“If anyone knows any just cause or impediment,” he continued.

“Stop; I do!” interrupted a gentleman in a dressing-gown, who had hurriedly entered the Church.  “I heard you about a quarter of an hour ago, while I was breakfasting at the Shaftesbury Avenue Hotel, ask the same question, and came here without changing my coat.  Very sorry to interrupt the ceremony, but this lady is my wife!  Well, AMY, how are you?”

“What, JOEY!” exclaimed the (now) ex-Bride, delightedly.  “We are glad to see you!  We thought you were dead!”

Then the gentleman in the dressing-gown was heartily greeted on all sides.  He seemed to be a very popular personage.

“But where do I come in?” asked Mr. BROWN, the ex-Bridegroom, who had, during this scene, shown signs of embarrassment.

“O JOEY, I quite forgot to introduce you to HARRY,” said the ex-Bride.  “You must know one another.  I was going to marry him when you, darling, turned up just in the nick of time, like a dear good old boy!”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Sir,” said Mr. JONES, shaking Mr. BROWN warmly by the hand.  “And now I must go back to finish my breakfast!”

“Yes, with me,” said the ex-Bride.  “You must sit, darling, in the seat intended for poor HARRY.  I know you won’t mind, HARRY (or, perhaps, I ought to call you Mr. BROWN now?), as I have so much to say to dear JOEY.  And you can have your breakfast at a side-table—­now won’t you, just to please me?  You always are so kind and considerate!”

And, as the wedding-party left the Church, the Clerk hastily unswitched the electric communication.

“Be quiet, Sir!” he whispered, sternly, to Mr. BROWN, who had been talking to himself.  “If our clients heard you, we should be ruined!  We guarantee that our telephonic supply shall be perfectly free from bad language!”

* * * * *

PROPHET AND LOSS.—­Good Mussulmen, so it is said, object to a play entitled Mahomet being produced in London.  The objection was successful in Paris.  London Managers (except, perhaps, Sheriff DRURIOLANUS, who revived Le Prophete this season) will be on the side of the objectors, as they would rather have to do with a genuine profit than a fictitious one.  Perhaps the non-production of Mahomet may be a loss to Literature and the Drama.

* * * * *

A BACHELOR’S IDYL.

I am not married, but I see
No life so pleasant as my own;
I think it’s good for man to be
Alone.

Some marry not who once have been—­
A curious process—­crossed in love,
Who find a life’s experience in
A glove;

Or else will sentimental grow
At recollections of a dance;
But, luckily for me, I’ve no
Romance.

Of course I know “love in a cot,”—­
The little wife who calls you “hub,”—­
But I’m content whilst I have got
My Club.