THE RING IN HIS BOOT.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1048, 14 March 1882, Page 4

THE RING IN HIS BOOT.

They had a terrible time (says the San Prancisco Post) at a wedding up at Petaluma, Cal., the other day, and which only goes to show how the smallest drawback will sometimes take the stiffening out of the swellest oc- • casion. It seems that the ceremony was a very grand affair indeed. There were eight bridesmaids, and the church was crowded from pit to dome, as the dramatic critics would say. But when they got to the .proper place in the ceremony, and the groom began feeling around for the ring, he discovered that the ring wasn’t on hand. After the minister had scowled at the miserable wretch for a while the latter detected that the magic circlet had slipped through a hole in his pocket and worked down to his boot, lie communicated the terrible fact in a whisper to the bride, who turned deadly pale, and was only prevented from raiuting by the reflection that they would inevitably cut the strings of her satin corset in case she did. “ Why don’t you produce the ring ?” whispered the bride’s big brother, hoarsely, and feeling for his pistol, under the impression that the miserable man was about to back out. “ I can’t. It’s in my boot, ” explained the groom under his breath, his very hair, meanwhile, turning red witn mortification. “ Try and fish it out somehow—hurry up ?” mumbled the minister hehiud his book. “ I’ll try, ” gasped the victim, who was rather stout, and he put one foot on the channel rail, pulled up his trousers leg, and began making spasmodic jabs for the ring with his forefinger. The minister motioned to the organist to squeeze out a few notes to fill in the time, while a rumour rapidly went through the congregation to the effect that a depatch had just arrived proving that the groom had four wives living in the east already. “ I—l can’t reach it, ” groaned, the lialf-married man in agouy. “It won’t come.”

“ Sit down and take your boot off, you fool 1” hissed the bride’s mother, while the bride herself moaned piteously, and wrung her powdered bauds. There was nothing left, so the sufferer sat down on the floor and began to wrestle with his boot, which was naturally new and tight, while a fresh rumour got under way to the effect that the groom was tight and insisted on paring his corns. As the boot finally came off, its crushed wearer endeavoured unsuccessfully to hide a trade dollar hole in the heel" of his stocking, noticing which the parson said, grimly. “ You seem to be getting married just iu time, my young friend.” And the ceremony proceeded with the party of the first part standing on one leg, trying to hide bis well ventilated foot under the tail of his frock coat.