CIHM ICIMH Microfiche Collection de Series microfiches (l\1onographs) (monographles) Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques -IQO/I I C Thi Ce( in Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes techniques et bibliographiques riqu«t The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographieally unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or vIPr LIEC IIVMGE Inc [^.- 1653 East Main Street g".— Rochester, New York 14609 USA ■^ (716) 4^2 - 0300 -Phone ^S (^'6) 288 - 5989 - Fox / 56 ^^/^. The Wedding Day }11.S Allegorical Marria(;e of Marie de Medicis. I i 8 1 OCT 1966 The V^edding Day in Literature and Art A Collection of the Best Descriptions of Weddings from the Works of the World's Leading Novelists and Poets, richly illustrated with Reproductions of Famous Paintings of Incidents of the Nuptial Day COMPILED BY C. F. CARTER ''^fS!%', hens. Toronto The Publishers Syndicate Limited 1900 SSt Copyright, 1900, by Dodd, Mead fS Company for the United States of America Printed at The University Press, John Wilson Sf Son Carnbridge, U.S.A. Preface T3 Y general consent the wedding day is considered to J^ be the happiest episode in life. An event so rich in human interest, a day so universally filled with feasting and merrymaking, ought to furnish a subject that would call orth the best efforts of the poet, the painter, and the novehst. Singularly enough, the wedding is a topic of which artists and writers seem to be rather wary As the result of an exhaustive search through all available data the assertion is ventured that of the many thousands of pit- ings .n existence in Europe and America not more than one hundred and eighty have as their theme incidents of the wedding day. Poets are even more reluctant to treat of the nuptial day than their brethren of the palette and brush, and novelists are scarcely less so of fh""".^''' T^ "'° '^^^ ^^"^"^^' ^° ^^P'- ^^^ events of the wedding day are among the world's foremost authors and artists, so that the inherent interest of the subjec whether portrayed on canvas or the printed page, is usual Iv developed by the hand of a master. ^ ^ To gather the choicest of these wedding-day master- TV 7r ''""' ^"' "^-"-^^ '■" --'V form L the object of this volume. All appearance of being statis- 17 Preface tically instructive or painfully comprehensive has been care- fully avoided ; but in order that those who cannot or will not marry may at least contemplate the conjugal felicity of others from as many points of view as possible a great vari- ety of weddings is respectfully presented. There is the wedding dramatic, the wedding romantic, the sentimental wedding, and the humorous wedding in England, Ireland, Scotland, Norway, France, Italy, India, China, Japan, Aus- tralia, and these United States delineated by writers and painters of both sexes in America and Europe. If this volume serves to call the attention of the novel- ists of the future to that most fascinating topic, the wed- ding, so that the reader who hereafter conscientiously plods through some hundreds of pages of lovers' vicissitudes may at last have the satisfaction of seeing the leading characters safely married off, instead of having the cover unceremo- niously shut in his face as soon as an " understanding " is reached, as is usually the case, thus leaving him a prey to uncomfortable apprehensions that the heroine may, after all, exercise woman's inalienable right to change her mind, then the labor of compiling it will not have been in vain. C. F. CARTER. New York, July s, 1899. VI Table of Contents IS Abbott, Charles Conrad Balzac, Honore de .... Barr, Amelia E Barrie, J. M Beecher, Henry Ward . . . Bennett, W. C Besant, Walter, and James Rice BjORNSON, BjORNSTJERNE . . . Black, William Blackmore, R. D Blind, Mathilde BOYESEN, HJALMAR HjoRTH . . Bronte, Charlotte .... Brownino, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Elizabeth Barrett Bunner, H. C Burnett, Frances Hodgson Cable, George W. Carleton, Will . . . Carleton, Will ... Carleton, Wili, , , , Page 234 246 289 III 268 182 102 75 283 190 '57 68 118 i6o 178 248 The One I Knenv Best of All 1 5 o Bona'venture . . . . 207 T/ie Golden Wedding . . 47 Eliphalet Chapin" s Wedding 187 Elder Peitigrenu' s Helpmeet 222 A Colonial Wooing The Village Rector The Beads of Tasmer Auld Licht Idylls . Nornuood . Wedding Words By Celiacs Arbor . The Bridal March A Daughter of Heth Lorna Doone . Tarantella . . Gunnar Jane Eyre ... The Romaunt of the Page Cronuned and Wedded The Story of a Neiv Tori House VU Table of Contents COLUNS, WiLKIE Cunningham, Allan Davis, Thomas Dickens, Charles . . . , , Dickens, Charles . . . . , Douglas, Amanda M Dumas, Alexandre Eggleston, Edward . . . . Eliot, George Eliot, George Grahame, James Green, E. Everett .... Gunter, Archibald Clavering Hale, Edward Everett . . Herrick, Robert Holland, J. G Hunter, Mrs Ingelow, Jean Ingelow, Jean Irving, Washington .... Keats, John Kipling, Rudyard Lever, Charles Lever, Charles Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth Maclay, Arthur Collins . McCarthy, Denis Florence Milman, Henry Hart . . Poe, Edgar Allan .... Ralph, Julian VUJ The Dead Secret . . Thou hast Sivorn by thy God, my Jeanie The Banks of the Lee . David Copperfield Our Mutual Friend . In Trust .... The Conspirators . Roxy Si/as Marner . . Mr. Gi/JU's Love-Story A Scottish Country Wedding Maud Mel'ville' s Marriage Mr. Barnes of Ne-xv York Susan's Escort .... Counsel to Girls . . Sevenoaks To my Daughter . . . Like a I^averock in the Lift Off the Skelligs . . , Bracehridge Hall . . Cynthia's Bridal Evening The Story of the Gads by s St. Patrick's Eve . . . Paul Gosslefs Confessions The Courtship of Miles Standish The Building of the Ship Elizabeth .... Mito Tashiki . . . Alice and Una . . A Bridal Song . . The Bells .... People We Pass . . 56 *33 55 2 10 »34 141 2l8 273 276 116 256 278 230 259 *3 197 22 228 78 171 161 180 183 38 95 237 286 84 206 I 17a Reade, Charles Reade, Charles Table of Contents Rogers, Samuel Russell, W. Clark Sanford, M. Bourchier ScHREiNER, Olive Scott, Sir Walter Sherwood, Rosina Emmet Smollett, Tobias . Southey, Robert . . Spenser, Edmund Stedman, Edmund Clarence Stevenson, Robert Louis Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stuart, Ruth McEnery Suckling, Sir John . . Tennyson, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Frederick . . Thackeray, William Makepeace Tourgee, Albion W Trollope, Anthony .... Trowbridge, J. T Von Herder, Johann Gottfried Willis, Nathaniel Parker . WiNGFiELD, Hon. Lewis . Winthrop, Theodore Wordsworth, William . . . Wordsworth, William . . . K A Woman Hater . ■ Love Me Little, Lo-ve Me ^<">g .... Human Life . . A Marriage at Sea The Romance of a Jesuit Mission . The Story of an African Farm The Bride of Lammermoor Out of Toiun . , , Peregrine Pickle . . The Well of St. Keyne The Epithalamion The Diamond Wedding The Wrecker . . . The Minister's Wooing A Golden Wedding . A Ballad upon a Wed- ding . . . ' The Bridesmaid The Bridal . Vanity Fair Figs and Thistles He Knenv he ivas Right Neighbour Jackivood . Esthonian Bridal Song To a Bride The Lo'vely Wang Ednvin Brothertoft The Marriage Ceremony On the Marriage of a Friend Page 252 254 133 86 238 198 49 293 123 263 148 216 224 97 43 139 251 65 201 241 212 193 77 155 260 265 no 211 Illustrations Bayard . Becker Beyschlag , Breuckner Daelen Delort De Nouy . Erdmamn . Erdmann . Erdmann . Erdmann . Fildes . . Forbes . Fortuny . hovenden . Kaemmerer KlESEL . . Leighton . Leighton . Loustaunaus A Marriage . . , , Romeo and Juliet . . Nuptial Festivity . . The Marriage of Pocahontas The Marriage Bureau . The Elopement . . . The Honeymoon . . . The Golden IVedding . Health to the Bride . Congratulations . . , Introducing the Bride . The nilage Wedding . Health to the Bride . A Spanish Marriage . Bringing Home the Bride A Marriage under the Directory Planning the Wedding Tour The Honeymoon .... Wedded A Marriage of Convenience xi Paoi 268 150 68 38 286 1 12 158 47 102 238 248 78 24 208 10 142 276 2 224 162 Mak.uw liV Rubens SrHACHI.VGER TiDEMAND . t ondonze . Vautier . Vautier . VOLCKER . volkhart Waixer Willems . WiLLEMS . Williams . Worms Illustrations ~ Pao« . A Runian Marriage Toiltt . . 230 AUegorifUt Marriage of Marie dt Medicis Frontispiece . The Bridal Jewels 216 Tbt Marriage Procession , . . 198 The Honeymoon . . ... . . 190 Going to the Magistrate ... 86 The Departure from the Old Home 98 Before the IVedding . , . . . 134 Marital Bliss 290 Home from the Honeymoon . . 1 1 8 The IVedding Ring 50 A Chinese IVedding 60 The Bridesmaids 251 . The IVedding Dress 172 Xll The fVedding Day In Literature and Art From "THE BFLLS" By EDGAR ALLAN POE HEAR the mellow wedding bells, — Golden bells ! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells I Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight ! From the molten golden notes, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon ! Oh, from out the sounding cells. What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells ! How it dwells On the Future ! How it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells. Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. Bells, bells, bells, — To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! Wedding Day in Literature and Art From "DAVID COPPERFIELD " By CHARLES DICKENS "VT'ES ! I am going to be married to Dora ! Miss 1 Lavinia and Miss Clarissa have given their consent; and if ever canary birds were in a flutter, they are. Miss* Lavinia, self-charged with the superintendence of my darl- ing's wardrobe, is constantly cutting out brown-paper cuirasses, and difFering in opinion from a highly respectable young man, with a long bundle, and a yard measure under his arm. A dressmaker, always stabbed in the breast with a needle and thread, boards and lodges i.-^ the house ; and seems to me— eating, drinking, or sleeping — never to take her thimble ofF. They make a lay-figure of my dear. They are always sending for her to come and try some- thuig on. We can't be happy together for five minutes in the evening, but some intrusive female knocks at the door, and says, " Oh, if you please. Miss Dora, would you step upstairs ? " Miss Clarissa and my aunt roam all over London, to find out articles of furniture for Dora and me to look at. It would be better for them to buy the goods at once, without this ceremony of inspection ; for, when we go to' see a kitchen fender and meat screen, Dora sees a Chinese house for Jip, with little bells on the top, and prefers that. And It takes a long time to accustom Jip to his new resi- dence, after we have bought it ; whenever he goes in or out, he makes all the little bells ring, and is horribly frightened. Peggotty comes up to make herself useful, and falls to work immediately. Her department appears to be to clean everything over and over again. She rubs everything that can be rubbed, until it shines, like her own honest forehead, with perpetual friction. And now it is that I begin to see her solitary brother passing through the dark streets at 2 X David Copperfie/d night, and looking as he goes, among the wandering faces I never speak to h.m at such an hour. I know "oo wel ' as h. g.ve figure passes onward, what he seek! Z 2 Why does Traddles look so important when he calk upon me th.s afternoon in the Commons J^^where I st occas.onalIy attend, for form's sake, when I have time The realisation of my boyish day-dreams is at hand I am going to take out the license biasing on us b orin. ,n7/ Canterbury invoking a ried"*yca'n-rbei" ' "T™'.^ "'""^'' "W, Kur- have some kind of perception that r f , u "^' ""■'' Here .ere°a ^Ma^ L" 'nnlttXblrn t'^'^ j^ d, j,s not at al. wanted, but is in attLdan^:" "^y geT^rll "I hope the next time vou come her^ .^ j r „ I say to Traddles, « it will be on^L ! ' ^ '^'!'' ^"""^'" self. And I hope it wiH be soon " ""' """'^ '^•- >'-- he;pit:'r/^;rsoro' t'^^''^^'T^^^^^^^ that she'll wait forme '.' ^ "/^f' «^^*^^'«" to know really is the deTrest gM - '^ "^''^ "^ ^""^' ^"^ ^^at she ;; When are you to meet her at the coach ? " I ask Wedding Day in Literature and Art of, at school, to make a water-mill. " That is about Miss Wickfield's time, is it not? " ^; « A little earlier. Her time is halt-past eight. «I assure you, my dear boy," says Traddles, "1 am almost as pleased as if I were going to be married myself, to think that this event is coming to such a happy termma- tion. And really the great friendship and consideration ot personally associating Sophy with the joyful occasion, and inviting her to be a bridesmaid in conjunction with iVliss Wickticld, demands my warmest thanks. I am extremely sensible of it." _ I hear him, and shake hands with him ; and we talk, and walk, and dine, and so on ; but I don't believe it. Nothing is re^l. . Sophy arrives at the house of Dora s aunts, in due course. She has the most agreeable of faces, — not abso- lutely beautiful, but extraordinarily pleasant, — and is one of the most genial, unaffected, frank, engaging creatures 1 have ever seen. Traddles presents her to us with great pride ; and rubs his hands for ten minutes by the clock, with every individual hair upon his head standing on tip- toe when I congratulate him in a corner on his choice. I have brought Agnes from the Canterbury coach, and her cheerful and beautiful face is among us for the second time. Agnes has a great liking for Traddles, and it is capital to see them meet, and to observe the glory of Traddles, as he commends the dearest girl in the world to her acquaintance. , ,. , r i Still I don't believe it. We have a delightful evening, and are supremely happy ; but 1 don't believe it yet. 1 can't collect myself. I can't check off my happiness, as it takes place. I feel in a misty and unsettled kind of state ; as if I had got up very early in the morning a week or two ago, and had never been to bed since. I can't make out when yesterday was. I seem to have been carrymg the license about in my pocket, many months. Next day, too, when we all go in a flock to see the house — our house — Dora's and mine — I am quite un- 4 David Copperfield It is about Miss able to regard myself as its master. I seem to be there by permission of somebody else. I half expect the real master to come home presently, and sa- he is glad to see me. Such a beautiful little house as it'is, with everything so bright and new ; with the flowers on the carpets look- ing as if freshly gathered, and the green leaves on the paper as if they had just come out ; with the spotless muslin cur- tains, and the blushing rose-coloured furniture, and Dora's garden hat with the blue ribbon — do I remember, now, how I loved her in such another hat when I first knew her? — aleady hanging on its little peg; the guitar-case quite at home on its heels in a corner; and everybody tumbling over Jip's Pagoda, which is much too big for the establishment. Another happy evening, quite as unreal as all the rest of It, and I steal into the usual room before going away. Dora is not there. I suppose they have not done trying on yet. Miss Lavinia peeps in, and tells me mysteriously that she will not be long. She is rather long, notwith- standing ; but by and by I hear a rustling at the door, and someone taps. I say, « Come in ! " but someone taps again. I go to the door, wondering who it is ; there I meet a pair of bright eyes and a blushing face ; they are Dora's eyes and face, and Miss Lavinia has dressed her in to- morrow's dress, bonnet and all, for me to see. I take my little wife to my heart; and Miss Lavinia gives a little scream because I tumble the bonnet, and Dora laughs and cries at once, because I am so pleased •■ and I believe it less than ever. "Do you think it pretty, Doady ? " says Dora. Pretty ! I should rather think I did. "And are you sure you like me very much .?" says Dora. 1 he topic is fraught with such danger to the bonnet that Miss Lavinia gives another little scream and begs me to understand that Dora is only to be looked at, and on no account to be touched. So Dora stands in a delight- tul state of conlusion for a minute or two, to be admired, 5 ■>'''K«HMr»«lHWN»W»ii«k*i % mdding Day in Literature and Art and then takes ofF her bonnet — looking so natural with- out it '-and runs away with it in her hand ; and comes dancing down again in her own familiar dress, and ask Tip if 1 have gof a beautiful little wife, and whether he 11 flive her for being married, and kneels down to make him Itand upon the cookery-book, for the last time m her ''"Uo^home, more incredulous than ever, to a lodging that I have hard by •, and get up very early in the morning, to ride to the Highgate road and fetch my aunt. I have never seen my aunt in such state She is dressed in lavender-coloured silk, and has a white bonnet on and is Lazing. Janet has dressed her, and is there to look at me Peggotty is ready to go to church, intending to behold The" ceremony'fiom Z gallery. Mr. Dick who .s to give my darling to me at the altar, has had his hair curled Traddles whom I have taken up by appointment at the ^Ske'pTesents a dazzling combination of cream colour and S blue ; and both he and Mr. Dick have a general eflfect about them of being all gloves. , . T .m No doubt I see this, because I know it is so- but I am astray, and seem to see nothing. Nor do I believe any- ;:;' whatever. Still, as we drive along in an open car- riage this fairy marriage is real enough to fill me with a orf if wondering pity for the unfortunate people who have no part in it, but arc' sweeping out the shops and going to ^%^tL:'^^^ hand in hers all the way. When we stop a little way short of the church to put down Peg- gotty, whom we have brought on the box, she gives it a saueeze, and me a kiss. . , , ^\ God bless you, Trot ! My own boy never could be dearer. I think of poor dear Baby ch.s morning. « So do I. And of all I owe to you, dear aunt. « Tut, child ! " says my aunt -, and gives her hand in overflowing cordiality to Traddles, who then gives his to Mr Drck,'who then gives his to me, who then give mine to Traddles, and then we come to the church-door. 6 i Art aral with- nd comes and asks ither he Ml to make me in her idging that lorning, to : is dressed on, and is to look at r to behold 3 is to give air curled, lent at the eam colour : a general ; but I am elieve any- I open car- [ me with a e who have nd going to ay. When down Peg- i gives it a er could be ning." int." her hand in gives his to ;n give mine door. ri David Copperjie/d V The church is calm enough, I am sure ; but it might be a steam-power loom in full action, for any sedative efKect it has on me. I am too far gone for that. The rest is all a more or less incoherent dream. A dream of them coming in with Dora ; of the pew- opener arranging us, like a drill sergeant, before the altar rails ; of my wondering, even then, why pew-openers must always be the most disagreeable females procurable, and whether there is any religious dread of a disastrous infection of good humour which renders it indispensable to set those vessels of vinegar upon the road to heaven. Of the clergyman and clerk appearing; of a few boatmen and some other people strolling in; of an ancient mariner behind me, strongly scenting the church with rum ; of the service beginning in a deep voice, and our all beine very attentive. ° ^ Of Miss Lavinia, who acts as a semi-auxiliary bridesmaid being the first to cry, and of her doing homage (as I take It) to the memory of Pidger in sobs ; of Miss Clarissa ap- plying a smelling-bottle ; of Agnes taking care of Dora • of my aunt endeavouring to represent herself as a model of sternness, with tears rolling down her face ; of little Dora trembling very much, and making her responses in faint whispers. Of our kneeling down together, side by side; of Dora's trembling less and less, but always clasping Agnes by the ^■--^^' of the service being got through, quietly' and gravely ; of our all looking at each other in an April state of smiles and tears when it is over; of my young wife being hysterical ,n the vestry, and crying for her poor papa, her dear papa. ' p^F"* Of her soon cheering up again, and our signing the regis- -r all round. Of my going into the gallefy for Peggotty to bring /,er to sign it ; of Peggotty's hugging me in a orner, and telling me she saw my own dear m^other mar! iicd ; of Its being over, and our going away. with m7. """^^H '° P'""^'^ '"^ ^^^'"S'^ d"^" ^he aisle with my sweet wife upon my arm, through a mist of half- 7 Wedding Day in Literature and Art seen people, pulpits, monuments, pews, fonts, organs, and church w- kIows, in which there flutter hunt a.rs of associa- tion with my childish church at home, so long ago Of their whispering, as we pass, what a youthful couple we are, and what a pretty little wife she is. CM our all being so merry and talkative in the carmge going back. Of Sophy telling us that when she saw 1 raddles (whom I had intrusted with the license) asked for .t, she almost fainted, having been convinced that he would contrive to b t, or to have his pocket picked. Of Agnes laughing gaily; and of Dora being so fond of Agi.csthatshew.il not be separated from her, but still keeps her hand. Of there being a breaktast, with abundance of things, pretty and substantial, to eat and drink, whereof I partake, as I should do in any other dream, without the least pei- ception of their flavour! Eating and dnnkn :, as I may say, nothing but love and marriage, and no more believing in the viands than in anything else. Of my making a speech in the same dreamy fashion without having an idea of what I want to say beyond such as may be comprehended in the full conviction that I haven^t said it. Of our being very sociabb' and simply happy (always in a dream, though) •, and of J-p s having wedding cake, and its not agreeing with him afterward Of the pair of hired post-horses being ready, and ot Dora's going away to change her dress. Of my aunt and Miss Clarissa remaining with us; and our walking in the garden; and my aunt, who has made quite ^ ^P^ech a breakfast touching Dora's aunts, being mightily amused with herself, but a little proud of it too. . Of Dora's being ready, and of Miss Lavinia s hovering about her, loath to lose the pretty toy that has given her so much pleasant occupation. Of Dora's making a long series of surprised discoveries that she has forgotten all sorts of little things; and of everybody's running every- where to fetch them. u u • , Of their all closing about Dora, when at last she begins to say good-bye, looking, with their bright colours and rib- David Copperjield bons like a bed of flowers. Of my darling being alm<,st smothered among the flowers, and coming out, lauuhin.r and crymg both together, to my jealous arms. Of my wanting to carry Jip (who is to go along with us) and Dora s saymg no, that she must carry him, or else he 11 think she don't like him any more, now she is mar- ried, and will break his heart. Of our going arm in arm, and Dora stopping and looking back, and saying, " If I have ever been cross or ungrateful to anybody, don't re- member It ! and bursting into tears. Of her waving her little hand, and our going away once more. Of her once more stopping, and looking back, and hurrying to Agnes, and giving Agnes, above all the others her last kisses and farewells. We drive away together, and I awake from the dream I believe ,t at last. It is my dear, dear little wife beside me, whom I love so well ! "Are you happy now, you foolish boy.?" says Dora and sure you don't repent ? " ' Wedding Day in Literature and Art I, s 1 From "OUR MUTUAL FRIEND" By CHARLES DICKENS CHERUBIC pa arose with as little noise as possible from beside majestic ma, one morning early, having a holiday before him. Pa and th.? lovely woman had a rather particular appointment to keep. Yet pa and the lovely woman were not going out to- gether. Bella was up before four, but had no bonnet on. She was waiting at the foot of the stairs — was sitting on the bottom stair, in fact — to receive pa when he (ame down, but her only object seemed to be to get pa wel: out of the house. "Your breakfast is ready, sir," whispered Bella, 'after greeting him with a hug, " and all you have to do is to eat it up and drink it up, and escape. How do you feel, pa ? " « To the best of my judgment, like a housebreaker new to the business, my dear, who can't make himself quite comfortable till he is off the premises." Bella tucked her arm in his with a merry, noiseless laugh, and they went down to the kitchen on tiptoe ; she stopping on every separate stair to put the tip of her fore- finger on her rosy lips, and then lay it on his lips, according to her favourite petting way of kissing pa. " How do you feel, my love ? " asked R. W., as she gave him his breakfast. " I feel as if the Fortune-teller was coming true, dear pa, and the fair little man was turning out as was predicted." " Ho ! Only the fair little man ? " said her father. Bella put another of those finger-seals upon his lips, and then said, kneeling down by him as he sat at table : "Now, look here, sir ! If you keep well up to the mark this day, what do you think you deserve ? What did I promise you should have, if you were good, upon a certain occasion ? " 10 ifter "^■"m ■^■'W- Our Mutual Friend « Upon my word I don't rcme.nhcr, Praious. Yes, I do though. Was n't it one- of these- hcau— tiful tresses ? " with his carc-,ing hand upon her hair. "Wasn't it too!" returned Bella, pretending to pout. "Upon my word ! Do you know, sir, that the Fortune- teller would give five thousand guineas, if it was .luite con- vcnient to him which it isn't, for the lovely piece I have cut off for you ? You can form no idea, sir, of the num- ber of times he kissed quite a scrubby little piece— in com- parison -that I cut off for him. And he wears it, too, round his neck, I can tell you ! Near his heart ! " said Bella nodding. «Ah! very nenr his heart! However, you have been a good, good boy, and you arc the best of all the dearest boys that ever were, this morning, and here's the chain I have made of it, pa, and you must let me put It round your neck with my own loving hands." As pa bent his head, she cried over him a little, and then said (after having stopped to dry her eyes on his waistcoat, he d'scovery of which incongruous circumstance made heJ laugh): "Now, darling pa, give mc vour hands that I may Bella "^"^ together, and do you say after me : My little " My little Bella," repeated pa. " I am fond of you." " I am very fond of you, my darling," said pa. You mustn't say anything not dictated to you, sir. You dare n t do it in your responses at Church, and you must n t do It m your responses out of Church." " I withdraw the darling," said pa. " That 's a pious bov ! Aovi again : You we e always — " " You were always,''^ repeated pa. " A vexatious — " " No, you were n't," said pa. " A vexatious (do you hear, sir ?), a vexatious, capricious, thankless, troublesome Animal : but I hope you '11 do better in the time to come, and I bless you and forgive you ' " Here she quite forgot that it was pa's turn to make the re- II i \ I 'i ill I Wcdd'uig Day in Literature and Art sponses, and clung to his neck. " Dear pa, if you knew how much I think this morning of what you told me once, about the first time of our seeing old Mr. Harmon, when I stamped and screamed and beat you with my detestable little bonnet ! I feel as if I had been stamping and scream- ing and beating you with my hateful little bonnet ever since I was born, darling ! " " Nonsense, my love. And as to your bonnets, they have always been nice bonnets, for they have always be- come — you — or you have become them ; perhaps it was that — at every age." " Did I hurt you much, poor little pa ? " asked Bella, laughing (notwithstanding her repentance) with fantastic pleasure in the picture, " when I beat you with my bonnet ? " " No, my child. ould n't have hurt a fly ! " " Av, but I am atraid I shouldn't have beat you at all, unless I had meant to hurt you," said Bella. "• Did I pinch your legs, pa ? " "Not much, my dear; but I think it's almost time I — " " Oh yes ! " cried Bella. " If I go on chattering, you '11 be taken alive. Fly, pa, fly ! " So they went softly up the kitchen stairs on tiptoe, and Bella with her light hand softly removed the fastenings of the house-door, and pa, having received a parting hug, made oft". When he had gone a little way, he looked back. Upon which Bella set another of those finger-seals upon the air, and thrust out her little foot expressive of the mark. Pa, in appropriate action, expressed fidelity to the mark, and made off" as fast as he could go. Bella walked thoughtfully in the garden for an hour and more, and then returning to the bedroom where Lavvy the Irrepressible still slumbered, put on a little bonnet of quiet but on the whole of sly appearance, v/hich she had yester- day made. " I am going for a walk, Lavvy," she said, as she stooped down and kissed her. The Irrepressible, with a bounce in the bed, and a remark that it was n't time to 12 Our Mutual Friend behind a pump, at least three J f ''' '^'"'''"^ ^"'^ ^^"'"^ tree ! Behold Bel a and L t" T '^' P^''^'^^^^ ^^^f- bound for Greenwich I ^ '^"''■'' ^" '^'^Y steamboat M^n's;ss'iitrr rt^^'^- ^^'-' couple of hours before the mf T ^""^'"^' ""^' ^'^^^^ a little steamboat got her steam ! ^ "' /" 'j''" So'^'-'-ty) At least, Mr. fohn R ,1.. . ^ '" ^""'^""- l^'obably -hen he' descr/ed hem oTb r""S' /"'''^"^^^'^^ ^^-^-i Bella no sooner st pp«l a hor. ^t ^ I"^''^'^" ^' ^^^■^^ Rokcsmith's arm u'r, •'''''" ''^'^ ^""'^ Mr. John -•^da.a,^;^:;^---:;|-Pns,and^^^ wooden legs had this" ff^ Two minute before Bella tepMoa^of""; f ''"''^'■""-' '"^"d, a confiding little arm of C l T, , u « '' '"^ ^'''^^ ^^at had no object in life but t'b.^ '^ . Rokesmith's, he had Stranded was Gruff and Gl ■' '"1 ""^ ^"""g'^ "^ that, -ud, when all .^ an instm'R'V^ harbour of everlasting he went. '"''""' ^^"^ floated him, and away Say, cherubic parent t-iUnn- fK i j . do we steer first ?^ wLZ' I ' '" "^'^'^ ^''■'^^•"■«" ^•-uffand Glum, stricken h '.i"^"""^ '"" '^'^ thoughts, P-ked his neck'.: tokeJ '" "'^^" • "' '"^'^^-^ ^^'t h as if he were trying to Mnd "'^ '"tcrvening people, legs took an obL:t^U ^f r"^^^"VT'' '" ^" " ^^^'^ "1 the case. Gruff ,,„1 n , "'' "'" "" " first " wich Church, i .erhlstlatir"'"^' "" *«' ^^ G-"" 'hequid,, within him E't h? "''' ";" """I ""densi.g -.hUceWecnCiut^Srr-h-r '3 Wedding Day in Litera ture and Art and the chcmb in the white waistcoat. Some remembrance of old Valentines, wherein a cherub, less appropriately at- tired for a proverbially uncertain climate, had been seen conducting lovers to the altar, might have been fancied to inflame the ardour of his timber toes. Be it as it might, he gave his moorings the slip, and followed in chase. The cherub went before, all beaming smiles ; Bella and John Rokesmith followed ; Gruff and Glum stuck to them like wax. For years the wings of his mind had gone to look after the legs of his body j but Bella had brought them back for him per steamer, and they were spread again. . , i He was a slow sailer on a wind of happiness, but he took a cross cut for the rendezvous, and pegged away as if he were scoring furiously at cribbage. When the shadow of the church porch swallowed them up, victorious Grutt and Glum likewise presented himself to be swallowed up. And by this time the cherubic parent was so fearful of sur- prise, that, but for the two wooden legs on which Gruft and Glum was reassuringly mounted, his conscience might have introduced, in the person of that pensioner, his own stately lady disguised, arrived in Greenwich in a car and griffins, like the spiteful Fairy at the christenings of the Princesses, to do something dreadful to the marriage ser- vice And truly he had a momentary reason to be pale of face, and to whisper to Bella, " You don't think that can be your ma ; do you, my dear ? " on account of a myste- rious rustling and a stealthy movement somewhere in the remote neighbourhood of the organ, though it was gone directly, and was heard no more. Albeit it was heard of afterward, as will afterward be read in this veracious register of marriage. Who taketh ? I, John, and so do I, Bella. Who giveth ? I, R. W. Forasmuch, Gruff and Glum, as John and Bella have consented together in holy wedlock, you may (in short) consider ijt done, and withdraw your two wooden legs from this temple. To the foregoing pur- port, the Minister speaking, as directed by the Rubric, to '4 quish that young woma / buf r T' *" T ^"^^'^ ^" ^^^'^^~ Mrs. JohnVkt.„,"r '. :7 Ar,^'' '-PPy sunlight steps stood Gruffand Glum 1 \J""^' "" ^'^^ ^'•'ght with a narcotic con ciou n" 's of h'"^ ''?'' '^'' P''^^^ ^''-ide, After which Bella took n ?""^' '""'"'^ ' '^'■""'"• ietter, and read it loud to pa .nd Th '".