HYMEN, M. D.,

Star (Christchurch), Issue 1123, 22 September 1871, Page 3

HYMEN, M. D.,

(By Judge Clark.) When Deacon Dumas — reader, please don't pronounce the name in boarding-school French; it sounds so like " do ma," which is very childish. This is a plain, every-day name, composed of two syllables, Du-mas, andjhas no other sound, only a little quicker, than a couple of homely English words, of which it is probably a corruption. Besides, the Dumases of Dumfrey were in no way related to the author of " Monte Christo." When Deacon Dumas, or all that was mortal of him, was fished up from the bottom of Squire Hopper's mill-pond, dead as a mackerel, and dripping wet, " How came he there ?" was the question that set all Dumfrey agog. Evil tongues were not slow to hint that it was a case of wilful absconding from a state of insufferable henpeckery ; in short, that after twenty years of stormy connubial experience, the poor man could stand it no longer, and had literally " drowned himself in his own defence." But the coroner's jury, as was right and proper, gave the departed the benefit of the doubt, and, by a verdict of accidental death, settled the question to the satisfaction of all abiding people. Dorothy Dumas, unlike that very noble youth, Laertes, did not restrain the natural overflow of her grief out of consideration that its object had already had a surfeit of water. On the contrary, as soon as it became evident that the vital spark was quenched beyond resuming, she lifted up her voice and wept dutifully. Had the deacon come home alive, in a similar pickle, it is possible her voicej might have been " lifted up " for a different purpose. The deceased left a handsome estate, few debts, and no relatives save his wife. How it made little Lawyer Lumpkin's fingers itch for the handling of it when he footed up the sum total 1 Mr Lumpkin had been professionally entrusted with the settlement of the dead 'deacon's affairs, and of course had had frequent consultations with the widow. He was a bachelor, if not in his prime, at least in good repair. His scratch was as natural as life, and his false teeth a good deal more so. From the graciovs manner in which he was invariably received by his client, as well as from other symptoms to which he bad not been blind, Mr Lumpkin became early convinced that the post left vacant by the deacon's demise was not beyond his reach. The fortune was tempting ; the widow — not very. She was neither fair nor fat, and considerably upward of forty. Angularity of person, sharpness of features, sharpness of temper, and a tongue sharper than a twoedged sword, to say nothing of the unpleasant rumours touching the cause *of the late deacon's death, were drawbacks which might well have induced a less wary man than Tobias Lumpkin to pause and consider. How Tobias might have decided, had the case remained thus evenly balanced, it is difficult to conjecture ; but a new element at length came into the calculation, which, in his judgment, materially simplified it. The widow fell ill— seriously so. The nature of her disorder quite baffled the physician, although he gave it a name, skilfully compounded of Greek and Latin, and prescribed, ai best he might, at random; the patient grew steadily worse, and soon was pronounced at the point of death. Prudence

Perkins declared that nothing on eaith ailed the widow but the want of somebody to useher tongue upon; but Prudence was a tattling body, and she and Dorothy had never been friends. When Tobias heard of the doctor's decision, he flew to the widow's bedside. He declared his affection with a fervour of eloquence unequalled by any former effort of his professional life, and wound up by vowing that all he asked was the privilege of calling her his before she was for ever snatched from his sight. The widow was visibly moved. Such a union, she acknowledged would materially smooth her dying pillow. She might confess now a secret which she had long concealed, and which she had purposed carrying with her to the grave ; she loved Tobias with an ardour and devotion no woman's heart had felt before. It was needless to waste time on preliminaries. Mrs D.'s estate, in the event of her death, now a certainty, would descend to her surviving husband, if she left one — - an arrangement perfectly satisfactory to all concerned. A clergyman was accordingly sent for, and the solemn and affecting ceremony that made of the twain one flesh was performed without delay — the widow reclining gracefully, wrapped in the drapery of her mortuary couch, and Tobias kneeling devoutly at her side. When the spectators had withdrawn, the newly married pair for a time remained silent. Their feelings were evidently too deep for utterance. " My dear ?" at length came from the lips of the bride. "My life ?" Tobias answered, or rather questioned. " I think I could take something." The bridegroom pricked up his ears. " The wing of a chicken," she added. Wing of a chicken I Had her spirit taken wing at that particular moment, Tobias would have looked less startled. Wing of a chicken it was, however; and, after dispatching one, she felt like trying another, and probably would have ventured on a third, but for the doctor's express interdiction. The next day she sat up. The third day she sat up. The fourth, she blew Tobias up, and has never been sick an hour since. Poor Tobias 1 It's to be feared he wasn't as thankful as he should have been for his wife's recovery. As for her fortune, she keeps it entirely in her own hands, being of opinion that it is the duty of all husbands to be self-sustaining. Tobias accordingly lives on hie practice, as formerly, though by no means as contentedly and cheerfully. I noticed him the other day sauntering musingly on the border of the same pond in which his predecessor's body was found. After a melancholy glance at the water, he shook his head, and walked moodily away. | Mrs L., it is proper to add, keeps up a heavy insurance on her husband's life. '