Martin Lambert’s first feeling, upon learning the little secret which his younger daughter’s emotion had revealed, was to be angry with the lad who had robbed his child’s heart away from him and her family. “A plague upon all scapegraces, English or Indian!” cried the Colonel to his wife. “I wish this one had broke his nose against any doorpost but ours.”

“Perhaps we are to cure him of being a scapegrace, my dear,” says Mrs. Lambert, mildly interposing, “and the fall at our door hath something providential in it. You laughed at me, Mr. Lambert, when I said so before; but if Heaven did not send the young gentleman to us, who did? And it may be for the blessing and happiness of us all that he came, too.”

“It’s hard, Molly!” groaned the Colonel. “We cherish and fondle and rear ’em: we tend them through sickness and health: we toil and we scheme: we hoard away money in the stocking, and patch our own old coats: if they’ve a headache we can’t sleep for thinking of their ailment; if they have a wish or fancy, we work day and night to compass it, and ’tis darling daddy and dearest pappy, and whose father is like ours? and so forth. On Tuesday morning I am king of my house and family. On Tuesday evening Prince Whippersnapper makes his appearance, and my reign is over. A whole life is forgotten and forsworn for a pair of blue eyes, a pair of lean shanks, and a head of yellow hair.”

“’Tis written that we women should leave all to follow our husband. I think our courtship was not very long, dear Martin!” said the matron, laying her hand on her husband’s arm.

“’Tis human nature, and what can you expect of the jade?” sighed the Colonel.

“And I think I did my duty to my husband, though I own I left my papa for him,” added Mrs. Lambert, softly.

“Excellent wench! Perdition catch my soul! but I do love thee, Molly!” says the good Colonel; “but, then, mind you, your father never did me; and if ever I am to have sons-inlaw ——”

“Ever, indeed! Of course my girls are to have husbands, Mr. Lambert!” cries mamma.

“Well, when they come, I’ll hate them, madam, as your father did me; and quite right too, for taking his treasure away from him.”

“Don’t be irreligious and unnatural, Martin Lambert! I say you are unnatural, sir!” continues the matron.

“Nay, my dear, I have an old tooth in my left jaw, here; and ’tis natural that the tooth should come out. But when the toothdrawer pulls it, ’tis natural that I should feel pain. Do you suppose, madam, that I don’t love Hetty better than any tooth in my head?” asks Mr. Lambert. But no woman was ever averse to the idea of her daughter getting a husband, however fathers revolt against the invasion of the son-inlaw. As for mothers and grandmothers, those good folks are married over again in the marriage of their young ones; and their souls attire themselves in the laces and muslins of twenty-forty years ago; the postillion’s white ribbons bloom again, and they flutter into the postchaise, and drive away. What woman, however old, has not the bridal favours and raiment stowed away, and packed in lavender, in the inmost cupboards of her heart?

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