^^"^'^^ ^ ^'"^'^ copy of the same. ^ "'^ J"^" ' ^^is being a true Dearest Ma, —I hope you vvon'^ K. fappily married to Mr. jLToZZX .'T^' ^"' ^ ^"^ ^^'^ i can ever deserve, exceot hv f u- ""''^ ^°^^' '"^ better than thought it best not to SL^tf"' u'"\ ^''^' ^" ""^ '>^-t- " any little difference at home Ple^ ttdl H ^r"" '^ ^^°"'^^ --^ to -Lavvy, ^^"^^^^ ^^11 darling pa. With love Ever dearest ma. Your affectionate daughter, (P. S. Rokesmith.) Bella. the'?e:t"er-^:!:;ht'h?d'h'"r^'^^^""'^'^ -"— ce on benign as o't at Wesse^; Grac.ous Majesty looked so popped it into the post oiT^-T""^ ^^^^ Bella dearest pa, you a e sa'^e anf J'll'"^ ''u' "^^^'•'^>'' " Now, ^ Pa was,'a't first, i^tt ^ .:; e^of^f ^" '''' ' " far from sure of being safe yet that L 5 '^^"'^'^"^^' «° matrons lurking in ambush nm u T"^^ ""' '"'''iestic Greenwich Park, and emed ^"^^ '^" ^'™^^^^ '^^'^ of f^ up i„ a wdl-knor^'okJlrdtef rr'f"^"- down at him from a window of rhou'^''^ glooming the Familiars of the AstmnLi P Observatory, where the winking stars Rut h ^^^^ "'S'^^'^ °"^watch Mrs. W,lfe^r in the ffe ' p ernnri^'"^ °"' ^"^ "^ fident, and so repaired withToo I T' T""^ """"'^ ^«ti- and Mrs. John Rokes,^ h'/ '" ^"^ "PP^^'^e to Mr. breakfast was ready ' '°"'Se on Blackheath, where '5 11 "> V^ W^eddifig Day in Literature and Art A modest little cottage, but a bright and a fresh, and on the snowy table-cloth the prettiest of little breakfasts. In waiting, too, like an attendant summer breeze, a fluttering young damsel, all pink and ribbons, blushing as if she had been married instead of Bella, and yet asserting the triumph of her sex over both John and pa in an exulting and exalted flurry ; as who should say, " This is what you must all come to, gentlemen, when we choose to bring you to book." This same young damsel was Bella's serving-maid, and unto her did deliver a bunch of keys, commanding treasures in the way of drysaltery, groceries, jams, and pickles, the investigation of which made pastime after breakfast, when Bella declared that " pa must taste everything, John dear, or it will never be lucky," and when pa had all sorts of things poked into his mouth, and did n't quite know what to do with them when they were put there. Then they, all three, out for a charming ride, and for a charming stroll among he?th in bloom, and there behold the identical GrufF and Glum with his wooden legs hori- zontally disposed before him, apparently sitting meditating on the vicissitudes of life ! To whom said Bella in her light- hearted surprise : " Oh ! How do you do again ? What a dear old pensioner you are ! " To which GrufF and G'am responded that he see her married this morning, my Beauty, and that, if it war n't a liberty, he wished her ji and the fairest of fair wind and weather; further in a general way requesting to know what cheer? and scram- bling up on his two wooden legs to salute, hat in hand, ship- shape, with the gallantry of a man-of-warsman and a heart of oak. It was a pleasant sight, in the midst of the golden bloom, to see this salt old Gruff and Glum waving his shovel hat at Bella, while his thin white hair flowed free, as if she had once more launched him into blue water again. "You are a charming old pensioner," said Bella, " and I am so happy that I wish I could make you happy too." Answered Gruff and Glum, " Give me leave to kiss your hand, my Lovely, and it 's done ! " So it was done to the i6 Our Mutual Friend general contentment ; and if Cin^ff TT^^ the course of the aft rnoon sp^c '^J ^^'T ^'^ "'' '" not for want of the means fnfl ■ u"""" ^'■""» '^ ^=»s feelings of the InfanrBrdfof h"? ^'" ""'^^^^^' ^ ^^^ hold that dinner nfZ.tTrl'" f "'.'"' ^" '^^^^ ^'^ ^" pa and the lovely woman hid on^ V ''^f '''>' '^"^^'^ ^^^^'re sat between pa and jZ and d i 1 l'".' '"^'^^'^'^'' ' ^^^^^ equally, but ?elt it niesllrT i, ' ^^4:,,^"-^-- '"'^"^ d'nner) to remind pa that shl , t I ""^'"'"^'^ ^^fore longer. ^ ''^''^ ^^^ ^^^ ''-"^- Jovely woman no "a;;dr^;Sf;nin^^'-near,'..etur^ "^iSi^bUr^lfnr^fr^r-^-'' ■ to lose you." ^ ' '^ ^ '''""^^ht that I was going Yo:toC"thtt"7o:iro:r '-r ^""' p°°'- ^- p^^ will be as fond of you and \rt/, "'"^ '■^'^^'■"" ^^o sake and your own Lke 1 Lt"l ^^^ ^ ^ ^^^ ^^ httle pa ? Look here m I '' n 1? '" \ ^""^ X""' dear own lip, and then on p ' •,„, \t^ ^\ '^-^ «"g- on her and then on her husbaml's'. "" ^'^ "^" ^'P ^g^i"> "Now we are a partnership of three dear n. » The appearance of dinner here cut iS .^ 1 • of her disappearances : the more . ff% ? n t '''"" '" ^"^ put on under the auspices ofT! f'^''^''^ ^'^'^^^o it was clothes and a white cravat wh^'^T"^'''"^" '" ^'^^^ a clergyman ^han ^ ' JJ^:J""^^^ --^ -„,, ,.,^ mounted a great deal highef h' 'he 1 "T"^ ^" ^^^^ scaled the steeple Thi. A church; not to say with John RokeTmieh^ort f::t£t7'"'T '" ^^^^^ bent his head as thoutrh stonnJn "^ u P""^'' ^"^ wines, of receiving auric:;ia'r' oXfon" u£'''''''' ^'^'^^^ ^^f^vStd^-J^f--^ What a dinner I Sp^^J^^^/irCKr swim 17 >; II. 11 i,^ Wedding Day in hiterature and Art in the sea surely had swum their way to it, and if samples of the fishes of divers colours that made a sjieech in the Arabian Nights (quite a ministerial explanation in respect of cloudiness), and then jumped out of the frying-pan, were not to be recognised, it was only because they had all become of one hue by being cooked in batter among the whitebait. And the dishes being seasoned with Bliss — an article which they are sometimes out of at Greenwich — were of perfect flavour, and the golden drinks had been bottled in the golden ages and hoarding up their sparkles ever since. The best of it was, that Bella and John and the cherub had made a covenant that they would not reveal to mortal eyes any appearance whatever of being a wedding party. Now, the supervising dignitary, the Archbishop of Green- wich, knew this as well as if he had performed the nuptial ceremony. And the loftiness with which his Grace entered into their confidence without being invited, and insisted on a show of keeping the waiters out of it, was the crowning glory of the entertainment. There was an innocent young waiter of a slender form and with weakish legs, as yet unversed in the wiles of waiterhood, and but too evidently of a romantic tempera- ment, and deeply (if it were not too much to add, hopelessly) in love with some young female not aware of his merit. This guileless youth, descrying the position of affairs, which even his innocence could not mistake, limited his waiting to languishing admiringly against the sideboard when Bella didn't want anything, and swooping at her when she did. Him his Grace the Archbishop perpetually obstructed, cut- ting him out with his elbow in the moment of success, dis- patching him in degrading quest of melted butter, and when, by any chance, he got hold of any dish worth having, bereaving him of it, and ordered him to stand back. " Pray excuse him, madam," said the Archbishop, in a low stately voice ; " he is a very young man on liking, and we don't like him." This induced John Rokesmith to observe — by way of i8 be. V^^ Our Mutual Friend making the thing niore natural -uj^T \ so much more successful th;,., , r ' '"^ '"^'^^ t'l's is ^hat I think we mustkeep ^ V^ P-^^ ^""iversaries, Whereunto Bella reoS ""f /"'"'"'? ^""'versaries here." f"I attempt at looki /ttri lhf ">"^^^ '^^^ —- deed, r think so, Joh.f dear '" ^ ' '''' ^^^ ''^'^ ■ " 1"- -ugrLt.^^;;^'^2:t;i^frnr"^^"'--^'^ ent, and, staring a them e^,. ""^ ^'^ '"'"'^^'^'-^ pres- by^our fealty t'o believe 'thTlf' '" ">'' " ^ -" "P- Vou at wh.ch we can dispen^se w kh th ^'""' ^^^s now arri;ed J"ws who are not in our cTnH I "^"'"""'^ "^ '^^'^ fel- t-ed with complete di.nit; ut f"'^'' /"^ ^^"''^ '^^^'^ '•- from the misguided brai 7f ,t f ' "^'"'"S action issuing finding, by ilf-fortune, a piece o/"^' '"'i" "" '''^'"g- "^ 'n the lob-.es, now apVoa hed und^f l'^""?'' ^""^^"'^-- ^ finger-g .ss, and placed ifon Bd !' ^^'''\^'^''' ^^^"^^ '" Archbishop instantly ejected and ev ' '"^''' ''""d. The the^ thing was done. "^ '^ '"'^ "^^^"^'""nicated him ; but " I trust, madam," said hi« r^n you will have the kindnes to / ? ^turnmg alone, "that f its being the act of fv ll"" "' '" -'-deration B^MntjJt^-tg^^^^^ Her husband feelina hZ '"^ ^^m ' " one of those mys Zs' d :nn "''^ '' ^'^'^ P^" 'o demand dutifully obeyed ; sayi" jra'softe^r "• ^^"^'^ '-«' ^^e of ^concealment, - ^ ^' ^ '''^'^"^^ voice from her place " You remember how we tallr^^ u day, pa?" ^ ^« talked about the ships that " Yes, my dear." in all' th"eVhi;;r;f ?'"""' '^ ''"'- ^'^^^ ^^^-^ ^as no John 19 ' il i i I'' lit 1 IFedding Day in literature a?td Art " Not at all, my dear." "Oh, pa! Not at all?" " No, my dear. How can we tell what coming people are aboard the ships that may be sailing to us now from the unknown seas ? " Hclla remaining invisible and silent, her father remained at his dessert and wine until he remembered it was time for him to get home to HoUoway. " Though I positively can- not tear myself away," he cherubically added — "it would be a sin — without drinking to many, many happy returns of this most happy day." " Hear ! ten thousand times ! " cried John. " I fill my glass and my precious wife's." " Gentlemen," said the cherub, inaudibly addressing, in his Anglo-Saxon tendency to throw his feelings into the form of a speech, the boys down below, who were bidding against each other to put their heads in the mud for six- pence : "Gentlemen — and Bella and John — you will readily suppose that it is not :ti) intention to trouble you with many observations on the present occasion. You will also at once infer the nature and even the terms of the toast I am about to propose on the present occasion. Gentle- men — and Bella and John — the present occasion is an occasion fraught with feelings that I cannot trust myself to express. But, gentlemen — and Bella and John — for the part I have had in it, for the confidence you have placed in me, and for the affectionate good-nature and kindness with which you have determined not to find me in the way, when 1 am well aware that I cannot be otherwise than in it more or less, I do most heartily thank you. Gentlemen — and Bella and John — my love to you, and may we meet, as on the present occasion, on many future occasions ; that is to say, gentlemen — and Bella and John — on many happy returns of the present happy occasion." Having thus concluded his address, the amiable cherub embraced his daughter, and took his flight to the steamboat which was to convey him to London, and was then lying at the floating pier, doing its best to bump the same to bits. 20 0-^^ Mutual Friend .here .hey w^rc, loot , ,,''j'i„''"'Vh""f ■-' ™i""-. above. b oow . ^t him from the wharf '", approach ,he .,,e f^'lt dt'";!'-;'^!:''' 1" ''"™'" " Yes, my darling." ^ t'^'icefuJIy to whisper. pa"''"^ J beat you' much with that horrid little bonnet, ;; Nothing to speak of, my dear.'' -^K Ip.nchyourlegs, pa?" ^ Only nicely, ny pet." Piease,l^:er ^e^^^^S;;-' P=^\.^iease, pa, cry-ng to him, Bella besought imuth";^; "" ^'"' "^^ '^^''^ "er; m a manner so en'!""' ^'"'' ^^ "atural -ver grown up, aK,uthatTr^r '^" ^'^^ ^^^^ " «ut you do forgive me that n I ' " ' '^""'^^ '^ '« ' " you, pa ? " ^ "^ ""' "'"^ '^"^ everything else ; don't " Yes, my dearest." by ;^lin^;:;,^^r'-^- -gleets ;' Lord bless you ! No, my Life ! " „ [-"d-bye, dearest pa. (i.oj.b , ., Taker'"ht'e?'^'^''"^' -^^^^ ^- away, my dear John. ^^^^'^12 whic'h thr^' ^""' ''-y --^ ^-e- ^bem in its settfng And 'h ' ^'"^"""' '"" '''""'' ""^ ^°'* worth life and wonh del ' a r\''\^'y' '" ^'^'^ ^'^e song it is, that Oh, 't is love 't uV •' ^^,^' ^ ^''S^' °'d the world go round ! ' ^'''^' ' '^ ^°^^' that makes 21 JFcddifig Day in Literature a?id Art "LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT" By jean INGELOW IT 's we two, it 's we two for aye, All the world, and wc two, and Heaven be our stay ! Like a laverock in the lift, sing, C) bonny bride ! All the world was Adam once, with Eve by I. is side. What 's the world, my lass, my love ! — what can it do ? I am thine, and thou art mine; life is sweet and new. If the world have missed the mark, let it stand by; For we two have gotten leave, and once more will try. Like a laverock in the lift, sing, () bonny bride I It 's we two, it 's we two, happy side by side. Take a kiss from me, thy man; now the song begins; "All is made afresh for us, and the brave heart wins." When the darker days come, and no sun will shine, Thou shalt dry my tears, my lass, and I '11 dry thine. It 's we two, it 's we two, while the world 's away. Sitting by the golden sheaves on our wedding day. 22 Ktvy ■'-'lijOT agw a fw ^cvcfioaks From "SEVENOAKS"' ^-^ I G. HOLLAND y^^: 'i:i-]!-r f;. ^^^ "-'^ sc. "" the previous evening there had T ''"^' '"°'"'""' ^'"J ber of arrivals to fill everv r . ^^^ ^ '"*''-^'^-" "um- -th the two boys, had^'cre";„ f" k"' ^^^^^ ^^=''^-" ", Jm and Mr. iJenJdict hJ ^'^ '^"^ ^'^^■"'"g staire • K-ends of Miss Bu t rworth 7''' ''?'" N"'"''^^" N^c' --e. so as to be ready^ he c*:" ^'^^''''l^^ ^^"'^ ^a^l" V'llagers had thronged the noil ^ "^ "^ '^^ '"^'•"'■"K. ;^ann.ngand discussing he tr2 """i'" ""''' "''"''" '■t'''^ 'he event which had called?""' '"^ ^P'^^culating upon •"oved among them sm' .f '''T ^"^'cther. Ji^„ ^d "••'tared badinage with t ' Sr 'I' . .'"''"''"'■"t' ^^^^'^ good- appearance. went, though he i!'''^ . '""'"^'««' «" ^a as four that he felt v^ry rn^eh a h r r ''^^^'^'' ^"^'•- I^al- "I took a good a'im,"tid h^' u '^'"^^ ^^ ^-t moos . but the stump was on^asy ^ 'a Jl'" fT'^^ ^ «^""'P» J" when I obsarved the mo„ ' f" ^ '''^^^'-'^ awav, ^eet up a tree, with my gunTn th V''^'''^''"'' ^ ^^« twenty find me settin' on the pardon-" "l" '':?^' ^"' ''^ they don'^ H;= had bee,, pu„uiSg game '^S„lr''°""""» ''-™^- that anraced his chafe,^som«i,„e° ,?""'' " ""^ " ^ear ali the t,me it was Miss Rn,. ""'' a moose, but back, with robes and n'bbo^ "aS ' '''"^ ^"^ '""k'^'g '■•»«, unt,l he shot and k,^ h t 'I r°"^' '^' ^"''^^ „ ■ *■ fr.„.,.. .f „„,„ ., ., . • ""'' ""'" l-e woke in a 23 } Wedding Day in Literature and Art great convulsion of despair, to hear the singing of the early birds and to the realisation of the fact that his days (if bachelor life were counted. Mr. Benedict, with his restored boy in his arms, occupied the room next to his, a door opening between them. Moth were awake, and were busy with their whispered confi- dences, when they became aware that jim was roused and on his feet. In a huge bundle on the table lay Jim's wed- ding garments, which he eyed from time to time as he busied himself at his bath. " Won't ye be a purty bird with them feathers on ! This makin' crows into bobolinks '11 do for oncet, but, my ! won't them things spin when I git into the woods agin ? " Benedict and Har-y knew Jim's habit and the measure of excitement that was upon him, and lay still, expecting to be amused by his soliloquies. Soon thcv heard him say, — " Oh, lay down, lay down, lay doivu^ ye misable old mop ! " It was an expression of impatience and disgust. " What 's the matter, Jim ? " Mr. Benedict called, "Here's my har," responded Jim, "actin' as if it was a piece of woods or a haylot, an' there ain't no lodgin' it with nothin' short of a harricane. I 'vc a good mind to git it shingled and san'-papered." Then shifting his address to the object of his care and anxiety, he went on, — " Oh, stick up, stick up, if you want to ! Don't lay down on my 'count. P'r'.ips you want to see what's gpin' on. P'r'aps ye 're goin' to stand up with me. P'r'aps ye want to skeer somebody's bosses. If 1 did n't look no better nor you, I sh'd want to lay low ; an' if I 'd 'a' slep' as poor as ye dui last night, I 'd lop down in the first bed o' bear's grease I could find. Ha'int ye got no manners ? " This was too much for Harry, who, in his happy mood, burst into the merriest laughter. This furnished Jim with just the apology he wanted for a4 in i ' ■j I i . Seven oaks a frolic, aiul rushing into the adjoining bedroom, he pulled Harry from his bed, seated him on the top of his head, and marched with him struggling and laughing about the room. After he had performed sundry acrobatic feats with him, he carried him back to his bed. Then he returned to his room, and entered seriously upon the task of array- ing himself in his wedding attire. To get on his collar and necktie properly, he was obliged to call for Mr. Benedict's assistance. Jim was already getting red in the face. "What on earth folks want to tie theirselvcs up in this way for in hot weather is more nor I know," he said. " How do ye s'pose them Mormons live, as is doin' this every three days ? " Jim asked this question with his nose in the air, patiently waiting the result of Mr. Benedict's manipulations at his throat. When \\r could speak again he added, — "I vow, if I was doin' a big business in this line I'd git some tin things, an' have 'em soddered on, an' sleep in 'cm." ^ This sent Harry into another giggle, and, with many soliloquies and much merriment, the dressing in both rooms went on, until in Jim's room all became still. When Benedict and his boy had completed their toilet, they looked in upon Jim, and found him dressed and seated upon his trunk. "Good-morning, Mr. Fenton," said Benedict, cheerfully. Jim, who had been in deep thought, looked up, and said, — " Do yc kncvv that that don't seem so queer to me as it used to? It seems all right fur pertickler friends to call me Jim, but clo'cs is what puts the Mister into a man. I felt it comin' when I looked into the glass. ... I never knowed exactly where the Mister come from afore. Ye have to be measured fo't. A pair o' shears, an' a needle an' thread, an' a hot goose is what changes a man into Mister. It's a nice thing to lind out, but it's uncomf'table." as Wedding Day in Literature and A rt I How long Jim would have Indulged in his philosophy of the power of dress had he not been disturbed will never be known, for at this moment Mr. Balfour knocked at his door and was admitted. Sam Yates followed, and both looked Jim over and pronounced him perfect. Even these familiar friends felt the power of dress, and treated Jim in a way to which he had been unaccustomed. The stal- wart figure, developed in every muscle, and becomingly draped, was well calculated to excite their admiration. 1 he refractory hair, which had given its possessor so much trouble, simply made his head impressive and picturesque 1 here was a man before them — humane, brave, bright original. All he wanted was culture. Physical and meni tal endowments were in excess, and the two men trained m the schools had learned to love — almost to revere him Until he spoke, they did not feel at home with him in his new disguise. They all descended to breakfast together. Jim was quiet under the feeling that his clothes were an unnatural expression of himself, and that his words would make them a mockery He was awed, too, by the presence of Mrs. iJalfour, who met him at the table for the first time in her life. The sharp-eyed Yankee girls who waited at the meal were very much devoted to Jim, who was ashamed to receive so much attention. On the whole, it was the most uncomfortable breakfast he had ever eaten; but his eyes were quick to see all that was done, for he was about to open a hotel, and wished particularly to learn the details or the table service. There was great excitement, too, at the parsonage that morning. The Misses Snow were stirred by the romance of the occasion. They had little enough of this element in their hves, and were disposed to make the most of it when It came. The eldest had been invited to accompany the bride to Number Nine, and spend a i^^ weeks with her there. As this was accounted a great privilege by the two younger sisters, they quietly shelved her, and told her that they were to have their own way at home ; so Miss Snow 26 ■ ■ '■'*-''"~*^&--*.N;tJiirTi-i;.»,-,i*siWjj| Sevc7ioaki became ornamental aiid critical. Miss Butiervvorth had spent the night with her, and they talked like a pair of school-g.rls until the small hours of the morning: The two younger girls had slept together, and discussed at length the duties of their respective offices. One was to do the brides hair and act as the general supervisor of her dress, the other was to arrange the flowers and take care of the guests. Miss Buttcrworth's hair was not beautiful, and how It was to be made the most of, was the great question that agitated the hair-dresser. All the possibilities of braid and plait and curl were canvassed. If she only had a switch, a great triumph could be achieved ; but she had none and, what was worse, would have none. A neigh- bour had sent in a potted white rose, full of buds and bloom, and over this the sisters quarrelled. The hair would not be complete vithout the roses, and the table would look "shameful '' if the pot did not stand upon it unshorn of a charm. The hair-dresser proposed that the stems which she was bent on despoiling should have some artificial roses tied t nom, but the disgraceful project was rejected with scor 5 hey wrangled over the dear little rose-bush and Its Luiden until they went to sleep, — one to dream that Miss Butterworth had risen in the morning with a new head ot hair that reached to her knee, in whose luxuriance she could revel with interminable delight ; and the other that the house was filled with roses, - that they sprouted out of the walls, fluttered with beads of dew against the win- dows, strewed the floor and filled the air with odour. Miss Butterworth was not to step out of the room — not to be seen by any mortal eye— until she should come forth as a bride. Miss Snow was summarily expelled from the apartment, and only permitted to bring in Miss Butter- worth s breakfast, while her self-appointed lady's-maid did ner hair, and draped her in her new gray silk. « Make just as big a fool of me, my dear, as you choose," said the prospective bride to the fussy little girl who fluttered about her. "It's only for a day and I don't care. ' 27 \ !i Ml U^eddiiig Day in Literature and Art k I Such patient manipulation, such sudden retiring for the study of effects, such delicious little experiments with a curl, such shifting of hairpins, such dainty adjustments of ruffles and frills as were indulged in in that little room, can only be imagined by the sex familiar with them. And then, a the midst of it all, came a scream of delight that stoppel everything. Mrs. Balfour had sent in a great box full of the most exquisite flowers, which she had brought all the way from the city. The youngest Miss Snow was wild with her new wealth, and there were roses for Miss Butterworth's hair, and her throat, and a bouquet for her hand. And after this came wonderful accessions to the refreshment table. Cake, with Miss Butterworth's initials ; tarts, marked « Number Nine," and Charlotte de Russe, with a «B" and an «F " hopelessly twisted together in a monogram. The most excited exclamations reached Miss Butterworth's ears in her imprisonment, " Goodness, gracious me ! " " If there isn't another cake as big as a flour-barrel ! " "Tell your mother she's an angel. She's coming down to help us eat it, I hope." "Just look at this basket of little cakes! I was saying to mother this minute that that was all we wanted." So the good things came, and the cheerful givers went, and Miss Butterworth took an occasional sip at her coffee' with a huge napkin at her throat, and tears in her eyes, not drawn forth by the delicate tortures in progress upon her person. She thought of her weary years of service, her watchings by sick-beds, her ministry to the poor, her 'long loneliness, and acknowledged to herself that her reward had come. To be so loved and petted and cared for and waited upon, was payment for every sacrifice and every service, and she felt that she and the world were at quits. Before the finishing touches to her toilet were given, there was a tumult at the door. She could hear nevJ voices. The guests were arriving. She heard laughter and merry greetings ; and still they poured in, as if they 28 tl Sevenoaks and had come .n a procession. Then there was a hush fol owed by the sound of a carnage, the letting down of step and a umversal murmur. Jim had arrived, with Mr and Mrs. Balfour and the boys. They had had'gre cnffial y 'n gettmg hun ,nto the one hackney coach which the vii la'e pc^^ssed, on account of his wishto ride with thTS^ % ' a fbller as he knowed; " but he was overruled by Mr ' Balfour who, o„ alighting, took his arm. He came up 1^L^"f\ """^ ^""'""^ '" '^' ^-- ->d eyes o " tho e ghered about the door and clustered at the windows. In h.s wedding dress he was the best figure in the crowd and many were the exclamations of feminine admiration ' On entenng the door, he looked about him, saw the well-dressed and expectant company, the dainty baskets of room, all the preparations for his day of happiness, but he tho^e^irirnea?'"^ ^°^''^"^' ^"^ '"'-^"-' ''^^ ^ " Well, parson, where 's the little woman ?» he said at Mi' "«'.:"" ': u""^!^'' ^" ^^^'-^ '^^ startling qu^sti'on Miss Butterworth heard him and laughed "Just hear him ! " she exclaimed to the busy girl, whose work was now hurrying to a close. « If he does'n' astc"! lo thi ,k i^' ?. ^' ^''' •^^"SN I shall be mistaken. J The Idea.'' ' " ^' '■''^''"'^" ^'^'"S" ^^^^ ^^'^ '^ ' Miss Snow, in the general character of outside manager :; on^randra-r^" ^' ''' '''^' ''''''' '^ j'-'^ ^^ " Oh, Mr. Fenton ! " "Jest call me Jim." ';No, no, I won't. Now, Mr. Fenton, really I you can t see her until she is ready." ^ • you " Oh, can't I [ " and Jim smiled. th.!^'t ^r^^ ^'"^ 'u" impression, prevalent among women, that a bridegroom has no rights so long as they can keep 29 1Vcddi?ig Day in Literature a?id Art him out of them, and that it is their privilege to fight him up to the last moment. " Now, really, Mr. Fenton, you must be patient," she said in a whisper. "She is quite delicate this morning, and she 's going to look so pretty that you '11 hardly know her." ^ "Well," said Jim, "if you've got a ticket into the place whar she 's stoppin', tell her that kingdom-come is here an' waitin'." A ripple of laughter went round the circle, and Jim, finding the room getting a little close, beckoned Mr. Snow out of doors. Taking him aside and removing his hat, he said, — " Parson, do you see my har ? " " I do," responded the minister, good-naturedly. "That riz last night," said Jim, solemnly. " Is it possible ? " and Mr. Snow looked at the intract- able pile with genuine concern. " Yes, riz in a dream. I thought I 'd shot 'er. I was follcrin' 'er all night. Sometimes she was one thing and sometimes she was another, but I drew a bead on 'er an' down she went, an' up come my har quicker nor lightnin'. I don't s'posc it looks very purty, but I can't help it." " Have you tried anything on it ? " inquired Mr. Snow, with a puzzled look. "Yis, everything but a hot flat-iron, an' I 'm a little afraid o' that. If wust comes to wust, it '11 have to be did, though. It may warm up my old brains a little, but if my har is well sprinkled an' the thing is handled lively, it '11 pay for tryin'." The perfect candour and coolness of Jim's manner were too much for the unsuspicious spirit of the minister, who thought it all very strange. He had heard of such things, but this was the first instance he had ever seen. " Parson," said Jim, changing the topic, " what 's the damage for the sort o' thing ye 're drivin' at this mornin' ? " « The what ? " 30 Sevenoaki .',' v" •";" '"™" 'h<; marriage fee ? " ' '''^ ^^ole they do it in Se;eno'Ls ' '" ^f' ^"^ '^"^ ^he devil " Mr K.,,; "'°''^' "^'^ I know." ^^y- i'enton, excuse me' " said lUr c "but I am not accustom^.!'. I .^'^- .^"o^^ colouring, kind." accustomed to heanng language of that had'malVn'^^kr'". f J'"' ^''? ^^ ^^ ^^^e that he devil more no Id; A " 71 " . r"''^^ ^""^'^'^ ^« the bein' I 'm ca.el ss witlf- I?/? ' '^'t ^"' ^"* '"^ ^'^^ slingin' his nam. rou^ d nor I I. t l-T^^ "" '"^''^ o' Mr. Snow was ohHrcd ^^ I u '?'"" ^" ^'^^ boot." who had gathered abSh. ^^•^' ?•'' ''"'^^ ^°^^" others. Then Mis. W cle o"-'""^ - ' "'"^ ''°""- and gave a roguish gaTc at im A."'."''- ^° ''^^ ^^^''- was full, and the litde yard waV^ull fnH i' '""' ^"^^ '^""^^ of boys at the gate. Mr. s7ow to'ok TimT T ' '^^"^ led him in. Thcv Dressed X u u "^ ^ ^>' ^^^ ^^"^ and Miss Snow rnakl^g'^: ;^ 7,t ^ ^f'--^. ^ ^^e door, trmmphal progress,%hey'went S.h the"; '" ' '"."/ appeared m the apartrient whe "fhe u n^rw '^' " flushed an expectant, waited their arrival ""''"' It would be hard to tell which was Vhl wnicn was the more surprised o » /i . [I \i Weddiftg Day in LA t era Hire and Art as they were confronted by the meeting. Dress had wrought its miracle upon both of them, and they hardly knew each other. " Well, little woman, how fare yc ? " said Jim ; and he advanced, and took her checks tenderly between his rough hands and kissed her. " Oh, don't ! Mr. Kenton ! You Ml muss her hair ! " ex- claimed the nervous little lady's-maid of the morning, danc- ing about the object of her delightful toils and anxieties, and readjusting a rose, and pulling out the fold of a ruffle. " A purty job ye 'vc made on 't ! The little woman '11 never look so nice again," said Jim. " Perhaps I shall — when I 'm married again," said Miss Buttcrworth, looking up into Jim s eyes and laughing. " Now, ain't that sassy ! " exclaimed Jim, in a burst of admiration. " That 's what took me the first time I seen 'er." Then Miss Snow Number Two came in, and said it really was time for the ceremony to begin. Such a job as she had had in seating people ! Oh, the mysteries of that little room ! How the people outside wondered what was going on there ! How the girls inside rejoiced in their official privileges ! Miss Snow took Jim by the button-hole, — " Mr. Fcnton, you must take Miss Butterworth on your arm, you know, and lead her in front of the sofa, and turn around and face father, and then do just what he tells you, and remember that there 's nothing for you to say." The truth was, they were all afraid that Jim would not be able to hold his tongue. " Arc we all ready \ " inquired Mr. Snow, in a pleasant official tone. All were ready; and then Mr. Snow, going out with a book in his hand, was followed by Jim anc' his bride, the little pr cssion being completed by the three Misses Snow, who, with a great deal of care upon their faces, slipped out of the door, one after another, like three white doves from a window. Mr. Snow took his position, the pair 32 JJ^sL Sevenoaks cx- LlSS ^or ^mT^' T^ '^''"V^"^ '^' ^hree Misses Sncvv sup- ported M.ss Huttcrworth as impromptu bridesmaids. It wa^^^an .mprcss.vc tableau, and whe.> the good pastor said, search of f'^' " ?ru^ '^" "'^''^''" '^"'^■^' ^' P-"^" i' search of a subjecc could have asked for nothing better there r.','' 'I '''"'' "^^'' »:'''>'"'' ''^"' P^^'"'' '"M"ircd if there we.e any known obstacles to the union of the pair before hmi n, the bonds of holy matrimony, and bade a objectors to speak then, or for ever after hold their peace J.m looked around with a defiant air, as if he woul ^kj to see the man who would respond to the call. No one d-d respond, and the ceremoi.y proceeded. James," said Mr. Snow. " Jest call me — " Mi^'snrw"™''^'^'"'^^^'' J'-"'^ ^'^^ '-^"d be recalled mid pataTe.-^ "^"""'"" '" ""^' '" ^'-^ ^'^ «- in "James," the pastor repeated, and then went on to ask h.m n, accordance with the simple forn, of his sectrwietl er he took the woman whom he was holding by the hand to be h,s lawful and wedded wife, to be lovtd and cheWshed m s.ckness and health, in prosperity and adversity, ctat, to her, and to her only. ^ ^ "Parson," said Jim, "that 's jest what I 'm here for." said it"ir> '"' '"" ^ ''"^'^ '^ ^"y "^her man had charact'e^hatT.r '''""^; "^^ earnest, and so much in characte., that hardly a sm.le crossed a face that fronted The " Keziah " was questioned in the usual form and bowed her response, and Jim and the little womaT were declared to be one. « What God hath joined together let not man put asunder." ^ iofe,ttner, And then Mr. Snow raised his white hands ajr-iin nnH pronounced a formal benediction. There was a^*^:,'.'' of awkwardness, but soon the pastor advanced wTh hi congratulafons, and Mrs. Snow^ame up, and t^e h.t M.sses Snow and the Balfours and the neighbours and there were k.sses and hand-shakings and |ood wLh^ •In Wedding Day in Lit era Hire a?id Art Jim beamed around upon the fluttering and chattering group lilcc a great, good-natured mastitf upon a playful collection of silken spaniels and smart terriers. It was the proud(,'St moment of his life. Even when- standing on the cupola of his hotel, surveying his achievements and count- ing his possessions, he had never felt the thrill which moved him then. The little woman was his, and his for ever. His manhood had received thi- highest public recog- nition, and he was as happy as if it had been the imposition of a crown. "Ye made purty solemn business on 't, Parson," said Jim. "It's a very important step, Mr. Fcnton," responded the clergyman. « Step ! " exclaimed Jim. " That 's no name for 't ; it's a whole trip. But I sh'll dt) it. When I said it I meaned it. I sh'll take care o' the little woman, an' atween you an' I, Parson, it 's about the best thing as a man can do. Takin' care of a woman is the natcral thing for a man, an' no man ain't much as does n't do it, an' glad o' the job." The capacity of a country assembly for cakes, pics, and lemonade is something quite unique, especially at a morn- ing festival. If the table groaned at the beginning, it sighed at the close. The abundance that asserted itself in piles of dainties was left a wreck. It faded away like a bank of snow before a drift of southern vapour. Jim, foragii.g among the solids, found a mince-pie, to which he devoted himself. " This is the sort o' thing as will stan' by a man in trouble," said he, with a huge piece in his hand. Then, with a basket of cake, he vanished from the house, and distributed his burden among the boys at the gate. " Boys, I know ye 're hungry, 'cause ye 'vc left yer breakfast on yer faces. Now git this in afore it rains." The boys did not stand on the order of the service, but helped themselves greedily, and left his basket empty in a twinkling. 