I have said before, Malinda Jane is not of a demonstrative disposition, but thinks (if I may strain a point) ponderously.  I have never known her to manifest any will in opposition to my own; and, since I come to think of it, I do not remember her ever manifesting a will in opposition to any one else.  In this general term I of course include Master Moses Alphonso Butterby and my most highly respected mother-in-law.  Such a family, according to all rule precedent, should be superlatively happy; but there seems to be a disturbing element in all families, and mine, alas! proved no exception.  It came about thus.

Among the few parting words of my deceased ma were, “Mosie” (she always called me Mosie), “never live with your mother-in-law.”  Treasuring the command, as I may say I treasured everything the dear old lady left, including the property, when finally the day was fixed, I set about obeying it.  On an occasion when Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk—­the name of my respected mother-in-law—­had described our imaginary bower, and her imaginary apartment adjoining, until she had worked herself into a fever of imaginary happiness, I mildly communicated the behest of my departed parent.

The scene which followed I can only characterize as indescribably touching.  The look of blank despair on the face of Malinda Jane, and the tears of rage and mortification that suffused the aristocratic nose of her ma, I frankly confess, went to the bottom of my heart.  It was many months before I ceased to regret this rude banishment of their hopes; but, looking upon it from my present stand-point, I am compelled to admit my dear dead ma was right.

The only accident worthy of remark that happened to Malinda Jane on our wedding-day was a fright.  I have reason to congratulate myself at its occurring on that day, instead of a few weeks subsequent.  The consequences in the latter event, it is needless to say to married people, might have been serious.

Passing out of the church-door, we were confronted by a drunken cobbler, who, in a wild and insane manner, proposed “three cheers for Jinny.”  The assembled crowd of dilapidated urchins hanging around the steps proceeded to give them with a vim faintly suggestive of ridicule.  The single glance I obtained of the discourteous offender gave me an idea of chimneys.  His face was smoky, his clothes were fleecy, and his general appearance was decidedly sooty throughout.  A shock head, and more shocky eyebrows, bore a strange resemblance to the patent chimney-sweep; while his clothes seemed rich in past memories of the profession.  I had before 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.