byWhat they’ve taken to calling this big Melting Pot of America may be melting down the bad, old-fashioned family curse my Great Grandpappy Lem brought over from Mother England, part of which runs:
“So every maiden fair and pure
A Maverel to his breast may lure
Shall die in her bridal bed.
And only loves defiled by shame
Shall keep alive the Maverel name.”
Well, the only American Maverel who ever yet tried marrying a completely untouched young lady, she died in a train wreck three months after the wedding, but so did he, which I guess helps make it inconclusive. But we’ve been getting away with just jumping the g*n on the actual marriage ceremony, even by only one night. Or with that one other trick that maybe has worked for us right along, even in Mother England: marrying a widow.