34 _____ Sevenoaks V^^^ natcr," said Jim, looking at them sym- t^V t :. h r "'T^'^r """ •'"' ''-vvnwhc-n they •cm I'M 1 ' '?''^' '"■' ''""^^'' ^^'"^'^"' ^"tt.n- into em, I 1 c w.llu.' to bet somethin' that their legs is holl " a glass of lemonade, and when he returned his ow h .1 L of this niriiifr.. r • . 1 ' I u .1 Dtcn J resident Kiis countrv. I ain't used to yer wavs huf r l,„ wKen I m . ,,, „ ,., ^,^„ th^little rml;;; is'tit S k.Jh 7 """," '■'"'''''"8 "f l"'"J« »'"! /fluttering I'nd Nino. tA^ :';iT,*f r'''^"^ '" N-"'- a..d Jim was in posse^iL^^Ti's h, ^"''"T'r^irM"' pleasant and stin.ulating a change in Z fife. ''^^■'' '" 35 IVedding Day in Literature and Art ' I help, released himself from the collar and cravat that tor- ineiited him and once more breathed freely. On they sped, shouting to t)ne another from carriage to carriage, and Mike Conlin's humble house was reached in a two hours' drive. There was chaffing at the door and romping among the trees while the horses were refreshed, and then they pushed on again with such speed as was possible with poorer roads ami soberer horses- and two hours before sunset they were at the river. 'I le little woman had en- joyed the drive. When she found that she had cut loose from her old life, and was entering upt)n one unknown and untried, in pleasant companionship, she was thoroughly happy. It was all like a fairy story ; and there before her rolled the beautiful river, and, waiting on the shore, were the trunks and remnants of baggage that had been staited for their destination before daylight, and the gui •"" »- --e ,„ forbid ,he 0„ce,i. M lifted i,s hand, and .oved its iips, bu. was As if an iron will had mastpreH f\^^ fl„ »• • '°'" teth "^ "™" '''■^^ '*-^'*. '"e Captain of "'"^^'FUt'.-rr™'^ "-"• ^^ -'" -^* motion, "".he'Sin^'^ ^'"' "-— long ha.e I cherished I hav^e^^been cruel and hard, bu, now, .hank God! it i» """h;? sSh^' """" '^^^ '-»^^ ^^ "■= veins of Ne"ver'7,; ^'V" "■"^"•' '"" "" '•"'<' "' «»n">g f"r error J<.h"nl"SL'- '""" ^'^ ^"^» «""<"^'- "- '"-"of ''""brrr"" "^ ''"''^«™"'^ "L« an be forgo„en ^" ::d dtti.°" '™"''^'"''" """ •"- ^'"" g™- older --<■ ■>"-"' -e bridal 42 A Golden IVedding I From "A GOLDEN WEDDING "» Bv RUTH McENERY STUART /^N Sabbath morning following this Br'cr Hrown an- W nounccd from the pulpit that at five o'clock on that same afternoon, immcdiatclv after the closing exer- cises of Conference, then in session, there would take place in the church a golden wedding, to which all were cor- dially mv.ted This was all. He refused further explam- tion, but laughingly bade the curious "come and sec " Needless to say, the church was crowded to overflowing for curiosity ran high, both as to the individuals concerned and the exact nature of the promised ceremony. The expectant interest of the waiting congregation proved in- fectious, and after closing of Conference the dozen or more of ministers present remained, to a man, curious to witness an occasion so rare as a golden wedding. After a shor: interval of some disorder, during which ministers and people engaged in social conversation, laueh- uigly surmising as to who the bridal party should be a stir at the door announced their approach. Had not their dress labelled them as 'the heroes of the hour It would have been impossible, so great was the crowd for them to have made their way up the aisle. 1 he throng, pressing to right and left, gave way, how- ever and arm in arm the old couple, obeying orders, passed up the middle aisle and took their stand before the pulpit. 1 he groom wore his old broadcloth suit, — the very one by the way, in which he had been married to this same woman a nameless number of years ago. The bride modestly attired in an old white muslin, might have escaped special notice in a crowd, except for a sniall 1 From ^^AGoldtn Wedding," pMhhtd by Harper (^ Brothen. 43 .1 II J^^^lJ^^iyJ^i literature and ylrt spray of natural orange flowers which she wore i.pcn her loreliead. ' It is a pity to write it, hut there was a titter of mirth .1 suppressed, unworthy the dignity of the oeeasi.ui or the plaee, as tlie old pair tottered up the aisle. Mrother Mrown had stepped down before the pulpit and was ready to rceeive them. I\.rcciving instinetively that nis congregation was not in toueh with the spirit of the oeeasion, he won their attention and deference by a short iuul earnest prayer; then lowering his voice, addressed them solemnly as follows: — " My deah hreilren and sistern in tie I.ord, you see befo' you a aged couple, bofe o' whom an' each one o' which is no stranger ter you all — IJr'u- Alexander 'I'hormson, a man m good an' reg'lar standin' in de chu'ch, an' Sister Ucely Carrett, lakwisely respected an' respectable 'mon^st de sisterhood fur stiddy-goin' piety. It is a fac' well known ter dis cor.igergatiom dat dese two pussons is been livin' ■K-x do ter one-'n'er fin- de space o' six mont's cr sech a matter, save an' exceptin' sech times as Sister (larrett is beeii Iivm' out at service; an' when I 'f(,rm you o' de fac' cat dee chums dat dee was married ter one-'n'er long 'fo' de wah, an' am't reconnise one-'n'er tell now, 't ain't fur you ter 'spute dey words, 'ca/.e when you cas'es yo' eyes upon 'em now, as dee stan' heah to-day; you can easy con- ceive o de fac' dat dc lan'marks by which dec could o' been rcconmscd is well-nigh washed away by de surgin' o' dc nver o' tunc. I3ec claims dat dec was jincd in dc holy instate o' matrermony in d.» ole days, time dee was yong an arter meanderin' roun' d • worl', eas' an' wcs', norf an' souf, norfcas' an' norfwes', so ter speak ter all p'ints )' de cumpositiom, dec suddently reconnise one-'n'er, an' now while^ dec ain't a-ca'culatin' ter ketch up wid all de yeahs what s gone, dee 'low dat dee crave ter come back ter de startm'-p'int an' start fresh, han' in han'. By de blessin' o Ciord, when dee 'skivered one-'n'er, dee was bofe free- handed an' free-hearted; an' now wid a free han' dee craves ter jmc ban's ag'in, an' wid a free heart dee craves 44 A Golden IFcddin^ tcr jiiic licai ts (.mi- ,„„• ; an' d di-y lu-aits is bofV turiu-d (iat-a-way, who gwiiic say lic word tci IhiuIct 'cm ? V{ anyhoidy got a word ag'ii. it, k-t 'ini speak now cr flsc-, as df Hihlf say, fo' ever hoi' 'is peace." He hesitated, easting his eye over the crowd, upon which the silence of attentive listening had fallen. " Hit 's true," he resumed, " dis aged couple is well on in yeahs, an' look lak dev journey is nios' done ; hut ef dee got de eour'gc ter teck han's fur de las' n.ile o' de road, tam't fur de lacks o' us ter r/m-our'ge 'cm ! An' when I looks at (lis o-ole man, ripe in yeahs, as de hook say, an' cripit an' failin' in steps, an' I know dey 's a woman what 's wdlm ter stan' up an' teck de 'spornserhility o' follerin' dat man clean tell 'e gits ter de gate o' de kingdoni, I hiess dc Lord an' say, dat woman got coiir'ge^ sho ! She is honi inter de light, 'ca/c hit would he a dark journey fur de onconverted ! An' when my eyes pass ter de bride — 'tam't no use fur me ter specify — hut when my eyes pass ter dc bride what stan's hefo' me now, a-Ieanin' fon'ly o„ de arm o' de groom— dat same groom what done picked an choosed 'er out, away back yonder time o' de fallin' o' de stars — 't ain't no use fur me ter specify, but I raises my eyes tcr Heaven an' I say, Hless (Jord f\ir cour'ge ' De bride ain't show no more cour'ge 'n dc groom is. Hless Gord fur a brave heart, an' a kin' heart, an' a true heart '" " mmrfore," he continued, « in de face o' de fac's an' in de presence o' you all, I pernouncc 'cm once mo' man andivije ! Turning to the groom, he added, lowering his voice " I am t say s'lute yo' bride, 'caze I know she done been s luted on de former 'casiom ; howsomcver, ef you desires ter new yo' salutatiom 'fo' de worl',you is free tcr do so." 1 he old man bent his head and kissed the lips of his old wife. 1 his was taken as the usual signal for congratula- tions, and the congregation began to move forward. With a wave of his arm, however, the minister indicated that the golden wedding was not yet over. Placing bride and groom in chairs within the chancel, he turned again to the con- 45 IFcdding Day in Literature a?i(l Art grcgation. A change of tone announced that he was now approaching a new branch of" the subject. " 1 guv out diN n\awninV' he began, " dat dis was gwiiie tcr be a gnliUn ivrM'iff* an' what is 1 mean, my bieddern ? Is 1 mean d.a de pr,-ih .jrr was rich ? No, you know I ain't. Is ' mca" (lit c-ha!,vjd sisti It was pretty, the generous spirit of this most ingenuous and sympathetic people. The (jUectioji was the large ever known. 46 11 < Art IS now < gwijic •lUlcrn ? know 1 i know o, you df sig- :iom o' o Stan' Amen ! ' An' Ic wtxl- blcegc ut. In ol', but lie juty : small what I nont's, 'idder's ine do: i' we'll ability, bat dee ng an' )ody of lid an- enuous I ^ 5 if! 5 ^ T6c Golden IFcdritNg From " rill<: (.OLDKN \VI , DOING " » Bv WILL CARLF/rON TKN mile- vv.uul an' hramblc, and tlircr n.ilc lidd an' ik'w, \n the- roM smile, of nu.rninjr, I walknl, to „,a.ry yen, ; No horse iKul I Inu n.y vvislus - no pilot In.t a star ; Hut my boyish heart it fancied it heard you fron, afar. So throngh the woods [ hurried, an' through the ^rass an' "^'"Ihrl^;'"''''"''"^'''""'^^^^ Things ne\-r Infore nor after do so a man rejoice As on the day he marries the woman of his choice I And then our cou.,trv wedding — brimful o' grief an' glee With every o.,e a-pettin' an' jokin' you an' nVe ; ' done "'"'' """"' "'"' ''""'■' '^''^'■' "' '' «'^'"ctimes has When^clouds have chased each other across the summer There was your good old father dressed up in weddin' shape, With all the homespun finery that he could rake an' scrape ; And your dear-hearted mother, the sunlight of whose smile bhone through the showers of tear-drops that stormed her face the while; Also your sisters an' brothers who hardiv seemed to know How they could scare up courage to let their sister go ; 1 From «' Farm F««WA," puhlhhcd hy Harper (sf Brothers 47 1\ i I: [! IVedding Day in Literature and A, rt An' cousins an' school-house comrades, dressed up in mcetin' trim, ' With one of them a-sulkin' because it was n't him ; An' there was the good old parson, his neck all dressed in white, A hunch o' texts iii his left eye, a hymn-book in his right; A.U1 the parson s v.rgin daughter, plain an' severely pure. Who hoped we should be happy, but wasn't exactly sure; And there was the victuals, seasoned with kind regards an' And holly-wreaths with breastpins of rubies, up above- An there was my heart a-wo,iderin' as how such things could be, ° And there was all the world before us, and there was you and me. ■ ^ 48 ^^Rf 'f^fi>*"'f9MuifiSSmttaL The Bride of J .ammermoor From "THE BR1D|/ qf LAMMl.R- MOOR" By sir WALTER SCOTT ^HE morning dawned hright and cheerily. The M^^'i^rs. i\ot only the relations of Sir Williim Ashton, and the still more dignified connections o hi lady, together w.th the nun,erous kinsmen and a les of the brdegroom, were present npon this joyful cc^emo v galant^ mounted arrayed, and capariined, hu TZ' every Preshytenan family of distinctiln,, withi.', Hfty c made a point of attendance upon an occasion wh ch w s' o^nsidered as^g.ving a sort of triumph over the M , i"- A , in the person of his kinsman. Splendid re e^ ^orth betwixt her brother Henry and her mothrM- H ga.ety of the preceding day had given w^I^op slncl^ of melancholy, which, however, did not misbecame .n :r-io-mrr.,-^ mti^rt : ""'; ^?^'« " '^"'•^^' ^''- VVilliam^Aslno^a man ot peace and ot form, censured his son Menrv ^ ,r having begirt himself with a military swoxl of ■ re oste ous length, belonging to his brother, Colond ^shi:: . '^"■ noJ/r '""'' '''T ^^ ^^-^'P^^'V he said, "upon such a K ceful occasion, why did you not use the sh'ort poniard sent from Kdinburgh on purpose ? " F"'iiaiu The boy vindicated himself, by saying it was lost. 4 49 : I M I ' fi Wedding Day in Literature a7id Art " You put it out of the way yourself, I suppose," said his father, " out of ambition to wear that preposterous thing, which might have served Sir William Wallace. But never mind, get to horse now, and take care of your sister." ^ The boy did so, and was placed in the centre of the gallant train. At the time he was too full of his own appearance, his sword, his laced cloak, his feathered hat, and his managed horse, to pay much regard to anything' else; but he afterward remembered to the hour of his death, that when the hand of his sister, by which she sup- ported herself on the pillion behind him, touched his own, it felt as wet and cold as sepulchral marble. Glancing wide over hill and dale, the fair bridal proces- sion at last reached the parish church, which they nearly filled; for, besides domestics, above a hundred gemlemen and ladies were present upon the occasion. The marriage ceremony was performed according to the ritiis of the Presbyterian persuasion, to which Bucklaw of late had judged it proper to conform. On the outside of the church a liberal dole was distrib- uted to the poor of the neighbouring parishes, under the direction of Johnny Mortheuch, who had lately been pro- moted from his desolate quarters at the Hermitage, to fill the more eligible situation of sexton at the parish church of Ravenswood. Dame Gourlay, with two of her contem- poraries, the same who assisted at Alice's late wake, seated apart upon a flat monument, or through-stanc^ f,atc enviously comparing the shares which had bec;i allotted to them in dividing the dole. "Johnny Mortheuch," said Annie Winnie, « might hae minded auld lang syne, and thought of his auld kimmers, for as braw as he is with his new black coat. I hae gotten but five herring instead o' sax, and this disna look like a gude saxpennys, and I dare say this bit morsel o' beef is an unce lighter than ony that 's been dealt round ; and it 's a bit o' the tenony hough, mair by token, that yours, Ma^ 50 li aymuii. ' niui. said ' ffl (f-'ilims. m , >**v* ,-. I- , . I m fi y" ■1..-1 ^^}t%fc*,rf.'^^J!^^-.«'.if.-,'«-t>^.,^,t, , >'*»^»' 1 he Bride of Lammermoor (( _ " Mine, quo' she ? " mumi ied the paralytic hag, « mine IS hah banes, I trow. If gr.t folk gie poor bodies onythinsr for coming to their weddings and burials, it suld be some- thing that wad do them gude, 1 think." " Their gifts," said Ailsie Gouriay, « arc dealt for nae love of us — nor out of respect for whether we feed or starve. They wad gie us whinstanes for loaves, if it would serve their ain vanity, and yet they expect us to be as grateful as they ca' ii, as if they served us for true love and liking." "And that's truly said," answered her companion. "But, Ailsie Gouriay, ye 're the auldest o' us three, did ye ever see a mair grand bridal ? " " I winna say that I have," answered the hag ; " but I think soon to see as braw a burial." "And that wad please me as weel," said Annie Winnie; for there 's as large a dole, and folk are no obliged to girn and laugh, and mak murgeons, and wish joy to these helhcat quality, that lord it ower us like brute beasts. I like to pack the dead-dole in my lap, and rin ower my auld rhyme. " ♦ My loaf in my lap, my penny in my purse, Tiioii art ne'er the better, and I 'm ne'er the worse.' " " That 's right, Annie," said the paralytic woman ; « God send us a green Yule and a fat kirkyard ! " " But I wad like to ken, Luckie Gouriay, for ye 're the auldcst and wisest amang us, whilk o' these revellers' turns It will be to be streekit iirst ? " *' D' ye see yon dandilly maiden," said Dame Gouriay, " a ghstenin' wi' goud and jewels, that they are lifting upon the white horse behind that hare-brained callant in scarlet, wi' the lang sword at his side? " '•' But that 's the bride ! " said her companion, her cold heart touched with some sort of compassion; "that 's the very bride hersell ! Eh, whow ! sae young, sae braw, and sae bonny — and is her time sac short ? " " I teil ye," s.i. ' rhc sibyl, "her winding-sheet is up as SI I* 1 t! ill u I:': I. ; Wedding Day in Literature a?id Art high as her throat already, believe it wha list. Her sand has but ic^ grains to rin out, and nae wonder — they 've been weel shaken. The leaves are withering fast on the trees, but she '11 never see the Martinmas wmd gar them dance in swirls like the fairy rings." " Ye waited on her for a quarter," said the paralytic woman, " and got twa red pieces, or I am f;xr beguiled." "Ay, ay," answered Ailsie, with a bitter grin; "and Sir William Ashton promised me a boi.ny red gown to the boot o' that — a stake, and a chain, and a tar barrel, lass ! — what think ye o' that for a propine ? — for being up early and doun late for fourscore nights and mair wi' his dwining daughter. But he may keep it for his ain leddy, cummers." "I hae heard a sough," said Annie Winnie, "as if Leddy Ashton was nae canny body." " D' ye see her yonder," said Dame Gourlay, " as she prances on her gray gelding out at the kirkyard ? — there 's mair o' utter deevilry in that woman, as brave and fair-fashioned as she rides yonder, than in a' the Scotch witches that ever flew by moonlight ower North-Berwick Law." " What 's that ye say about witches, ye d d hags ? " said Johnny Mortheuch ; " are ye casting yer cantrips in the very kirkyard, to mischieve the bride and bridegroom ? Get awa hame, for if I tak my souple t' ye, I '11 gar ye find the road faster than ye wad like." " Hech, sirs ! " answered Ailsie Gourlay ; " how bra' arc we wi' our new black coat and our weel-pouthered head as if we had never kend hunger nor thirst oursells ! and we '11 be screwing up our bit fiddle, doubtless, in the ha' the night, amang a' the other elbo'-jiggers for miles round. Let 's see if the pins baud, Johnny — that 's a', lad." " I take ye a' to witness, gude people," said Mortheuch, " that she threatens me wi' mischief, and forspeaks me. If onytliingbut gude happens to me or my fiddle this night, I '11 make it the blackest night's job she ever stirred in. I '11 hae her before Presbytery and Synod — I 'm half a 52 l! . ■W^gHSMA wr««« rw Mum iiQiBwuniii j«*g fc The Bride of Lammcrmoor minister myscU, iiow that I 'm a beclral in an inhabited parish." Although the mutual hatred betwixt these hags and the rest of mankind had steeled their hearts against all impres- sions of festivity, this was by no means the case with the multitude at large. The splendour of the bridal retinue, the gay dresses, the spirited horses, the blithesome ap- pearance of the handsome women and gallant gentlemen assembled upon the occasion, had the usual eft'ect upon the minds of the populace. The repeated shouts of « Ashton and Bucklaw for ever !" —the discharge of pistols, guns, and musketoons, to give what was called the bridal-shot evinced the interest the people took in the occasion of the cavalcade, as they accompanied it upon their return to the castle. If there was here and there an elder peasant or his wife who sneered at the pomp of the upstart family, and remembered the days of the long-descended Ravenswoods, even they, attracted by the plentiful cheer which the castle that day af^'orded to rich and poor, held their way thither, and acknowledged, notwithstanding their prejudices, thJ influence of r Amphitrion oii Pou d'lne. Thus accompanied with the attendance both of rich and poor, Lucy returned to her father's house. Bucklaw used his privilege of riding next to the bride, but, new to such a situation, rather endeavoured to attract attention by the dis- play of his person and horsemanship, than bv any attempt to address her in private. They reached the castle in safety, amid a thousand joyous acclamations. It is well known that the weddings of ancient days were celebrated with a festive publicity rejected by the delicacy of modern times. The marriage guests, on the present occasion, were regaled with a banquet of unbounded pro- fusion, the relics of which, after the domestics had feasted 111 their turn, were distributed among the shouting crowd, with as many barrels of ale as mad^e the hilarity without correspond to that within the castle. The gentlemen, according to the fashion of the times, indulged, for the' most part, in deep draughts of the richest wines, while the S3 4 '.4 I i( m 1*^ i ? p! PI IFedding Day in literature and Art ladies, prepared for the ball which always closed a bridal entertainment, impatiently expected their arrival in the state gallery. At length the social party broke up at a late hour, and the gentlemen crowded into the saloon, where, enlivened by wine and the joyful occasion, they laid aside their swords, and handed their impatient partners to the floor. The music already rang from the gallery, along the fretted roof of the ancient state apartment. According to strict etiquette, the bride ought to have opened the ball, but Lady Ashton, making an apology on account of her daugh- ter's health, offered her own hand to Bucklaw as substitute for her daughter's. 54 The Banks of the Lee From "THE BANKS OF THE LEE" By THOMAS DAVIS r\, THE banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee, W And love in a cottage for Mary and me ' 1 here s not in the land a lovelier tide, And I'm sure that there 's no one so fair as my bride, bhe 's modest and meek, There 's a down on her cheek, And her skin is as sleek As a butterfly's wing; Then her step would scarce show On the fresh-fallen snow, And her whisper is low. But as clear as the spring. O, the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee, And love in a cottage for Mary and me ! I know not how love is happy elsewhere, I know not how any but lovers are there'. < , 1 i.r * • ';< if 1 55 Wedding Day in Literature and Art From "THE DEAD SECRIT"^ By WILKIE COLLINS THE church of Long Beckley (a large agricultural village in one of the midland counties of England), although a building in no way remarkable either for its size, its architecture, or its antiquity, possesses, neverth( less, one advantage which mercantile London has barbarously denied to the noble cathedral church of St. Paul. It has plenty of room to stand in, and it can consequently be seen with perfect convenience from every point of view all round the compiss. The large open space around the church can be ap- proached in three different directions. There is a road from the village, leading straight to the principal door. There is a broad gravel walk, which begins at the vicarage gates, crosses the churchyard, and stops, as in duty bound, at the vestry entrance. There is a footpath over the fields, by which 'i;c lord of the manor, and the gentry in general who livr Jn his august neighbourhood, can reach the side door of the lailding, whenever their natural humility may incline thcr to encourage Sabbath observance in the stables by going t-< church, like the lower sort of worshippers, on their own legs. At half-past seven o'clock, on a certain fine summer morning, in the year eighteen hundred and forty-four, if any observant stranger had happened to be standing in some unnoticed corner of the churchyard, and to he looking about him with sharp eyes, he would probably have been the witness of proceedings which might have led him to believe that there was a conspiracy going on in Long Beckley, of which the church was the rallying point, and some of the most respectable inhabitants the principal 1 From " The Dead Secret," publUhed by Harper Cjf Brothers. 56 l|- ■ ^-— r r6e Dead Secret leaders. Supposing him to have been looking .vard the vicarage as • ,e clock chi,nc-d the half-hour, he would have ecn the near of Long Hccklcy, the Reverend Doctor Chennerv, leavmg h,s house suspiciously, by the back way, glancing k-hud hnn guiltily as he approached the grave w.dk hat led to the vestry, stoppi„, ,„vsteriou . just out- side the do(,r, and ga/ing anxiously down the road that led to the village. Assuming that our observant stranger would, upon this keep out of sight, and look down the road, lik. the vicar' he would next have seen the clerk of the li __ an aus' terc, yellow-faced man, _ a Protestant . in'annear Z'2\ T\ " r'^'"^ ^^hoemaker by tra _ approaching with a look of unutterable mystery on his .ace, and a bunch of big keys in his hands. He would have seen the vicar nod in an abstracted manner to the clerk, and say « Fine morninr Thomas. Have you had your breakfast' yet ? " He wou , have heard Thomas reply, with a suspicious re- gard for minute particulars, " I have had a cup of tea and a crust, sir. And he would then have seen these two local conspirators, after looking up with one accord at the church clock draw oft together to the side door which com- manded a view of the footpath across the fields Following them, as our inquisitive stranger could not fail to do, he would have detected three more conspirators ad- vancing along the footpath. The leader of this treasonable party was an elderly gentleman, with a weather-beaten face, and a bluff, hearty manner. His two followers were a young gentleman and a young lady, walking arm-in-arm a.id talking together in whispers. They were dressed in the plainest morning costume. The faces of both were rather pale, and the manner of the lady was a little flurried. Otherwise there was nothing remarkable to observe in them unt.,1 they came to the wicket-gate leading into the church-' yard; and there the conduct of the young man seemed, at first sight rather inexplicable. Instead of holding the gate open for the lady to pass through, he hung back, allowed her to open It for herself, waited till she had got to the church- 57 1(1 MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1^ 15.0 2.8 Urn 1 4.0 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ APPLIED IK/WBE Ir 1653 East Main Street Rochester. New York 14609 USA (716) 482 -0300- Phone (716) 288- 5989 -Fax Wedding Day in Literature and A. rt I yaro side, and then, stretching out his hand over the gate, allowed her to lead him through the entrance, as if he had suddenly changed from a grown man to a helpless little child Noting this, and remarking also that, when the party trom .:ie helds had arrived within greeting distance of the vicar, and when the deck had used his bunch of keys to open the church-door, the young lady's companion was led into the building (this time by Doctor Chenncry's hand), as he had previously been led through the wicket gate, our observant stranger must have arrived at one inevitable con- clusion —that the person requiring such assistance as this was suffering under the affliction of blindness. Startled a little by that discovery, he would have been still further amazed, if he had looked into the church, by seeing the b ind man and the young lady stand together before the altar rails, with the elderly gentleman in parental attendance. Any suspicions he might now entertain that the bond which united the conspirators at that early hour of the morning was of the hymeneal sort, and that the object of their plot was to celebrate a wedding with the strictest secrecy, would have been confirmed in five minutes by the appearance of Doctor Chennery from the vestry in full canonicals, and by the reading of the marriage service in the reverend gentle- man s most harmonious officiating tones. The ceremony concluded, the attendant stranger must have been more pei- plexed than ever by observing that the persons concerned in It all separated, the moment the signing, the kissing and congratulating duties proper to the occasion iiad been per- tormed, and quickly retired in the various directions by which they had approached the church. Leaving the clerk to return by the village road, the bride bridegroom, and elderly gentleman to turn back by the foot- path over the fields, and the visionary stranger of these pages to vanish out of them in any direction that he pleases, et us follow Doctor Chennery to the vicarage breakfast- table, and hear what he has to say about his professional exertions of the morning in the familiar atmosphere of his own family circle. 58 The Dead Secret The persons assembled at the breakfast were, first, Mr J^h.ppen a guest; secondly. Miss Sturch, a governess;" th.rdly, fourthly, and fifthly. Miss Louisa Chennery (ajred eleven years), Miss Amelia Chennery (aged nine yeaJs), and Master Robert Chennery (aged eight years). There was no mothers face present to make the household picture complete. Doctor Chennery had been a widower since tne birth of his youngest child. As soon as the vicar entered the breakfast-parlor, the children assailed him with a chorus of shouts. He was a severe disciplinarian in the observance of punctuality at meal-times; and he now stood convicted by the clock of being too late for breakfast by a quarter of an hour "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Sturch," said the vicar, 'but I have a good excuse for being late this morning." ^ "Pray don't mention it, sir," said Miss Sturch, blandly rubbing her plump little hands one over the other « A beautiful morning. I fear we shall have another warm A ^: ~ . °r"' "'y '''''^' y°"^ ^^bow is on the table — A beautiful morning, indeed ! " "Stomach still out of order, eh, Phippen .? " asked the vicar, beginning to carve the ham. Mr. Phippen shook his large head dolefully, placed his yellow forefinger, ornamented with a large turquoise ring on the centre check of his light summer waistcoat, looked p.teously at Doctor Chennery and sighed, removed the fin- ger, and produced from the breast pocket of hi<3 wrapper a little mahogany case, took out of it a neat pair of apothe- cary s scales, with the accompanying weights, a morsel of ginger and a highly polished silver nutmeg-grater. « Dear Miss Sturch will pardon an invalid ? " said Mr. Phippen beginning to grate the ginger feebly into the nearest teacup! Ouess what has made me a quarter of an hour late this Jhe'tlbfe' '^^ ''''''"'' ^""'''"^ mysteriously all around 59 ! .!1 If' f u I- i If (■ 1 ' !l IVedding Day in Literature and Art " Lying in bed, papa," cried the three children, clapping their hands in triumph. "What Aoyou say, Miss Sturch?" asked Doctor Chennery. Miss Sturch smiled as usual, rubbed her hands as usual, cleared her throat softly as usual, looked at the tea-urn, and' begged, with the most graceful politeness, to be excused if she said nothinsr. "Your turn now, Phippen," said the vicar. "Come, guess what has kept me late this morning." " My dear friend," said Mr. Phippen, giving the doctor a brotherly squeeze of the hand, " don't ask me to guess ; I know ! I saw what you eat at dinner yesterday. I saw what you drank after dinner. No digestion could stand it, not even yours. Guess what has made you late this morn- ing ? Pooh ! pooh ! I know. You dear, good soul, you have been taking physic ! " " Have n't touched a drop, thank God, for the last ten years ! " said Doctor Chennery, with a look of devout grat itude. « No, no ; you are all wrong. The fact is, I have been to church; and what do you think I have been doing there ? Listen, Miss Sturch, listen, girls, with all your ears. Poor blind young PVankland is a happy man at last. I have married him to our dear Rosamond Treverton this very morning! " " Without telling us, papa ! " cried the two girls together, in their shrillest tones of vexation and surprise. " Without telling us, when you knew how we shouM have liked to see it ! " " That was the very reason why I did not tel.' ^ j, my dears," answered the vicar. « Young Frankland has nc. got so used to his affliction yet, poor fellow, as to bear being publicly pitied and stared at in the character of a blind bridegroom. He had such a nervous horror of being an object of curiosity on his wedding day, and Rosamond, like a kind-hearted girl as she is, was so anxious that his slightest caprices should be humoured, that we settled to have the wedding at an hour in the morning when no idlers were likely to be lounging about the neighbourhood of the 60 r ■! i I you I S W T/je Dead Secret church I was bound over to the strictest secrecy about the day and so was my clerk Thomas. Excepting us two, and the bnde and bridegroom, and the bride's father. Captain 1 revcrton, nobody knew " "Treverton ! " exclaimed Mr. Phippen, holding his f.