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English Court gossip — the Love fit and lover of the Princess Mary of Cambridge.

--The pages of Punch are among the last from which we would hope to glean a paragraph of gossip. But yet there is one member of that mystic brotherhood who constitute the staff at No. 84 Fleet street, who, from his position, and social position, is generally thoroughly informed as to what is going on. To this gentleman we probably owe the information covertly given in last week's number — covertly, we say, because the writer founded his paragraph on a statement in a weekly paper, comparatively unknown, and grafted thereon his own information; the result of which is that what Mr. Thackeray delighted to call a "R-y-l-p-n-age," and which no one will have the least difficulty in detecting as the Princess Mary of Cambridge, is sought in marriage by a noble viscount, whose army service entitles him to all sorts of noble and gallant epithets. The lady — and the lady in question, besides being a princess, is a bully; the terms are not always synonymous — is agreeable; and all that is disagreeable is that wretched piece of legislation, the royal marriage act, which requires the consent of the sovereign to the union of a member of the royal family to a person not of royal blood. This consent her present "Most Gracious" is not gracious enough to give; and though Mr. Punch, with an amount of saccharine matter which shows that he has not studied Mr. Banting's pamphlet, expresses a hope that this will be forthcoming, yet the withholding of the royal approval is evidently the hitch in the matter. Let us hope that it will be finally graciously and gracefully yielded. In the whole Guelphei family there is no one more popular than the Princess Mary, and the people of England would infinitely sooner see her wedded to an English nobleman for whom she cares than to a German one whom she may never have seen. As to the name of the gentleman, that is easily arrived at. Our friend Punch says: ‘"All happiness to Viscount Cucullus."’ Scraps of school-boy classic lore, yet lingering in odd corners of memory, remind us of the old proverb, non facit monachum cucullus--the hood does not make the monk — and then looking into that peerage which every well-regulated Briton keeps by him, we find that Viscount Hood served in the Guards; and lo, on the ingenious principle ascribed to the first cooper of putting two and two together, the whole mystery is solved.--London Star, October 25.

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