To narrate the progress of a courtship in which one party was urged by pecuniary necessity, and the other by vanity aspiring after a title, would be somewhat difficult and tedious. Suffice it to say, that the offer was accepted quite as readily as Mr. Philip could wish, perhaps, indeed, something more so. The bride elect did not mightily recommend herself by the manner in which the offer was accepted; and during the short period which interfered between the acceptance of the offer and the celebration of the marriage, the young lady was so much intoxicated with the anticipation of the approaching honor, that, to use a very coarse though expressive phrase, she made herself quite ridiculous. Philip was mortified deeply at the prospect which now threatened him; but there was no possibility of escape. From some of Miss Sampson's language, it appeared that she was not altogether ignorant of the claims which the Jewish people had on the Hon. Philip Martindale; and by the young lady's mode of expressing herself, it appeared that she was indebted for a knowledge of that fact to the communicative tongue of Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, of St. Mary Axe. Here then was an additional and increasing mortification. To retract was impossible, and indeed in one sense undesirable. With heavy heart the courtship, if such it might be called, proceeded; and if the honorable gentleman had entertained any fears that his more fashionable friends would look coolly on him in consequence of his convenient match with opulence from the city, he soon perceived that the place of former acquaintants would be amply and copiously supplied by recruits from the east. Miss Sampson was too proud of her humble servant, her gallant knight, her sentimental swain, to lose any opportunity of introducing him to those of her friends or distant relatives, in whose eyes she was desirous of shining with a splendor that should eclipse them all. Miserable was the mortification which the Hon. Philip Martindale endured, when he was compelled to sit down at Sir Gilbert's table with Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, of St. Mary Axe; and when, at the kind and good-humored peace-making solicitations of Celestina, he was under the unavoidable necessity of shaking hands with that gallant gentleman. Philip Martindale was not partial to perfumery, but he was forced to see and to smell Mr. Henry Augustus Tippetson till he was quite tired of the creature. This perfumed gentleman was indeed very gentle and courteous: he would never act as Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, of St. Mary Axe. He was particularly cautious of giving offence voluntarily; but involuntarily he gave much offence, yet not such as is the custom to resent by a challenge to mortal combat. He was offensive by means of his perfumery, and affectation, and servility, and over-officiousness. But notwithstanding all this, Miss Sampson would persist in calling him a "nice man." So convinced was Miss Sampson of this truth, that