- cup with the grated ginger in the bottom of it, to be hiiea by M.ss Sturch, " Treverton ! (No more tea dear Miss bturch.) How very remarkable ! I know the name rFill ..pw.th water, if you please.) Tell me, my dear doctor (many, many thanks; no sugar - it turn's to^cid TZ stomach), ,s th.s M.ss Treverton whom you have been marrymg (many thanks again ; no milk, either) one of the Cornish Trevertons i " ' « To be sure she is ! " rejoined the vicar. « Her father. Captain Treverton, is the head of the family. Not that there s much family to speak of now. The Captain, and Rosamond^ and that whimsical old brute of an uncle of hers Andrew Treverton are the last left now of the old stock -a nch ramily and a fine family in former times -good friends to church and state, you know, and all that — " . . . "Chennery, you dear good soul, what were we talking about .P Ah ! the brideL the in'terestinrb id!' And so she IS one of the Cornish Trevertons? I knew Tdf i&rss s"; T 'Z' ^^" "^ "^^ ^ h-helor, lik" myself, M.ss Sturch His apparatus was out of order, hke m.ne dear Amelia. Not at all like his brother, the Captam, I shoud suppose ? And so she is married ? A charming girl, I have no doubt. A charming g.Vl I " vicar ' "■""■' P''"'"'' S'""' '" "^^ world,'' said the Stu'rch. ^^"^ ^'''''' '"""^'"'^ P""'^"'" '■^'"^'•^'^d Miss hoI"r ' '^"'^ ""''' ''"'■ •' " "•'•■^^ Miss Louisa. « No- 3tt irbl'dTold^'minr'"' ''^' ^^- ' -- ^' "P said' Miss'lmdif ^ "'^ ^"^' -'^^ ""'--^y supper-parties," « She was the only girl I ever saw who was fit to play 6i •' fi If IFedding Day in Literature and Art with boys," said Master Rc^bcrt. ''She could catch a ball, Mr. Phippen, Sir, with one hand, and go down a slide with both her legs together." " Bless me ! " said Mr. Phipppen. " What an extra- ordinary wife for a blind man ! You said he was blind from his birth, my dear doctor, did you not ? Let mc see what was his name ? You will not bear too hardly on my loss of memory. Miss Sturch ? When indigestion lias done with the body, it begins to prey on the mind. Mr. Frank Something, was it not ? " "No, no — Frankland," answered the vicar, " Leonard Frankland. And not blind from birth, by any means. It is not much more than a year ago since he could see almost as well as any of us." ..." You shock me ; my dear Chennery, you shock me dreadfully," said Mr. Phippen. « Especially when you state that theory about long weakness after illness. Good Heavens! Why, / have had long weaknesses— I have got them now. Spots did he see before his eyes ? I see spots, black spots, dancing black spots, dancing black bilious spots. Upon my word of honour, Chennery, this comes home to me — my sympathies are painfully acute I feel this blind story in every nerve of my body ; I do indeed ! " / / ' > " You would hardly know that Leonard was blind, to look at him," said Miss Louisa, striking into the conversation with a view to restoring Mr. Phippen's equanimity. « Ex- cept that his eyes look quieter than other people's, there seems no difference in them now. Who was that famous character you told us about. Miss Sturch, who was blind, and did n't show it any more than Leonard Frankland ? " " Milton, my love. I begged you to remember that he was the most famous of British epic poets," answered Miss Sturch, with suavity. « He poetically describes his blind- ness as being caused by ' so thick a drop serene.' You shall read about it, Louisa. After we have had a little French, we will have a little Milton, this morning. Hush, love, your papa is speaking." 62 The Dead Secret « p Poor (( Voilllg „,, - .flank I ami!" said the vicar, warmly. I hat good, tender, noble creature I married him to this morinng seems sent as a consolation to him in his affliction 1 iny human bemg can make him happy for the rest of his Jite, Rosamond 1 reverton is the girl to do it." "She has made a sacrifice," said Mr. Ph'ippen ; "but I hke her forthat, having made a sacrifice myself in remaining single. It seems indispensable, indeed, that I should do so How could I conscientiously inflict such a digestion as mine on a member of the fairer portion of creation ? No ; I am a sacrifice i.i my own proper person, and I have a teliow-feeling for others who are like me. Did she cry much, Chenncry, when you were marrying her ? " "Cry !" exclaimed the vicar, contemptuously. « Rosa- mond rrcverton is not one of the puling, sentimental sort, 1 can tell you. A fine, buxom, warm-hearted, quick- tempered gul, who looks what she means when she tells a man she is going to marry him. And, mind you, she has been tried. If she had n't loved him with all her heart and soul, she might have been free months ago to marrv any- body she pleased. They were engaged long be fore this cruel affliction befell young Frankland, the fathers on both sides having lived as near neighbours in these parts for years. Well, when the blindness came, Leonard at once offered to release Rosamond from her engagement You should have read the letter she wrote to him, Phippen, upon that. I don't mind confessing that I blubbered like a baby over It when they showed it to me. I should have married them at once the instant 1 read it, but old Frankland was a fidgety, punctilious kind of man, and he insisted on a six months' probation, so that she might be certain of knowing her own mind. He died before the term was out, and that caused the marriage to be put off again. But no delays could alter Rosamond, — six years, instead of six months would not have changed her. There she was this morning as fond of that poor, patient blind fellow as she was the first day they were engaged. ' You shall never know a sad moment, Lenny, if I can help it, as long as you live,' 63 \ \ i. IFedding Day in Literature and Art — these were the first words she said to him when we all came out ofchurch. ' I hear you, Rosamond,' said I. ' And you shall judge me, too, Doctor,' says she, quick as light- ning, c vVc will come back to Long IJeckley, and you shall ask Lciiny if I have not kept my word.' With that she gave nic a kiss that you might have heard down here at the vicarage, bless her heart ! Wc '11 drink her health after din- ner. Miss Sturch — we'll drink both their healths, Phippen, in a bottle of the best wine I have in my cellar." " In a glass of toast-and-water, so far as I am concerned, If you will allow me," said Mr. Phippen, mournfully. % V ii ■ 1 i i 64 Hi Ml T/ie Bridal From "THE BRIDAL" By FREDERICK TENNYSON THE briilal bells are pealing! We will rejoice to-day ! The blissful sounds Hearts away arc stealing The jocund bells are pealing fast and sweet, Softly they come and go like lovers' sighs ; In one glad thought the young and old are met, The simple and the wise. They reach the woodman in the morning air, They reach the baron in his carven chair The dark-eyed damsel bending o'er the spring, 1 he scholar in dim cloister murmuring ; The dusty pilgrim stays across the stile ; The smith upon his anvil leans awhile; Boys whistle — beggars bustle— shepherds sing — The marriage bells ring merrily ; hark, they ring. The sun is kissing off from wood-nymphs' eyes 1 heir evenmg tears, and dewy breathings rise ^rom wildflower urns - o'er waving fields of wheat bwitt shadows stream away, „,• woodnotes fleet lng-place m the " Parsonage Bay " their partv coun ed quite a goodly nun.ber. The air was fresh Tnd 'sinSlv ransparent, and the fjord, partaking of the all-p faZ au-tone, glittered in changing tints of pale blue and a coof dehcate green. Now and then a faint tremo wodd skim a ong its mirror, like the quiver of a slight brde 1 ghtfu emotion. Towards the North the mot^ntains rose abruptly from the water, and with their snow-hooded heads oomed up into fantastic heights; irregular drifts of ght fog-I ke cloud hung or hovered about the lower craes Westward the fjord described a wide curve, bouTded by a lower plateau, which gradually ascended thr'ough the usual > Copyrighted hy Cha-ln Scrihner^ , Sont, Neio York 68 afid Art ' NORSE herever there re as sure to member, the " from Berg, vere dressed ent the rest 'Vild Ducks 1 the neigh- ?rg intended cho through 'dding were the rest, bridegroom their boats, sat of wcd- eached the rty counted 1 singularly 1-pervading uid a cool, nor would ;ht but de- ntains rose :)ded heads s of light, f&x crags, nded by a the usual Z P5 1 \ 1 1- if Gunnar, A Tale of Norse Life view was ooened Z ' ^"^^ '^^ "^^''^^^ P^^^s the able grandeur There '"'""'"" P?"'"^'"^ ^^ '"^^^^-ib- strengfh wth^heTLTen^wi;d%C s^r ^^^'^ downwards cluirhlno- ^K» i j g'^ciers shot their arms and rapid I^P^ da^S^-'Jol^.tr ,r'"- pices where onlv a mistv snr^,, i, between the preci- traced their way'towarrjrJS ""^ °'" ""= '='>^™' two of the bridegroom's Veares't kin "'^,^; ^^em aga.n, contained the remaining Wid Ducks an^ ^k''""^ ^"'' and connections ; and the third t^id f 1 'l'.' '"^^^'"^^ and musicians. But there were ^ iTf"- ^'^^'""^ g"^«^^ missing yet ; for the wedding at Be^g L"'To I ^^" ^^^'^ nary one. In the mean fim. \\aI^ ^^ ""* ^'■''•- the wedding brewLranVn t ^^^^P'•°P°sed to taste so merry aineThat it sh j^.u' -^^ T"""'^"^ ^« '''^^ "P the mar'row « Vt fiddles like\"^' ^'^ '""^ ^"^ beer," said he "and th.n ' ,% P'' ^'^^ ''""^"g^h to the bridal boats are comin';"' A 7 " "'" '^ ^^ ^'^^^ bead a jug filed to rLl?^" u '^'"^'"g ^^^^^ his Hardangir^bee he Pled J7 ""^ '''""^ home-brewed liquor to%heLst'droD«slH^ company and quaffed the 6q "hi V 'M (. '! w m m IVedding Day in Literature a?id Art A turbulent applause followed this speech of Peer's, and amid music, singing, and laughter the beer-jugs passed from boat to boat and from hand to hand. Now and then a loud yodling halloo came floating through the calm air, followed by a clear, manifold echo; and no sooner had the stillness closed over it than the merry voices from the boats again rose in louder and noisier chorus. All this time the bridal fleet was rapidly increasing, and for every fresh arrival the beer-jugs made another complete round. No one drank without finding something to admire, whether it were the liquor itself or the skilfully carved silver jugs in which, as every, one knew, Peer Berg took no little pride ; indeed, they had been heirlooms in the family from immemorial times, and the saying was that even kings had drunk from them. There were now eighteen or nineteen boats assembled about the point of the headland, and the twentieth and last was just drawing up its oars for a share of the beer and the merriment. In the stern sat Gunnar, dreamily gazing down into the deep^ and at his side his old friend Rhyme-Ola, his winking eyes fixed on him with an anxious expression of almost motherly care and tenderness. In his hands he held some old, time-worn paper, to which he quickly directed his attention whenever Gunnar made the slightest motion, as if he were afraid of being detected. When the customary gree.ings were exchanged, the bride- groom asked Rhyme-Ola to let the company hear his voice, and the singer, as usual, readily complied. It was the old, mournful tale of Young Kirsten and the Me. man; and as he lent his rich, sympathetic voice to the simplicity of the ballad, its pathos became the more touching, and soon the tears glittered in many a tender-hearted maiden's eye. There is a deep, unconscious romance in the daily life of the Norwegian peasant. One might look in vain for a scene like this throughout Europe, if for no other reason than because the fjord is a peculiarly Norwegian feature, being, in I'fe, tone, and character, as different from the 70 ;'t Gunnar, A Tale of Norse Life friths of Scotland and the bays of the Mediterra^^^^T^ the hoary rugged pines of the North are fronV oTe ""^J^^^ smooth-grown th.ngs which in the South bear the same name Imag.ne those graceful strong-built boats rockil the fio-" 7^::^rV''':'^''^ •" ^'^^'""' transpa're'ce :i the fjo.d ; the fresh, fa.r-ha.red maidens scattered in bloom- ing clusters among the elderly, more sedately dressed ma trons; and the old men, whise weather-wonr f a^es Tnd" rugged express.ve features told of natures of the^enuine mountam mould The young lads sat on the row-b'e he" some w.th the St. 1 dripping oars poised under their knee ' while they s.lently listened to the song; others bendinj eagerly forward or leaning on their elbows, d v il theif r r inToS" ""rr^-^'^ ^-^ ''''. ^'"-'-^^ ^^'^^^^^ nencnes m front. They all wore red pointed caps frcner ?or^ehe"? 'v T'^' ^^"Sing down over one side St e" forehead, which gave a certain touch of ro^uishness and hght-eartedness to their manly and clea?-c v a^'^ And o complete the picture there is Rhyme-Ola as°ht s.ts aloft on the beer-kegs in the stern oHhe bolt now and then striking out with his ragged arms, and weept" d laughmg as the varying incidents of his song aX? hnn As a background to this scene stands the liX birch forest glittering with its fresh sprout^ and fill L £ a.r with Its spring-like fragrance; behind this aS he P.nes raise their dusky heads ; and around the whde pi. rIL tes7ftrTLdT-;'r'^ ^''^^"'■^ ^^^ -^ --'X Norway ' "^ ' ''^""^ P'"^ ^" ^^^ "^'ghty heart of When the ballad was at an end, it was some time before thYsnrnc:'^'^' ''' "^ ^"^ "'^'^^^ '^ '^ ^he first to break "Always the same mournful tales," said at lenLrth on. t^o'htreif.'"^"' '"^°"^^ '-'' ''-' -^^ '^^ — ;^X « Rhyme-Ola," cried one of the fiddlers, « whv don't you learn to sing something jolly, instead of th7 ad "id things, which could almost make a stone weep ? ' ' 71 M," I! '' It ll! I ^N i if Wedding Day in Literature and Art " You might just as well tell the plover to sing like the lark," answered Rhyme-Ola. " I like the old song«," said Ragnhild Rimul (for she was there also) ; " they always bring tears to my eyes, but sometimes I like better to cry than to laugh." Peer Berg now signalled to the oarsmen, and the boats soon shot swiftly in through the fjord. \x\ about an hour the whole company landed on the IJerg pier, and marched in procession up to the wedding house. First came the musicians, then the bride and bridegroom, and after them their parents and nearest kin. The guests formed the rear. Among the last were Lars Hcnjum and Ragnhild ; last of all came Gunna'r and Rhyme-Ola. Berg was an old-fashioned place, for Peer Berg took a special pride in being old-fashioned. Coming up the hill from the water, Berg appeared more like a small village than a single family dwelling. The mansion itself in which Peer with his wife and his Wild Ducks resided, was of a most peculiar shape. It was very large and had two stories, the upper surrounded by a huge balcony, which made it appear nearly twice as broad as the lower. Over this balcony shot out a most venerable slated roof, com- pletely overgrown with moss, grass, and even shrubs of considerable size ; the railing, which had once been painted and skilfully carved, was so high and so close that it af- forded little or no room for the daylight to peep in and cheer the dreary nest of the Wild Ducks. Round the mansion lay a dozen smaller houses and cottages, scattered in all directions ; if they had grown out from the soil of their own accord, they could hardly have got into more awkward or more irregular positions. One looked north, another west, a third southeast, and no two lay parallel or with their gables facing each other. Every one of these houses, however, had been created for some special purpose. First, there were, of course, the barns and the stables, which in size and respectability nearly rivalled the mansion. Quite indispensable were the servant hall, the sheepfold, and the wash-house; and without forge and ■^ax-house Gunnar, A Tale of Norse Life Berg could hardly have kept up its reputation as a model establishment. With gay music and noisy laughter and merriment, the bridal procession passed into the yard, where from the steps of the mansion they were greeted by the master of cere- monies in a high-flown speech of congratulation. The doors were then thrown wide open, and soon like a swell- mg tide the crowd rolled through the house, and the lofty halls shook with the hum and din of the festivity. For at such times the Norsemen are in their lustiest mood ; then the old Saga-spirit is kindled again within them; and let h.m beware who durst say then that the Viking blood of the North IS extinct. The festal hall at Berg, which oc- cupied the whole lower floor of the building, was decorated or the occasion with fresh leaves and birch branches, fo- the birch IS the bnde of the trees ; but as it was still early m the season, jt was necessary to keep up a fire on the open hearth. This hearth, indeed, in more than one sense, may be said to have given a certain homely colour to every- thing present, not o:dy in the remoter sense, as being the gathering place of the family in the long winter evenings, but also ,n a far nearer one; its smoke had, perhaps Vv more than a century, been equally shared by the chimney and the room, and had settled in the form of shining soot on walls, rafters, and ceiling. ^ Two long tables extended across the length of the hall from one wall to another, laden with the most tempting dishes. The seats of honour, of course, belonged to bride and bridegroom, and they having taken their places, the master of ceremonies urged the guests to the tables and arranged them in their proper order in accordance with wi^h ;'h 'I!'. ^^"xT "^ '•'"''■ '•^'^ti«"«hip or acquaintance with the bnde. Now the blessing was pronounced and the nrieal began. It was evident enough that the boating ad the march had whetted the guests' appetites; hugf ^ays of cream-porndge, masses of dried beef, and enormous wheaten loaves disappeared with astonishing rapidity Toast upon toast was drunk, lively speeches made and heartily 73 l: I ■ I ■ i '' '" i hi ui I Wedding Day in Literature and Art applauded, talcs and legends told, and a tone of hearty, good-humoured merriment prevailed. The meal was a long one ; when the feasters rose from the tables, it was already dusk. In the course of the afternoon the weather had changed ; now it was blowing hard, and the wind was driving huge masses of cloud in through the mountain gorges. Shadows sank over the valley, the torches were lit in the wedding house, and a lusty wood fire crackled and roared on the hearth. Then the tables were removed, the music began, and bride and bridegroom trod the springing dance together, according to ancient custom; others soon followed, and before long the floors and walls creaked and the flames of the torches rose and flickered in fitful motion, as the whirl- ing air-currents seized and released them. Those of the men who did not dance joined the crowd round the beer- barrels, which stood in the corner opposite the hearth, and there slaked their thirst with the strong, home-brewed drink which Norsemen have always loved so well, and fell into friendly chat about the result of the late fishery or the probabilities for a favourable lumber and grain year. M 74 i i T/jc Bridal March From "THE BRIDAL MARCH "i By HJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON TNGA, Mildred's cousin, who was now herself a wife, A had come to attend to the adornment of the bride! This was done in the storehouse ; the old chest, in which the bridal silver was kept, — the crown, the belt, the buckle, the brooches, the rings, — was brought forward. Grandmother had the key to it; she was there herself to open It, and Beret was with her, as her assistant. Mildred had already decked herself in her bridal dress, and all the finery that belonged to her, when this splendour (which Beret and the grandmother had polished the week before) was broight to light, glittering and heavy. Article after article was tried on. Beret held the glass for the bride. The old lady told how so many of her family had worn this silver on their wedding-day, and how the' happiest of all had been her own mother, Aslaug Haugen. Just then the old family bridal march was heard out- side : every one in the storehouse paused, listened, then hastened to the door to see what was going on. The first person their eyes fell on was Endrid,''the bride's father. He had seen Hans Haugen, and his brothers and sisters, come riding toward the gard ; it was a rare thing for Endrid to have any unusual ideas; but this time it occurred to him that these guests should be received with the ancestral tune. He gave the fiddlers orders to go for- ward playing it; and there he now stood himself in their midst near the storehouse, holding in his hand a silver tankard filled with the wedding ale. Several others had joined him. Hans and his faithful brothers and sisters drove into the gard, and it was very evident that this reception touched them. 1 By special pirmhsion of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 75 ) i| IFedding Day in Literature and Art An hour later, as a matter of course, the hridal march was struck up again; that was when the bride and bride- groom, and the bride's parents, and grandmother and Heret, and the bridegroom's brothers and sisters came out in couples with the fiddlers at their head, to get into the carts. iK-re are moments in our lives when all signs are avourable, ;uul at such a monient the bridal party drove oith from I.ngvold one bright spring day. At church there was assembled so great a multitude that no one re- membered ever having seen anything to c ?lf-devo- d where y N '•'''WMBi«>(«-«p»»H« 1^ .ifi ik;l " Bracehrid^e Hall thou lodgcst I will locigc ; thy people shall be my people and thy CJoil my Ciod." The fair Julia was supported on the trying occasion by Lady Lillycraft, whose heart was ovcrHowing with its wonted sympathy in all matters of love and matrimony. As the bride approached the altar, her face would be one moment covered with blushes and the next deadly pale ; and she seemed almost ready to shrink from sight among her female companions. I do not know what it is that makes every one serious, and, as it were, awe-struck, at a marriage ceremony ; which is generally considered an occasion of festivity and rejoicing. As the ceremony was performing, I observed many a rosy face among the country girls turn pale, and I did not sec a smile throughout the church. The young ladies from the Hall were almost as much frightened as if it had been their own case, and stole many a look of sym- pathy at their trembling companion. A tear stood in the eye of the sensitive Lady Lillycraft ; and as to Phcebe Wilkins, who was present, she absolutely wept and sobbed aloud ; but it is hard to tell, half the time, what these fond foolish creatures are crying about. The captain, too, though naturally gay and uncon- cerned, was much agitated on the occasion ; and in attempt- ing to put the ring upon the bride's ringer, dropped it on the floor; which Lady Lillycraft has since assured me is a very lucky omen, p^ven Master Simon had lost his usual vivacity, and assumed a most whimsically solemn face, which he is apt to do on all occasions of ceremony. He had much whispering with the parson and parish-clerk, for he is always a busy personage in the scene, and he echoed the clerk's amen with a solemnity and devotion that ediricd the whole assemblage. The moment, however, that the ceremony was over, the transition was magical. The bride-cup was passed round, according to ancient usage, for the company to drink to a happy union ; every one's feelings seemed to break forth from restraint. Master Simon had a world of bachelor 79 1 ■"^^"rmmmt''. Wedding Day i?i Literature and A, rt \\ Pt pleasantries to utter, and as to the gallant general, he bowed and cooed about the dulcet Lady Lillycraft like a mighty cock-pigeon about his dame. The villagers gathered in the churchyard to cheer the happy couple as they left the church, and the musical tailor had marshalled his band, and set up a hideous discord, as the blusnmg and smiling bride passed through a lane of honest peasantry to her carriage. The children shouted and threw up their hats; the bells rang a merry peal that set all the crows and rooks flying and cawing about the air and threatened to bring down the battlements of the old tower; and there was a continual popping ofFof rusty hrelocks from every party of the neighbourhood. The prodigal son distinguished himself on the occasion, having hoisted a flag on the top of the schoolhouse, and kept the village in a hubbub from sunrise, with the sound ot drum and fife and pandean pipe ; in which species of music several of his scholars are making wonderful pro- hciency In his great zeal, however, he had nearly done mischief; for on returning from church, the horses of the bride s carriage took fright from the discharge of a row of old gun-barrels, which he had mounted as a park of artillery in front of the schoolhouse to give the captain a military salute as he passed. ^ The day passed off with great rustic rejoicing. Tables were spread under the trees in the park, where all the peasantry of the neighbourhood were regaled with roast- beef and plum-pudding, and oceans of ale. Ready-Money Jack presided at one of the tables, and became so full of good cheer as to unbend from his usual gravity, to sing a song all out of tune, and give two or three shouts of laughter that almost electrified his neighbours like so many peals of thunder. The schoolmaster and the apothecary vied with each other in making speeches over their liquor • and there were occasional glees and musical performances by the village band, that must have frightened every faun and dryad from the park. Even old Christy, who had got on a new dress from top to toe, and shone in all the splen- 80 Bracebridge Hall occasion. dour of bright leather breeches, and an enormous wedding favour in his cap, forgot his usual crustiness, became inspired by wine and wassail, and absolutely danced a hornpipe on one of the tables, with all the grace and agility of a mannikin hung upon wires. Equal gaiety reigned within doors, where a large party of friends were entertained. Every one laughed at his own pleasantry, without attending to that of his neighbours. Loads of bride-cake were distributed. The young ladies were all busy in passing morsels of it through the wedding ring to dream on, and I myself assisted a little boarding- school girl in putting up a quantity for her companions, which I have no doubt will set all the little heads in the school gadding for a week at least. After dinner all the company, great and small, abandoned themselves to the dance : not the modern quadrille, with its graceful gravity, but the merry, social, old country- dance : the true dance, as the Squire says, for a wedding occasion, as it sets all the world jigging in couples, hand in hand, and makes every eye and every heart dance merrily to the music. According to frank old usage, the gentle- folks of the Hall mingled for a time in the dance of the peasantry, who had a great tent erected for a ball-room ; and I think I never saw Master Simon more in his element than when figuring about among his rustic admirers as master of the ceremonies ; and with a mingled air of pro- tection and gallantry, leading out the quondam Queen of May, all blushing at the signal honour conferred upon her. In the evening the whole village was illuminated, ex- cepting the house of the radical, who had not shown his face during the rejoicings. There was a display of fire- works at the schoolhouse, got up by the prodigal son, which had wellnigh set fire to the building. The Squire is so pleased with the extraordinary services of this last- mentioned worthy, that he talks of enrolling him in his list of valuable retainers, and promoting him to some important post on the estate ; peradventure to be falconer, if the hawks can ever be brought into proper training. 6 8i t!J * ill '■\ a H ^; ii ¥ fl tif i Wedding Day in Literature and Art There is a well-known old proverb, which says " one wedding makes many," — or something to the same pur- pose ; and I should not be surprised if it holds good in the present instance. I have seen several flirtations among the young people brought together on this occasion ; and a great deal of strolling about in pairs, among retired walks and blossoming shrubberies of the old garden : and if groves were really given to whispering, as poets would fain make us believe, Heaven knows what love-tales the grave-look- ing old trees about this venerable country-scat might blab to the world. The general, too, has waxed very zealous in his devo- tions within the past few days, as the time of her lady- ship's departure approaches. I observed him casting many a tender look at her during the wedding dinner, while the courses were changing; though he was always liable to be interrupted in his adoration by the appearance of any ,iew delicacy. The general, in ftict, has arrived at that time of life when the heart and stomach main- tain a kind of balance of power, and when a man is apt to be perplexed in his affections between a fine woman and a truffled turkey. Her ladyship was certainly rivalled through the whole of the first course by a dish of stewed carp ; and there was one glance which was evidently intended to be a point-blank shot at her heart, and could scarcely have failed to effect a practicable breach, had it not unluckily been directed away to a tempting breast of lamb, in which it immediately produced a formidable incision. Thus did the faithless general go on, coquetting during the whole dinner, and committing an infidelity with every new dish ; until, in the end, he was so overpowered by the attentions he had paid to fish, flesh, and fowl, to pastry, jelly, cream, and blanc mange, that he seemed to sink within himself; his eyes swam beneath their lids, and tiieir fire was so much slackened that he could no longer dis- charge a single glance that would reach across the table. Upon the whole, I fear the general ate himself into as 82 m Bracebridge Hall much disgrace, at this memorable dinner, as I have seen him sleep himself into on a former occasici. I am told, moreover, that young Jack Tibbcts was so touched by the wedding ceremony, at which he was present, and so captivated by the sensibility of poor Phoebe Wil- kins, who certainly looked all the better for her tears, that he had a reconciliation with her that very day after dinner, in one of the groves of the park, and danced with her in the evening, to the complete confusion of all Dame Tibbets's domestic politics. i 83 Weddmg Day in Literature and Art From "ALICE AND UNA" By DENIS FLORENCE MACCARTHY A LICE was a chieftain's daughter, And though many suitors sought her, She so loved Glengarift's water That she let her lovers pine. Her eye was beauty's palace. And her check an ivory chalice. Through which the blood of Alice Gleamed soft as rosict wine. And her lips like lusmore blossoms which the fairies intertwine And her heart a golden mine. !;> Need we say that Maurice loved her, And that no blush reproved her When her throbbing bosom moved her To give the heart she gave ? That by dawn-light and by twilight, And, O blessed moon, by thy light, — When the twinkling stars on high light The wanderer o'er the wave, — His steps unconscious led him where GlengarifF's waters lave Each mossy bank and cave. The sun his gold is flinging. The happy birds are singing, And bells are gaily ringing 84 ^ Alice and Una Along GlengarifF's sea; And crowds in many a galley To the happy marriage rally Of the maiden of the valley And the youth of Ceim-an-eich ; Old eyes with joy are weeping, as all ask on bended knee, A blessing, gentle Alice, upon thee. h .tl i it''. 85 k ■1 l! IFedding Day in LAterattn^e and Art 'I ■• t( From "A MARRIAGE AT SEA"* By W. CLARK RUSSELL BUT is it the tact, captain," I exclaimed, visited by a new emotion of surprise and incredulity, " that a marriage celebrated at sea by the captain of a ship is legal ? " * . . . "Tellye what I '11 do!" he exclaimed, jumping up. " Do you know Mr. Higginson ? " " A passenger, I presume ? " " Ay, one of the shrewdest lawyers in New Zealand. I '11 send for him, and you shall hear what he says." But on putting his head out to call for the steward, he saw Mr. Higginson sitting at the saloon table, reading. Some whispering followed, and they both arrived, the captain carefully shutting the door behind him. Mr. Higginson was a tall, middle-aged man, with a face that certainly looked intellectual enough to inspire one with some drgree of confidence in anything he might deliver. He put on a pair of pince-nez glasses, bowed to me, and took a chair. The captain began awkwardly, abruptly, and in a rumbling voice, — " Mr. Higginson, I '11 tell you in half a dozen words how the case stands. No need for mystery. Mr. Barclay 's out on an eloping tour. He don't mind my saying so, for we want nothing but the truth aboard the 'Carthusian.' He's run away with that sweet young lady we took off his yacht, and is anxious to get married, and Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore don't at all relish the situation the young lady's put herself in, and they're for marrying her as quickly as the job can be done." 1 By permission of y. B. Lippincott Co., from "^ Marriage at Sea" by W. Clark Russell. 86 SF^ KTSffi Bl i^ M b|^L._ ^.-. •rf^i \ m :y^Hk ■i^ • 1 ^^^^^HL ^>*pt.^ '-n 'v F^IMIB sji^i \> ^^'JT^.ii'J' '- .-»■-.. rif ^-* ■' 'r*f ^.^ M r^ ism m i J 1 111 If u A Marriage at Sea Mr Higginsun nursed his knee and smiled at the deck w,th a look of en.barrassment, though he had 1, en attend- sea, Mr. Barcby," he began, with a wary look to make u e that nobody was listening, u J wish we had a cZ of he Merchant Sh.ppn.gs Act for ,854, for I believe h^erc is a section wh.ch provides that every master of a ship car! ryn,g an oftc.al log-book shall enter in it every marr'aire that takes place on board, together with the nan,/s Z^^ of the parties; and I fancy there is another section which prov.des that every master of every foreign-going ship shall s.gn and deliver to some mercantile marine tth^ority a .