his dried little head in his dried little hands, and his dried little elbows on his dried little knees, Twemlow is melancholy. "No Adorable to bear me company here!" thinks he. "No Adorable at the club! A waste, a waste, a waste, my Twemlow!" And so drops asleep, and has galvanic starts all over him.

bride, consequently not girls, twelve and sixpence a yard, Veneering's flowers, snub-nosed one rather pretty but too conscious of her stockings, bonnets three pound ten. Twemlow; blessed release for the dear man if she really was his daughter, nervous even under the pretense that she is, well he may be. Mrs. Veneering; never saw such velvet, say two thousand pounds as she stands, absolute jeweler's window, father must have been a pawnbroker, or how could these people do it? Attendant unknowns; pokey.'

Betimes next morning, that horrible old Lady Tippins (relict of the late Sir Thomas Tippins, knighted in mistake for somebody else by His Majesty King George the Third, who, while performing the ceremony, was graciously pleased to observe, "What, what, what? Who, who, who? Why, why, why?") begins to be dyed and varnished for the interesting occasion. She has a reputation for giving smart accounts of things, and she must be at these people's early, my dear, to lose nothing of the fun. Whereabout in the bonnet and drapery announced by her name, any fragment of the real woman may be concealed, is perhaps known to her maid; but you could easily buy all you see of her, in Bond Street; or you might scalp her, and peel her, and scrape her, and make two Lady Tippinses out of her, and yet not penetrate to the genuine article. She has a large gold eyeglass, has Lady Tippins, to survey the proceed-ly. Here, too, the bride's aunt and next relaings with. If she had one in each eye, it might keep that other drooping lid up, and look more uniform. But perennial youth is in her artificial flowers, and her list of lovers is full.

"Mortimer, you wretch," says Lady Tippins, turning the eye-glass about and about, "where is your charge, the bridegroom?"

Ceremony performed, register signed, Lady Tippins escorted out of sacred edifice by Veneering, carriages rolling back to Stucconia, servants with favors and flowers, Veneering's house reached, drawing-rooms most magnificent. Here, the Podsnaps await the happy party; Mr. Podsnap, with his hair-brushes made the most of; that imperial rocking-horse, Mrs. Podsnap, majestically skittish. Here, too, are Boots and Brewer, and the two other Buffers; cach Buffer with a flower in his button-hole, his hair curled, and his gloves buttoned on tight, apparently come prepared, if any thing had happened to the bridegroom, to be married instant

tion; a widowed female of a Medusa sort, in a stony cap, glaring petrifaction at her fellowcreatures. Here, too, the bride's trustee; an oilcake-fed style of business - gentleman with moony spectacles, and an object of much interest. Veneering launching himself upon this trustee as his oldest friend (which makes seven,

with him into the conservatory, it is understood

"Give you my honor," returns Mortimer, "I Twemlow thought), and confidentially retiring don't know, and I don't care." "Miserable! Is that the way you do your that Veneering is his co-trustee, and that they duty ?"

"Beyond an impression that he is to sit upon my knee and be seconded at some point of the solemnities, like a principal at a prize-fight, I assure you I have no notion what my duty is," returns Mortimer.

Eugene is also in attendance, with a pervading air upon him of having presupposed the ceremony to be a funeral, and of being disappointed. The scene is the Vestry-room of St. James's Church, with a number of leathery old registers on shelves, that might be bound in Lady Tippinses.

But, hark! A carriage at the gate, and Mortimer's man arrives, looking rather like a spurious Mephistopheles and an unacknowledged member of that gentleman's family. Whom Lady Tippins, surveying through her eye-glass, considers a fine man, and quite a catch; and of whom Mortimer remarks, in the lowest spirits, as he approaches, "I believe this is my fellow, confound him!" More carriages at the gate, and lo the rest of the characters. Whom Lady Tippins, standing on a cushion, surveying through the eye-glass, thus checks off: "Bride; five-and-forty if a day, thirty shillings a yard, veil fifteen pound, pocket-handkerchief a present. Bridemaids; kept down for fear of outshining

are arranging about the fortune. Buffers are even overheard to whisper Thir-ty Thou-sand Pou-nds! with a smack and a relish suggestive of the very finest oysters. Pokey unknowns, amazed to find how intimately they know Veneering, pluck up spirit, fold their arms, and begin to contradict him before breakfast. What time Mrs. Veneering, carrying baby dressed as a bridemaid, flits about among the company, emitting flashes of many-colored lightning from diamonds, emeralds, and rubies.

The Analytical, in course of time achieving what he feels to be due to himself in bringing to a dignified conclusion several quarrels he has on hand with the pastry-cook's men, announces breakfast. Dining-room no less magnificent than drawing-room; tables superb; all the camels out, and all laden. Splendid cake, covered with Cupids, silver, and true-lovers' knots. Splendid bracelet, produced by Veneering before going down, and clasped upon the arm of bride. Yet nobody seems to think much more of the Veneerings than if they were a tolerable landlord and landlady doing the thing in the way of business at so much a head. The bride and bridegroom talk and laugh apart, as has always been their manner; and the Buffers work their way through the dishes with system

atic perseverance, as has always been their man- | Wight, and the outer air teems with brass bands

and spectators. In full sight of whom, the malignant star of the Analytical has pre-ordained that pain and ridicule shall befall him. For he, standing on the doorsteps to grace the departure, is suddenly caught a most prodigious thump on the side of his head with a heavy shoe, which a Buffer in the hall, Champagne-flushed and wild of aim, has borrowed on the spur of the moment from the pastry-cook's porter, to cast after the departing pair as an auspicious omen.

