Now Dobbins, flushed with Fortune's smiles, his high ambition fed, Bethought him that the time had come when he might safely wed. So by the wire electrical, as he had nicely planned, He sent this loving message to the grand old Fatherland. "Matilda, I am ready, with five thousand pounds a-year; Come out unto your Dobbins, love, and be his bride so dear;" To which there sped the answer back that very self-same day, "As soon as I have packed my things, I'm coming straight away." Matilda was an heiress of the old blue Bobbins' blood, Her ancestors owned land and beeves long years before the flood; One relative, 'tis said, indeed--a chemist, I'll engage-- Sold bottled Protoplasm in the prehistoric age. Our Dobbins and our Jobbins, too, had loved the maid of old, But Bobbins _pere_ had snubbed them both for lack of needful gold; Though when the telegram arrived, "Five thousand pounds a-year!" Pa winked a playful little wink--and said, "Be off, my dear." The packing of her luggage was a most stupendous job, She'd the miscellaneous wardrobe of the highest sort of nob, New trousseau, plate, and furniture, and presents from her friends, And Cockle's pills and raspberry jam, and various odds and ends. There were eighty zinc-lined cases and portmanteaus full a score, Of band and bonnet boxes at least some fifty more, Of carpet-bags three dozen most plethorically crammed, With nigh-forgotten articles in one wild chaos jammed. Our Venus had a transit out particularly quick, A glorious _transit mundi_, but without the usual _sic_ (k); Till one fine day she gazed upon the far-famed, Austral strand. One eye upon her luggage, and one eye upon the land. The vessel berthed beside the pier; Matilda's future lord, The "Honourable Dobbins," stepped jauntily on board; He clasped the maiden to his breast, nor heeded that close by The melancholy Jobbins stood with sad reproachful eye. "Come, come, my love!" says Dobbins, "let's get your things ashore; I have a cab in waiting here to take them to my store." "A cab!" cried she--"twice twenty cabs would not for me suffice; Behold my things!" He started, as though stung by cockatrice. "That lofty mountain yonder, which high its head erects, That Alp of packing cases--are those, dear, your effects?" "Of course they are, beloved, for keeping house with _you_, Enough to furnish us complete, and everything _quite new!_" He staggered as if hearing news of pestilence or dearth, Then gasped in low and anxious tones, "And what's the whole lot worth?" She thought that his emotion spoke of joy that knew no bounds, And whispered gaily in his ear, "Some forty thousand pounds!"