^ containing among other things, a statement of every m rage which takes place on board. There is also an act called, ,f my memory serves me, the Confirmation of Mar- age on her Majesty's Ships Act; but this, I presume, does not concern what may happen in merchant vessels. I should Ike to i^ad up Hammick on the ^ Marriage Law of England. One thing, however, is clear; marriage a i«54. Merchantmen do not carry chaplains : a clergyman m attendance as a passenger was isuredly not in the'S of those who are responsible for the Act. The sections m my opmion, point to the captain as the person to officiate and, havu,g turned the matter thoroughly over, I don' scruple to pronounce that a marriage solemnised at sea by the master o a British merchantman is as legal and 'alid as though celebrated on shore in the usual way^" 1 am delighted to hear you say so," said I. Presently I looked at my watch ; a quarter to ten. Mr. 1 00th strolled up to me. « All alone, Mr. Barclay ? 'T is a fact, have you noticed, that when a man is about to get married, people hold ofF 87 5 Jl I I , !» m IVcddhig Day in Literature and Art from him ? I can uiulcrstand this of a corpse-, but a live young man, you know — and only because he's going to get married ! Hy the way, as it is to be a private affair, I suppose there is no chance for me f' " "The captain is the host," I answered, ♦' He is to play the father. If he chooses to invite you, by all means be present." As I spoke, the captain came on deck, turning his head about in manifest search of me. He gravely beck- oned with an air of ceremony, and Mr. Tooth and I went up to him. He looked at Mr. Tooth, who immediately said, — " Captain, a wedding at sea is good enough to remember something for a man to talk about. Can't 1 be present ? " And he dropped his head on one side with an insinuating smile. « No, sir," answered Captain Parsons, with true sea- grace, and, putting his hand on my arm, he carried me right aft. "The hour's at hand," said he. "Who's to be present, d' ye know ^ for if it 's to be private we don't want a crowd." "Mrs. Harstow and Miss Moggadorc -, nobody else, I believe." , . " Better have a couple of men as witnesses. What d' ye say to Mr. Higginson.? " "Anybody you please, captain." " And the second ? " said he, tilting his hat and thinking. " McCosh ? Yes, I don't think you can do better than McCosh. A thoughtful Scotchman, with an excellent memory." He pulled out his watch. " Five minutes to ten. Let us go below." And down he went. The steward was despatched to bring Mr. Higginson and the chief mate, Mr. McCosh, to the captain's cabin. The saloon was empty, possibly out of consideration to our feel- in2;s, the people had gone on deck or withdrawn to their berths. " Bless me ! I had quite forgotten," cried Captain Par- sons, as he entered his cabin. " Have you a wedding ring, Mr. Barclay ? " 88 > A Marriage at Sea Oh, yes ! answered, laughing, and p.dling out the purse u, which i k. pt it. « Little use in sailing away with a young lad^, uaptau, Parsons, to get married, unless you carry the ring with you." ^ "Glad you have it. We can't he too shipshape. Rut I presume you know," said the little fellow, " that any sort of a ring would do -even a curtain-ring. No occasion for the ady to wear what you slip on, thou^l, [ believe it \ expected she sh.n.ld keep it upon her finger\ill the service IS over. Let me see now — there 's something else I wanted to say. Oh, yes ; who 's to give the bride away ? " I X? ^f \Y?^^ '"' '^'-' ^'"°''' ^'"^ ^'' Higginson,' fol- lowed by Mr. McCosh, entered. "Mr. Higginson," immediately cried the captain, « you will give the bride away." ^ The lawyer put his hand upon his shirt-front, and bowed. I glanced at McCosh, who had scarcely had time to do more than flourish a hnir-brush. He was extraordinarily grave and turned a very literal eye round about. I asked him If he had ever before taken part in a ceremony of this sort at sea He reflected, and answered, « No, neither at sea nor ashore. " But seeing that you are a witness, Mr. McCosh, you thorough y understand the significance of the marriage service, I hope.?" said Mr. Higginson, drily. ^ '^\i p know, then, sir," answered McCosh, in the voice of a saw going through a balk of timber, « I never read or heard a line of the marriage service in all my life. liut 1 have a very good und.-rstai.ding of the object of thf ceremony. "^ W ''\^Tc'?: ^'- .^'^^'"■^h," said the captain, looking at him doubtfully. « It ,s as a witness that you 're here " " "T will be ^fact, no doubt ? " said Mr. McCosh. " Certainly," said the lawyer. " Then, of course," said the mate, « I shall always be able to swear to it." ■' "Fen minutes past ten," cried the captain, whipping out his watch. « I hope Miss Moggadore 's not keeping fl *f Wedding Day in Literature and Art \- thf ladies waiting while she powders herself or fits a new cap tt) her hair," He opened the door to call to the steward, then hopped hack with a sudden convulsive sea-bow to make room tor the ladies, who were approaching. My darling was very white and looked at me pitcouslv. She came to my side, and slipped her hand into mine, whis- pering under her breath, " Such a silly, senseless ceremony ! " J pressed her lingers, and whispered back that the cere- mony was not for us, but for Aunt Amelia. She wore her hat and jacket, and Mrs. Harstow was clad as for the deck ; but Miss Moggadore, on the t)ther hand, as though in justification of what the captain had said about her, made her appearance in the most extraordinary cap 1 had ever seen, — an inflated arrangement, as though she were fresh from a breeze wind that held it bladder-like. She had changed her g .\ n, too, for a sort of Sunday dress of satin or some such material. She courtesicd on entering, and took up her position alongside of McCosh, where she stood viewing the company with an austere gaze which so harmonised with the dry, literal, sober stare of the mate that I had to turn my back upon her to save the second explosion of laughter. "Arc wc all ready ? " said the little captain, in the voice of a man who might hail his mate to tell him to prepare to put the ship about, and McCosh mechanically answered : " Ay, ay, sir, all ready." On this the captain went to the table, where lay a big church service in large type, and, putting on his glasses, looked at us over them as a hint for us to take our places. He then began to read, so slowly that I foresaw, unless he skipped many of the passages, we should be detained half the morning in his cabin. He read with extraordinary enjoyment of the sound of his own voice, and constantly lifted his eyes, while he delivered the sentences as though he were admonishing instead of marrying us. Grace kept her head hung, and I felt her trembling when I took her hand. I had flattered myself that I should exhibit no 90 r '. t and I Art f or fits a new ■d, then hopped make room for mc pitcously. ito mine, wliis- ss ceremony ! " that the cerc- lia. She wore clad as for the land, as though iaid about her, nary cap 1 had lough she were ddcr-like. She lunday dress of :-d on entering, !osh, where she gaze which so e of the mate avc the second in, in the voice 11 to prepare to ly answered : vhcrc lay a big on his glasses, ikc our places, esaw, unless he c detained half 1 extraordinary and constantly ■nces as though s. Grace kept hen I took her uid exhibit no A Marriage at Sea The others stocul behind me; I could not see them • 't would have eased me, \ think, had 1 been able to do' S-. I he thought of McCosh's face, the fancy fM s M,^gado,.s cap, g..cw dreadfully oppressive tlm, ghT^ Amen, wh<,se belatedness he accentuated by t e W.u manner ,n which he breathed it out ^ ent^;^^ Into'f th*" ""' ''^J^^}^^-^^H-^ conditions which entered into it, this was a brief passage of experience th-ir .he an,,„,,|,l,e,.e of ,„e cabin, a„tl bull caj "e TL'k' len-n "","'",' ""■■ tippling of , he waves '1, i' H J thisT"" '""'' ' '''^ '""S time in marrying us. "Hilt for Grace, it must have vanished under thn I i a..ons. I took the liberty of pulling out my watch as ^ 91 i ! H H. 11 'ill Wedding Day i?i Literature and Art hint, but he was enjoying himself too much to be in a hurry. Nothing, I believe, could have so contributed to the felicity of this man as the prospect of uniting one or more couples every day. On several occasions his eyes appeared to fix themselves upon Miss Moggadore, to whom he would accentuate the words he pronounced by several nods. The marriage service, as we all know, is short, yet Captain Parsons kept us an hour in his cabin listening to it. Before reciting " All ye that are married," he hemmed loudly, and appeared to address himself exclusively to Miss Moggadore, to judge by the direction in which he continued to nod emphatically. At last he closed his book, slowly gazing at one or the other of us over his glasses, as if to witness the effect of his reading in our faces. He then opened his official log- book, and in a whisper, as though he were in church, called Mr. Higginson and Mr. McCosh to the table to witness his entry. Having written it, he requested the two witnesses to read it. Mr. McCosh pronounced it " arl reet," and Mr. Higginson nodded as gravely as though he were about to read a will. " The ladies must see this entry, too," said Captain Parsons, still preserving his Sabbatical tone. " Can't have too many witnesses. Never can tell what may happen." The ladies approached and peered, and Miss Mogga- dore's face took on an unusually hard and acid expression as she pored upon the captain's handwriting. " Pray read it out. Miss Moggadore," said I. " Ay, do," exclaimed the captain. In a thin, harsh voice, like the cheep of a sheave set revolving in a block, — wonderfully in accord, by the way, with the briny character of the ceremony, — the lady read as follows : — lo: lo A. M. — Solemnised the nuptials of Herbert Barclay, Esquire, gentleman, and Grace Bellassys, spinster. Present, Mrs. Baistow, Miss Moggadore, James Higginson, Esquire, solicitor, and 92 A Marriage at Sea Donald McCosh chief officer. This marriage thus celebrated was conducted according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of r.ngiand. "And now, Mr. Barclay," said Captain Parsons, as Miss Moggadoie concluded, "you 'd like a certificate under my hand, would n't you .? " "We're not strangers to Mr. and Mrs. Barclay's views, said Mr. Higginson, "and I am certainly of opinion, captain, that Mr. Barclay ought to have such a certihcate as you suggest, that on his arrival at home he may send copies of it to those whom it concerns." At the utterance of the words "Mr. and Mrs. Barclay" 1 laughed while Grace started, gave me an appealing look, turned a deep red, and averted her face. The captain pro- duced a sheet of paper, and, after looking into a dictionary once, — " Nothing like accuracy," said he, " in jobs of this sort," -he asked, "Will this do?" and thereupon read as follows : may Ship '* Carthusian," ^ , At Sea [such and such a date] . i, Jonathan Parsons, master of the above-named ship "Car- thusian, ' of London, toward New Zealand, do herebv certify that 1 have this day united in the holy bonds of wedlock, the following persons, to-wit : Herbert Barclay. Esquire, and Grace Bcllassys; spinster, in the presence of the undersigned. " Nothing could be better," said I. " Now, gentlemen and ladies," said the captain, " if you will please sign your names." This was done, and the document handed to me. I pocketed It with a clear sense of its value,— as regards 1 mean, the efFect I might hope it would produce on Lady Amelia Roscoe. Captain Parsons and the others then shook hands with us, the two ladies kissing Grace, who, poor child, looked exceedingly frightened and pale. "What's the French word for breakfast .? " asked Cap- tain Parsons. Hi, :l PI li , k lFeddi?tg Day i?i Literature a7td Art " Dejcwmr^ sir," answered McCosh. Parsons bent his ear with a frown. "You're givine me the Scotch for it, I believe," cried he. "It 's dejeuner, I think," said I, scarce able to speak for laughing. " Ay, that '11 be it," cried the captain. « Well, as Mr and Mrs. Barclay don't relish the notion of a public degener we must dnnk their healths in a bottle of champagne." ' He put his head out of the cabin, and called to the steward, who brought the wine, and for hard upon half an hour my poor darling and I had to listen to speeches from old 1 arsons and the lawyer. Even McCosh must talk In slow and rugged accents he invited us to consider how fortunate we were in having fallen into the hands of Cap- tarn Parsons. Had he been master of the « Carthusian " there could have been no marriage, for he would not have known what to do. He had received a valuable profes- sional hint that morning, and he begged to thank Captain l^arsons for allowing him to be present on so interestinc an occasion. ° This said, the proceedings ended. Mrs. Barstow, pass- uig Grace's hand under her arm, carried her off to her cabin, and I, accepting a cigar from the captain's box went on deck to smoke it, and to see if there was anything in sight likely to carry us home. Married! Could I believe it ? If so — if I was indeed a wedded man — then I suppose never in the annals of love-making could anything stranger have happened than that a young couple eloping from a French port should be blown out into the ocean and there united, not by a priest but by a merchant skipper. ' 94 The Buildi?ig of the Ship From "THE pass- BUILDING OF SHIP"i THE By henry WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A LL is finished ! and at length -^^ Has come the bridal day Of beauty and of strength. To-day the vessel shall be launched ' With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched. And o'er the bay, Slowly, in all his splendours dight, The great sun rises to behold the sight. There she stands, With her foot upon the sands, Decked with flags and streamers gay In honour of her marriage day, ' Her snow-white signals flutter i'ng, blending, Round her like a veil descending. Ready to be The bride of the gray old sea. On the deck another bride Is standing by her lover's side. Shadows from the flags and shrouds, Like the shadows cast by clouds, Broken by many a sunny fleck, ' Fall around them on the deck. The prayer is said, The service read. The joyous bridegroom bows his head ; And in tear? the good old Master ^ By special permisiion of Houghton, Mifflin & Co 95 M r ' h M IFcddin^ Day in Literature a?id Art Shakes the brown hand of his son, Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek In silence, for he camiot speak, And ever faster J)own his own the tears begin to run. The worthy pastor — 'I'hc shepherd of that wandering flock, That has the ocean for its wold. That has the vessel for its fold, Leaping ever from rock to rock — Spake, with accents mild and clear. Words of warning, words of cheer, IJut tedious to the bridegroom's car. 96 'L'he Minister s lFooi?ig From "THE MINISTER'S WOOING'" Bv HARRIE- BEECHER S lOWE JYJY DEAR SISTER, -You wonder, I s'pose, why • t i ' 'V '^'■'"'■" y^" ' ''"t th'-' fact is, I Vc been run just ott my feet, and worked till the flesh aches o it oi Mary Scudder s. And, after all, you will be astonished to hear that she ha'n't married the Doctor, but th^ Ti„ Marvyn that I told you about. You see h^ came hie week before the • edding was to be, and Mary, she was so h^Drrind ^hou^^ht'twa'n't right to bLk or^it^h Mrs ScuddeTl' T ^"'' -^"'"^ ''^^^ "" ^''^h it ; and Mrs. bcudder, she was for gonig on more yet; and the poor young man, he could n't get a word in edge^aTs and there would n't anybody tell the Doctor a word about h areadtul, and so I thought to myself " I 'II Jncf fni. hfe in my hand, like Q.^een Esther a^d go n^^a d^ 1 t"h^ Doctor all about ,t." And so I did. I '^ scared to death took It ],ke a saint. He just gave her up as serene and calm as^a psalm-book, and calle'd Jim in a'nd U7L to Ji-n was fairly overcrowed, _ it really made him feel smal , and he says he '11 agree that there is IreTn the Doctor s rehg,on than most men's : which shows how im t^hT:!': '°^Pt"^''"g Christians to bear tIstimoT,;" the.r works -as I was telling Ccrinthy Ann Twitchel ■ a.jdshesa,d there wa'n't anything made her wantTo be a Chnst,an so much, if that was what religion would do for 1 By special permission of Houghion, Mifflin & Co. 7 gj i h I I .1 'St HI lFeddi7ig Day in Literature arid Art Well, you sec when this came out, it wanted just three days of the wedding, which was to be Thursday, and that wedding dress I told you about, that had lilies of the valley on a white ground, was pretty much made, except puffing the gauze around the neck, which I do with white satin piping-cord, and it looks beautiful too ; and so Mrs. Scud- der and I, we were thinking 'twould do just as well, when in come Jim Marvyn, bringing the sweetest thing you ever saw, that he had got in China, and I think I never did see anything lovelier. It was a white silk, as thick as a board, and so stiff that it would stand alone, and overshot with little fine dots of silver, so that it shone when you moved it, just like frostwork ; and when I saw it, I just clapped my hands, and junped up from the floor, and says I, " If I have to sit up all night, that dress shall be made, and made well, too." p^or, you krow, I thought I could get Miss Olladine Hocum to run the bre. dths and do such parts, so that I could devote myself to the fine work. And that French woman I told you about, she said she 'd help, and she's a master-hand for touching things up. There seems to be work provided for all kinds of people, and French people seem to have a gift in all sorts of dressy things, and 't is n't a bad gift either. Well, as I was saying, we agreed that this was to be cut open with a train, and a petticoat of just the palest, sweet- est, loveliest blue that ever you saw, and gauze puffings down the edgings each side, fastened in, every once in a while, with lilies of the valley ; and 't was cut square in the neck, with puffings and flowers to match, and then tight sleeves, with full ruffles of that old Mechlin lace that you remember Mrs. Katy Scudder showed you once in that great camphor-wood trunk. Well, you see, come to get all things together that were to be done, we concluded to put off the wedding till Tues- day ; and Madame de Frontignac, she said she would dress the best room for it herself, and she spent nobody knows what time in going round and getting evergreens, and mak- ing wreaths, and putting up green boughs over the pictures, 98 m 1' i f! i'^ ' ' 1 1 n It t» IV to w pr be wi is she is : in "n^ T/.)e Minister s lFooi?i^ o that the room looked just hke the Episcopal Church at Chnstmas. In fact, Mrs Scuddcr said, if it had hoc- Christmas, she sh.n.Ki n't have felt it ri-^lt hut as it w she did n't think anybody would think it any hi.;, ' ""' We I 1 u..-sday night, I and Madame de Frontignac, we i.c sed Mary ourselves, and, I tell yo„, the dress ritted as f It was grow., on her; a.ul Madame de F.o.uig.iac, she dressed her ha,.- ; she had on a weath of lilies of the vallcn and a gauze ve.I that ca.ne a'most down to her feet, and ca.ne •".'"ound her l.ke a cloud, and you could see her white shnnng dress through it every time she moved, and sic looked just as wh.te as a snow-ben-y, but the.e were two It kind IT^"" ^■''' "r'"^' ^"^ ^'"'"g '" ^^^ -heeks hat kmd of lightened up when she smiled, and then faded down aga.n And the Fre.,ch Lady put a stri.^g of .eal pearls ,ound her neck, and a cross of pearls, which we. down and lay hid in her bosom. She was mighty calm-like while she was being diessed • but just as I w.i putting in the last pin, she heard the rumbling of a coach downstairs, for Jim Marvyn had go a rca elegant carriage to carry her over to his father's in, and so she knew he was to come. And pretty soon Mrs Marvyn came ,n the room, and wheii she saw Marv, he; brown eyes kind of danced, and she lifted up both hands to see how beautiful she looked. And Jim Marvyn he was standing at the door, and they told^^ him it was ,.' t proper that he should see till the time comes; Tut he. egged so hard that he might just have one peep, that 1 let h.m come ,n, and he looked at her as if she was something he wouldn't dare to touch; and he says to me softly, says he M m most afra.d she has got wings somewhere that Ta drea.?'^ """' °'' "'"' ^ '^'" ^""^^ "P ""'^ ^"'^ '^ Well, Ce.-inthy Ann Twitchel was the bridesmaid, and she came next w.th the young man she is engaged to! It js a 1 out now, that she is engaged, and she don't deny it. And Cerm hy, she looked handsomer than I ever saw her in a white brocade, with rosebuds on it, which I guess she' 99 I l^edding Day in Literature and Art i" . got in reference tc, the ftuure, for they say she is ^mm to be married next month. *" VVell, we all filled „p the room pretty well till Mrs hcudder came in to tell us that the con.pany were all together ; and then they took hold of arms, and they had a little time practising how they must stand, and Cerinthy Anns beau would always get on the wrong side, 'cause he s rather bashhil, and don't know very well what he 's about; and Cerinthy Ann declared she was afraid that she would laugh out in prayer-time, 'cause she always did laugh when she knew she mus' n't. Hut finally Mrs. Scudder to-d us we must go in, and looked so reproving at Cerin- thy that she had to hold her mouth with her pocket- hand kerchiif". ' VVell, the old l3octor was standing there in the very silk gown that the ladies gave him to be married in himself _ poor, dear man !_and he smiled kind of peaceful on 'em when they came in, and walked up to a kind of bower of evergreens and flowers that Madame de Frontignac had hxed for them to stand in. Mary grew rather white, as if she was p,ing to faint ; but Jim Marvyn stood up just as h ni, and lc,oked as proud and handsome as a prince, and he k.nd of looked down at her, _ 'cause, you know, he is a great eal taller,- kind of wondering, as if he wanted to know .f It were really so. Well, when they got all placed, they let the doors stand open, and Cato and' Candace came and stood ,n the door. And Candace had o.. her great splendid Mogadore turban, and a crimson and yellow shawl that she seemed to take comfort in wearing, although it was pretty hot. ^ Well, so when they were all fixed, the Doctor, he begun his prayer, — and as 'most all of us knew what a great sac- nhce he had made, f don't believe there was a dry eye in the room ; and when he had done, there was a great time — people blowing their noses and wiping their eyes, as if it had been a funeral. Then Cerinthy Ann, she 'pulled ofl^ Mary s glove pretty quick ; but that poor beau of hers, he made such work of James's that he had to pull it off 100 liiif ■^' The Ministers IFooi j..i" Hands, ji,„ ,„,„ :!,;;;«;"• h:;;;L ■; i;":i"i '." mean to let no vci v soon .n-i .1 '^ "^ "'^ " t fc,w my soon 4,,(j j^,, jj vVfTf mill-;.. 1 |„^;-e „p and ..ed Mar, JZ'^J^l^^^^^ n=ck, and gave him rca t Z"' T "'""^ """""' J""'^ laughed. ^ "' '"''"■'>' '"'■•'^''. S" 'liat everyhody cveX:l'^lfg^o:^^-t•^r^h"7r"' -"•"•■''■ ' h^'ll iing. And then ZVk '""'^ ''''^ ninc-o'docK- Mrs. Scuclder, he w a L M^^^ -me up to the door, and -g over her, ^hilcT^rM^"^ ''''' ,-"« ^cr and ay- out of the coach after her a . u ''[''''^'''^ her arms went after in the w'Ln h 1 , "^^ ^'''^" ^""' ^^^'-^''d^ce together; and e eH ce ^h ' ' '"u f" ^'^^"^^ ^" ^^"^ "'f "u.ch bu; rest, frr we ;., 0" "' '^*\"i ^'^^ "' - ^""0 -eat present, .onr;^:;^;;^^^::^^"^- ^'^^ Prissy. 1 J lOI 1 i % 1 II 1 i >j Jl "^1 iK Wedding Day i?i Literature and Art From "BY CKLIA'S ARBOR "^ Bv WALTER BESANT and JAMES RICE. I HAVE come to the end of my story, the only story I have to tell from my own experience. How shoulil it end but with a wedding ? There is no romance where there is no love; there is iio pleasure in the contemplation of love, unless it ends happiy, and is crowned with orange blossoms; love is the chief happiness of life, as everybody knows — except, perhaps, John Pontifex — and has ever been completed by the wedding bells. Ring, wedding bells, then ; shake out the clashing music of your joy over all the fields, startle the farmer at his work, rouse the student at his desk, strike on the ear of the s-iilor out at sea, echo along the shore, mingle with the roar of the saluting guns to greet the ship's crew when they come home, so that they may know that during their three years' cruise the world's happiness has not altogether died away. Bring back to the old the mcmoiy of a day long gone by. Lift up the heart of the young with hope. Put ambitious thoughts of such a day of victoiy into the niijid of the maiden who would like nothing better than to hear the bells ring for herself on such a wedding morning and walk in such a procession, decked with such white robes and such orange wreaths. May they ring for every one of our girls, so that not one shall miss the love of a man but those who are unworthy ! They were married in the old church, the parish church, a mile from the town. It is a day at the end of October, a breezy day of autumn ; the clouds are driving across the sky, light clouds which leave plenty of clear blue sky and sunshine ; the leaves are 1 Publiihed by Harper & Brothers, New York. 102 i ><; ^1 03 ^i ul u X i ff - H V. i ■ (i X l''f h ; Mi < nli !J 11 'I ; f fSl.i Wf iV (' ' The churchyard is full nf ^. i • ' ding; the hoLt folk fro^^^^^^ shake hands with Jem Hexld hT'^v^"^/'"^ '^'''- ^ "lore, who knew me in the old H ?"/:^' ""^ '^^^'^^ ^ozen ianship. They cTre ess for ,he\' "f ^u'^- ^^'"''^'^ g"^^'!" groom, these de'nizeL ofN^L?/ W ' ri '^^ ^ ^ ^''^^- speak, who used to run ra^o-.H ?k u P^^ ^ ''"X' s« to who played on their own^f """^ '^' ^°g^ «" the Hard, to fight Moses dt and on S^^^ "'^^ ^^ -customed ^'•ght of all ; who a'c'tuaify,' n r he ^h^d "" V*;^'^^^ ''' dam to remember the old flml^ / . '^^>'' ^^'^ "«t dis- at the Blue Anchor 1 - , T V""1"^«^^''^^'J Moses again such a man wa not, of cou " ' ^""^ ''^""'^ ^^^^ ^^'-e Victory Row have cle Sv ?5'''-'^' ^^^^"^^ ^^ «f though not put down ?n boots ^ N f "^'.'\"'«,^d --, - you, and a few ; WeLft ' "^ °" ' ^"""^"S^' "^i'^d should have de. .el to haf h '.'''r'"'- ^"^ ^^at he feal captain in ..c a^^v and , "^'^l"^ ^''^^^"^^^ ^-'' ^° t'- a short of the daughter^f' the m. T? '" ""^'^y ""thing tiful as the day,1haTw;s f%r„T; ^"'^ '^^^ ^ ^^^^ - beau! of the common. ' ^ " P'^^'^' something quite out and'^e^li^tb'^^^^r^^^^^^^^ "^^'^^ -''^ - -i^orm people, don't' crowd The aS " GTh. '^^'l'^^'' ^^^^ Is the captain looking welf o d'av P A . '\'^' '''^^^'" ' h-m, too, if all 's true that 's said W^^-^k '^PP>' ^^-^ ^«'- due to anybody for th^f k f • ^^"'''' '^ any credit is the captain. There 'L^"'"^ ""^ ^« ^^"' 't's due to Other VsonsIelTeqTa ran^ Z^T''' '''■''''' ''^^'^' were, for instance. Captain Luff P -'^'r^' '' """^ ' ^^ere tain Bobstay - who was '"l ?'"" "^'"'^^P^'-t' Cap- title - all ling notTa f^l'vT^ T''' ^'^'^ -P^-"'« their namesassilned to them as rr \°" ' ^"^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ "ot. The old man, pleased ,o. '' '^'"' '''^''^ «"'■« ^^ad together to do honour to htmlThf "'"^ ^^^^'^ ^^^''-^d to n,m and his, stops, and has a word 103 It? iKuMHin uniiiiifiif Wedding Day in L,iterature and Art to say to every one, and then goes on to the church, where he stands by the altar and waits. The Rev. John Pontifex and Mrs. Pontifex his wife. The sailor-folk know nothing of them except as residents. So they p?ss in the silence of respect, — John Pontifex, with his long-tail coat on, and a very, very voluminous white muffler around his neck. The Rev. Verney Broughton. He it is who is going to marry them. Ah ! quoth Jem Hex, and a right sort, too, as he has heard, either for a glass of wine, or for a marriage, or for a sermon. From Oxford College he is, and once taught Master Leonard a mort o' learning, which, no doubt, helped him ag'in them Rooshans. Among the people, bustling here and there with im- portance, is the historiographer, Ferdinand Brambler, note- book in hand. He goes into the church ; comes out and dashes down observations in his note-book on a tombstone; listens to the people and jots down more observations ; and then, absorbed in meditation, is seen standing motionless, as if grappling for the mastery of language. This is a great day for Ferdinand. Round the church-door are all the younger members of the Brambler family, told off to strew flowers at the feet of the bride. Augustus is with them, bearing in his hands a pair of new white cotton gloves, with an air of immense dignity. These crowds, this ringing of bells, strewing of flowers, and general excitement, all attest, in his eyes, to the greatness and glory of the Legal. Nothing in the Scho- lastic, not even a prize-giving, ever came near it. All the children are dressed in new clothes presented by the cap- tain, so that they may do fitting honour to the occasion. Leonard had pressed me to be his best man, which, indeed, was my proper place. But I wanted to play the organ for Celia's marriage, and I had promised myself to play my own love-symphony, which she alone knew. It was a fancy of mine. Forty-Four, my faithful little ally and friend, begged to come with me to the organ-loft. It was after eleven, and time to go up the stairs. What 104 T By Celias Arboi are all those heavy heels tramping up ,he aisle ? Tl,. Leonard's Company with, lUev^,'!:"!, ,f J^/^^ Kony-Fo^, let . look thTgh ^"i^n^:"^ -"S - Leonard eoiiifr ud the li^h- i-T„ • • ^7 "^'^^ J,:, u ° ° ^ ^"- "'^ 's in uniform a« ar*. x| ^e ^oLvtrehr^rthfcoC, - -d As?;i;rr:r:;;htan7:?e 'Lt:v^H'''v°°^- l^ow lovely ! Oh, how sweet she looks i '' ^^' My wedcling-hymn of praver and praise — listen tn V Cel.a- know you are lis'ning_as Tou stanH f ' moment before the altar bes.de yfur lovej wait n A^^^h' words to be spoken. Listen ! there is no iov ^ ^ music given to men and women like the-'Lv''^' '^"f love; there can be no praise ton f . ll I j ^ ■'°>' °^ gift of love; there can b'e to p" ef^ L"l' ^P ^^ .^^e the prayer for the continuance rfleListj^"V'r vo.ce of your heart speaking in the mu7i "hVh • ' and rolls about the pillars of the old church I ""^j •t reading in your heart itself if , .^""rch— I learned II Wedding Day in Literature and Art 11 1 ■ ii II ;r I finish my symphony and the service begins. The words are faint and low as they mount to the organ-loft. I have pulled the curtains aside, and we watch, we three, Forty-Four, Jem the organ-blower, and I, from the gallery, while Leonard holds Celia's hand in his, and they take the vow which binds them for ever to each other. You are crying, Forty-Four ? Foolish child ! All is over, and they have gone into the vestry. Come, we have played Celia's symphony before the wedding with htr hymn. Now for the march. Mendelssohn alone has reached the true, triumphal rapture. His music is the exaltation of the bridegroom; it is a man's song, — the song of a man who bears his bride away ; the song of the young men who clap their hands; the jubilant blare of clarions and trumpets, which throw their music abroad to the winds that enviouS men may hear; and though the women cry, like foolish little Forty-p^our, we drown their tears with song and shout. A bridegroom's song of triumph, this. But the bride is gone, and the bridal company with her the children have strewed their flowers upon the ground the carriages have driven off; only the people are Ipft , they, too, are leaving the church; in a i&^ momenis we shall be alone in the loft. Consumtnatum est. Leonard has come home ; Leonard has won his bride ; Celia has gone from us. Shut up the organ, Forty-Four ; let us go down and join the wedding guests. Somehow, I do not feel much like feasting. Mr. Tyrrell was by no means the kind of man to make a mean show on this auspicious occasion. He had a marquee erected in his gardf h, where two tables were laid ; he invited to the breakfast his whole staff of clerks with their families, including all who bore the name of Brambler — they had the second table. He would have invited all the regiment if Leonard had allowed him. As it was, there appeared a great gathering of his brother- officers. io6 1.^ By Cclias Arb roor No nobler wedding-breakfast, Ferdinand Hrambler re- ported, had ever before been witnessed in the town, and It reflected, he said, the greatest credit on Mr. Honev- bun, the eminent local confectioner and pastrycook, who evinced on this occasion talents of an order inferior to none, not even Fortnum and Mason, the purveyors of princes It may be mentioned that the occasion was one ot which Ferdinand made four columns and a half The wedding report ran to the butcher's bill for three whole weeks, and included a small outstanding account with the greengrocer, as Augustus himself told me. It was headed " Wedding of the Mayor's Only Daughter " in arge type and w..s divided into headed sections, t'hus : « -rr ^""'^^y^"^ ' " Decorations of the Church ; " 'The Organ,st;"~of whom he spoke with some ret i- with bride and bridegroom; "The Bridegroom and his Gallant Supporters ; " The Arrival of the Bride : " « The Wedding, ,n which he gave the rein to religious feelings, and spoke of the impressive reading of Mr. Broughton the reverent attention of those war-stained heroel the officers of the regiment, and the tears of the bridesmaids; « w "!,. Pf.'