s champion boxer, and he had
an eight-ounce glove on (thank Heaven!) on that occasion. In her right hand
the bride carried a fan of splendid ostrich feathers, with which she
brushed the flies off the groom. It was vast enough to have brushed away a
toy terrier, to say nothing of flies, but it looked a toy in that giant
fist.

The groom hung on to his bride's arm like a fly to a sugar-stick. He was a
tall young man, dressed in a black frock coat, light trousers, braced up to
show that he wore socks, shoes, white gloves, and a high-crowned hat. He
carried his bride's white silk gingham in one hand, and an enormous bunch
of flowers in the other. He tried to look meek, but only succeeded in
looking sly, hypocritical, and awfully uncomfortable. At times he would
look at his new spouse, and then a most unsaintly expression would cross
his foxy face; he would push out his great thick lips until they threw a
shadow all round him; open his dazzling white teeth and let his great
blood-red tongue loll out until the chasm in his face looked like a rent in
a black velvet gown with a Cardinal's red hat stuffed in the centre. He may
have been full of saving grace--full up, and running over--but it was not
the brand of Christianity that I should care to invest my money in. When he
caught my gaze riveted upon him, he tried to look like a brand plucked from
the burning; he rolled his great velvet-black eyes skyward, screwed up the
sluit which ran across his face, and which he called a mouth, until it
looked like a crumpled doormat, folded his hands meekly over his breast,
and comported himself generally like a fraudulent advertisement for a
London mission society.

From him I glanced to his "Pa," who had given him away, and seemed mighty
glad to get rid of him. "Pa" was dressed in pure black from head to
heel--just the same old suit that he had worn when he struck this planet,
only more of it. He was guiltless of anything and everything in the shape
of dress except for a large ring of horn which he wore on top of his head.
He did not carry any parasols, or fans, or geegaws of any kind in his great
muscular fists. One hand grasped an iron-shod assegai, and the other
lovingly fondled a battle-axe, and both weapons looked at home where they
rested. He was not just the sort of father-in-law I should have hankered
for if I had been out on a matrimonial venture; but I would rather have had
one limb of that old heathen than the whole body of hi