ry one trooped into the carriages again. How they ever got
so many full-dressed people into one carriage is a mystery to this day.
But in they piled, regardless of trains, corpulency, or height; and
coach after coach lumbered away to the church.

The bride's carriage could not be got very near the door. So she tripped
out to it, leaning on her uncle's arm, while the devoted Gaston bore her
train. Mamma sailed after in a purple cloud; and when two young damsels,
in arsenic green, were packed in, away they went, leaving the bridegroom
to follow.

Then came the catastrophe! Stout papa and mamma were safely in; a friend
of Jules, some six feet high, shut himself up like a jack-knife; and
with a farewell wave of the cocked hat, the small bridegroom skipped in
after them. The coachman cracked his whip, intending to dash under the
arched gateway in fine style. But alas! the harness was old, the big
horses clumsy, and the road half paved. The traces gave way, the beasts
reared, the big coach lurched, and dismal wails arose. Out burst the
fierce little hero of the day, and the tall friend followed by
instalments.

Great was the excitement as the natives gathered about the carriage with
offers of help, murmurs of sympathy, and unseemly mirth on the part of
the boys. Jules did the swearing; and never were heard such big oaths as
fell from the lips of this irate little man. It really seemed as if he
would explode with wrath. He dashed the impressive cocked hat upon the
stones, laid his hand upon his sword, tore his hair, and clutched his
moustache in paroxysms of despair.

His bride was gone, waiting in agitated suspense for him. No other coach
could be had, as the resources of the town had been exhausted. The
harness was in a desperate state, the men at their wit's end how to
mend it, and time flying fast. _Maire_ and priest were waiting, the
whole effect of the wedding was being ruined by this delay, and 'ten
thousand devils' seemed to possess the awkward coachman.

During the flurry, Papa Clomadoc appeared to slumber tranquilly in the
recesses of the carriage. Mamma endeavoured to soothe her boy with cries
of 'Tranquillize yourself, my cherished son. It is nothing.' 'Come,
then, and reassure papa.' 'Inhale the odour of my vinaigrette. It will
compose your lacerated nerves, my angel.'

But the angel wouldn't come, and continued to dance and swear, and slap
his hat about until the damages were repaired, when he flung himself