^'l' '" ^^'^^ ""y °^" rendering of the " The Wedding Breakfast," in the description of which he surpas^sed himself, so that those who read of that mag- nihcent feed went hungry immediately. I do not know what reward he received of Mr. Honeybun, the confec- tTrirLr life '"^'^ ^" '^^^ ^'' '''' ^"" ^^-S ^^e It was not at all a solemn or a tearful meal. Mr John Pontifex, seated well out of his wife's sight, was between two young officers, to whom he communicated recollec- tions of his early life at Oxford, and the reckless profligacy which he had witnessed, and even — " Oh ' " I heard him say, " It IS a most Awful event to look back upon " _ par- ticipated in and encouraged. He told them the Goose story, he told how he had once fallen in love with I 107 .'.' 1 JVedding Day in Literature and Art young person — in fact, of the opposite sex — in Oxford, and how, excepting that single experience, "Love," as' he said, "has never yet, T regret to say, reached this poor — cold — heart of mine." All this was very delightful to his two hearers, and I observed the rapture with which they plied him with cham- pagne, of which he drank immense quantities, becoming frightfully pale, and listened to his reminiscences. No doubt, Mrs. Pontifex would have been greatly pleased had she been present that evening in the mess-room, and heard the reproduction of these anecdotes. It was in the ponderous manner peculiar to clergymen of his standing and scholarship that Mr. Broughton pro- posed the health of the bride and bnJegroom. He had known them both, he said, from infancy. There were no words at his command strong enough to express his affection for the bride, or, if he might say so as a Chris- tian man, his envy of the bridegroom. On the other hand, for such a bride, there was none fitter than such a bridegroom. This young Achilles, having obtained from the Gods a better fate than the hero to whom he likened him, had returned victorious from the wars and won the fairest prize. They all knew Leonard Copleston's his- tory, how the young gentleman, the son of a long line of gallant gentlemen, met adverse Fortune with a resolute front, and conquered her, not with a sword, but with a bayonet ; what they did not know, perhaps, was what he could tell them, as Leonard's tutor, that he had always as a boy looked on the gallant soldier as the noblest type of manhood. "We all," said Mr. Broughton, "envy the man who fights; even the most popular priest is the priest mili- tant ; the glory of a poet or a painter is pale compared with the glory of a general; let us wish for Leonard Copleston a Ion- career of honour and distinction, and for them both, my iiiends, for Celia and Leonard Copleston, let us wish tl it their love may endure beyond the brief moon of passion, and grow in depth as the years run on ; io8 1i % Iff By Gelid s Arbor Thn 1 1' bou( uct, and mature its character ' " brief 109 » i ITcdding Day m Literature and Art "THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY" By WILLIAM WORDSWORTH npHE Vested Priest before the Altar stands; J. ^ Approach, come gladly, )i i-reparcd, in sight Of God and chosen friends, your troth to plight With the symbolic ring, and willing hands Solemnly joined. Now sanctify the baniis, O Father ! — to the Espoused thy blessing give, That mutually assisted they may live Obedient, as here taught, to thy commands. So prays the Church, to consecrate a Vow " The which would endless matrimony make ; " Union that shadows forth and doth partake A mystery potent human love to endow With heavenly, each more prized for the other's sake ; Weep not, meek bride ! uplift thy timid brow. no Auld Licht Idylls From "AULD LICHT IDYLLS" Hv J. M. BARRIE 'T^HE natural politeness of the Allardice family gave X me my invitation to Tibbie's wedding. I was takiii-r tea and diccsc early one wintry afternoon with the smith and his wife, when little Joey Todd in his Sabbath clothes peered m at the passage, and then knocked primly at the door. Andra forgot himself, and called out to him to come in by; but Jess frowned him into silence and, hastily don- nmg her black mutch, received Willie on the threshold Both halves of the door were open, and the visitor had looked us over carefully before knocking; but he had come with the compliments of l^ibbie's mother, requesting the pleasure of Jess and her man that evening to the lassie's marriage with Sam'l Todd, and the knocking at the door was part of the ceremony. Five minutes afterward Joey returned to beg a moment of me in the passage; when I too, got my invitation. The lad had just received, with an expression of polite surprise, though he knew he could claim It as his right, a slice of crumbling shortbread, and taken his staid departure, when Jess cleared the tea-things off the table, remarking simply that it was a mercy we had not got beyond the first cup. We then retired to dress. About six o'clock, the time announced for the ceremony, I elbowed my way through the expectant throng of men, women, and children that already besieged the smith's door. Shrill demands of « Toss, toss ! " rent the air every time Jess' head showed on the window blind, and Andra hoped, as I pushed open the door, " that I hadna forgotten my bawbees." Weddings were celebrated among the Auld Lichts by showers of ha'pence, and the guests on their way to the bride's house had to scatter to the hungry rabble like housewives feeding poultry. Willie Todd, the best man, who had never come put so strong in his' life III \ it ■ \T^' I:li. IFedding Day in Litera ture and Art before slipped through the back wi.ulow, while the crowd led on by k,tty McQueen, seethed in front, a.ul .mlcTnt' Lnt ";' '" t : '^'''^^" "'-^^ ^''^-^ '■" '^ n,;,nK-nt with ^ handfu of snu.ll change. « I^inna toss ower lavishly at first, the smith whispered me nervously, as we followed Jess and W.II.e into the darkening wynd Ihe guests were packed hot and solemn in Tohnnv Allardice's "room;" chc men anxious to surrende S scats to the lad.es who happened to be standing, b t o bashful to propose it ; the ham and the fish frizzln ' ^i i v ^Je bys.de and hissing out every now and then toirS wat^to r"" "Tk'^' J^"" ^^^^'^ -- adding nu,r water to the gravy A better woman never lived ; but oh the hypocnsy of the face that beamed greeting to the gucs's' as .f .t had nothing to do but politely showShem i.f nd gasped next moment with up,aiscd arms over wh \sas nearly a fall .n crockery. When Janet sped to the u.H,r her "splett new" merino dress fell, to the pulling ofa' stnng, over her home-made petticoat, like the drop scone sl.ce the bacon. 1 he murmur of admiration that Hlled the room when she entered with the minister was an .nvolun! tary tnbute to the spotlessness of her wrapper and a .reat tnumph for Janet If there is an impression that^ the dress of the Auld Lichts was on all occasions as sombre as the.r faces let .t be known that the bride was but one of several .n "whites," and that Mag Munn had only a! the last moment been dissuaded from wearing flowcs The m.n,ster the Auld Lichts cong,atulated themselves,' d,sapproved of al such decking of the person and bowing of t.ie head to idols ; but on such an occasion he was no? expected tc, observe it. Bell Whamond, however, has reason for knowing that, marriages or no marriage , he drew the line at curls. ^ ' By-and-by Sam'l Todd, looking a little dazed, was pushed into the middle of the room to Tibbie's side, and the minister raised his voice in prayer. All eyes were closed reverently, except perhaps the bridegroom's, which 112 !!! " .J.! i'l tXMXf X\Ll". OiimtM ujor. I 4 1 m' li m^. Auld Licht Idylls seemed glazed and vacant. It was an open question in the community whether Mr. Dishart did not miss his chance at weddings; the men shaking their heads over the comparative brevity of the ceremony, the women wor- shipping him (though he never hesitated to rebuke them when they showed it to.) openly) for the urbanity of his manners. At that time, however, only a minister of such experience as Mr. Dishart's predecessor could lead up to a marriage in prayer without inadvertently joining the couple, and the catechising was mercifully brief. Another prayer followed the union ; the minister waived his right to kiss the bride; every one looked at every other one as if he had for the moment forgotten what he was on the p< 'it of saying and found it very annoying; and Janet signalled frantically to Willie Todd, who nodded intelligently in reply, but evidently had no idea what she meant. In time Johnny Allardice, our host, who became more and more doited as the night proceeded, remembered his instru ions, and led the way to the kitchen, where the guests, having politely informed the hostess that they were not hungry, partook of a hearty tea. Mr. Dishart presided, with the bride and bridegroom near him ; but though he tried to give an agreeable turn to the conversation by describing the extensions at the cemetery, his personality oppressed us, and we only breathed freely when he rose to go. Yet we marvelled at his versatility. In shaking hands with the newly married couple the minister reminded them that it was leap-year, and wished them "three hundred and sixty-six happy and God-fearing days." Sam'l's station being too high for it, Tibbie did not have a penny wedding, which her thrifty mother bewailed, penny weddings starting a couple in life. I can recall nothing more characteristic of the nation from which the Auld Lichts sprang than the penny wedding, where the only revellers that were not out of pocket by it were the couple who gave the entertainment. The more the guests ate and drank the better, pecuniarily, for their hosts. The charge for admission to the penny wedding (practi- S 113 II ?l( I < '♦ i! ' ( Wedding Day in Literature and Art nets, but with us It was generally a shilling. Perhaps the penny extra to the fiddler accounts for the name b7e de :t ^'^r"^"^"^ '^^'"^^ ^^- gone through in the bnde s house, there was an adjournment to a barn Tup" rfeTsrT'^" '\'' 1 •^r'"^' -'^-^ -- held th nuptial feast; long white boards from R„b AnLnis' saw- m.ll, supported on trestles, stood in lieu of tab es ; and those of the company who could not find a seat wafted pat.ently against the wall for a vacancy. The s^i n1 gave every pest the free run of the groaning bcLd b"? hough owls were plentiful, and eve' whitt bread too httle had been spent on them. The farmers of the ne X' bourhood who looked forward to providing the voun. couple w.thdnlls of potatoes for the coming linter,' made a b.d for the.r custom by sending them a fowl grat.rfor he oldest cock of the farmyard, but for all that it made a brave appearance in a shallow sea of soup. The fowls were always boiled, -wid^out exception, so f r as my memory carnes me; the guid-wife never having the heTr^ to roast them, and so lose the broth. One^ound of wh>skey-and-water was all the drink to which his shilling cnftled the guest. If he wanted more he had to ^ay bf It. There was much revelry, with song and dance that no st,.„ge,- could have thought these stW-limbcd we'a he trn the" ''' ^'l ^'^^ ^'^""'^'^ ^'"^ ^^irled through the barn the more the.r host smiled and rubbed his hands He presided at the bar improvised for the occasion, an7 if the thmg was conducted with spirit his bride flur an apron over her gown and helped him. I rememb r^n had to do double work at his penny wedding. It was a sigh to see h.m flitting about the torch-lif barn, with a kettle of hot water in one hand and a besom to svTeep up crumbs m the other. P Though Sam'l had no penny wedding, however we made a n.ght of it a. his marriage. ^ ' 114 s-TSessr- we Aula Licht Idylls of S r^'h K ^"■" ""^ '" '^"^^ ^^V'^' though I know ot Auld L.chts being conveyed to marriages nowadays by horses w.th white ears. The tea over, we formed in couples, and -the best man with the bride, the bride- groom with the best maid, leading the way _ marched in slow procession to Tibbie's new home, between lines of hoarse and eager onlookers. An attempt was made bv an Itinerant musician to head the company with his fiddle- but instrumental music, even in the streets, was abhorrent' I Win e r'd ^'^'",' ^"' '^' '"•"•^"^ "'^^ spokent. -r^:;; ^Willie I odd on the subject. As a consequence, Peter was driven from the ranks. The last thing I sa^ that night, as we hied, bareheaded and solemn, into the newly married couples house, was Kitty McQueen's vigorous arm, in a dishevelled sleeve, pounding ^ pair of mchin who had got between her and a muddy ha'penny. Ihat night there was revelry and boisterous mirth ^or what the Auld Lichts took for such) in Tibbie's kitchen At eleven o'clock Davit Lunan cracked a j^ke. Da "^ Haggar , m reply to Bell Dundas' request, gave a son. of distinctly secular tendencies Th,> kI;^o / u u . ^ fullv taken off K ""'""-"^j^*" ine bride (who had care- lully taken off her wedding-gown on getting home and abhoried. But Davie Haggart set another example on thi! oa:as.on, and no one had the courage to refuse to'follow Wc sat late round the dying fire, and it was only Willie Todd s scandalous assertion (he was but a boy) about hs .. g able to dance that induced us to thinkcif moving I he community, I understand, this marriage is still mem t^ mi^ist^^s-^r^" ^" ^''^^ '^" ^'^^"^-^ '^^^^^'- "S IFedding Day in Literature and Art '^i .if. if I'm: \\ From "A SCOTTISH COUNTRY WEDDING" By JAMES GRAHAME nnW appointed day arrives, a blithesome day -1. Of festive jollity ; yet not devoid Of soft regret to her about to leave A parent's roof, yes, at the word, join hands, A tear reluctant starts, as she beholds Her mother's looks, her father's silvery hairs But serious thoughts take flight, when from the barn, boon as the bands are knit, a jocund sound Strikes briskly up, and nimble feet beat fast Upon the earthen floor. Through many a reel With various steps uncouth, some new, some old, borne all the dancer's own, with Highland flings Not void of grace, the lads and lassies strive To dance each other down ; and oft when quite Wspent, the fingers merrily cracked, the bound. The rallying shout well-tuned, and sudden change 1 o sprightlier tune, revive the flagging foot, And make it feel as if it tripped in air. When all are tired and all his stock of reels The minstrel o'er and o'er again has run, The che' ring flagon circles round, meanwhile, A soften'd tune, and slower measure flows Sweet from the strings, and stills the boisterous joy. • • • . Rut, light now failing, glimmering candles shine In ready chandeliers of moulded clay Stuck round the walls, displaying to 'the view The ceiling rich with cobweb drapery hung Meanwhile, from mill and smiddy, field and* barn ii6 ' A Scottish Country Wedding Fresh groups come hastening in ; but of them all, The miller bears the grce, as rafter high He leaps, and, lighting, shakes a dusty cloud all round. In harmless merriment, protracted long, The hours glide by. At last, the stocking thrown, And duly every gossip rite performed. Youths, maids, and matrons take their several ways ; While drouthy carles, waking for the moon. Sit down again, and quaff" till daylight dawn. I< It mw rM.I I vn" lFeddi?ig Day in Literature and Art From "JANE EYRE" TiY CHARLOTTE BRONTE QOPHIE came at seven to dress me; she was very leu. O indeed m accoinpl,sh,,.,g her task, so long that Ur Rochester, grown, I suppose, impatient of my d.-lay er t up to ask why I did not come' She was just Senit my ved ^the plam square of blonde afte- A to mv hT^r wuh^a^brooch; I hurried from ..der her haniLT/ona^ "Stop!" she cried in French. "Look a yoarse¥ in tho mirror ; you have not taken one peep " ^ ho I turnrd r.,r the doer : I saw a robed and veikd ficn.re "Jane ! " raliui . voice, and I hastened down I was received at the fa. of ,he .tairs by Mr. Rochest^. L.ngerc., ..< sa.d, « my brain is on fire with im- patience, and you tarry so long I " all^!..r'' ""' '"'"''/*'" '^'"'"g--°«'". surveyed me keerdy fri \'rTT^ T" " ^^''' ^' ^ '''y' -"d not only the pnde of h,s hfe but the desire of his eyes," and then tell! mg me he would give me but ten minutes to eat some breakfast he rung the bell. One of his lately hirld s^r vants, a footman, answered it. ^ " Is John getting the carriage ready ? " " Yes, sir." ^ " Is the luggage brought down ? " " They are bringing it down now, sir." "Go you to the church : see if Mr. Wood (the cler^v- man) and the clerk are there; return and tell me " ^^ eatis The'?' r "'' '""^"' ''""^^' ^^^ J"^' ^«y°"d ^he gates. 1 he footman soon returned. " Mr. Wood is in the vestry, sir, putting on his surplice." ii8 lAA:s Irt w i! O s o ■f • I jkn^J nfa^Jwi T '1 I^Bi 1 1 1 w! ll Ir ll I ' I I , Jane Eyre " And the carriage? " " The horses are harnessing." " We shall not want it to go to church, hut it must be ready the moment we return ; all the boxes and luggage arranged and strapped on, and the coachman in his seat." " Yes, sir." " Jane, are you ready ? " I rose. There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no relatives to wait for or marshal ; none but Mr. Rochester and I. Mrs. p^airfax stood in the hall as we passed. I would fain have spoken to her, but my hand was held by a grasp of iron ; I was hurried along by a stride I could hardly follow ; and to look at Mr. Rochester's face was to feel that not a second of delay would be tolerated for any pur- pose. I wonder what other bridegroom ever looked as he did — so bent up to a purpose, so grimly resolute; or who, under such steadfast brows, ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes. I know not whether the day was fair or foul ; in descend- ing the drive I gazed neither on sky nor earth : my heart was with my eyes, and both seemed migrated into Mr. Rochester's frame. I wanted to see the invisible thing on which, as we went along, he appeared to fasten a glance fierce and fell. I wanted to feel the thoughts whose force he seemed breasting and resisting. At the churchyard wicket he stopped ; he discovered I was quite out of breath. " Am I cruel in my love ? " he said. « Delay an instant; lean on me, Jane." And now I can recall the picture of the gray old house of God rising calm before me, of a rook wheeling round the steeple, of a ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of the green grave-mounds ; and I have not forgotten, either, two figures of strangers, straying among the low hillocks, and reading the mementos graven on the few mossy headstones. I noticed them because, as they saw us, they passed round to the back of the church ; and I doubted not they were going to enter by the side-aisle door, and witness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester they 119 Kj U I ' b I t I i « (V -'U':": ■I JVcddi ng Day in Lit erature a?td Art were not observed; he was earnestly lookir,,' at my face from which the blood had, I dare say, n.onuntarily fled ;' for I feit my forehead dewy, and my cheeks and lips cold. When I rallied, which 1 soon did, he walked gen ly with me up the path to the \>r b 7 w u We entered the q.v,. .,, • . ,n,ble temple; the priest waited in h.s wh.te surpli.e a ine lowly altar, the clerk be- side hnn. All wns still; two shadows only moved in a remote comer. My conjecture had been corKct; the strangers had slipped in before us, and they now stood by the vault ot the Rochesters, their hnrl.^ ^oward us viewmg through the rails the old, . ..-.ta.ned, marble' omb, where a kneeling angel guarded the remains of Damon de Rochester, slain at Marston Moor, in the time of tl-,- civil wars, and of Elizabeth, his wife Our pj;.re wa;; taken at the communion-rails. Hearing a cautious step .ehind me, \ glanced over my shoulder! one of the strangers— a gentleman, evidently — was ad- vancin.r up the chancel. The service began. The ex- planation of the intent of matrimony was gone through ; and then the clergyman came a step further forward, and bending slightly toward Mr. Rochester, went on « I rec,uire and charge you both (as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed; that if either of you know any impedi- ment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matri- mony, ye do now confess it ; for be ye well assured that wT^u^'.f'' '■""P'^'^ together otherwise than CJod's Word doth allow, are not joined together by God, iKuher IS their matrimony lawful." " He paused, as the custom is. When 's the pause after that sentence ever brok^., by reply ? N ,t, pe,-ha, s, once in a hundred years . \ the clergyman, who had not Mted his eyes from his book, and had held his breath but for a moment, was proceeding, his hand was already Tuw-,'°T"''u^'" R^^"^"^'--' ^« »>'■« -^ enclosed to ask, \Vilt thou have this woman for thy wedded wife ? " when a distinct and near voice said, 120 yane Eyre "The marriage cannot go on; I declare the existence of an nnpedimcnt." The clergyman looked up at the speaker, and stood nu.te; the clerk did the same; Mr. Rochester moved slightly, as if an earthquake had rolled under his feet : tak- mg a firmer footing, and not turning his head or eyes, he said, " Proceed." Profound silence fell when he had uttered that word with deep but low intonation. Presently Mr. Wood said :' " I cannot proceed without some investigation into what has been asserted, and evidence of its truth or falsehood " "The ceremony is quite broken of^V subjoined the voice behind us. " I am in a condition to prove my allegation ; an insuperable impediment to this marriage exists." Mr. Rochester heard, but heeded not ; he stood stub- born and rigid, making no m.,.'cment but to possess him- self of my hand. What a hot an strong grasp he had ' — and how like quarried marble was his pale, Hrm, mas- sive front at this moment! How his eyes shone still watchful, and yet mild beneath ! ' Mr. Wood se.'med at a loss. " What is the nature of the impediment ? " he asked. « Perhaps it may be m.t over — explained away ? " ;' Hardly," was the answer. « I have called it insuper- abi. uid I speak advisedly." Tne speaker came forward, and leaned on the rails He COP' med, uttering each word distinctly, calmly, steadily! but n. , ioudly / /» " It simpl\ insists in the existence of a previous mar- riage } Mr. k ester has a wife now living." Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had ; he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner, and John cleaning the knives, and I said, — ^'Mary, I have been mairied to Mr. Rochester this 121 ■w- % '< u IFeddin^ Day in Literature and Art mormng I he housekeeper and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatie order of people, to whom one may at any tnne safely coinn.unieate a remarkable piece of news without mcurring the danger of having one's ears p.erced by some shrill ejaculation, and subsequaulv stunned by a torrent of wordy wondernu'nt. Mary did look up, and she did stare at me; the ladle with which she was bastmg a pa.r of chickens roasting at the Hre, did for some three mniutes hang susp. uled in air; and for the same space of tmK- John's kni^ s also had rested fron. the polish- .ng process ; but Mary, bendi/.g again over the roast, said only, — " Have you, miss ? Well, for sure ! " 122 Peregrine Pickle From " PERIXjRINi: IMCKLE " Bv lOBIAS vSM()Ll,|.;r I' 'T^HE fame of this extraordinary cunjuiatiun spread all X over the county ; and on the dav appointed for their spousais, the church was surrounded by ;mi incon- ce.vable multitude. The commodore, to give a specimen of his gallantry, by the advice of his friend Hatchway resolved to appear on horseback.,n the grand occasion, at the head of all his male attendants, whom he had riuued with the white shirts and black caps formerly belonging to his barge's crew j and he bought a couple of hunters for the accommodation of himself and his lieutenant With this equipage, then, he set out from the garrison for the church, after having despatched a messenger to apprise the bride that he and his company were mounted. She uot immediately into the coach, accompanied by her brother and his wife and drove directly to the appointed place where several pews were demolished and divers persons almost pressed to death by the eagerness of the crowd that broke in to sec the ceremony performed. Thus arrived at the altar, and the priest in attendance, they waited a whole half-hour for the commodore, at whose slowness they began to be under some apprehension, and accordingly dismissed a servant to quicken his pace. The valft, having rode something more than a mile, espied the whole troop disposed in a long field, crossing the road obliquely, and headed by the bridegroom and his friend Hatchway, who, finding himself hindered by a hedge from proceeding farther in the same direction, l^red a pistol, and stood over to the other side, making an obtuse angle with the line of his former course; and the rest ot the squadron followed his example, keeping always in the rear of each other like a flight of wild geese. 123 iil ? liu t.i : r If "f !' IFedding Day w Literature and Art s urpiiscd at this strange method of journeying, the mes- senger cam I t,„„ * ' ; "^ v^w.iiiiniuwif unat lus lack and her company expected him in the church, where thev h arned a considerable time, and were begi'nning to bj ve y uneasy at h.s delay ; and therefore desirtd he^ould 2- ceed w.th more expedition. To this n.essage Mr 1 runnion replied, — ^ ' speech ''Vo''hrL'''"' ;'""',; ^t* ^'^^ "^^ ""''^^ ••'" p--i^Je 'P. , . ^'" ^"-'^' ^'"J ^^'" those who sent you, that the wind has shifted sn.ce we weighed anchor, and that w e obhged to make very short trips in tacking, by reason of the na..owness of the channel; and that, a^^/lie withhl s ^ points of the wind, they must make some allowance for variation and leeway." "Lord, sir!" said the valet, "what occasion have you to go zigzag in that nuinner? Do but clap spurs to your hoises and ride straight forward, and I '11 engage you shall be at the church porch in less than a cpiarter of an liour." What ! right in the wind's eye?" answered the com- Lntfrp- H "^ •' r "^''"■' "'"'" '"^' -^"" ^-'•" y-- "li- gation } Hawser I runnion ,s not to be taught at this time of day how to he his course or keep his own reckoning. ^n Irl^P ' ^"' ^"' ^''''^ '^'' ^'■'•" "^ 3^°-- l^he courier, finding that he had to do with people who would not be easily persuaded out of their own c^^inions, icturned to the temple, and made a report of what he had seen and heard, to the no small consolation of the bride who had begun to discover some signs of disquiet. Com- posed, however, by this piece of intelligence, she exerted hcT patience for the spare of another half-hour, during which period seeing no bridegroom arrive, she was exceed- ingly alarmed ; so that all the spectators could easily per- ceive her perturbation, which manifested itself in frequent palpitations, heari-heavings, and alterations <:f countenance in spite of the assistance of a smelling-bottle which she incessantly applied to her nostrils. Various were the conjectures of the company on this 124 Peregrine Pickle occasion. Some imagined he had mistaken the place of rendezvous as he had never been at church since he first settled Ml that parish ; others believed he had met with some accident, in consequence of which his attendants had cained him back to his own house ; and a third set, in which the bride herself was thought to be comprehended, could not help suspecting that the commodore had chained Ins mind. ° Hut all these suppositions, ingenious as they were, hap- pencd to be wide of the true cause that detained him, which was no other than this: The commodore and his crew had, by dint <,f turning, almost weathered the parson's house that stood to windward of the church, when the notes of a pack of hounds unluckily reached the ears of the tm, hunters which Trunnion and the lieutenant bestrode, hese fleet animals no sooner heard the enlivening sound than, eager for the chase, they sprang away all of a sud- den, and strained every nerve to partake of the sport, flew across the helds with incredible speed, overleaped hedges and ditches, and carrying everything in their way, with- out the least regard to their unfortunate riders. I he lieutenant, whose steed had got the heels of the other finding ,t would be great folly and presumption in him to keep the saddle with his wooden leg, very wisely took the opportunity of throwing himself ott'^in his passage through a held of rich clover, among which he lay at Ms case; and seeing his captain advancing at full gallop, hailed him with the salutation of « What cheer ? ho I " The coinmodore who was in infinite distress, eying him askance, as he passed, replied with a fidtering voice, " Oh, you are safe at an anchor; I wish I was as safe moored." Nevertheless, consci.,us of his disabled heel, he would not venture to try the experiment which had succeeded so vve 1 with Hatchway, but resolved to stick as close .s pos- sd.le to h's horse's back until Providence should interpose .nh.s behalf With this view he dropped his whip, and with his right hand laid fast hold on the pummel eon- tractmg every muscle in his body to secure himself in the 1 y I'* 'if f III Pi^ i 1 |:i ;lh IVedding Day in Literature and A, rt seat, and grinning most formidably, in consequence of this exertion In this attitude he was hurried on a considerable way, when all of a sudden his view was comforted by a hve-bar gate that appeared before him, as he never doubted that there the career of his hunter must neces- sarily end. But, alas ! he reckoned without his host. Far from halting at this obstruction, the horse sprang over it with amazing agility, to the utter confusion and disorder of his owner, who lost his hat and periwig in the leap, and now began to think ,n good earnest that he was actually mounted on the back of the evil one. He repeated what prayers he could recall, his reflection forsook him, his eyesight and all his other senses failed, he quitted the reins, and, fastening by mstinct on the mane, was in this condition conveyed into the m.dst of the sportsmen, who were astonished at the sight of such an apparition. Neither was their surprise to be wondered at, if we reflect on the figure that presented itself to their view 1 he commodore's person was at all times an object of admiration : much more so on this occasion, when every singularity was aggravated by the circumstances of his dress and disaster. He had put on, in honour of his nuptials, his best coat of blue broadcloth, cut by a tailor at Ramsgate, and trimmed with hve dozen of brass buttons, large and small ; his breeches were of the same piece, fastened at the knees with arge bunches of tape ; his waistcoat was of red plush lapelled with green velvet, and garnished with vellum holes ; his boots bore an infinite resemblance, both in colour and shape, to a pair of leather buckets ; his shoulder was graced with a broad bufF belt, from whence depended a huge hanger with a hilt like that of a backsword ; and on each side of his pummel appeared a rusty pistol, rammed in a case covered with a bearskin. The loss of his tie peri- wig and laced hat, which were curiosities of the kind, did not at all contribute to the improvement of the picture but, on the contrary, by exhibiting his bald pate, and the 126 I' : I ^ Peregrine Pickle natural extension of his lanthor:, jaws, added to the pecu lianty and extravagance of the whole ^ Such a spectacle could not have failed of diverting the whole company from the chase, had his horse Kou.ht keen a sporter to choose any othc" way than that which the tag followed ; and therefore, withou' stopping 7oZ\ft the cunos.ty of the spectators, he in a fevv minute! out stnpped every hunter in the field. There b dng a deep" hollow way betw.xt him and the hounds, rather ^han ride round about the length of a furlong to a 'path that crossed the lane he transported himself, at one jimp, to the '„ speakable astonishment and terror of l waggoner whj ^t ^^rrLge:'^'"^^^^' "' ^^ '''^^ pheL^mTnont This was not the only adventure he achieved. The sta^ hav.ng taken to a deep river that lay in his way, every S d.rected h.s course to a bridge in the neighboUooX bu our bndegroom's courser, despising all such corvenfe'nces w.nklmg to the opposite shore. This sudden immersion into an element of which Trunnion was properly a nat ve jn a I probab.l.ty helped to recruit the exhausted spirk of he nder, who gave some tokens of sensation, by hal boinl aloud for assistance, which he could not po sibCrecei e^ because h.s horse still maintained the advantage heTad ''Tn 'shI r'' "r ^"T ''"''''' ^° '^ overtaken ' .,SJ a\ 1 ^''"^ ^^^'^ '^^' lasted several hours and extended to a dozen miles at least, he was the first one ntl ^Idi^f ""':': '^"' '^'"^ ^^^-^^'^ by the t t^n! ants g Idmg, which, actuated by the same snirif h.A without a rider, followed his companion's ex^mplf"' '^'' Our bridegroom, finding himself at last brought up or n other words, at the end of his career, took the^ppo' u"' hfm a h ' 1 •'' r''' ^^ ^''''' '^' huntsmen would lend sion satcl) paced on the grass, where he sat staring at the company as they came in, with such wildness of astonish! 