At a Wedding.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 860, 24 August 1888, Page 5

At a Wedding.

(Punch.)

Scene.—lnterior of Church. Wedding Guests arriving, and exchanging airy recogni. tions as they settle down in their plaoes. Bridesmaids, in various states of selfconsciousness, collected at the door. Loud and sustained buzz of feminine whispering. Policeman (on guard at another door, to people with a mania for seeing complete strangers married). —Very sorry, ladies, but if you’re not provided with tickets, I can't let you in. The People (with a mania, &c.)— But this is a a public place, isn’t it. Policeman (not feeling competent to argue the point).—Those are my orders. [The people, &c., depart disconsolate. Verger (to Guests with pink tickets). — Any of those seats there. * Pink ’ Guests (attempting to pass a crimson rope which bars the central passage).— We want to be near the altar—we can’t see here ! Verger (in a superior manner). The higher seats are set apart for parties with white tickets. ‘Pink’ Guest 3 (to one another, indignantly).—And after we’d sent that girl _a salad-bowl, too ! [They employ themselves in picking out * White ’ Guests who ought properly to have been ‘Pink,’ remark that it is the most shamefully managed Wedding they ever saw, and recur bitterly at intervals to the salad-bowl.] Mr 3 Ripplebrook (who always comes early ‘to see the people’).—Oh, there’ll be a tremendous crush, of course—they know everybody. Look, the DeLacy Vespes have just come in—what a pity it is that eldest girl has such a red nose—she’d be quite good-looking without it ! . . . There’s Narcissus Runderceed, you see him everywhere. (Bows and smiles at him effusively). Horrid creature ! And how fat he’s getting ! ©o you know who that is ? That’s Miss Mabel Maycup, of tho ‘Proscenium,’ you know—locks ever so much older by daylight doesn't she ? I suppose she’s not one of tho bride’s friends ! By the way have you ever met him—this Pilbergilt man, the bridegroom, I mean ? Ob, my dear, a perfect horror 1 Ten years older than she is, and one hears such stories about him ! In fact, it was only his money that—but her people were delighted, of course. Ah, she's coming now ; look how the bridesmaids are all * preening ’ themselves ! That’s the bridegroom—doesn’t he look yellow ? Best Man (in a whisper to Bridegroom).— Pull yourself together, old chappie, you are looking so chippy ! Bridegroom. —I feel chippy, too. Fact is, those farewell suppers are a mistake—l’ll never give another. Mrs Ripplebrook.—Now the choir are going to meet them. Don’t you wish they’d invent a new hymn for weddings ? I’m so tired of that ‘ Eden ’ one. There she is. I always think this is such a solemn moment, don’t you 1 Can you see whether it is silk or su&de gloves the bridesmaids are wearing ? That’s her father, whose arm she’s on. They say he disapproved, but he doesn't count. Her mother’s behind, with the hook nose ; why on earth she should cry I don’t know it’s all her doing ! She makes a pale bride, doesn’t she ? But white duchesse satin would be trying even to a beauty. I hear she threw over poor young Oldglove moßt shamefully. Why does that tiresome old Bishop mumble so ? I cau’t hear a word. Housemaid belonging to Bride’s family (to Nurse). —I wonder at that Louisa Jane taking on herself to cry, when she only came Toosday fortnight ! Now you and me have got some claim to cry. The Nurse (loftily).—Them kitchen-maids can’t be expected to know their place, or what’s required of them ! (In the Vestry.) General congratulations, compliments, kisses, and signatures. Bridegroom (to Best Man), —I say, dear boy, I look to you to square all these Johnuies you know. [Which is his irreverent mode of designating the Bishop and his assistant clergymen.] (In Church, during the Interval.)

