Business is suspinded. They'se no money in Wall Sthreet.
It's all at th' sacred scene. Hour be hour, as th' prisints ar-re
delivered, th' bank rates go up. Th' Threeasury Departmint has to go
on a silver basis, there bein' no goold to mannyfacther into plunks.
"Inside th' house th' prisints cast a goolden gleam on th' beauchious
scene. Th' happy father is seen seated at a table, dictattin'
millyion-dollar checks to a stinographer. Th' goold chandeliers is
draped with r-ropes iv dimon's an' pearls. Th' hired girl is passin'
dhrinks in goolden goblets. Twinty firemen fr'm th' New York Cinthral
Railroad is shovellin' dimon'-studded pickle crutes into th' back
yard, among th' yachts an' horses. Chansy Depoo enthers an' thrips
over a box iv bonds. 'Ar-re these th' holy bonds iv mathrimony?' he
says; f'r he is a wild divvle, an' ye can't stop his jokin', avin on
solemn occasions.
"Th' soggarth comes in afther a while, carryin' a goold prayer-book,
th' gift iv th' Rothscheelds, an' stands behind a small but vallyable
pree Doo. To th' soft, meelojous chune iv th' Wagner Palace Weddin'
March fr'm 'Long Green,' th' groom enthers, simply but ixpinsively
attired in governmint fours, an' fannin' himsilf with a bunch iv first
morgedge bonds.
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