The bride's brother, however, knew his friend's infirmity, and was also aware that he had an exceedingly bad habit of reading classical authors in places the least fitted for such purposes. He stole out of the room, then, hurried to the place where he expected his future brother-in-law might be found; and a minute after, in spite of doors and staircases, his voice was heard exclaiming, "Jimmy—Jimmy; you forget you are going to be married, man. Every one is waiting for you."
"I will come directly—I will come directly," cried another voice—"I quite forgot—go and keep them amused."
The young gentleman returned, with a smile upon his face; but announced that the bridegroom would be there in an instant; and the whole party arranged themselves in a formidable semi-circle. This was just complete, when the door opened, and the bridegroom appeared. All eyes fixed upon him—all eyes turned toward his left arm, where his chapeau bras should have been; and a universal titter burst from all lips. Poor F—— stood confounded, perceived the direction of their looks, and turned his own eyes to his left arm also. Close pressed beneath it, appeared, instead of a neat black chapeau bras, a thin, flat, round piece of oak, with a small brass knob rising from the centre of one side. In horror, consciousness, and confusion, he suddenly lifted his arm. Down dropped the obnoxious implement, lighted on its edge, rolled forward into the midst of the circle, whirled round and round, as if paying its compliments to every body, and settled itself with a flounder at the bride's feet. A roar, which might have shook St. Andrews, burst from the whole party.
The bride married him notwithstanding, and practiced through life the same forbearance—the first of matrimonial virtues—which she showed on the present occasion.
Poor F——, notwithstanding the sobering effects of matrimony, continued always the most absent man in the world; and one instance occurred, some fifteen or sixteen years after his marriage, which his wife used to tell with great glee. She was a very notable woman, and good housekeeper. Originally a Presbyterian, she had conformed to the views of her husband, and regularly frequented the Episcopal church. One Sunday, just before the carriage came to the door to take her and her husband to the morning service, she went down to the kitchen, as was her custom, in mercantile parlance, to take stock, and give her orders. She happened to be somewhat longer than usual: the carriage was announced, and poor F——, probably knowing that if he gave himself a moment to pause, he should forget himself, and his wife, and the church, and all other holy and venerable things, went down after her, with the usual, "My dear, the carriage is waiting; we shall be very late."
Mrs. F—— went through her orders with customary precision, took up her prayer-book, entered the carriage with her husband, and rolled away toward the church.
"My dear, what an extraordinary smell of bacon there is in the carriage," said Mr. F——.
"I do not smell it, my dear," said Mrs. F——.
"I do," said Mr. F——, expanding his nostrils emphatically.
"I think I smell it too, now," said Mrs. F——, taking a sniff.