"I tell thee, husband, 'tis a goodly thing,
To get a daughter married off your hands,
And know she's found an easy-tempered mate;
For many men there be in this rude world.
Who do most shockingly abuse their wives;
But of their number is not this mild youth
Who takes our daughter for his wedded bride."
Young Mrs. Edson's party was a three days' wonder. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles,
inasmuch as she was excluded from being one of the guests, availed
herself of the next choicest privilege, and learned, as far as she was
able, the dresses and conversation of those in attendance; and how Mrs.
E. comported herself, and what she cooked for supper. She was shocked to
learn the young wife wore a low-necked dress, and set her down at once as
a low, vulgar woman, in whose company she should consider it a disgrace
to be seen. Mrs. Pimble said another milk-sop had come among them to fawn
and giggle in the face of the oppressor, man.
The Edson fête seemed to pave the way for others, and the winter season
passed gayly and pleasantly among the wealthier classes of Wimbledon.
Col. Malcome, his daughter, and Rufus, were present at all the social
gatherings; and, in fact, the colonel's was getting to be a familiar and
welcome face at almost every door in the village. He even called on Mrs.
Salsify Mumbles, one day, and addressed several civil speeches to the
interesting Mary Madeline, who blushed crimson beneath the glance of his
_unresistible_ eyes, as she termed them, and trembled like an aspen, in
her red silk gown. We do not know that we have ever spoken of the
personal charms of this blooming young lady, and we will now attempt a
brief daguerreotype for the reader's enlightenment and edification.
Her hair was of that peculiarly brilliant color noticed in that
delightful esculent vegetable, the carrot, when boiled and prepared for
table. She wore it twisted in a hard, horny knob at the top of her head,
which strained her blue-green eyes, and gave them the expression of those
of a choked grimalkin. Her nose turned divinely upwards; her blubber lips
turned downwards with a grievous, watery expression. Her cheeks were red;
so was her nose; so were her eyes at times, when the horny knob took a
harder twist than usual. She had small, hairy ears, ornamented with
enormous jewels. Her neck was short, and three stubborn warts, of the
size of peas, stuck to its left side. Her waist might have been admired
in the fifteenth century; but it was some nine inches too short by as
many too broad, to elicit the admiration of the gallants of the present
age, who rave, and go distracted about gossamer divinities scarcely six
inches in circumference. She was about four feet four in stature, and her
foot would have crushed Cinderella, and used her slipper for a thumb-cot.
Such was Mary Madeline Mumbles in her eighteenth year, and never was
child more like parent, than was this young lady like her doting,
affectionate mamma.
We have been at considerable trouble to sketch Miss Mumbles at full
length, that the reader may be able to form a correct idea of her
appearance when she steps forth in full glory of silken bridal attire, on
the arm of Mr. Theophilus Shaw, the promising young shoe-cobbler, upon
whom Mr. Salsify had long since set his heart, as the proper man to
become his future son-in-law. And Miss Mary, who lost her passion for
Dick Giblet, after he shut the watch-dog in the kitchen-pantry,--a trick
which had nearly cost her the loss of a beloved mother,--and finding she
could not captivate the handsome Colonel Malcome with checkered aprons
and broad lace, began, like a dutiful child, to receive the advances of
the mild Theophilus more graciously, and had, after much maidenly
confusion, consented to become his wife, when, as we have seen, the
uncompromising colonel called, and distracted her with fear lest she had
been too precipitate in accepting Theophilus, when a higher prize might
be on the point of falling into her arms. But her apprehensions were
banished after a while, as the colonel did not appear a second time, and
the marriage was finally consummated; and Mary Madeline Mumbles became in
due form Mrs. Theophilus Shaw. Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton officiated as
bridesmaids, and a large party were invited to make merry on the
occasion.
The bride's apparel was magnificent; so was the bridegroom's. We would
attempt to describe it in detail, but dare not, knowing well we should
fail to do it justice. Mrs. Salsify had the wicks of her parlor lamps
full half an inch in length, and never seemed to notice how swiftly the
camphene was disappearing, so elate was she with the prospect of marrying
her beautiful daughter.
The happy couple were to make a short bridal excursion, and then return
and dwell under the bride's parental roof for the present; Mrs. Salsify
having vacated her bed-room, which the young people were going to use for
kitchen, parlor, and shoemaker's shop. And a little pasteboard sign with
the words, "Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker," scrawled on it with
lampblack, in an awkward, school-boy hand, was suspended by a string from
the bed-room window.
"I am glad to have Mary Madeline settled in life," said Mrs. Mumbles,
after the arrangements were all complete; "and the matter off my mind."
"So am I," answered her husband; "and I am glad she has made so good a
match, too. Mr. Shaw will make a much better husband than Dick Giblet, or
that black-headed Col. Malcome."
"O, a better one than that scapegrace of a Dick, of course!" said Mrs.
Salsify, quickly; "but as to a better one than the colonel, I don't know
about that. The advantages of his position are very great. Maddie would
have been the tip-top of Wimbledon if she had married him."
"So she will be now, in time," returned Mr. S., confidently, "for I am
'rising rapidly in my profession.' Next summer I shall build the piazza
and second story, and in ten years I'd like to see the man that can hold
his head above Mr. Salsify Mumbles."
At these hopeful words, the wife fondly embraced her husband, and the
loving couple fell to forming plans and projects for their brilliant
future.