127 i 'L • i .I'i^- in u: .If Weddi7ig Day in hiter attire a7id Art mcnt in his looics, as if he had been a creature of another species, dropped among them from the clouds. Before they had fleshed the hounds, however, he recol- lected himself, and seeing one of the sportsmen take a small flask out of his pocket and apply it to his mouth, judged the cordial to be no other than neat Cognac, which it really was ! and expressing a desire of partici{)ation, was immediately accommodated with a moderate dose, which perfectly completed his recovery. By this time he and his two horses had engrossed the attention of the whole crowd ; while some admired the elegant proportion and uncommon spirit of the two ani- mals, the rest contemplated the surprising appearance of their master, whom before they had only seen en passant ; and at length one of the gentlemen, accosting him very courteously, signified his wonder at seeing him in such an equipage, and asked him if he had not dropped his com- panion by the way. " Whv, look ye, brother," replied the commodore, " mayhap you think me an odd sort of a fellow, seeing me in this trim, especially as I have lost part of my rigging ; but this here is the case, d'ye see: I weighed anchor from my own house this morning at ten a. m., with fair weather and a favourable breeze at south-southeast, being bound to the next church on the voyage of matrimony ; but howsom- ever, we had no^ run down a quarter of a league, when the wind, shifting, bJowed directly in our teeth ; so that we were forced to tack all the way, d' ye see, and had almost beat up within sight of the port, when these horses, which I had bought but two days before, luflFcd around in a trice, and then refusing the helm, drove away like lightning with me and my lieutenant, who soon came to anchor in an exceeding good berth. As for my own part, I have been carried over rocks and flats and quicksand ; among which I have pitched away a special good tie periwig and an iron-bound hat; and at last am got into smooth water and safe riding ; but if ever I venture my carcass upon such a crazy craft again, my name is not Hawser Trunnion." 128 Peregrme Pickle One of the company, struck with his name, which he had often heard, immediately lay hold on his declaration at the close of this singular account ; and observing that his horses were very vicious, asked how he intended to return. " I am resolved to hire a sledge or waggon, for 1 '11 never cross the back of a horse again." " And what do you propose to do with these creatures ? " said the other, pointing to the hunters; "they seem to have some mettle ; but then they are mere colts, and will take a deal of breaking. Methinks this hinder one is shoulder-slipped." " I wish both their necks were broke," cried the com- modore, " though the two cost me forty good yellow-boys." " Forty guineas ! " exclaimed the stranger, who was a squire and a jockey, as well as owner of the pack. ^ How a man may be imposed upon ! Why, these cattle are clumsy enough to go to plough; mind what a flat counter; do but observe how sharp this here one is in the withers ; then he's fired in the further fetlock." In short, this connoisseur in horse-flesh, having dis- covered in them all the defects which can possibly be found in that species of animals, offered to give him ten guineas for the two, saying he would convert them into beasts of burden. The owner, who, after what had happened, was very well disposed to listen to anything that was said to their prejudice, implicitly believed the truth of the stranger's asseverations, and inveighing wrathfully against the rascal who had taken him in, forthwi.h struck a bargain with the squire, who paid him instantly for his purchase ; in conse- quence of which he won the plate at the next Canterbury races. This affair being transacted to the mutual satisfaction of both parties, as well as to the general entertainment of the company, who laughed in their sleeves at the dexterity of their friend. Trunnion was set upon the sq-iire'sown horse, and led by his servant in the midst of this cavalcade, which proceeded to a neighbouring village, where they had be- spoke dinner, and where our bridegrtom found means to 9 129 ^1 . f !• IVedding Day in Literature and Art provide himself with another hat and wig. With regard to his marriage, he bore his disappointment with the temper of a philosopher; and the exercise he had undergone hav- mg quickened his appetite, sat down at tabic in the midst of his new acquaintance, making a very hearty meal, and moistening every morsel with a draught of the ale, which he found very much to his satisfaction. Meanwhile Lieutenant Hatchway made shift to hobble to the church, where he informed the company of what had happened to the commodore; and the bride behaved herself with great decency on the occasion, for, as soon as she understood the danger to which her future husband was exposed, she fainted in the arms of her sister-in-law, io the surprise of all the spectators, who could not compre- hend the cause of her disorder; and when she was recov- ered by the application of smelling-bottles, earnestly begged that Mr. Hatchway and Tom Pipes would take her broth- er's coach, and go in quest of their commander. This task they readily undertook, being escorted by all the rest of his adherents on horseback ; while the bride and her friends were invited to the parson's house, and the ceremony deferred till another occasion. The lieutenant, steering his course as near the line of direction in which Trunnion went ofF as the coach-road would permit, got intelligence of his track from one farm- house to another ; for such an apparition could not fail of attracting particular notice ; and one of the horsemen, hav- ing picked up his hat and wig in the by-path, the whole troop entered the village where he was lodged, about four o'clock in the afternoon. When they understood he was safely housed at the George, they rode up to the door in a body, and expressed their satisfaction in three cheers; which were returned by the company within, as soon as they were instructed in the nature of the salute by Trunnion, who by this time had entered into all the jollity of his new friends, and was indeed more than half seas over. The lieutenant was introduced to all present, as his sworn brother, and had something tossed 130 up for his dinner. IJ! f ^ Peregrine Pickle Tom Pipes and the crew were regaled in another room : and a fresh pair of horses being put to the coach, about SIX m the evening, the commodore, with all his attendants, departed for the garrison, after having shook hands with every mdividual in the house. Without any further accident, he was conveved in safetv to his own gate, before nine, and committed to' the care of I;'ipes, who carried him instantly to his hammock, while the lieutenant was driven away to the place where the bride and her friends remained in great anxiety, which vanished when he assured them that his commodore was safe, being succeeded by abundance of mirth and pleasantry at the account he gave of Trunnion's adventure. Another day was Hxed for the nuptials ; and, in order to b^k the curiosity of idle people, which had given great offence, the parson was prevailed upon to perform the ceremony m the garrison, which all that day was adorned with flags and pendants displayed, and at night illuminated at the direction of Hatchway, who also ordered the pa- tereroes to be fired as soon as the marriage knot was tied Neither were the other parts of the entertainment neglected nroof«" ;T"'T' ''""'"'Y' '^^'^ P''"^"^^^ undeniable ^ K K UA u" '''^'"" ""'^ ^'■^ '" ^he wedding supper, which had been committed to his management and direc- tion. This genial banquet was composed entirely of sea- dishes : a huge pillaw, consisting of a large piece of beef s^^ced,a couple of fowls, and hflf a peck'of 'rice lokea ' m the middle of the board ; a dish of hard fish swimming m oil appeared at each end, besides being furnished with a mess of that savoury composition known by the name of lob s course, and a plate of salmagundi. The second course displayed a goose of a monstrous magnitude, flanked with wo guinea-hens, a pig barbecued, and hock of salt pork in the midst of a pease pudding, a leg of mutton roasted, with potatoes and another, boiled with yams. The third service was made up with a loin of fresh pork with apple-sauce, a kid smothered with onions, and a terrapin baked in the shell ; and last of all, a prodigious sea-j^e was presented 131 ' I ■ M U Wedding Day in Literature and Art with an infinite volume of pancakes and fritters. That everything might be answerable to the magnificence of this delicate feast, he had provided vast quantities of strong beer, flip, rumbo, and burnt brandy, with plenty of Barba- does water, for the ladies; and hired all the fiddles within six miles, who, with the addition of a drum, bagpipe, and Welch harp, regaled the guests with a most melodious concert. fv %\ m ■'! 132 Hi uman Life From "HUMAN LIFE" By SAMUEL ROGERS THEN before All they stand, — the holy vow And ring of gold, no fond illusions now, Bind her as his. Across the threshold led. And every tear kissed off as soon as shed. His house she enters, — there to be a light, Shining within, when all without is night \ A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing, Winning him back when mingling in the throng, Back from a world we love, alas ! too long. To fireside happiness, to hours of ease, Blest with that charm, the certainty to please. How oft her eyes read his, her gentle mind To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclined ; Still subject, — ever on the watch to borrow Mirth of his mirth and sorrow of his sorrow ! The soul of music slumbers in the shell. Till waked and kindled by the master's spell, And feeling hearts — touch them but rightly — pour A thousand melodies unheard before ! m m If^edding Day in literature and Art f.v (p! vi. If From "IN TRUST; OR, DR. BER- TRAND'S HOUSEHOLD "1 By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS THE morning was most beautiful — a clear, crisp air; a sky of the peculiar frosty blue, seen only on tbc finest of winter days ; and a sun whose splendour had never been exceeded. Lily was wild with delight. Be- fore breakfast she ran from room to room saying good-bye to nooks and c orners that held for her dear memories, both pleasant and sad. Her mamma's face seemed to gleam out — a sweet, yet indistinct vision, something that brought a waft of heaven and the angels. And dear, dear papa ! She drew a long, quiverirg breath. He had carried them upstairs on his broad shoulders, played hide and seek with them through rooms and halls. Here they had all laughed with him on that fatal evening. Li the room they had kissed him for the last time — the last time ! and then her tears fell fast indeed. A little distance above here, in the cemetery, he lay asleep, waiting for the dawn of the resurrection; besidv inm, baby Charlie — a drcuiii, a strand of Daisy's life v oven in with theirs. Here they had laughed and fro!! lu: ' with Robert; here Mabel's quiet girlhood had pai-s... I. 'lessed with all that makes life so rich to enjoy. An;l I'er own ! Oh, the dear old home ! the happy household, dividing, straying off into the keeping of others ! She came to the table with a smiling countenance. Her resolute will stood her in good stead this day. She kept them all merry by the force of her own gay spirits, fully resolved to have her day shadowed by no gloom. Archie had returned the night before. After the meal they started for New York. 1 From «' In Truit," by Amanda M. Douglas ; published by Lee & Shepard. both § - lA M ill ■* ■ (fcii MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1^ 1^ 1^ Li 1^2 1^ i^ If. IS us m A APPLIED irvl^GE 1653 East Main SIreet (716) «8r - 0300 - Phone (716) 288- 5989 - Tati |li.:i "r ! Mr. Auchester met them at the ferrv with ,h„ r ■< merer „Hich caHed L ,,^X;,, ,°S , -= "-- i..g rob°e't do'-h tu^r'rArLi,;':. t^d'rlr '"'"''"- feir, in her lavender-coloured 1 'ph; ,;""'• '"'•^« ""^, &r„^h?Sn:■XL^-'"-^^^^^^^^^ There was no break or awkwardness anywhere Everv bodys apparel, to doves and »v,„^u u r ^"^^V' most perfect o'rder a'nd read^ fo' Jd ^^^ :^' ^ '" bustle, no disorder and plentv of /im/ T . f "'^ much, Mr. Auchester thoSt ^ The m ^'^T'' '"" unconscionably. ^ ^ ''^ moments luigered At length the dressing began. Lilv's hn.V i beautiful, needed no more arti^Sic hand han S isvt"- Th" and beauty ofVirihoo. A t I <^ "'*'" ''"' P""'v starry jasL:;l?l°;:il he^. """' °' °""8= '"°'»""'» -'' There had previously been a liVfl» a- Daisy. Since her baby^. death she h! . '"'""" "^°"' steadily Richard in h; i ,^'''' '^°''" mourning Suydam. ' '^'^ Perplex.ty, had applied to Mrs^ sui't'aSefrhe?''tt'd "''" '^^'^^ P^^"'^'^^ -^ -o«^ u.iaoie rorner, the lady answered readily « Thpr^ ,.,;il 135 11 IFedding Day in Literature and Art If' ' If: Auchcster and Richard. She flushed a little as she thought of the n.ght of the party, when Uhic first twined flowers in her hair, and asked her not to waltz with any one but him. ^ Both gentlemen gazed at her in admiration. Indeed, it was impossible to do otherwise. "The carriages!" announced Tessie, running through the hall, br:ght and childish in her pink silk, and important with the thought of holding Lily's bouquet during the ceremony. ^ Lily put her hands upon Richard's shoulders. Her lips moved but no sound came; her eyes sparkled with some- thing besides their own lustrousness. " I know all," he said gently. « And whatever of ^ain there may have been in the past, I want you to remember, when you are far away in your new home, that you have given me much joy, much comfort. And in our dea- lather s place, whose duties I have often failed to perform M ^\^- '/^y' ^"^^ ^'ess you, my darling, for evermore. May His face shine upon you continuallv." " O Dick ! tender and true. Papa could have been no more patient — could have loved me no better." He kissed away the tears ready to fall. The whole party came trooping down the wide stairs. Mr. buydam gave orders in his courteous fashion, saw that the ladies were well wrapped in shawls, and marshalled them to the carriages. A niece of his, hardly second to l^ily in beauty, was to be bridesmaid. " It 's a shame to cover up so much white glory," Uhi said with a laugh; ''but it won't do to run the risk o haying you shiver with the cold, or look like a ghost " They then started. The midday sunshine transfigured the winter scene, and imparted a certain warmth to the atmosphere Arriving at the church, the party lingered a few seconds to dismbe, and pass under Mrs. Suydam's watchful eye. ^ Ulric bent over Lily until cheek and lip touched " The last kiss of girlhood," he said. 136 d Art he thought ed flowers y one but Indeed, it 2; through important uring the Her lips ith some- r of pain emember, you have our dear perform evermore. been no Je stairs. saw that arshalled econd to S" Uh-ic risk o St." isfip;ured 1 to the iigered a iuydam's to Snd herself ZtZ2\\ I , ".''•"""•/• She was ama.ed ;< ^I'Ppcd t„ i,s place „„ CtS '?^''"S '^- ri-g as "•csp, of another's pr„,,ric,„rsh!l ' "~ '"" '="''■'''" ^'"''". was i-x'iUTt"; t';sirbti7^^ r™»"^- ^-e calm, unconscious of self J u ''' '''^ '^^^'^ '^ere, womanly. Mrs. Suydam wJs .kd "^''T^''^! '^"'"^" -'^ and Ulric's friends dcC^t ^ . ''^"^ ^^'^ ^" h'^'" ovvn less loveliness no ' Id co m'';. " T" "S*^^ ^'^^ a peer- -J^o gazed fe:t its wrdr^^fpoweT '"^^ ^"' ^^^^ "^^ over both heads, and L voicf np'^t '^"'^.^ "^^ ^-'^^^^ -^ge, repeated the most beaSi l"^/ tremulousness with tions : « The Lord bless 2^ , ^'^^^'^ ^^ ^" ^encdic- -kc his face to shinl'uporthTe an7/'"^ ^'^ ^"^'^ thee, and give thee peace bo h n . ^' S'-""'""'^ ""to Before thev rose f 7 IW .^ "'V"^ ^"^ evermore." kiss I r ... "-[''^'^ '^Jric kissed her. Her hush c ^ K'ss ! Lilian Bertrand's spuf.n^„ nusb^^ij s first ended; Lilian Aucheste 's n'"^^' T' "^ ^''■'^"-d vvere slowly out of church 1 a pirro L^"r '^'^^^ ^'^^d -she trustful, clinging; ife with fc .' "' ^"^. '^^PP'ness, and dignity that enhanced he beautv of h'" f'^'^' grandeur' Mrs. Suydam, with her characteWst c ? . '"u ^^'"^- borne to invite even her mosf in^ r • ^^'"'^'^>'' ^^^ ^or- Her own as well as her Tu bar "'L' '''''t '"^ '^' ^--^^^ h>gh order which never leaves ' ''"^P/^l'ty was of that o" this last day she .a " the'T' '' °^^''^"^'""- ^"^ cordial a sweetness tha o^rV 7f' '" ^'^'^"^ ^ith so So there was a joyous se.son of T ^"^' T^'^y ^' ^^^^e. after their retu/n.^ lll^a" 5 .''''• 1"? ^""S'atulations she had to stand with Mr^hesra': ^"i^.;^ ^'^y' -'' " After all " said T„ • """"^ as she did m church ^'"•"^ He is f-u;t hTXirar;;f 1!^.- ^%/m was greeted with a peal of laughter ' ^'""^"^^ 137 t i. IFedding Da y in Literature and Art " »;avo ! " returned Ulric. ^^ T\^^^^~^i^^Z^r^~^,^ ment I have had, after all my efforts to render myself elegant as possible. Tcssie, if his High Mightiness Count Petropoloswatoski is still unmarried, I will whisper a private word in his ear, and save him for you." "I won't have such a name ! "was the child's energetic rejoinder. ° A summons to luncheon interrupted them. Lilv took oft her vei and went to the table in her wedding diss, to the great delight of everybody. They had a grand, en- joyable time. Mr. Suydam, as host, was admirable. He drank Lily s health, and showered upon them both wishes grave, gay, and not a ic^ whose comicality elicited much mirth Prom the ladies Ulric came in for his full share A little time to don travelling attire, to interchange a \^^ of those tender, sisterly words so hud to p.tter when the heart is full to overflowing. '. et they could hardly realise that Lily was going away for years. It seemed as It in a \cw weeks she must come back to them A good-bye to Ann, Martin, and Mrs. Hall, who had come over to witness the wedding. The rest went to the depot on Twenty-seventh Street. And there Ulric found a crowd of literaiy friends, who had stolen a march upon him, — friends who -.hook hands in a heartfelt fashion breathed wishes that would linger like benisons when the blue ocean ro led between them. They glanced at the bride, ,n her dress of rich, warm brown, not less elegant or graceful than when in church, her beautiful face framed in with white and scarlet, her golden ringlets gleaming with eveiy movement. Her smiles and responses wert en- chanting. And both were blessed with a « God-speed " from generous hearts. Lily nodded from the car window, bright and radiant, as they steamed slowly out of the depot. But the face she turned to her husband was flooded with a rain of tears VA :f 138 d Art St compil- er myself less Count 1* a private energetic Lily took 5 dress, to rand, cu- bic. He th wishes ted much share, change a tcr when Id hardly cemed as who had nt to the "ic found ch upon fashion, 'hen the 1 at the i elegant 2 framed ing with ere en- -speed " radiant, face she irs. ^ Ballad upon a IFedding From "A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING" Bv SIR JOHN SUCKLING THE SRIDE TTER finger was so small, the ring It^?. ^ ""' 'I'^ "" ^^''^'' 'h^'y did bring- It was too wide a peck ; ^ And, to say truth, -for out it must, _ It looked like the great collar— just — About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out. As if they feared the light : But O, she dances such a way I No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight. Her cheeks so rare a white was on, INo daisy makes comparison ; Who sees them is undone ; For streaks of red were mingled there Such as are on a Cath'rine pfar, ' 1 he side that 's next the sun. Her lips were red ; and cne was thin. Compared to that was next her chin Some bee had stung it newly ; ' But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, 1 durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July. 139 mdding Day in Literature and Art Her mouth so small, when she docs speak, T hou dst swear her teeth her words did break, 1 hat they might passage get ; But she so handled still the matter, 1 hey came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit. M'*^ I m W ^4ii 140 d Art ak, rhe Conspirators From "THE CONSPIRATORS" By ALEXANDRE DUMAS BATHILDE uttered a low crv -.nri fh . walking to and fro J.^^,■, tjLZ'7' "'""" «, and turned toward Kathilde, wlrl ca,rh,^T' 'T'^'^ a step in advance, fell on fu-r ir ' '"capable of mak ng held it toward th r" m T^r' '""ri ^ ''^"^■^' ^'^ did not understand wCwaTg, if:;; t?!? ''^'K> '^ ward this woman, who anneared fn h ' ^"\^^-^^^"ced to- white and indistinct form'^T., 1 V" '^" ^'^^^^ «« ^ "ised a woman, a^diT'tha^ " '" '^'' ^°'''" '^^ ^-'^"g" and kneeling gUl ' ' '"^'"""' ^ >'°""g' beautiful, a pt;:r'vr; ^ii^i^h tv^^T^^^ ^° -^-'- ^Vould have fallen if thT'^'nt h? \ l^^''^''^ '^' arms. '^^S'^"* had not held her in his " Mon Dieu ! mademoiselle " salH th^ the signs of grief produced h" t '^S^"^' °" ^hom the matter? ^ Wha can T 'J^'^^'"^'"^'-/ ^^ect, " ,,hat is couch, I beg." "'" ^ ^° ^°^ y°"-^ Come to this "No, monseigneur, it is at your feet that T =», u u for I come to ask a boon." ^ ^"°"^d be, * ■ "Mademoiselle," renlierl »»,« those who surround you are 5' .''^r'' '' ^P^'"'' '^^' thus twice your debtor Y T^ '"^ '''^ ""'' ^ ^"^ of ^n.e spLk boldt I hsT:: t^vo^ ''' ' ^"°" '^ ^^ strength:""^ ^°^ '" '""'"'"-^'d ^athilde, "give me you' desire/"'"' ' ""'^ '"'P""""^ ^"^ difficult thing that Monseigneur," said Bathilde «iti, th. IT r who has deserved death." ^^"^ °^ ^ '"an 141 IVedding Day in Literature and Jrt " Is it the Chevalier d'Harmental ? " " Alas, monseigncur, it is." The regent's brow became pensive, while Rathilde see- ing the impression produced by her demand, felt her heart beat and her knees tremble. " Is he your relation, your ally, your friend ? " "He is my life, he is my soul, monseigneur ; I love him. ° "But do you know that if I pardon him I must pardon all the rest, and that there are some still more guilty than he IS ? " ^ ' "His life only, monseigneur; all I ask is that he may live. ^ " But if I change his sentence to a perpetual imprison- ment you will never see him again. What would become of you, then ? " asked the regent, Bathilde was obliged to support herself by the back of a chair. " I would enter into a convent, where I could pray the rest of my life for you, monseigneur, and for him." " That cannot be," said the regent. " Why not, monseigneur ? " "Because this very day, this very hour, I have been asked for your hand, and have promised it." "You have promised my hand, monseigneur; and to whom ? " " Read," said the regent, taking an open letter from his desk, and presenting it to the young girl. "Raoul's writing!" cried Bathilde ;'« what does this mean r " " Read," repeated the regent. And, in a choking voice, Bathilde read the followine letter : — ^ "Monseigneur, —I have deserved death — I know it and I do not ask you for life. I am ready to die at the day and' hour appointed ; but it depends on your highness to make this death sweeter to me. I love a young girl whom I should have married It 1 had lived ; grant that she may be my wife before I die. In 142 ajid ytrt Rathilde, see- fclt her heart ncur ; I love must pardon e guilty than that he may lial imprison- I'ould become the back of a luld pray the lim." I have been eur ; and to tter from his at docs this be foil owmg know it, and day and hour ake this death have married e I die. In A Marriage l.vdkr the Dirhctorv. Kaemmerer. \\ II. ihc Conspirators taving her forever al.-ne ami frietuUcss in the wnrl.t I ., luve the c.,usolati.,n of lmvImk her the 1 • ^ '"'' "' '''■'"'' 'i^rtunc. ()„ Icuvinir the • fr. h ■^"''"•K""'' '^f "•/ name and scuftohl. This " 1 L ' Xh '""^^/^'T^' ' ^^'" -"^ "• t'- just nnv ,^1 h ■ "'^"'"' "^"^' I^rant his request; it i. just may ,t,as he says, sweeten his last mome/us " " Monse.gneur," cried the young drl u" 'u.' ,, grant him ? ' "^ b b"'> '!> tnat all you " You see," said the rcccn "he- .« ;,. * u ing else." ^ ' "*^ '^ J"^^ i he asks noth- " Oh, it is cruel ! it is frifrhrf. 'I * l- lose him directly • his lifV m ^'"'^ '"'" ^^'ain, and hc sealed, . ,:?:^'irf z^i:"^^::;!;^' ^'t governor of the Histill^. ;. ^^^""'''eur de Launav, the regard ,o .he pHsl " ''m' c:rir„nj''""","'"» "'"' Call Monsieur the Marquis de Lafare," he said t)h, monsieur, you are cmnl " in , fv "« leas, permi, ii^," d: «^h'him"' w ''? "''"?' sepa^ted. „en on .he seaffold > "^etm hTLreln.^: Balliflc'^id .t !;!? Tr"-^ T^-^oiselle .o .he ■-e Launay. read i: S hin, ' d 'iVZ t ^ T^'™^ contains are punctually execu.ed " "" °''''"'' " .l.e',5::'d.SrU::„f rptV°he"SrV'^' 7 °^ ■'"''''^- appeared. '^ '^°°'^ °^ ^ closet and dis- '43 If'cddmg Day in Literature and Art y.Mwf'-nF'^ ""^ r""8 Sirt ""-ay almost fainting, a„d did nut sn,-,], i " , , '""« ''"' ru^e Bathilje sia,„ H ' ■ "•'^'^"l'^ J"'"!', and inanimate as a at ■ r " "n'" "'"■'-■ '^"'^ "'"' '^■"'l-'S l-ut on a,ri n,' tic ,.,,"" '"""'■ ■'*'"■■ •■""--^^'l l".' had si", i,'^ «s :;,;;.;,""■' "'», l''-- -'-■« the Chevalier de R ha Noor. A4. de Lainiay was at supper. Thev took Bathlll n o ar„„„, t„ „ait, while La,a,Vwent ditic'tlv „ theg on y anew: "'"t'h'.r fTh"'' '7'« "'''^'- ""'Wide- W her Th. ' ~ '^u*^ """"' "'^Pai-ation which awaited ^h!!:? ''''"'^i'^"\ •''^P'y'"g''-^'S^ and leaned on the arm which was offered her. M. de Launay went ^x.tlZZ by two men bearing torches. ^ ' ^^^^^ As Hathilde entered by one of the side doors «Jin T he two lovers advanced, Bathilde pale and falntin.r Raoul ca m and smiling. On arriving 'before thS' the chevaher took Bathilde's hand, and l,oth fell o^ the; kn^s, without having spoken a word The altar was lighted oi,ly by four wax tapers, which 144 d Art nting, and ing in the e Bathilde mate as a n arriving d seen in dc Rohan le further ?d over a ;overnor's loor, and stand — Lafare ' the first Bathilde the gov- lildc had I awaited •r on the- Bathilde )roached red, the the arm lighted he saw accom- is wit- h door ion less inting, altar, I their which rhe Conspi7'ators threw a funereal light over the chapel, already dark uid filled with gloomy recollections. ^ ' The priest commenced the ceremony ; he was -, fine ol man w.th white hair, and whose melanchTX 'oun tenance showed the traces of his daily functions He hid been chaplan, of the Bastille for five-Lul-twentwe r , a. even :" h"'"' t ^""?^--' ^'^ -> -"y lamen a events He spoke to them, not, as usual, of their duties as husband and wife, but of divine mercy and e e a a:d^;:;;:d:^"''"^ ^'^ p'^^ ''--^'^^ ^^^^'-^ ^^--ng, "Finish, my father," murmured Bathilde. horh r P'"'"/ P'"""""'"'' '''" sacramental words, to which both replied by a «yes," which seemed f. ute the wh 1 strength of their souls. The ceremony hni h d d'h ' mental asked M. de Launay if he mi^ht s,3 hk few remannng hours with his wife. M. de La n^ eplfc^ th." vale , thanked them for havmg served as witnesses it hi« marnage, pressed Lafare's hand, thanked M eTa'na fc room, Bath.Ide could no longer contain her tears a desnair •ng cry escaped her lips, and she fell weeping n a c" where doubtless D'Harmental had often' sat, durtng he three weeks of h.s captivity, and thought of her. R,l„l threw h.mself at her feet, and tried to console h but w h.mself so much moved by her grief that his own te, h lo r rf VT, "" ^'7 ''P« '^^ ^---^ --1 kisses o I u ,7 ^^'^ ^'''''" '^^^""^ h=»'f an hour totrether when they heard steps approaching the door, and a key turnmg ,n the lock. Bathilde started, and pre sed D'Fia^l mental convulsively against her honf R i^* Mar- tha ,lr,.„lf. l c I- ^ ^ ', "<^'"f- Kaoul understood hed.cadful fear which crossed her mind, and reassured her. It could not be what she dreaded, since the execution wa '° MS ' 11 m (1 u . ]f^Mng Day in Literature and Art It was M. dc Launay who appeared. .o f.,mrr::'" '^ '-'"""""•" '''' '•^■- "'»- '"^ ""..)-. a™:""'"'" "''^'' '^•"---..al, clasping Ba.hiide i„ his "No with .nadame," replied the governor. .Ke/lt, r^^rt Xt " t^ «f ;;^-^ere sieur, we are ready " ^ ""^^ '^'''^>'' "'""" he"^- nltdt.t&":;r-/-»"^"" -'» '>^*' trace of ,hc terrible e„S' \ T "'"■"'' *""'■'' "» passed through som i Wight d cor ilrr'r""''T'; '^'^'^ staircase, and found themse vera the 1 / ' ''''™' Ba7hl 1 ^.P:^^7' ^'■"^^^'^ ^'^'' '"'■"d« "f the two over him to some Q,.,. ■ "^""'"S^. rrady, doubtless, to conduct then, a r gave ,0 l^Z' ""'.""'^''"-■^ zen iTius- ivo lovers. Icath into d granted 3 conduct to escort • They bis unex- ^d signed obeyed, head un- iiito the hat they 'ing that sistance. he door 'Ugh the i he Conspirators gate, over the drawbridge and~fh^^77 7~T side of the Bastille. ^ ^ ^"""'' themselves out- They threw themselves into earh „.f, - was no longer any doubt ■ fh. r. ""' ' ^'■'"•'^ ' ^^ere k- \-r ? •' """"t , tnc regent yranff^rl Xyu ■ would be tothemanarL 'f ' P"""'""^"*f""ia»y, gether; and vvhareLrdXl ^ rTr^;;^?^ ^'^^ ^'- when they were masters of their Zl TJ\ t'^^'T'''. 'dea crossed their minds and bnfh v. , ""^'''^' '^^^ again trembled, lest thev should l'""^^''' "^ ^^^>'- I'hey to hope. The door opTned I. ^u'" ^^'>' ^"" '""^h ;;What do you war'n:s^d'b"^H\:lXr''"^^^ between the cCea^and C ^''^^ ^J"''^ '^^" ^'"-""es, we are." ^"'^ ^ogent-sur-Marne, and here " And where is the escort ? " aclr«^ n-tr :;OMhe«c„„ left u/;,,h;r,?, !?--.,. '-'n, mon Dieu " cried IVU^. i had ordered Z th.':^^^ ^'r''"''' '"" ""^ -«"' where l)-Harmen,al had en IjoVh '° ""' """ 1^^" him for himself. '"''' "'^ """g^'gnon, mistaking This was .he only revenge of Philippe leDebonnaire. 147 '>U M '' ^n fFeddi?ig Day in Literature and A, rt i; m ,*« : II,* J From "THE EPITHALAMION " By EDMUND SPENSER /^PEN the temple gates unto my love, Vy Open them wide that she may enter in And all the posts adorn as doth behove, * And all the pillars deck with garlands trim, for to receive this saint with honour due. That Cometh in to you. With trembling steps, and humble reverence. She Cometh in, before the Almighty's view : Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience, When so ye come into these holy places. To humble your proud faces : Bring her up to the high altar, that she may The sacred ceremonies there partake The which do endless matrimony make ; And let the roaring organ loudly play The praises of the Lord in lively notes; The whiles, with hollow throats, The choristers the joyous anthem sing. That all the woods may answer, and their echoes ring. Behold, while she before the altar stands. Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks. And blesseth her with his two happy hands. How the red roses flush up in her cheeks. And the pure snow with goodly vermeil stain, Like crimson dyed in grain ; That even the angels, which continually About the sacred altar do remain. Forget their service and about her fly, Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair, The more they on it stare. 148 rhe Epithalamion Y her sad eyes, still fastened en the ground Aie governed with goodly modesty, ^ ' That suffers not a look to glance awry, W hy blush you ove, to give to me your hand 1 he pledge of all our band ? ^ ' ^'ng, ye sweet angels. Alleluia sing, T hat all the woods may answer and your echo ring. llJ If 149 tfeddin^^ in Literature and Art m M \\\ From "THE ONE I KNEW THE BEST OF ALL"i Bv FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT JT might eas.-ly have been Sister and Janey who were the .mposmg about h. Opinions as ,o the nature of ,1^ ceremony were numerous and varied No T^l A attended a wedding, and yet som how ^^aZ eve'rv Z coud supply some detailed information. ^ " ""' Whispered convei-sation on the suhi^^, ^ u wholly repressed, even by au"hori,v Pr '' ""' *" n-^r-ridi^S^EFr-' young lady wore a singular,, rTs^enf , t td' X;''a'; gentleman was not dwelt upon nanieM'brI S™""-"P asked of the bride, " I she ^rettv " b 'I ' °f /'""^^ inquired if he was nrettv L, '^ j ""'""''' "" speak, and when 1,T Ld " ertrer'^'^'i " '" be regarded with some slight v:;:'e dittruT^' ""'^''°"' "' Every pup,l knew what the bride was iroin» ,n I,, dressed n,, what her veil was made of, what lowfrs were 150 1*/ nd Art E BEST o were the /hich were e stage of v'o of the ung ladies whispered vas awak- breaking- •stive and re of the had ever svery one d not be - mysteri- principal »rown-up ethereal blossoms splendid ;rovvn-up : always idy ever al, so to lehow to ; to be ers were ^ ?= ■TO Beu of ner's ibni. I w m< n ■ * Ml M f rlt u it M Si ,'\ fmmim l iwuw ij iw ivi The One I Knew the Best of All to compose her bouquet, but ^^^^ii^^i^^T^^^i^^ Th P,?^'^ V"''"'"' ^^" '""^ ^''■"^"-"P gentleman. 1 he Small Person, while interested in him as a mvsterv was consc.ous that he was regarded as a sort of neccssar^y' flaw .„nhe occasion The Story gave him interest to h"! She had never seen him, but recollections of Ernest Mal- travers, Quentin Durward, and the Master of Rave-, - wood gave h.m a nebulous form. The wedding was to be a double one, the two sisters being married at once, con! sequently there were two grown-up gentlemen involved an .t was rather soul-stirring to hear a'vague rumour at' one of them -who was very handsome, having dark eyes and a straight nose -was not smiled upon byShe bride' papa, and that he had forced his way to the altar through r.ous parenta opposition. He was not considered \ sufficiently staid and well-to-do grown-up gentleman. There were suggestions of the Master of Ravenswood in "I wonder if they like each other very much ? " this sentimental little Person rather timidly inquired ' But no one seemed to know anything beautiful and romantic about it, so she combined with straight nose and dark eyes the misfortunes and attributes of all the heroes ""'" P"«™ had a vague •oahid end^;„™am;;7™„'^« '"sIT'Vf^ would not — particularly O, .""