female Brown, which must have been very convenient in the matter of marking her clothes, though one would have thought that when she did change her name, she would take a prettier one. In that respect we have a great advantage over the other sex, who if they are born plain Higgins, Hodge, or Stubbs, must remain so to the end of their days, unless indeed they are guilty of the snobbery of being re-christened through the columns of the Times; while their sisters and daughters, if they are lucky or good-looking, may be metamorphozed by marriage into Fitz Jameses, Fortescues, Sutherlands, and the Lord knows what.
I wonder why a familiar word, lying before one in a newspaper always catches the eye so smartly, seeming to leap up into one's face. Thus, "Silverbridge," and the "Rev. Thomas Skipworth," look up at me in larger type, seemingly, than any of the other words. Who on earth could have been married in Silverbridge without my knowing it, or considered their admission into the holy state of matrimony sufficiently important to demand an advertisement of the same?
A scuffle in the court outside makes me turn my head. Larry and Walter are snowballing each other with admirable vigour and skill. No quarter is given or taken, and I watch them for some time with keen interest, remembering the days when Jack and I indulged in the same recreation, although we were not so fortunate in getting the court: we had to walk a mile or more before we got a nice quiet corner to shout in to our hearts' content. Presently they vanish in a whirlwind of snow and laughter, and I pick up my paper and sit down to read this marriage comfortably. It was near the Browns'. Here it is: "On the 16th inst., at the Parish Church, Silverbridge, ———shire, by the Rev. Thomas Skipworth, George Dalrymple Tempest, only son of Laurence Tempest, Esq., of the Chace, to Helen, third daughter of Colonel Adair, of the Manor House, Silverbridge, ———shire."
