"He's a dacent lad enough"--this to Mrs. Bilkins--"but his head is wake. Whin he's had two sups o' whisky he belaves he's dhrunk a bar'lful. A gill o' wather out of a jimmy-john'd fuddle him, mum." "Isn't there anybody to look after him?" "No, mum; he's an orphan. His father and mother live in the owld counthry, an' a fine, hale owld couple they are." "Hasn't he any family in the town?" "Sure, mum, he has a family; wasn't he married this blessed mornin'?" "He said so." "Indade, thin, he was--the pore divil!" "And the--the person?" inquired Mrs. Bilkins. "Is it the wife, ye mane?" "Yes, the wife; where is she?" "Well, thin, mum," said Mr. Donnehugh, "it's yerself can answer that." "I?" exclaimed Mrs. Bilkins. "Good heavens! this man's as crazy as the other!" "Begorra, if anybody's crazy, it's Larry, for it's Larry has married Margaret." "What Margaret?" cried Mrs. Bilkins. "Margaret Callaghan, sure." "_Our_ Margaret? Do you mean to say that OUR Margaret has married that--that good-for-nothing, inebriated wretch?" "It's a civil tongue the owld lady has, anyway," remarked Mr. O'Rourke critically, from the scraper. Mrs. Bilkin's voice during the latter part of the colloquy had been pitched in a high key; it rung through the hall and penetrated to the kitchen, where Margaret was wiping the breakfast things. She paused with a half-dried saucer in her hand, and listened. In a moment more she stood, with bloodless face and limp figure, leaning against the banister behind Mrs. Bilkins. "Is it there ye are, me jew'l!" cried Mr. O'Rourke, discovering her. Mrs. Bilkins wheeled upon Margaret. "Margaret Callaghan, _is_ that thing your husband?" "Ye--yes, mum," faltered Mrs. O'Rourke, with a woful lack of spirit. "Then take it away!" cried Mrs. Bilkins. Margaret, with a slight flush on either cheek, glided past Mrs. Bilkins, and the heavy oak door closed with a bang, as the gates of Paradise must have closed of old upon Adam and Eve. "Come!" said Margaret, taking Mr. O'Rourke by the hand; and the two wandered forth upon their wedding journey down Anchor Street, with all the world before them where to choose. They chose to halt at the small, shabby tenement-house by the river, through the doorway of which the bridal pair disappeared with a reeling, eccentric gait; for Mr. O'Rourke's intoxication seemed to have run down his elbow, and communicated itself to Margaret. O Hymen! who burnest precious gums and scented woods in thy torch at the melting of aristocratic hearts, with what a pitiful penny-dip thou hast lighted up our little back-street romance.--_Majorie Daw, and Other Stories._ * * * * * The story is told of a famous Boston lawyer, that one day, after having a slight discussion with the Judge, he deliberately turned his back upon that personage and started to walk off. "Are you trying, sir, to show your contempt for the Court?" asked the judge, sternly.