Page:Peterson Magazine 1869B.pdf/110

IN PURSUIT OF A PARSON. 115 had gone, one after another, into the mysterious realm of matrimony—that dark bourne from whence no bachelor returns, and I wondered if I was to sit by and seé another, the most outrageous and fickle of the whole set, follow in the wake of those unfortunates.

I said nothing; I waited, I kept to my work and my pipe—time enough to speak when my forebodings became a reality. They did that a few weeks ago. I wassitting at my easel yonder, one morning, thinking no evil of anybody, wishing no harm even to the most savage critic of my new picture, not conscious that I ei been particularly wicked, so as to need any great shock or discipline, in fact, at peace with the world in general, and rather easier in my uind in regard to Damon, from some little hints that had reached me.

Ting, ting, went my door-bell. Then the door opened before I could rise, and in rushed Damon, with as much fracas as if he had been the noisiest ward in a mad-house.

He shook hands with me six times, asked the sane question over and over, began sentences aud did not finish, upset my paint-box, trod on the dog, broke a pipe, and finally burst out with,

“Old fellow, I want you to do me a favor. Of course, I tell you, because you are such an old friend; but it’s all being done in a great hurry, so you'll not be vexed at my silence. She’s the dearest. creature, and I am the happiest old dog——

I didn’t hear any more, though I was con-} scious that his voice rambled on, at high-pres- } sure rate, while my brain whirled, and I felt as dazed as if somebody had hit me a peck‘on the back of the head with a sharp stone.

“What is it? What do you mean?” I asked, feebly.

“Ain’t I telling you!” he cried, shaking me, and laughing like a maniac, as he was, of course. “Wake up, you old bat! Don’t you hear? I’m going to be married!”

“Married!” I repeated.

“You couldn't be stupider if you’d been buried," quoth he. "Now get your wits back, you dear old musty bachelor, for I'm in an awful burry, and there's lots of things you must do for me. Married day after tomorrow. Oceans to do! On my way down town! Want you to find a parson, and all that! Hurry up!"

Upon my word, that was all I got out of him, though he talked enough, heaven knows. He pushed me into my hat, dragged me down stairs, bade me hasten, and, above all, not to blunder and it was not until he had jumped into an omnibus, and was gone, that I remembered he had not even told me what clergyman to seek.

I meditated as well as I could in my confusion, and finally remembered he was an Episcopalian, at least I had heard him say his family had always been Episcopalians, so I determined to seek a clergyman of that persuasion.

It was beginning to rain. I had no umbrella. The mud was deep; find a carriage I could not— so away I trudged. The first parson I caught had a funeral on hand at the hour I needed him; the second had his own wedding to attend; the third was laid up with the gout; the fourth affected to think the whole thing a sell on my part, and said disparaging things of my per- sonal appearance, and declined to talk with me.

I pinned one at last; he seemed a very good sort of chap, though we made a blunder at starting. He got the idea, somehow, that I had come about the burial of a relation, and com- menced condoling with me; and I, thinking he had sensible ideas in regard to matrimony, did not discover what he was driving at for some time; but after that, we settled matters very amicably.

Well, I found Damon again in his room, up to his eyes in packages and letters, (by-the- way he was burning a rare lot,) trades-people and bills.

“It’s all right,” said I; “at ten o’clock on the fatal morning he’ll be ready for you.”

“Ten o'clock!” shouted he. “Tony, you always were a fool, and I knew it; but I did think you would try to make what wits you have of some service to a friend at a time like this— it’s very little you can do.”

I looked at. my muddy boots, thought of my tired legs, of my ill-luck, my journies, the abuse I had suffered from the parson, the testiness of the gouty one, the con- fusion of the about-to-be-married one, the mis- take in regard to my errand of the one I had secured, but I only said, mildly,

“What have I done wrong now?”

“Everything!” howled Damon. ‘Unless I do everything myself, it’s all wrong. I told you eight o’clock—we have to catch a train.”

Yes, I positively set off through the mud and the coming dark to find my parson again! He was not at home ; the only time I could be certain of catching him, his landlady said, would  be at his breakfast, at eight o'clock, and he  lived good two miles away from my domicil.

I dared not trust to leaving a note- I had promised Damon to see him in person. Sympathizing soul ! if there be such left on this abandoned old footstool, I was so afraid of over-