"London, July 30th.--Lord Casselthorpe to-day wed Miss 'Connie' Burke, the music-hall singer who has been appearing at the Alhambra. The marriage was performed, by special license, at St. Michael's Church, Chester Square, London, the Rev. Canon Mecklin, sub-dean of the Chapel Royal, officiating. The honeymoon will be spent at the town-house of the groom, in York Terrace. Lord Casselthorpe has long been known as the blackest sheep of the British Peerage, being called the 'Coster Peer' on account of his unconventional language, his coarse manner, and slovenly attire. Two years ago he was warned off Newmarket Heath and the British turf by the Jockey Club. He is eighty-eight years old. The bride, like some other lights of the music-hall who have become the consorts of Britain's hereditary legislators, has enjoyed considerable ante-nuptial celebrity among the gilded youth of the metropolis, and is said to have been especially admired at one time by the next in line of this illustrious family, the Hon. Cecil G.H. Mauburn. "The Hon. Cecil G. H. Mauburn, mentioned in the above cable despatch, has been rather well-known in New York society for two years past. His engagement to the daughter of a Montana mining magnate, not long deceased, has been persistently rumoured." Mauburn was pale under his freckles. "Have they seen it yet?" "I don't think so," she answered. "We might drop these papers over the rail here." "That's rot, Mrs. Drelmer; it's sure to be talked of, and anyway I don't want to be sneaky, you know." Percival came up from the cabin with a paper in his hand. "I see you have it, too," he said, smiling. "Burman just handed me this." "Isn't it perfectly disreputable!" exclaimed Mrs. Drelmer. "Why? I only hope I'll have as much interest in life by the time I'm that age." "But how will your sister take it?" asked Mauburn; "she may be afraid this will knock my title on the head, you know." "Oh, I see," said Percival; "I hadn't thought of that." "Only it can't," continued Mauburn. "Hang it all, that blasted old beggar will be eighty-nine, you know, in a fortnight. There simply can't be any issue of the marriage, and that--that blasted--" "Better not try to describe her--while I'm by, you know," said Mrs. Drelmer, sympathetically. "Well--his wife--you know, will simply worry him into the grave a bit sooner, I fancy--that's all can possibly come of it." "Well, old man," said Percival, "I don't pretend to know the workings of my sister's mind, but you ought to be able to win a girl on your own merits, title or no title." "Awfully good of you, old chap. I'm sure she does care for me." "But of course it will be only fair to sis to lay the matter before her just as it is." "To be sure!" Mauburn assented. "And now, thank the Lord, we're under way. Doesn't that breeze save your life, though? We'll eat here on deck." The _Viluca_ swung into mid-stream, and was soon racing to the north with a crowded Fall River boat.