THERE be marriages which are made in heaven, some poet tells us, but in France they are more usually negotiated over the desk of the notary public. This is the system: Monsieur A—— wants a wife, he goes to Lawyer B——, says:
'Old friend, you are aware of my pecuniary circumstances—it is time for me to think of getting mated—do you know any lady with an eligible fortune in your clientèle?'
'Let me see,' says B——, taking a pinch of snuff. 'Oh! there's C——'s widow, a capital alliance; got a good annuity in her own right.'
Perhaps A—— is particularly nice, doesn't like widows.
'Then, what d'ye think of D——'s daughter?' continues the lawyer.
'Faded and ugly.'
'But rich, accomplished, and of good family.'
A—— shakes his head negatively.
'Hem, so we must have beauty! What do you say to E——'s sister?'
'Do you want me to marry my grandmother—don't like the reigning toasts of the last generation. Good-morning.'