We were to set out for the church at ten, but that hour struck before Caroline made her appearance. Dr. Cram had twice looked at his watch -he was thinking of the collation-and Sir Popperton had demanded whether the ceremony was to be to-day or to-morrow, when a bustle and a rush of white satin and lace proclaimed the bride's presence. Several damsels were in her train, but next to her, as chief bridesmaid, walked my gentle sister. The room fell into a roar of congratulations, and Carry's gratified eye told that they were welcome. I never saw her look so well. Her dress, exclusive of jewels, must have cost what would keep me for six months. Lina was in a quiet, pale sort of silk, that I unfortunately called "stone;" upon which Mrs. Dr. Cram indignantly snapped me up, and asserted that it was "pearl gray." Her bonnet was the same as Caroline's, except the orange-blossoms, and she wore no jewels. I heard afterwards that the whole of Caroline's dress had been Lina's present.

Captain Fitzhenry advanced, and did homage to his bride, sotto voce. She received it with a genuine affectation of timidity, and turned away to shelter her blushes behind aunt's fiery petticoats. The captain then spoke to Lina in the same low tone, when she burst into tears, and nearly sobbed herself into hysterics. Thinking she was going into them out and out, I got two bottles of Preston salts ready, and called out for a can of water; but the symptoms went off. I did not care for the hysterics, but I did care for Lina, and felt convinced of her misplaced passion for Fitzhenry.

"Never you mind, dear," said Mrs. Dr. Cram, patting Lina on the shoulder, “it shall be your wedding next.”

With great parade we sailed down to the equipages. But, elaborately as the procession was planned beforehand, the programme, amidst the bustle and excitement, was not strictly followed out. It often is not.

The

The first mishap was with Fitzhenry's chariot. The coachmen had received orders to place but a pair of horses to each carriage for church, and his appeared with four; but it was too late to remedy it now. second blunder consisted in aunt's being bowed by Dr. Cram into his chariot, instead of Fitzhenry, and off they started. Fitzhenry stepped into his own, and there, behold! some bungler had planted Lina. So they went next. Then followed the bride, Sir Popperton by her side, with Alfred and Mrs. Dr. Cram opposite to her, the bird-of-paradise's tail tipping out at the window to gladden the admiring spectators; and the rest of us followed anyhow, just where we could scramble. There were ten in our coach.

Caroline was placed at the altar. The reverend doctor, in full canonicals, stood facing her, with open book in hand, and we were all waiting on the tiptoe of expectation to hear the first word of the service. But there seemed a strange delay. I was standing quite behind, and could see nothing but the bird-of-paradise and the top of aunt's scarlet plume.

"What's he waiting for?" whispered I to Uncle Popperton, pulling him behind, as I nodded to the place where old Cram ought to be.

"What the deuce, boy!—would you marry her to herself? The captain is not come yet."

"Why, his carriage went second-next to the parson's. Lina was in it. Is she not here?"

"Can't you see she's not!" grumbled Sir Popperton; "it is plain enough."

I dare say it was to him, who was six feet two in stockings; but I counted five feet nothing in boots.

Nephew," whispered aunt, beckoning me forward, "go to the door and see. There is some dreadful accident, I fear; he always would drive such spirited horses."

"But he came next to you, aunt-before the rest of us. If there had been any accident, we must have seen it."

"Those fools of postilions of his have driven to the Catholic chapel, then," answered aunt, in a fever. "Do go and see."

I made my way in haste to the Catholic chapel. Father Ignatius was there, but I could see no trace of Fitzhenry. The Cram footman stepped up to me as I was going back.

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, touching his hat, "but the captain's carriage went this way-don't think it's of any use looking for it that." "Which way?"

"Right down along the left road, sir, without turning to the church at all. The postboys were lashing their horses like mad, and the carriage tore along, and whirled-off at the finger-post, which leads to nothing but the railway-station."

"Was the captain in it?"

“The captain was in it, sir, and Miss Lina with him. His own man sat in the rumble."

"What the devil!" growled the choleric Sir Popperton, when I returned to report, "are we to cool our heels in this church all day?"

"The breakfast!" stammered Dr. Cram, his nose turning to a light purple, as the fear gained ground that some untoward accident might put a stop to the eating.

"Those dreadful horses have run away with him, and he will never come back but with his head torn off," shrieked Carry, going into a sham faint upon the altar steps. Not that she had any real love for Fitzhenry -her days for loving had long been over.

"Lina, too, was in the carriage," uttered I; "what is to become of her?" "Oh, don't you get bringing up Lina, nephew! I don't suppose she'll be hurt; and we have enough on our minds just now in thinking of the captain," cried Mrs. Dashingly, stooping down to look after Caroline, when the scarlet plume came in contact so violently with the altar rails, that its elegant uprightness was over for ever, and it was bent to an acute angle.

"Dear Mrs. Dashingly," groaned Dr. Cram, "don't you think a little refreshment would revive her?-the breakfast-oh!-or so? It is waiting all this time, you know. She may have a fit of illness if she fasts any longer."

It being obvious that a dwelling-house was a more convenient place than a church to wait in, while a man was brought home without his head, we returned to the carriages to be conveyed back again. Father Ignatius joined us as we entered the house, and Sir Popperton's outriders were despatched flying, in search of the runaway chariot.

