Chapter V: Mr. Pippy to his friend Mr. Tweak

My dear Tweak,

How uncertain is everything in this world! I was to have been married to-day to the loveliest of her sex, but the floods have so risen, that nothing but the roof of the church is visible. It began yesterday morning, when the canal banks broke, and increased with such rapidity, that I was compelled to spend the day on the dining-table, and am now driven to the second floor, with no provision but a flask of lamp oil and some tooth powder. The sick paupers of the Union I attend have just arrived on a barge, which has got aground on the bridge. The bell-ringers, also, who were practising in the belfry when the irruption took place, are fast enclosed therein—the doors being under water, and the windows too small to get out at. They are ringing for help, and the sound is awfully painful, as it was to have been my bridal peal. A letter has just been brought by Tom Johnson, in a mash-tub, from my adored Celia; I hasten to read it.

Yours ever,
PHINEAS PIPPY.

Feb. 23.

VI.

_Miss Potts to Mr. Pippy._

Dearest Phinny,

Do not, I implore you, think too much of Hero and Leander. Our rustic Hellespont is far too cold for you to plunge into and swim across, and such a proceeding might excite the gossip of our neighbours. Let us endure this trial with patience. The waters are certainly abating, as the French bed in our back room is now visible, and John has caught three fine eels in the pillow-case, which I send you, as well as my pet Carlo, who will swim back with any answer you may have to send.

Yours very affectionately,
CELIA POTTS.

VII.

(_Extract from the Chawturmut Gazette._)

Married, on the 28th inst., Phineas Pippy, Esq., to Celia, daughter of Anthony Potts, Esq. The ceremony, which was delayed by the late floods, was performed as soon as the waters sufficiently fell—the party going to the altar in a punt.

Look out _below_—above a joke.
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