ver for one consecutive second were his ample ears free from the
near or distant strains of the Wedding March."

And over all, in approving benediction, brooded the wide smile of the
greatest of statesmen and the great smile of the widest of statesmen--
these two, metaphorically, hand in hand, floated high above their people,
scattering encouraging blessings on every bride.

A tremendous rise in values set in; the newly married required homes;
architects were rushed to death; builders, real-estate operators,
brokers, could not handle the business hurled at them by impatient
bridegrooms.

Then, seizing time by the fetlock, some indescribable monster secured the
next ten years' output of go-carts. The sins of Standard Oil were
forgotten in the menace of such a national catastrophe; mothers' meetings
were held; the excitement became stupendous; a hundred thousand brides
invaded the Attorney-General's office, but all he could think of to say
was: "Thirty centuries look down upon you!"

These vague sentiments perplexed the country. People understood that the
Government meant well, but they also realized that the time was not far
off when millions of go-carts would be required in the United States. And
they no longer hesitated.

All over the Union fairs and bazaars were held to collect funds for a
great national factory to turn out carts. Alarmed, the Trust tried to
unload; militant womanhood, thoroughly aroused, scorned compromise. In
every city, town, and hamlet of the nation entertainments were given,
money collected for the great popular go-cart factory.

The affair planned for Oyster Bay was to be particularly brilliant--a
water carnival at Center Island with tableaux, fireworks, and
illuminations of all sorts.

Reassured by the magnificent attitude of America's womanhood, business
discounted the collapse of the go-cart trust and began to recover from
the check very quickly. Stocks advanced, fluctuated, and suddenly whizzed
upward like skyrockets; and the long-expected wave of prosperity
inundated the country. On the crest of it rode Cupid, bow and arrows
discarded, holding aloft in his right hand a Destyn-Carr machine.

For the old order of things had passed away; the old-fashioned doubts and
fears of courtship were now practically superfluous.

Anybody on earth could now buy a ticket and be perfectly certain that
whoever he or she might chance to marry would be the right one--the one
intended by destiny.

Y