"There, he'll soon be heard of now, my dear," cried Dr. Cram to Caroline, his spirits going up like quicksilver at his proximity to the collation.

Fitzhenry was heard of, and Lina also.

May a certain gentleman fly away with me, if ever I saw such a house in my life, before or since. Aunt danced a hornpipe with passion, and poor Caroline, in her wild dismay, tore her orange-blossoms to pieces.

It appeared-for, bit by bit, the whole plot and counter-plot was laid bare that Fitzhenry had, in the first instance, proposed to Mrs. Dashingly for Lina. But that lady, with indignant firmness, informed him that he might just as well ask for her, or-sacrilegious thought!-for the whole convent of nuns; and that there was just as much probability of his obtaining them, as there was of his obtaining Lina-that the latter was promised to Alfred, and in the event of that project failing, she was to be "dedicated to the Virgin." The communication was obligingly accompanied by a hint that if ever Captain Fitzhenry gave another thought towards Lina, or so much as half a one, he must bid farewell to Dashingly House. The captain bowed to the decision, apparently acquiescing in it, and continued his friendship with Dashingly. Caroline made a dead set at him, thinking his repeated visits must be on her account, as Lina was put out of the question. And-well, perhaps it was not quite right to pretend to fall desperately in love with her, but he said it was the only way he could devise to have access to the society of Lina. His attentions to Caroline were eagerly caught up by her and Mrs. Dashingly, and the marriage and the preparations were hurried on almost before a syllable had been spoken on his part. And now he had taken Lina off to the railway-station, as fast as the four horses would carry them, where a special train was waiting, the engine at a white heat, to convey them to the coast. He left a polite note behind him, hoping Mrs. Dashingly would forgive him for making Lina his wife, with his compliments to the convent and to Father Ignatius.

"The-the-the thirty thousand pounds!" gasped out Father Ignatius, his lips all white, and his hair standing on end, "does she take THAT?"

Lina did not take the thirty thousand pounds, but the money was just as much lost to Father Ignatius and the convent as if she did. If she married before she became of age, without aunt's consent, only ten of it remained to her, the other twenty being devised to some wealthy and therefore popular charity.

When these facts were explained to him, the holy Father Ignatius, for once in his life, forgot his self-control and his humility-forgot to act up to the assurance he had so repeatedly given Lina, that her money never was, and never could be, of any moment to him, and that if she were to make him a present of it, he should decline its acceptance. He set up

an unearthly shriek, and began whirling himself about the room in so violent a manner, that his movements were looked upon as a fac-simile of aunt's hornpipe.

"The breakfast!" reiterated Dr. Cram, with tears in his eyes, “isn't it to be eaten now?"

"Of course it is to be eaten," answered Sir Popperton, recovering his voice with difficulty from the explosions of laughter which had shaken it ever since the truth burst upon him, " and I'll preside, if Mrs. Dashingly won't. We will drink the health and happiness of Captain and Mrs. Fitzhenry. God bless Lina! She will do more good in the sphere she has had the courage to choose, than she would have done in your convent, holy father," with a nod to the Catholic priest.

"What?" croaked the priest, faintly, from the chair into which he had sunk, a little overcome by his recent exertion.

"My opinion is, that young girls should not be dedicated to the Virgin quite so long before they may expect to go up into the world where the Virgin is," called out Sir Popperton. "To sacrifice them when they have a long life before them, to render that life aimless and useless, is a mistake that you have no right to commit. But you may rely upon one thing, that even if Captain Fitzhenry had not stepped in, you should never have dedicated' Lina."

The priest gave a fearful howl, and, gathering his robes round him, vanished from the room.

Another mistake came to light. All Caroline's letters, announcing the happy event to her friends, had been posted the previous night, through the officiousness of the old butler. Carry was beside herself. In her mortification she would have married me; want of wealth looked a trifling matter to her now, compared with remaining Miss Caroline Dashingly. I protested for an hour how deeply her condescension affected me, whilst old Cram, having his eye to another feast, suggested that if the young gentleman was not quite ready, the ceremony might be postponed for a week; he should be most happy at that period to render his services. I wished he might get it, or my fair cousin either.

And so ended poor Caroline's wedding.

Alfred talked largely about calling. the captain out, but it came to nothing. Sir Popperton's opinion was strongly expressed upon the matter, and as he had thirty thousand pounds, and over, to leave to somebody, Alfred would have dutifully deferred to any opinion of his, whatever it might be. For myself, I had the supreme felicity of knowing that I had not only been previously jilted by my wayward cousin, but that I was also disappointed in the hope that there was a fair chance of being revenged, by the contemplation of her future misery; for it was now a firm conviction of mine that all married people must necessarily be intensely wretched. How much the analogous case of the fox and grapes had to do with this sweeping conclusion the reader may judge for himself.

Finding myself de trop at my aunt's mansion, I took a hasty leave, and wended my way back to Glasgow, there to study Esculapian lore by

day, and life and its lessons by night. In the pursuit of the latter knowledge it often happened that I departed from the beaten track, and per consequence stumbled upon many odd and startling adventures, which I will now proceed to lay before my readers under the peculiar but very appropriate title of "SCRAPES AND ESCAPES!"-trusting that the perusal of the Scrapes may afford them the same pleasure as I derived from the realization of the Escapes, and if it does, well satisfied shall I feel at having served my day and generation as effectually with my pen as it has been my good fortune to do with my physic.