Some time ago a man came to the clergyman of a country parish and arranged with him to have the banns of marriage called in church for the three following Sundays. On the first Sunday the banns were called, but on the Monday morning the prospective bridegroom turned up at the Vicarage, and, on being shown into the parson's study, the following dialogue took place:

"I've come, zir, to see yu 'bout that there weddin'."

"Is there any difficulty?" inquired the parson.

"Well, zir," replied the rustic Lothario, "ef et dawn't make no defference to yu, I've a changed my mind, like, and have a tuk up wi' another vemale - shan't have noan but she - the first wan't du 'tall. Dawn't 'ee raid out they there banns no more."

"This is very sudden," said the parson.

"What is it, my man?"

"Well, zir, 'tes 'bout they there banns, zir, what have bin raid out in church. I've a paid 'ee half-a-crownd already, and that's a brave bit 'o money. I'd want to know ef I shall have tu pay 'ee any more ef I do take up wi' this yer second vemale?"

"Why, of course, " replied the parson. "You are upsetting the former arrangements entirely, and if you really persist in your idea of marrying this other woman of whom you speak, all your previous legal formalities will be null and void."

"An' if I had fresh banns draed out 'tween me and thicky vemale, what I do love zo well, shud I have to pay 'ee again for they?"

"Most certainly. You cannot play fast and loose in such a serious business as this", replied the parson, with a touch of severity in his voice.

"Aw, dear, dear, I never thought o' that," replied the distracted swain, t'wixt love and finance torn. "Zimmen to me, zir, there's a ter'ble lot of vuss an' expense bevaur a man can get hitched up to a vemale. However," continued he, "I've a paid my half-crownd, and  I baint gwain to pay no more. It do go ter'ble agin the grain to throw away gude money, zo ef yu plaize, zir, us'll let things bide as they was avore."