In newspaper descriptions of the last moments of celebrated criminals, we constantly read that "the unfortunate man did full justice to a substantial meal;" but nobody ever yet heard of a bridegroom who had any appetite for his breakfast; his own real breakfast is meant, and not the elaborate entertainment which follows close upon the ceremony. Reginald Haggard and his friend, Lord Spunyarn, were the vicar's guests at King's Warren Parsonage, but in vain did Mrs. Dodd press upon Haggard the numerous dainties with which her hospitable board was provided. Haggard was in a state of suppressed excitement, and he couldn't eat a mouthful. They were a cheerful enough party though, and Lord Spunyarn made up for his friend's deficiencies, for the young nobleman had an almost Homeric appetite. Justice Haggard, Reginald's father, and Lord Hetton, who had passed the night at the "Dun Cow," were present, for the sporting nobleman was supposed to represent the head of the family, his father, Lord Pit Town; and though he looked upon the whole matter as a very great nuisance indeed, still it was a family function at which his presence was a matter of course. That breakfast at the Parsonage seemed interminable to Haggard, but even clerical breakfasts must have an end, and at length Mrs. Dodd rose, to the general relief of all present. There were yet two mortal hours to get through, and the men of the party sought the cool shades of the vicarage garden. "Pull yourself together, old man," said Spunyarn to his friend, for Haggard was looking pale and miserable; "you're as sulky as a bear with a sore head. It's quite unnecessary to pose as a hero of romance. What's up with you, man; boots too tight?" "I'll be hanged if I can tell you what's up," said his friend, "but this I know, I'm confoundedly depressed." "Perhaps it's your natural timidity," said the other. "Don't chaff, Shirtings; you're a very good fellow, you know, but I'm not in a laughing humour." "Well, you needn't sulk all the same," said Spunyarn; "take my advice and have a glass of brandy." Justice Haggard looked far more like a bridegroom than his son; the old gentleman, in his blue frock coat, his blue bird's-eye neckerchief, and with a flower in his button-hole, was the picture of health and happiness; while his white hat, which was cocked a little on one side, completed his festal appearance. He gave his son a hearty smack on the back. "When I married your mother, Reginald, my boy, I was as jolly as a man could be; why, there's nothing to be alarmed about, unless you've lost the ring, you know; and the ladies wouldn't let you off with that excuse, for there's always the key of the church door in case of an emergency." Haggard forced a smile. "The ring's safe enough, father," he said.