“I admit your loss has been great, and I also admire the tenour of your argument,” observed Mr. Rosebud, “but, nevertheless, ‘grieving’s a folly;’ there is a time for every thing, as my friend Old Jollyboy would have observed, therefore, Jerry, having done every thing becoming the character of a sincere friend, I think you ought now to turn to a more pleasant view of the picture, and once more give your acquaintances the benefit of your company.” “Good!” exclaimed Old Jollyboy; “for some time past, I have been holding myself in readiness to receive a summons to perform a certain ceremony, without Squire Hawthorn has given up the marriage altogether. All in good time perhaps!”
The trifling hint was quite sufficient, and Jerry, lest his conduct should be thought cold or neglectful, presented himself, in the course of the morning, “for better or for worse,” to Miss Rosebud, at the Cottage, anxiously soliciting her to name the wedding day. The disposition of Mary Rosebud was of the most ingenious nature, and her attachment to our hero too great to keep him long in suspense. “Perhaps, Sir,” said Mary, “I ought to say ‘No!’—and insist upon more time, to enable me to form a correct opinion of your conduct, whether you have duly considered the serious and important charge of martrimony, and the confinement also attendant on such a state; and, likewise, freely consenting, as it is termed, to surrender a part of your liberty, before I say ‘Yes.’ But I prefer being frank on the present occasion; and, relying on your honour, generosity, and true love, I am content, whenever my father shall think proper to name the day.” “Generous, amiable girl,” replied Jerry, “I have well considered the subject, in every point of view; but I will make no professions: yet my endeavours throughout my life, shall be to strengthen, what the Poet has so beautifully described, the
“Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets.”
The day was immediately fixed for the nuptials by Mr. Rosebud; the marriage ceremony was performed by Old Jollyboy, and when Miss Rosebud answered “I will!” the old Curate was so full of joy, that the word “Good!” had almost escaped his lips. The estates of the Rosebuds and the Hawthorns were united, and Mary and Jerry made the happiest of the happy. The wedding-day was devoted to pleasure. “It shall be kept in the old style,” said Jerry’s father; “every body, shall be welcome; we will have a dance upon the green; all the lads and lasses in the village shall be invited to celebrate the wedding; we will broach a tub of ‘humming bub!!’ and nothing shall be wanting to promote mirth and harmony.” “Good!” said Old Jollyboy, over his pipe; but, long before the approach of night, the “gaily circulating glass” had been pushed about by Old Hawthorn to all the company—that, suffice to observe; as we have too much respect for the cloth to tell tales, the fine old Curate required the assistance of “Amen,” the clerk, to make Jollyboy “all right” at the Curacy.
The honey-moon was, of course, a raptuous one; after which Jerry might be viewed as a “settled being.” Time rolled over pleasantly with him and his bride; and the sports of the field, if possible, he enjoyed with greater zest than heretofore. His fire-side was a pattern of domestic comfort, although a sigh would now and then escape his lips, whenever the thoughts of Tom and Logic came over his mind. In every other respect, Jerry was a picture of contentment; determined to profit by his experience, and to turn to a good account, for the benefit of himself and his family, the many hair-breadth escapes and dangerous adventures he had met with in his Day and Night Scenes in Life in London. He was the delight of all the companies he visited in the neighbourhood of Hawthorn Hall; his general conduct was the praise of the surrounding gentry, and he was admitted, by all parties, to sustain the character of a perfect Country Gentleman. We now take our leave of Jerry, “all happiness,” with his amiable wife, a fine estate, a capital stud of horses, and a crack pack of hounds, to promote—
LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.
The End.
