f a subject could have asked for nothing better.

When, at the close of his prayer, the pastor inquired if there were any
known obstacles to the union of the pair before him in the bonds of holy
matrimony, and bade all objectors to speak then, or forever after hold
their peace, Jim looked around with a defiant air, as if he would like
to see the man who dared to respond to the call. No one did respond, and
the ceremony proceeded.

"James," said Mr. Snow.

"Jest call me--"

Miss Butterworth pinched Jim's arm, and he recalled Miss Snow's
injunction in time to arrest his sentence in midpassage.

"James," the pastor repeated, and then went on to ask him, in accordance
with the simple form of his sect, whether he took the woman whom he was
holding by the hand to be his lawful and wedded wife, to be loved and
cherished in sickness and health, in prosperity and adversity, cleaving
to her, and to her only.

"Parson," said Jim, "that's jest what I'm here for."

There would have been a titter if any other man had said it, but it was
so strong and earnest, and so much in character, that hardly a smile
crossed a face that fronted him.

Then "Keziah" was questioned in the usual form, and bowed her response,
and Jim and the little woman were declared to be one. "What God hath
joined together, let not man put asunder."

And then Mr. Snow raised his white hands again, and pronounced a formal
benediction. There was a moment of awkwardness, but soon the pastor
advanced with his congratulations, and Mrs. Snow came up, and the three
Misses Snow, and the Balfours, and the neighbors; and there were kisses
and hand-shakings, and good wishes. Jim beamed around upon the
fluttering and chattering groups like a great, good-natured mastiff upon
a playful collection of silken spaniels and smart terriers. It was the
proudest moment of his life. Even when standing on the cupola of his
hotel, surveying his achievements, and counting his possessions, he had
never felt the thrill which moved him then. The little woman was his,
and his forever. His manhood had received the highest public
recognition, and he was as happy as if it had been the imposition of a
crown.

"Ye made purty solemn business on't, Parson," said Jim.

"It's a very important step, Mr. Fenton," responded the clergyman.

"Step!" exclaimed Jim. "That's no name for't; it's a whole trip. But I
sh'll do it. When I said it I meaned it. I sh'll take care o' the little
woman, and