horsemen pursued their march to those distant
solitudes where happiness awaited their chieftain and his bride.
MARRIED FOR MONEY.
"Jack Cleveland!" exclaimed a fast young man in a drab driving coat
with innumerable capes, (it was twenty years ago, reader, in the palmy
days of Tom and Jerry and tandem teams,) as he encountered an equally
fast young man in Cornhill; "what's the matter with you?"
"It's all over, Frank; I've gone and done it."
"Gone and done what, you spooney?"
"Proposed."
"Proposed what?--a match at billiards, a trot on the milldam, or a
main of cocks?"
"Pooh!--something more serious," said Cleveland, gravely; "I've
offered myself."
"Offered yourself? To whom?"
"Widow--Waffles--shy name--never mind--soon changed--one hundred and
fifty thousand--cool, eh?--age forty--good looks--married for
money--sheriff would have it--no friends--pockets to let--pays my
debts--sets me up--house in Beacon Street--carriage--can't help it."
"You're a candidate for Bedlam," said Frank; "I've a great mind to
order you a strait jacket."
"Be my bridesman--see me off--eh?" asked Cleveland.
"Yes, yes, of course--it will be great fun."
And so it was. Jack Cleveland was united to the widow Waffles in Trinity
Church, and a smashing wedding it was. The party that followed it was, to
use Cleveland's own expressions, "a crusher--all Boston invited--all Africa
waiting--wax lights--champagne--music--ices--pretty girls--a bang-up
execution."
During the honeymoon Jack Cleveland was all attention to his bride,
(_il faut soigner les anciennes_,) but he promised to indemnify
himself by taking full and complete liberty so soon as that
interesting period of time had been brought to a close. Besides, his
chains sat lightly at first; for the widow was one of those splendid
Lady Blessington kind of women, who at forty have just arrived at the
imperial maturity of their charms, and she was deeply enamoured of the
young gentleman whom she had chosen for her second partner in the
matrimonial speculation. Moreover, she paid the debts of the fast
young man with an exemplary cheerfulness. The only drawback to this
gush of felicity was that her property was "tied up;" not a cent could
Cleveland handle except by permission of his lady. Then she kept him
as close to her apron strings as she did her Blenheim spaniel; she
required him to obey her call as promptly as her coachman. Galling to
his pride though it was, he
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