Mrs Ripplebrook. Very daring of them to be married in May, isn’t it. I knew a girl who was married in May once —and the very first time they gave a dinner-party, her cook came up drunk soon after the salmon, and gave her warning before everybody ! Dreadful, wasn’t it ? I suppose you'll go on to the house and see the presents ? Do—l’m going. Oh, you’ve seen mine ? It is handsome, isn’t it ? 1 was going to get her quite an ordinary oue at the Stores—but that was when I thought she was only going to be Mr 3 Oldglove. Ah, there’s the ‘Wedding March ’at last: here thay come 1 [Bride and Bridegroom pass slowly down central passage, recognising their friends at hazard ; several are left unnoticed with their elaborately prepared smile wasting its sweetness on the bride’s brothers. A young man, rather negligently dressed, who has boen standing behind Mrs Ripplebrook tho whola time, forces his way to the front.

The Y. M. (to himself). —She shall see me —if she has the courage to meet my eye after her conduct !

The Bride.—What, Mr Oldglove? I’d no idea you were in town ! We shall see you presently, I hope. [She passes on, leaving the Y.M. to think of all the scathing replies he might have made. An Old Maid (weeping in the Gallery ; she has got in as * the Bridegroom’s Aunt,’ a character in which she attends every wedding).—Poor young things ! —to think of all the troubles before them ! Bridegroom’s Friends.—Pretty wedding, wasn't it ? Bride’s Friends.—Not a pretty wedding, was it ? 1 (In the Carriage.) Bridegroom (finding the silence embarrassing).—Hope they’ll give us time enough to change and all that. Horrid bore if we missed our train and had to wait ! Bride. —Oh, if you are going to find everything a bore already ! Bridegroom.—Well, isn’t it ? [Silence returns. (In the Drawing-Room.) Presents laid out : Guests wandering round, keeping a furtive lookout for their own offerings, and feeling deeply inoensed if they are not prominently displayed. Others consult the congratulatory telegrams as though they were of European interest. A Detective noticeable-by bis sumptuous get-up and his uneasy b6ar-' ing, watches the jewellery. Shortsighted Old Gentleman (friend of the Bride’s) approaches, and, misled by Detective’s festal attire, takes him for the Bridegroom. S. O. G. (with emotion) —This is a great responsibility you have undertaken to-day, sir. I hope you will be—ah—worthy of it. Det. (professionally sensitive) Thank you ; but it’s not the first time I’ve undertaken such a job, not by a very long way. The S. O. G. (moving off aghast)—This is dreadful !—they can’t know ! How many times, and where are they .all now ? Oh, someone ought to speak to her mother ! I would myself—only [Goes in search of some champagne.] The Bride's Mother (to Guest). —So kind of you to remember my girl, and to send her that charming—she suddenly forgets whether ehe is speaking to the donor of the nineteenth carriage-clock, or the fifteenth fishslice)—that charming—er—(mumble)—quite the prettiest—fer- 1 -(mumble) I ever saw. But you always have such taste. [Mild surprise of Guest, conscious of having presented, in despair, a plated toast-rack of unpretentious desigD.] Mr Oldglove (who has come on after all—bitterly, to the Bride). —All I can wish you, Mr 3 (choking)—Mrs Pilbergilt, is that you may be as happy as as you deserve ! The Bride (sweetly).—Thanks awfully. That’s the prettiest thing I’ve had said to me yet ! (To Neighbour). Oh, Mr Cashley, how am I to thank you ?—that lovely platewarmer !

[Mr O. retires baffled, and contemplates committing suicide with a piece of wedding-cake.] (In the Carriage.) The Bridegroom/—Well, that’s over ! Bride (icily).—l wish you would contrive not to fidget so ! Bridegroom.—When a fellow has about a stone and a half of rice down the back of his neck, it makes him rather restless. What are all the chappies staring at us for ? I’m sure we don’t look as newly-married as all that! Bride (complacently).—You would not notice such trifles; but Eulalie has really surpassed herself over my going-away dress. Bridegroom.—No, by Jove, I’m hanged if it’s that ! Bride.—Perhaps you think you are the attraction ? Bridegroom.—Spotted it as we passed that shop-window. I say—er —Albinia, I'm not • joking—really I’m not ! There’s a beast of a white satin slipper on the roof of the brougham !