The Merry Past 



At one time an eligible bachelor could scarcely 

 say a civil thing to a prolific country gentleman's or 

 apothecary's daughter without being called upon to 

 explain his intentions ; and if he prevaricated, or 

 had none at all of a serious and uxorious nature, he 

 might as v^ell make his will on the spot. 



A weak-minded subaltern once ran his head into 

 the matrimonial noose in a very strange manner. 

 He was invited by an old half-pay officer (who had 

 three sons and five daughters) to come and shoot 

 snipe in Ireland. The eldest son, an officer in the 

 Mihtia, was a regular fighting man, who in his 

 village passed for a complete fire-eater. The youth- 

 ful lieutenant, aware of this, and that the practice 

 of getting off sisters prevailed in this part of the 

 country, was, consequently, very much on his guard. 

 He could not, however, help showing the sisters some 

 little civilities, such as dancing with them, and 

 giving them his arm across the bog facing the old 

 officer's house, services which he performed with fear 

 and trembling. The fateful day, however, arrived 

 when the fire-eating eldest brother came in heated 

 with whisky-punch, and too late for dinner, after 

 having had a bad day's shooting. The subaltern 

 thought that he looked dryly at him, so proposed (for 

 the family had dined) a glass of cold punch made 

 with raspberry whisky; this lit up the eyes of the 

 youth more fiercely than before. Raising his hand to 

 his bumper glass, he proceeded to propose a toast, 

 which he prefaced in a very vehement tone by, 

 "Misther Johnson, I'll tell you what"— the young 



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