
ago, when he was but "a slip of a boy." The thin collar only reaches
to the upper part of his shoulder; and as he is what is called
"crane-necked," of course the distance between his hat and the collar
is incredible. The arms of the said coat are set so far in, that they
appear almost to meet behind; but, on the other hand, two naked bones,
each about six inches in length, project from the cuffs, which come not
far below his elbows. The coat itself is what is called a jerkin; and
as the buttons behind are half-way up his back, it is a matter of course
that the tail, which runs rapidly to a point, is ludicrously scanty.
Now, that youth, who is probably under no sense of gratitude to the
graces, has put his "co-medher" on the prettiest girl, with one or
two exceptions, in the whole parish. The miserable pitch-fork, the
longitudinal rake--we speak now in a hay-making sense--has contrived
to oust half a dozen of the handsomest and best-looking fellows in the
parish. How he has done this is a mystery to his acquaintances; but
it is none to us--we know him. The kraken has a tongue dripping with
honey--one that would smooth a newly-picked millstone. There they go,
each of them laughing and cheerful, except himself; yet the fellow,
though conscious of his own influence, enters the public-house as if
he were going on the forlorn hope, or trailing his straggling limbs to
confide his last wishes to the ear of the sheriff or