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Mr. Joseph Hanson, The Haberdasher
by
“I am determined,” roared John Parsons. “Before next week is out, Joseph Hanson shall be my son-in-law. And now, sir, I advise you to go and drill your police.” And the tinman retired from behind the counter into the interior of his dwelling, (for this colloquy had taken place in the shop,) banging the door behind him with a violence that really shook the house.
“Poor pretty Harriet!” thought the compassionate chief magistrate, “and poor Frederick too! The end of next week! This is only Monday; something may turn up in that time; we must make inquiries; I had feared that it would have been earlier. My old tetchy friend here is just the man to have arranged the marriage one day, and had the ceremony performed the next. We must look about us.” And full of such cogitations, the mayor returned to his habitation.
On the Thursday week after this conversation a coach drew up, about eight o’clock in the morning, at the gate of St Stephen’s churchyard, and Mr. Joseph Hanson, in all the gloss of bridal finery, newly clad from top to toe, smiling and smirking at every instant, jumped down, followed by John Parsons, and prepared to hand out his reluctant bride elect, when Mr. Mallet, with a showy-looking middle-aged woman (a sort of feminine of Joseph himself) hanging upon his arm, accosted our friend the tinman.
“Stop!” cried the mayor.
“What for?” inquired John Parsons. “If it’s a debt, I’ve already told you that I’ll be his bail.”
“It is a debt,” responded the chief magistrate; “and one that luckily he must pay, and not you. Three years ago he married this lady at Liverpool We have the certificate and all the documents.”
“Yes, sir,” added the injured fair one; “and I find that he has another wife in Dublin, and a third at Manchester. I have heard, too, that he ran away with a young lady to Scotland; but that don’t count, as he was under age.”
“Four wives!” ejaculated John Parsons, in a transport of astonishment and indignation. “Why the man is an absolute great Turk! But the thing’s impossible. Come and answer for yourself, Joseph Hanson.”
And the tinman turned to look for his intended son-in-law; but frightened at the sight of the fair claimant of his hand and person, the bridegroom had absconded, and John Parsons and the mayor had nothing for it but to rejoin the pretty Harriet, smiling through her tears as she sate with her bride-maiden in the coach at the churchyard-gate.
“Well; it’s a great escape! and we’re for ever obliged to you, Mr. Mayor. Don’t cry any more, Harriet. If Frederick was but here, why, in spite of the policemen—- but a week hence will do as well; and I am beginning to be of Harriet’s mind, that even if he had not had three or four wives, we should be well off to be fairly rid of Mr. Joseph Hanson, the puffing haberdasher.”