et-handkerchief of the bride; basketfuls of white favours in
the vestry, to be pinned on to the footmen and horses; a genteel
congregation of curious acquaintance in the pews, a shabby one of poor
on the steps; all the carriages of all our acquaintance, whom Aunt
Figtree had levied for the occasion; and of course four horses for Mr.
Pump's bridal vehicle.

'Then comes the breakfast, or DEJEUNER, if you please, with a brass band
in the street, and policemen to keep order. The happy bridegroom
spends about a year's income in dresses for the bridesmaids and
pretty presents; and the bride must have a TROUSSEAU of laces, satins,
jewel-boxes and tomfoolery, to make her fit to be a lieutenant's wife.
There was no hesitation about Pump. He flung about his money as if it
had been dross; and Mrs. P. Temple, on the horse Tom Tiddler, which her
husband gave her, was the most dashing of military women at Brighton or
Dublin.

How old Mrs. Figtree used to bore me and Polly with stories of Pump's
grandeur and the noble company he kept! Polly lives with the Figtrees,
as I am not rich enough to keep a home for her.

'Pump and I have always been rather distant. Not having the slightest
notions about horseflesh, he has a natural contempt for me; and in our
mother's lifetime, when the good old lady was always paying his debts
and petting him, I'm not sure there was not a little jealousy. It used
to be Polly that kept the peace between us.

'She went to Dublin to visit Pump, and brought back grand accounts
of his doings--gayest man about town--Aide-de-Camp to the
Lord-Lieutenant--Fanny admired everywhere--Her Excellency godmother to
the second boy: the eldest with a string of aristocratic Christian-names
that made the grandmother wild with delight. Presently Fanny and Pump
obligingly came to London, where the third was born.

'Polly was godmother to this, and who so loving as she and Pump now?
"Oh, Essex," says she to me, "he is so good, so generous, so fond of his
family; so handsome; who can help loving him, and pardoning his little
errors?" One day, while Mrs. Pump was yet in the upper regions, and
Doctor Fingerfee's brougham at her door every day, having business at
Guildhall, whom should I meet in Cheapside but Pump and Polly? The poor
girl looked more happy and rosy than I have seen her these twelve years.
Pump, on the contrary, was rather blushing and embarrassed.

'I couldn't be mistaken in her face and its look of mischief and