THE TIM BUNKER PAPERS. 113 



life. And these are the kind of folks, you see, that are 

 laughing at Tim Bunker s old hat and long-legged boots, 

 and talking of throwing stones because I live in a glass 

 house. They have the advantage of me in flinging stones, 

 for they haven t got any houses at all, of their own, if I 

 should want to throw back again. My hat is old, as they 

 say, but it is paid for, which is more than can be said of 

 the hats of my illustrious neighbors, George Washington 

 Tucker and Benjamin Franklin Jones. One was won in a 

 bet at the last presidential election, and the other has 

 been charged in the merchant s book for more than three 

 years. 



Yours to command, 



TIMOTHY BUNKER, ESQ. 

 Hookertown, Oct. 12th, 1859. 



NO. 36. A WEDDING AMONG TIM BUNKER S 

 NEIGHBORS. 



The connection between city and country is getting to 

 be so intimate, by means of railways and steamers, that 

 the change of customs is almost as complete in the rural 

 districts, as in the metropolis. All along the great thor 

 oughfares, the Paris fashions are as omnipotent as in this 

 goodly city of Gotham. Marriage ceremonies are cele 

 brated with about as much pomp and show, and as little 

 good sense, as in the higher circles of city life. There are, 

 however, quiet nooks in the older States, remote from the 

 sound of steamer and locomotive, where the stream of life 

 flows on with hardly a ripple upon its surface. There, 

 people by scores boast that they have never seen a steamer, 



