ence!' said Rachael, blushing.

'The licence,' repeated Mr. Jingle--

'In hurry, post-haste for a licence,
In hurry, ding dong I come back.'

'How you run on,' said Rachael.

'Run on--nothing to the hours, days, weeks, months, years, when
we're united--run on--they'll fly
on--bolt--mizzle--steam-engine--thousand-horse power--nothing to it.'

'Can't--can't we be married before to-morrow morning?' inquired
Rachael. 'Impossible--can't be--notice at the church--leave the licence
to-day--ceremony come off to-morrow.' 'I am so terrified, lest my
brother should discover us!' said Rachael.

'Discover--nonsense--too much shaken by the break-down--besides--extreme
caution--gave up the post-chaise--walked on--took a hackney-coach--came
to the Borough--last place in the world that he'd look in--ha!
ha!--capital notion that--very.'

'Don't be long,' said the spinster affectionately, as Mr. Jingle stuck
the pinched-up hat on his head.

'Long away from you?--Cruel charmer;' and Mr. Jingle skipped playfully
up to the spinster aunt, imprinted a chaste kiss upon her lips, and
danced out of the room.

'Dear man!' said the spinster, as the door closed after him.

'Rum old girl,' said Mr. Jingle, as he walked down the passage.

It is painful to reflect upon the perfidy of our species; and we will
not, therefore, pursue the thread of Mr. Jingle's meditations, as
he wended his way to Doctors' Commons. It will be sufficient for our
purpose to relate, that escaping the snares of the dragons in white
aprons, who guard the entrance to that enchanted region, he reached the
vicar-general's office in safety and having procured a highly flattering
address on parchment, from the Archbishop of Canterbury, to his 'trusty
and well-beloved Alfred Jingle and Rachael Wardle, greeting,' he
carefully deposited the mystic document in his pocket, and retraced his
steps in triumph to the Borough.

He was yet on his way to the White Hart, when two plump gentleman
and one thin one entered the yard, and looked round in search of some
authorised person of whom they could make a few inquiries. Mr. Samuel
Weller happened to be at that moment engaged in burnishing a pair of
painted tops, the personal property of a farmer who was refreshing
himself with a slight lunch of two or three pounds of cold beef and a
pot or two of porter, after the fatigues of the Borough market; and to
him the thin gentleman straightway advanced.

'My friend,' said