What's Your Name, Please ?

A couple from somewhere about the Ypsilanti country dropped in at the county clerk's office last week, in pursuit of a roarriage license. A friend steered the parties in, and after the gentleman who was to beconie the head of the house had taken a se.at in the inquisitorial chair, the young lady and friend withdrew. "Your name, please," was the musical inquiry of the agreeable lady deputy. It was given, together with such other personal information is as usual in the way of fulfilling the law. "What is the lady's name ? " "Miss - why Miss - " A wild, confused look overspread the face of the expectant groom and he cast his eyes toward the overhead wall as if_j to wrest from the upper spheres the fairy name that so strangely eluded him. He wrestled mightily with the problem and gpt red in the face. No use. Suddenly he rushied to the door. The bride to-be was not out of sight. She was retreating but was yet, as the mountaineer southerners say, "within a whoop and a holler" of the court house, and by a series of "whoops," "hollers" and gesticulatious her anead succeeded ia attracting her attention and inducing her to "bout face." "What is your first name, dear?" Her first name feil with a pleasant lisp from her lips and was i eagerly caught up and borne to the deputy in waiting, by the young man, whose face lighted up with the triumph of a gradúate on commencement day, and the license was soon made out. An Argus reporter wiio buttoned his ear over the clerk's door knob, gathered from the bride-candidate's remarks that she had once in a rash moment married an English lord but had deserted him instantly, on ascertaining his real character. The English lord being now dead, she feit at liberty to marry again. Trusting that the happy event has taken place, and that the groom has by this time learned his wife's front name, the Argus can do no less than exclaim "Bless you, my children!"