So they all go up again into the gorgeous drawing-rooms-all of them flushed with breakfast, as having taken scarlatina sociably-and there the combined unknowns do malignant

ner; and the pokey unknowns are exceedingly benevolent to one another in invitations to take glasses of Champagne; but Mrs. Podsnap, arching her mane and rocking her grandest, has a far more deferential audience than Mrs. Veneering; and Podsnap all but does the honors. Another dismal circumstance is, that Veneering, having the captivating Tippins on one side of him and the bride's aunt on the other, finds it immensely difficult to keep the peace. For, Medusa, besides unmistakingly glaring petrifaction at the fascinating Tippins, follows every lively remark made by that dear creature with an audible snort: which may be referable to a chronic cold in the head, but may also be refer-things with their legs to ottomans, and take as able to indignation and contempt. And this snort being regular in its reproduction, at length comes to be expected by the company, who make embarrassing pauses when it is falling due, and by waiting for it, render it more emphatic when it comes. The stony aunt has likewise an injurious way of rejecting all dishes whereof Lady Tippins partakes: saying aloud when they are proffered to her, "No, no, no, not for me. Take it away!" As with a set purpose of implying a misgiving that if nourished upon similar meats she might come to be like that charmer, which would be a fatal consummation. Aware of her enemy, Lady Tippins tries a youthful sally or two, and tries the eye-glass; but, from the impenetrable cap and snorting armor of the stony aunt all weapons rebound powerless.

much as possible out of the splendid furniture. And so, Lady Tippins, quite undetermined whether to-day is the day before yesterday, or the day after to-morrow, or the week after next, fades away; and Mortimer Lightwood and Eugene fade away, and Twemlow fades away, and the stony aunt goes away—she declines to fade, proving rock to the last-and even the unknowns are slowly strained off, and it is all over.

All over, that is to say, for the time being. But there is another time to come, and it comes in about a fortnight, and it comes to Mr. and Mrs. Lammle on the sands at Shanklin, in the Isle of Wight.

drooping tail.

Mr. and Mrs. Lammle have walked for some time on the Shanklin sands, and one may see by their footprints that they have not walked Another objectionable circumstance is, that arm in arm, and that they have not walked in the pokey unknowns support each other in being a straight track, and that they have walked in unimpressible. They persist in not being fright- a moody humor; for the lady has prodded litened by the gold and silver camels, and they are tle spirting holes in the damp sand before her banded together to defy the elaborately chased with her parasol, and the gentleman has trailed ice-pails. They even seem to unite in some his stick after him. As if he were of the Mephvague utterance of the sentiment that the land-istopheles family indeed, and had walked with a lord and landlady will make a pretty good profit out of this, and they almost carry themselves like customers. Nor is there compensating influence in the adorable bridemaids; for, having very little interest in the bride, and none at all in one another, those lovely beings become, each one on her own account, depreciatingly contemplative of the millinery present; while the bridegroom's man, exhausted, in the back of his chair, appears to be improving the occasion by peniten-gerous whiskers in his left hand, and, bringing tially contemplating all the wrong he has ever done; the difference between him and his friend Eugene, being, that the latter, in the back of his chair, appears to be contemplating all the wrong he would like to do-particularly to the present company.

In which state of affairs, the usual ceremonies rather droop and flag, and the splendid cake when cut by the fair hand of the bride has but an indigestible appearance. However, all the things indispensable to be said are said, and all the things indispensable to be done are done (including Lady Tippins's yawning, falling asleep, and waking insensible), and there is hurried preparation for the nuptial journey to the Isle of

"Do you mean to tell me, then, Sophronia—" Thus he begins after a long silence, when Sophronia flashes fiercely, and turns upon him. "Don't put it upon me, Sir. I ask you, do you mean to tell me?"

Mr. Lammle falls silent again, and they walk as before. Mrs. Lammle opens her nostrils and bites her under-lip; Mr. Lammle takes his gin

them together, frowns furtively at his beloved, out of a thick gingerous bush.

"Do I mean to say!" Mrs. Lammle after a time repeats, with indignation. "Putting it on me! The unmanly disingenuousness!"

Mr. Lammle stops, releases his whiskers, and looks at her. "The what?"

Mrs. Lammle haughtily replies, without stopping, and without looking back. "The meanness."

He is at her side again in a pace or two, and he retorts, "That is not what you said. You said disingenuousness."

"What if I did ?"

"There is no 'if' in the case. You did."

"I asked Veneering, and he told me you were from her as that it strikes him in falling. The rich." finger-marks are something whiter for the instant, but he walks on at her side.

Yielding to his hand, she rises, and they walk | another perfectly. Don't be tempted into twitagain; but this time with their faces turned toward their place of residence.

"Some one-and I was coming to you, if you nance of Alfred Lammle, Esquire, they denoted had waited a moment. You, too, are disap-that he conceived the purpose of subduing his pointed and cut a poor figure."

ished, and so the price of these products has in- the earnings of another generation. This is creased.

Monthly Record of Current Events.

ment Hancock, operating against the enemy's right

UR Record closes on the 20th of June. Both flank, gained two lines of his intrenchments and

ily progressed, though no decisive results have yet erate left some distance, but subsequently withbeen obtained.

At the close of our last Record the Federal and The next day Ewell's corps made a desperate atConfederate armies were confronting each other attempt to turn Grant's right and capture his supply Spottsylvania Court House on the line of the Po. The battle had been renewed on the 18th of May, after the lull of a week, during which both armies had been rested and reinforced. In this engage