caught sight of this individual, in a tumble-down, rickety shop near the
residence of Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk. I had, in fact, seen her on
more than one occasion bestowing charity upon him in the form of broken
victuals; but the recollection failed entirely to account for the effect
of his cheers for "Jinny" upon the too tender nerves of my dear wife and
her distinguished mother. I attributed the emotion to the trying nature
of the ceremony we had just passed through. Reflecting that people do
not get married every day, and appalled at the terrible conclusions
with which the mind would distract itself by pondering so alarming a
topic, I shudderingly abandoned it, and assisted Malinda Jane and her
ma, in a fainting condition, to the carriage.

It is needless to say that the cobbler was at once given in charge to a
policeman. The next morning, in consideration of a handsome fee, he
moved away. I accomplished this out of regard to the feelings of Mrs.
Lawk; but, I must confess, I never regretted anything more.

The commencement of married life (as many married men will bear me out)
is even more consoling than the happiest days of courtship. The smell of
varnish on new furniture is as delightfully novel as the odor of the
orange-blossoms; the brightness of the new carpets and the crispness of
the new curtains both mark an era,--even if the stove _is_ obstinate
about drawing or a man _is_ called out of bed to put up the coffee-mill.
There was Malinda Jane's night-robe hanging on one side of the bed, and
there was my night-robe on the other. My clothes were in the upper
drawer of the bureau, hers were in the lower--in such delightful and
loving proximity that I own to feeling a new man; I gloried in having
some one dependent on me: in short, I was happy.

I will not deny that there was some trouble about servants (I think