I + 

That Sobered Him + 

When Mr. Dribble married the Right Honorable Catharine Mount Energy, the widow of the Earl of Pieponder, Mary Tomkins shut herself up for three weeks in her aunt’s store-closet. She was visited of course, from time to time, by different members of the establishment, and would declare that she was perfectly happy; but on such occasions her last words always bore the same burden, “Never, never, never, never!” One day while she was there, John Thomas came home, a little, perhaps, the worse for what he had taken, and made his way in among the pickle jars and jam-pots. “Mary,” he said, “ ’the parshon’s married⁠—might ashwell come round, old girl, ansh marry me.” + 

“John,” she said, very gravely, “Anastasia Fitzapplejohn, no doubt, is fond of these jovial humors. Had you not better seek her society?” He answered with an oath, and expressed the wish that Miss Fitzapplejohn might be taken at once to a place he should not have named. “Tomorrow you will wish the same for me,” she said. That sobered him. He fell prostrate at her feet, and, grovelling in the dust, swore with many oaths that if she would only consent to be Mrs. Thomas, he would take the pledge on the next morning. She bent down over him and gave him her cool, soft hand to raise him, and with her taper fingers pushed the dishevilled hair from off his forehead, and then she brushed his clothes. But as she did so she said continually, “Never, never, never, never!” + 