^- ^"^ hoped they Whose -igh.^nos:t?Jr'"tr^r;rtrs 153 W tdding O gy in Literature and Art IWigle out from the rest. For a moment or so she felt thai /r was so solemn to be married that it was almost mttducive t<; low spirits. Hut she cheeud up after the mmiHfr appeared to have relented >nd let them off and they inoverf away to the vestry, "l 1, n there was a stir among the j)ectators, whieh soon became a bustle, and she was led or dragged or hustled out into the sunshine and renewed joyous clangour of the bells. 'I here was a great bustle outside. The crowd of look- ers-on had mcreased, and a policeman w-s keeping it back, while the carriages stood in line and closed up one by one as the floating frocks and veils, and dowagers' velvet^ and satins and blots of grown-up gentlemen filled them and were driven away. The Small Person watched it all as in a dream. 1 he bells raced and clamoured, the sun shone brighter than ever. She was only a Small Person who had really nothing to do with these splendours and who no more contemplated the magnificent prospect of being married herself than she contemplated being crowned in West- minster Abbey. Such glories as these were only for grown-up people. But they were beautiful — beautiful ! The young ladies who had been married — in full pan- oply of white satin and wreaths and veils — ^vere each handed into a carriage by the grown-up gentleman they belonged to, who got into the carriage also. After they had all driven away, the bells had ceased their clamour, and the crowd dispersed, one sharp-eyed little person made a most interesting statement. « "j l^V". ^V^^i^ ''^'■'■'^g^ ^'■'^^^ P^*'^" she announced, and he had Miss Grantham's head on his shoulder." « Wlich one was it ? " inquired the Small Person. She was sure it was Quentinravenswoodmaltravers. And inquiry proved that it was. i^ 154 ul Art so she felt vas almost » after tlu' ni ort' and was a stir 'iistlc, and 'i sunshine 1 of look- ig it back, ine by one civets ajid them and t all as in sun shone I who had 3 no more 5 married in West- only for lutiful! full pan- 'cre each nan they >scd their ^ed little nounced, zx." )n. She 7 " Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men ! ' It is our opening day ! „ J It 'S our opening da-av ' " Gaddy, the little dicky-birds have been billing and cooin. for ever and ever so long; and I 'n^ here I ^ :;n'n/n7ght;'°" "^^ ^-^ ^ ^-'^- 'HavenSeV: Capt. M. i did n't get in till half past eleven. ' Had a look at you then, and you seemed to be sleeping as soundly as a condemned criminal. sleeping as wn^n'^r; ^\ ^^""^^ 'T/r "^^"^ ^° "^^'^^ those disgustingW ^raw/y.) It s the happiest day in my life. CAPT. M. {chuckling grimly). Not by a vcrv lone, chalk my son. You 're going 'through some of thT mosf refined torture you 've ever known. But be calm Til with you. 'Shun. Dress / ^ Capt. G. Eh ! Wha-at ? " i6i r i Wedding Day in Literature and Art iM Capt, M. Do you suppose that you are your own mas- ter for the next twelve hours ? If you do^ of course — i^Makes for the door.) Capt. G. No ! f'or goodness' sake, old man, don't do that ! You '11 see me through, won't you ? I 've been mugging up that beastly drill, and can't remember a line of it. Capt. M, {overhauling G.'s uniform). Go and tub. Don't bother me. I '11 give you ten minutes to dress in. \_Interval filled by the noise as of a healthy g impus splashing the bath-room. G. {emerging from dressing-room). What time Capt is it ? Capt. M Capt. G. I don't want any Nearly eleven. p'ive hours more. Oh Lord ! Capt. M. {aside). ' First sign of funk, that. 'Won- der if it 's going to spread. {Jloud.) Come along to breakfast. Capt. G. I can't eat anything, breakfast. Capt. M. {aside). So early ! {Jloud.) Captain Gadsby, I order you to eat breakfast, and a dashed good break- fast, too. None of your bridal airs and graces with me ! [Leads G. downstairs and stands over him while he eats two chops. Capt. G. {who has looked at his watch thrice in the last FIVE minutes). What time is it ? Capt. M. Time to come for a walk. Light up. Capt. G. I have n't smoked for ten days, and I won't now. {Takes cheroot which M. has cut for him and bloius smoke through his nose luxuriously.) We are n't going down the Mall, are we ? Capt. M. {aside). They 're all alike in these stages. {Jloud.) No, my vestal. We 're going along the quiet- est road we can find. Capt. G. Any chance of seeing her ? Capt. M. Innocent ! No ! Come along ; and if you 162 i Art jwn mas- course — , don't do 'vc been )er a line and tub. rcss in. y g impui '^hat time ' Won- along to want any 1 Gadsby, ad break- ices with while he in the last up. id I won't and hloivs ling down ;se stages, the quiet- ,nd if you <". V ja I / 1 - I ■ w n . -S*«f*%^, The Story of the Gadsbys 7Z^.t "" """' "''''^'""'••'' ''''"■' ^'" "■>■ -^y^ »' >vi,h Capt (;. {sphnkg round). I say, is n't she the d" teluoT "sl'' ^"^^""^ '^^ ^"° consecutive 'rue; 1 d tell you. Stop passaging around like that I JackT""* ^^^''"^ '" '''' '"''^'^^' 'f '^' '"^^y I say, Capt, M. Keep quiet for another ten minutes if vou can, you lunatic, and walk ! ' ^ " Capt^^c"" Wh?' '"t""'^". '" hour for fifteen minutes, CAPT. G. What s the time ? How about that cursed wedding-cake and the slippers? They don't throw 'm about in church, do they ? Capt'g' ^rt^\- '^^'^^Pf.d^-J-d^offwith his boots. Capt. G. Confound your silly soul! Don't make fun of me. I can't stand it, and I won't Capt. M. {untroubled). So-ooo, old horse ' You '11 have to sleep for a couple of hour's this afternooi^ t^APT. G. {spinning round). I 'm not going to be treated like a dashed child. Understand that I g ^" •'e treated Capt. M. {aside). Nerves gone to fiddle-strinrrs What a day we're having ! ^Tenderly putting his Zd^ln G s shoulder.) My David, how long have you known you — after all these years ? 163 )';i /I #*ajittASjfcsi*si*™^a«i«*»c«m -, : iim IFedding Day in Literatu re a fid Art Capt. G. {penitently). I know, I know, Jack; out 1 m as upset as I can be. Don't mind what I say. Tust hear me run through the drill, and see if I've got it all right: " I o have and to hold for better or worse, as it was in the bcgmmng is now and ever shall be, world without end, so help me God. Amen." Capt. M. {sujfhcating with suppressed lauc^htn). Yes That s^ about the gist of it. 1 '11 prompt you if you uei into a hat. ' ^"" b»^' Capt. G {earnestly). Yes, you '11 stick by me. Tack wont you? I 'm awf 'ly happy, but 1 don't mind telling you that I 'm m a blue funk ! ^ Capt. M. {gravely). Are you ? I should never have noticed It. You don't look like it. Capt. G. Don't I ? That 's all right. {Spinnin^r romul.) On my soul and honour. Jack, She's the sweetest little angel that ever came down from the sky. There is n't a woman on earth fit to speak to Her ! Capt. M. {aside). And this is old Gaddy ! (Jhud^ Go on if it relieves you. Capt. G. You can laugh ! That 's all you wild asses or bachelors are fit for. Capt. M. {drawling). You never would wait for the troop to come up. You aren't quite married vet, v' know. •' ' ■' Capt. G. Ugh ! That reminds me. I don't believe I shall be able to get into my boots. Let 's go home and trv em on ! {Hurries forward.) ' Capt. M. Would n't be in your shoes for anythijitr that Asia has to offer. ^ Capt. G. {spinning round). That just shows your hideous blackness of soul, your dense stupidity, your brutal narrow-mindedness. There 's only one fault about you You 're the best of good fellows, and I don't know what I should have done without you, but — you aren't married. {fVags his head gravely.) Take a wife, Jack. Capt. M. {with a face like a wall). Ya-as. Whose for choice ? 164 The Story of the Ga ' lys lavc gob,:':;. ''Wh«r';,.'r,frf '° ^ " '"^'''=""''' '•"• 'apt. M. {Hum^ ) " ,^"' s'f « 't vvas ^ cr,: dear wc drank only ginger-beer Pa.th there mus, hu' been stingo in the ginger I " a^uUouv';. ' ^"" "^rX ^'"^ ^'"'"e ^"'^""^ y'"" home and you re going to he clown. Ca rr' r ;. 7/ "'' ^i ^^^^'^^-^ y""r cheroot and see. ^^CA.r.M. Youare. I'll get you a peg, and you'll go Capt. M. 'Curious thing; 't won't have the slightest ^oto' byir;. '''■'"' '^ "'^' ^-^-^ ^--'^- '^-n thert Z shavt:'' ^'" ^''' ''''"'■'^- ^ ^^''"'' ^''^^P- I ^""^^ [Falls into heavy doze at end of seven minutes. Capt M watches him tenderly. ' ' Capt. M. Poor old Gaddy I I Ve seen a few turned f .S"' ' C>"T^ '.rr'^" "^'"^ ^" '"^^ gallowTin th cond t.on. Can t tell how it affects 'em, though. It 's the horoughbreds that sweat when they're backed nto double harness . . . And that 's the man who wan thro ' he guns at Amdheran like a devil possessed of S (Leans over G) But this is worse than the guns, old pal -1 worse than the guns, isn't it? (G. turns'^ in his slip and Gaddy ! Gomg hke the rest of 'em - going like the rest ot em. . . f nend that st.cketh closer than a brother •.. . eight years. Dashed bit of a slip of a girl e.ght weeks And -where 's your friend ? (sl Is' dis'- consolately tdl church clock strikes three.) ^ Capt. M. Up with you and get into your kit. 1^5 n 11 V i !^^!l'!'!!!lJ2^^J!lLi^^ Hadn't I He '(i chip Where 's i I • Capt. G. Already? Is n'f \f . better have a shave > ' '"" '""" •' Capt. M No! You 're all right. (./WM his chin to pieces. ^ K'^snl,•.) Capt. G What 's the hurry ? ^:;:;-,^- J--gottohrtherefirst. ^Ai I. Cj. Io be stared at? thae^ for mc.. •^■^-' '^^' ' ■"■■ ''"'"""I 'f you shall do CAl>r. M. (more grufHv\ rtr.. . i icho.e.ciL,„i|t,fj,;;pi^:;,tr '^ Only don', lo^ Tl tTct^i;,7'>„ • ""'^r' ^"^ '" ''"• tliM 's all right for mc iTT 'f' K'"^*^'' '<■'=* — if the .a,s art roadj, we '11 go ^"'" ""'^'^'^'"= "'"'«• Now, up.'-'ui^h^T;;^- L':.;r-r- ""- -"• L«-siigh, Good ~ peo— pie — all r.r. ^^ /T" prayers — we call. Capt. M. There go the bdls \ r you 'd rather not. ( 1% ride oT) "" ~ ""'^^^ Bells. We honour the King And Bride's joy do bring — Good tidings we tell areiATe'^u&rfnr ^^^^^ <'/-/^W.). J say, '■"Side. I sav are 't r u ' T "" ""'^ "^ P^ople Jack! wh^T'thrd'eviiTo r;:? "^ ^"^- ''-' 'y -, wah Ir' Hc'r k''"'" '""'t '^ /'" '^"^'' "' ^^e aisle and iG6 id At^t Hadn't I He '(I chip Where 's 'e. i shall do ?ssed. If Icrs. (lows suit. ou 'II do. ?, fees — -■ Now, -t 's light - unless I say, people ly me, ile and 'on he- e, for The Story of the Gadsby^ IBride steps out of 'rickshaw at church door. G. catches a glimpse of her and takes heart. Organ (diapason and bourdon). The Voice that breathed o'er Eden That earliest marriage day, ' The primal marriage blessing, r> » * '' ^'"^^^ ""^ passed away. Capt. M. {xuatchin^ G.). Bv Tove I H^ .VI i • ' Did n't think he had it in him.^ '' '""'''"^ well. Capt. G. How long does this hymn go on for ? Capt. M. It will be over dirertiv (^ ;\ ,, • "ing to bleach and gulp ? HMoTcifr^^^^^ the Regiment. ' ^'""^"^y^ ^"'^ ''^">'' "' Capt. G. {measuredly). I sav thf>ri> '^ o u- u li/^ard crawling up that wall. ^' " " ^'^ ^•■«^" coll;;::;''- ^^^--^^o^her. The last stage of [Bride comes up to left of altar, lifts her eyes once to G ■who ,s suddenly smitten mad. ^ ^o kj., Capt. G. (to himself again and a^ain) Little Fn.,U weight 's a woman _ a woman I AnAJrh t ^ '''~ little girl. • ^"'^ ^ thought she was a Padre " n*,^-'' '"''t"''-i^' ^'^^'^^^ ceremony proceeds. 167 f :| 1 1 i. a4"ow^,if "''"' " '*"" *" ''"™"^)- J-l. give me his voice! ""e,t,sr Great Cupid, lie 's found [G repeats Tmh in a voice I, be heard to the end cf the ehureh and turm m hi, heel. ^ Capt. M. {deiperatelA. Rein hnrl I n, 1. troop! 'Tisn't l,alf legal yet ' Back ,o your Take her with'^yof 'i d^-t Ce^Y "'' °"' '="«"'■ say. (Capt. G. },V„ .^ ^ j^.™' ^^ - """-g to Capt. M. Dismiss ! Break off! Leftwheel I Capt. M. Kiss Her, GaS^" '"'^ " ^""'- "'-^ ">»• Capt ^ t^, "^ °"' ^'""° B''''')- 'fyu don't, I shall Capt G. (,nterpou„g an arm). Not this journey 1 n.^fT.-.V/""'" "''''■ ™--^ Hades I Can I wipe ^SrSaj^bV. "' "'P™""'"^ '•^^ -'l^''- B«er ask '■*^^^r', *^ j """'" "' '^ '*»'' ""-^ procession i, Men- iittstJe'l"'"'' '"/"'"•-'-/. ^'"reusZl tortures take place over the wedding-cake i68 The Story of the Gads by s Capt. M. {at tabic). Up with you, Gaddy. Th pect a speech ley ex- minutei' Capt. {Thunders of applause.) Capt. M. Doocid good for a first attempt. Now eo M "'^".".^'^ y""*- ^'X ^^'^"^ Mamma is weeping over- " the M.SSUS. (Capt. G dnappears. Capt. mI starts up, teariZ fnsha^r) It 's not ^< legal. Where are the shoes? S an ayah. ^^^ ^^AvAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone band karo all the Capt. M. {brandishing scabbarded sword). Woman nro duce those shoes ! Some one lend me a bread-lcTfe ' We" must n t crack Gaddy's head more than it is. (Slices heel off- wh,te satm shpper and puts slippers up his sleeve.) Where is fee it ''i ^h t ""^"'^"' ^""-^'-^ ^' ^-^- -i^h that rice. It s a heathen custom. Give me the big baa \_Bnde slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs to- wards the sunset. Capt. M. {in the open). Stole away, by Jove. So much the worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Vw Gaddy, t"i '11 be hveher than Amdheran ! Where's your horse ^ r/,.M WK ^^"''"""'^y? ''''"S that the women are cut of ear- shot.) Where the — is my wife P ^ h.^T''"'^-,-,"'^^'^"^'" M^'^^^" ^y this time. You'll have to ride like young Lochinvar. IHorse comes round on his hind legs ; refuses to let G. Dandle him. Capt. G. Oh, you will, will you? Get round vou "''~/r ^"g-y«" beast ! Gc-t rounc^ ' ^ [frrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lozver jaw ; swings himself into saddle, and sends home both Capt M%'" ^\ "f '' !P"'''''"S gale of Best Patna. -^d^G^db'sTp''^^"'' your love -ride, Gaddy I [Throws half a pound of rice at G., who disappears, boxved forward on the saddle, in a cloud of sunlit 169 i n IFedding Day in Literature and A, rt strliisZ- ^' ■ ^ '7 '°f f^ ^'^^y- ^^'^^'' "^-^''^ -"^ strolls off^ singtng absently :) « You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on nis card, That a young man married is a young man marred ' " Miss Deercourt (from her horse). Really, Captain Mafflm, you are more plam-spoken than polite ' Capt. M. {aside) They say marriage is like cholera. Wonder who '11 be the next victim. ynite satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet. Left wondering. \\\\ I :; 170 d An rarette and cut it on rred ! " , Captain e cholera. nd falls at Cynthia s Bridal Evening "CYNTHIA'S BRIDAL EVENING" By JOHN KEATS THE evening weather was so bright and clear, That men of health were of unusual cheer; Stepping like Homer at the trumpet's call, Or young Apollo on the pedestal : And lovely women were as fair and warm. As Venus looking sideways in alarm. The breezes were ethereal and pure. And crept through half-closed lattices to cure The lajiguid sick; it cooled their fevered sleep. And soothed them into slumbers full and deep. Soon they awoke clear-eyed : nor burned with thirsting, Nor with hot fingers, nor with temples bursting : And springing up, they met the wondering sight Of their dear friends, nigh foolish with delight ; Who feel their arms and breasts, and kiss, and stare. And on their placid foreheads part the hair. Young men and maidens at each other gazed. With hands held back, and motionless, amazed To see the brightness in each other's eyes ; And so they stood filled with a sweet surprise, Until their tongues were loosed in poesy. Therefore no lovti did of anguish die : But the soft numbers, in that moment spoken. Made silken ties that never may be broken. i( ■7' 'r\ if ! I t I ?| From "PEOPLE WE PASS''^ By JULIAN RALPH '"pHE bride, a tiny, pert little blond German, with eyes J. that shone with mischievous expression, was sur- rounded by the other girls. To their surprise she would not take oft her hat and cloak, she would not sit down she would not say why. She would only laugh silently -vith her tiny beadlike eyes. It was evident that between excitement and self-consciousness she was undergoing an intense strain. Presently there came a stalwart young fellow, blond also and a German, who, from a physical standpoint, was certainly handsome. And he was more than commonly intelligent-looking as well. His dress under the circumstances, was very peculiar. He wore a cardigan jacket, and shabby trousers tucked in cowhide boots, to which were affixed the heavy spurred irons with which telegraph-line repairers climb the poles on which the wires are strung. In one hand he swung a cap and a stout new hempen rope. The young men gathered around him and loudly voiced their astonishment, for this it appeared, was the bridegroom. They asked him if he' had just quit work, and how long it would take him to dress, and « what it all meant, anyhow." « Is the kag of beer here ? " he asked the jolly widow m German. She replied with an affirmative series of chuckles and indications of pent-up merriment, and a great bustle ensued. As a result there was brought into the room a table spread with cold meats, German cheeses, pickles, strange cakes with the fruits outside, and other cakes covered with icing and rubbed with red sugar. Then followed the inevitable beer— mainstay and chief delight of the masses — in a keg on a wooden horse, and 1 F>pm ^< People IVt Pan,'' published by Harper (^ Brother,. 172 re and Art »ASS"i icrman, with eyes ression, was sur- irprise she would lid not sit down, ily laugh silently lent that between as undergoing an I stalwart young from a physical nd he was more veil. His dress, iar. He wore a ;ked in cowhide 3urrcd irons with poles on which swung a cap and g rnen gathered ishmcnt, for this, asked him if he uld take him to the jolly widow mative series of nent, and a great wrought into the jerman cheeses, tside, and other vith red sugar, instay and chief loden horse, and ^ Brothers. I II n i'eople IFe Pass accompanied by more th-in •. .,. c ' glasses with handler TI w "thl 1'^"^ ^--^---\oon to the questions cf his f nd" ..cM^en ''"""'%"'-^"^'- way, was received with \^^Z ' ' ?' '""r'"^"' '" ''^ accorded to the bride' resnone^'' '"'' .''^'" ^^'''^ '^^^' chievous glance... '^^^P""''^'^ 'n mysterious and mis- -an?: shrLE';;;"L ^"'"^^ ^° "^'^^ -- ^he cle^y. and suit of Sji;;;^:;;:-^;; r i^r ' ^^^^^ collars that show no break Lr ^"^ ^'^''' ^^ite and laundered on the necks'of h"" k" ^^'^ ^""''^ "^^de rubbed his hands bcUe fhe tove'iri' "7^^^ ^'''^-- «« palmful of snufF nut o 'v,'^"^"^' ''"'^ ^fter consuming a striped stocking, a dfi, Ld tj"^ ""^. '""■ " "■°™"'' Then the stock^ ,g Ik.te LZ% "H "'" ""'^ ^l"'"- i"g all this time h? snoL t„ n*" u' '''''">' "!'• ""r- a man of business beM „„ ""'v''"' "™'' '^e air „f and determined rexccuteT' "^ f'""^''' P"f<=™ancc, His stocking adjusted he m.hrh'^''' "'J'' "'"'' ^"^"'^■ cleared his'.hroie as if o do so kT'k "' " ""'=^'1' ""^ tardiest of the guests pre^tdlrdlfL'^Tt"' '"^ n.r isTi^ctir * n'thf c -* ""J"-, the Ietn"Tf reporter. ""= ""P''")'' ^r. Barney Keily, the -king a pantomimic ofe :f a hi*„f ^1"' T^t'' once. snaKe of his hand to all at beenlllVe'tt'yf"'^' P"'^"' '^^'"g ^^e company, «do ve you\dd";n7it':;.^''^S^""-' ^---"g to the bride, « have " Well, I just guess not," said the bride. 173 \\l. Ill Wedding Day in Literature a7id Art " Very well, then," said the bridegroom. " Gents and ladies all. The first time I seen Minnie Bechman I was at work on a pole just in front of this window, where she was sitting, once, on a visit to these old friends of her. She took to me, and — you know how it is yourselves and we agreed to get married. Well, then, the thing was how we was to get married so as to make a sensation in the city. Well, then, Barney Kelly here, he put the scheme into my head that we was to get married on a po — " « Hully gee, Chris ! " exclaimed the great journalist, " don't give the snap away so quick." « Go on, Chris ! " " Cjo on, Dutch ! " cried the others. " No ; you go 'head and tell it, Barney," said the bride- groom. " Tell it just the way you '11 write it up." " I 've written it up a'ready," said the journalist. " It 's a corker, boys — ladies and gentlemen — a corker j a hull collum in the Catnera ! " " Say, fellers, that 's great, hain't it ? " one visitor ex- claimed. « Is our names dere in de Catnera^ Barney .? " "Every son of a gun's name that got invited is in there, you kin bet," said Mr. Kelly. "Now, I'll give you the whole snap. You see this is the age of sensations, and nothing but sensations goes. Understand ? . . . People have got married in Trinity steeple, in a row-boat on the river, in a cab in Central Park, in a balloon, on skates, by telephone and telegraph, and on horseback — in fact, more ways than you can shake a stick at — but Dutch an' me agreed we never heard of no one gittin' married on a telegraph pole. He 's a line-man an' climbing them sticks is his business, ladies; so the only thing was whether Min- nie would n't be a-scared — see ? Her mother would n't have it; but there wasn't no poles around her house, any- how ; and besides, Dutch wanted the pole where he was when he first seen Minnie. He told her all about it an' she was dead game, and she says, ' Wc might as well be romantic wunst in our life ' — see ? " " So," said the bridegroom, vastly impatient to play his 174 id Art Cjcnts and man I was where she ids of her. urselves — • thing was sensation le put the rried on a journalist, the others, the bridc- >t, « It 's LT} a hull /isitor ex- ney .? " s in there, e you the tions, and . People at on the skates, by fact, more h an' me icd on a lem sticks ther Min- would n't )use, any- e he was 3ut it an' s well be I play his People IFe Pass part, «'wc did n't tell Min's mnfh,.r cK " r~ ' married at all- wul -.7 M ^'^ "^^^ ^"g"'"' «" g« young men .,7 :,^a ' ," ri't",;' ^'T'', ^" •''^■ bc'hin,! ,hc happy ™a„ L,^i"> "'= were fastener KvTmtutertr" "" "''"'' "" •""« had been seen onThe s e« b f"'"' "f "'"">' I'"™'* .hronged, and me;t^ '^.d-'cTird" '''! "''^^^'^ ^"» some laughing, and somecLllug o d t '- otl; t"";'^' tance, were hurrying to the scene pjr T:i\ ''"" other sounds was the tl^ud X \' ,1, ,?';'" ^''"'"^ "''•' spilces or " iron, " as he Hn,, ^ "*■• '" ""' ''"™»"'s mounted steadi^up^'ard M"iL"'r '"[" ">= P"'- "<= while his briderested n,r,h ^u 1'°''= """' "'"= »"■'- hempen .■ope''Xh''r LrngX"' ftrV"'^ T' " under her body and over his fartCluTdcr '"™" " '"'"' iJ^^^!Z:^'" ''' '"' '" ' '"- h-'-yng at '''TtT^'^^'^^^'^l^^ Oe, Punctu. bloc z\f:/Js:^tlr'''' -h "-"■"■ -^^ - I7S ^ IFcdding Day in Literature a?td Art nsi- to the report that the man was a maniac. The in- vention grew more ingenious as it flew, until it got about that the maniac was going to hang himself and the girl from the cross-bars. In a minute and a half the block from stoop-line to stoop-line, was crowded. If any police- man was in the neighbourhood, he did not interfere. "Ready ! be quick about it ! " said the bridegroom ; and at the words the little CJerman parson, leaning so far out of the window that the end of his stocking-like cap fell in front of his nose, began to read the marriage service, in Cierman, at breakneck speed. In the wild flight of words there were perceptible baitings, marked with a " Yah " by one or the other of the couple on the pole. Before it seemed possible the ceremony could have reached its con- clusion, the minister stopped, slapped his book shut, and said, in what he intended for the Queen's f:nglish, " I now bronouncc you man und vife. May Gott in heffun pless you bote ! " ' A roar of applause marked their successful descent to the street, and presently the bride and groom, the former glowing from excitement, and the latter nursing his arm with rude pantomime, reappeared in the room, preceded by some and followed by the others of those who had gone down to the street with them. Then there was great excitement. The young men seized the proud and grin- ning bridegroom's hands and jerked him violently about the room in the excess of their admiration. The young • women crowded the bride into a corner and intended to give vent to their surprise and delight, but their excitement greatly exaggerated their natural lack of conversational gifts. When they did recover their powers of speech, the results were not such as one is . ustomed to in feminine gatherings in the heart of the town. . . " It was great, Minnie." " It was out of sight." "For Gord's sakes ! I don't see how you could ever do It. " I did n't care ! " This by the bride. 176 nd Art The in- t got about nd the girl the block, any police- ere. room ; and so far out cap fell in service, in t of words ' Yah " by Before it ;d its con- shut, and b, " I now sft'un pless iescent to he former 5 his arm ;ceded by had gone vas great and grin- tly about he young ended to icitement ersational eech. the feminine I'eople IFe Pass •u^^SrCa'!::;";:'..^'''-^" a silt <:..,•. " My Gord, uirls I ain'r (^h ■ «' WpII " J K^ ■ ^ ^"'^"' g»'« to her ? " vveii, said Ma-a-a-L'fne « I • i silk dress." ^^'^' ^ '^ "'^rry anny man for a uld ever 12 177 Wedding Day in Literature and Art jit i'?i II ! ? i T From "CROWNED AND WEDDED"^ By ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HE minster was alight that day, but not with fire, I ween. And long-drawn glitterings swept adown that mighty aisled scene. The priests stood stoled in their pomp, the sworded chiefs in theirs. And so, the collared knights, and so, the civil ministers, And so the waitmg lords and dames — and little pages best At holding trains — and legates so, from countries east and west. So, alien princes, native peers, and high-born ladies bright, Along whose brows, the Queen's, new crowned, flashed coronets to light. And so, the people at the gates, with priestly hands on high, Which bring the hrst anointing to all legal majesty. And so the dead — who lie in rows beneath the minster floor. There, verily an awful state maintaining evermore ; The statesman whose clean palm will kiss no bribe whate'er it be. The courtier who, for no fair queen, will rise up to his knee. The court-dame who, for no court-tire, will leave her shroud behind. The laureate who no courtlier rhyme than " dust to dust " can find. The kings and queens who having made that vow and worn that crown, Descend unto lower thrones and darker, deep adown ! 1 Wrluen upon the marriaii;e of ^etn f^htoria. 178" Crowned and JFedded The living shouted « May she hve ! Victoria liv,. I " I , Aiidasthebvalshniif«.v„„. . " ";^°"^, uvc\ aloud. She doth mainain h r;:*!',?' 1)" '^'■"fH'-d pu, awav! O, lovely lady 1 1 let her vot ' '" ^,"""6, '""^ '"-''">■ vows, vow — such l,ps become such And ^^irer goeth bridal wreath than crown with vcrna, O, lovely Wy!_le,bervow._yea. let her vow to And though she be no less a <,uee„_ with purples hung The pageant of a court hph-nrl ^u i . • Andw3g„.,„„S'£t^7tt:d-:i,,„ S^e^wstolove who vowed ^.Z^^;^:^ Let none say, God preserve the queen I K . u « the bride ' ^"*^^" ' " ^ut rather, Bless ''""^e Xa*; •~'"^' "°- '-<' '"^ l^nee, „„„e violate s:'r;srpr;?tt;::^'^-;,r^^ low — ^ *^^" • — o"5 breathe it inward She is a ™«„,,„j ,,,„„,„_ ^^^_,,_.^^__^_^^^^^^^^^ 179 ^. i. Wedding Day in L,iterature and Art From "ST. PATRICK'S EVE" By CHARLES LEVER IT was a fine day in spring — the mountain and the lake were bright in the sunshine — the valley, rich in the promise of the coming year, was already green with the young wheat — the pleasant sounds of happy labour rose from the fields fresh-turned by the plough — the blue smoke curled into thin air from many a cabin, no longer mean- looking and miserable as before, but with signs of comfort around, in the trim hedge of the little garden and the white walls that glistened in the sun. Towards the great mountain above the lake, however, many an eye was turned from afar, and many a peasant lingered to gaze upon the scene which now marked its rugged face. Along the winding path which traced its zigzag course from the lake-side to the little glen where Owen's cabin stood, a vast procession could be seen moving on foot and horseback. Some, in country cars, assisted up the steep by strong men's shoulders ; others, mounted in twos and threes upon some slow-footed beast ; but the great number walking, or, rather, clambering their way — for in their eagerness to get forward, they, each moment, deserted the path to breast the ferny mountain-side. The scarlet cloaks of the women, as they fluttered in the wind, and their white caps, gave a brilliancy to the picture, which, as the masses emerged from the depths of some little dell and disappeared again, had all the semblance of some gorgeous panorama. Nor was the eye the only sense gladdened by the spectacle — for even in the valley could be heard the clear ringing laughter as they went along, and the wild cheer of merriment that ever and anon burst forth from happy hearts, while, high above all, the pleasant sounds of i8o Si, Patrick's Eve the bagpipe rose, as seated upon an ass and entrusted to he guidance of a boy, the musician moved a o^g his 2S'T ''""" ''''" ^''^^"^^Se of at every spot of lev giound by some merry souls, who would not "lose so much good music." ^° As the head of the dense column wound its way upward saTut dt '""^ '^"f '^ ^^^" ''>^ ^•^-^ below, a'nTwei saluted by many a cheer and the waving of handkerclS bmer%ra?the'"r' "^" '^"^^ ^"^ ^^^ --^^^ ^^ better than the rest; and among them rode a gentleman ir'": his"' ^^T^'^^T-'^'^ '''''' -- was'beslreS Jess on his own beast than n euidino- th-ir of o country girl who rode beside him'^tf w eiwe o/eT in' a long blue cloak of dark cloth, beneath which sh Tore a white dress ; a white ribbo. floated through her hairtoo but .n her features and the happy smile upon her £ the bride was written more palpably than in all^these ^' High above her head, upon a pinnacle of rock a man stood, gazing at th. .ne; at his side a litte child o? some four or five ,.^ whose frantic glee eemed peHl ous ,n such a place, wnile his wild accents drermanv 1' upward gknce from those below, as he cried, -! ^ '" See, Nony, see! Mary is coming to us at last I " V l8i I if ;( : Wedding Day in hiterature and Art w\ ». "WEDDING WORDS" By W. C. BENNETT A JEWEL for my lady's ear, A jewel for her finger fine, A diamond for her bosom dear, Her bosom that is mine. Dear glances for my lady's eyes, Dear looks around her form to twine, Dear kisses for the lips I prize, Her dear lips that are mine. Dear breathings to her, soft and low. Of how my lot she 's made divine. Dear silences my love that show For her whose love is mine. Dear cares no cloud shall shade her way, That gladness only on her shine. That she be happy as the May Whose lot is one with mine. Dear wishes hovering round her life And tending thoughts, and dreams divine. To feed with perfect joy the wife Whose happiness is mine. 183 t i V y Paul Goss/et's Confessions From "PAUL GOSSLET'S CONFESSIONS" By CHARLES LEVER -^''^^^^rTX :l: r^^^^ Sir Morns the Ionian Islands, a„/offes to i ^^ Commissioner to It is a brilliant DO itinn a ""^ ^' P'''^^^^ «ec. ask Lizzy to-da" ' ""^ '^"^ '" ""-'^'y ""• ^ shall Wednesday, all settlpH ■ k * l through these\stthreX's"rSeTovl '."^^ ^^^ but she '11 tell nothing, -^nothir^nM ^" '^ d.straction ; says, and with truth « confi. )' n^ " \' '^ '"^'•''^d. She I wish she was n't so cov I h? '' '^' ""''^^ °^ ^-^•" haijd. She says Irish girls' are aHco; "' ''"' ''"^'^ '^- A^ifr 1 r.t^Sj^Vwe-'-fa^t a place called another secret I 'm to hear la^ernn ^^^ ' ^"' '^'« '« as she looks, Lizzy has aTJ^d^i diPp^o -ti^ '^"^"^^ aci^r Sint^^^f^Lt:*^; "°^^^ ^^ ^'- -- - and at last opening it sLt fn, !f '" ''T^ '' '^Y ^oor, fide, and disappeared f tte'^^' j ^'S^^^^ <^andle in- •^ is to get u7 before day of a darl. ""^ ^''""^ '" ''■^^' room destitute of all comfort La ' ""^ '"o'-^'ng, in a to wash and dress b ^old .lo '""^^"/""' -"^ Proceed consciousness that what vou 1?^^""'^ "'""'>'' ^'^'^ ^^e "light be safer and bmer nnd ' u^""' '^ ^'^ "°* ^niy i-Fobably will, tur^orthe"tre^t'rctT;r^r ^^ ^" Over and over I said to myself uTf T^"' '''^'• that I have a forebodin - -1^^ ! ' f ^ .^^'^ '^ ^^" ^er ity; -that I dreamed a 'dTeam'T ''''"^'"S "^^^'^'"- v-hile waves, mountain hth ^or k'^ '">'^'^^ "" ^ '"^ft* yawned beneath,- da klthnm "7 '"'' ^"'^ ^^P^^s ' ^'^''' tathomless, and terrible, — would Wedding Day in literature and Art she mind it ? I declare, on my sacred word of honour, I declare I think she 'd laugh at me ! " " Are you ready ? " whispered a soft voice at the door ; and I saw at once my doom was pronounced. Noiselessly, stealthily, we crept down the stairs, and, crossing the little flagged kitchen, undid the heavy bars of the door. Shall I own that a thought of treason shot through Mie as I stood with the great bolt in my hands, and the idea flashed across me, " What if I were to let it fall with a crash, and awake the household ? " Did she divine what was passing in my head, as she silently took the bar from me, and put it away ? We were now in the open air, breasting a swooping nor'wester that chilled the very marrow of my bones. She led the way through the dark night as though it were noonday, and I followed, tumbling over stones and rocks and tufts of heather, and falling into holes, and scrambling out again like one drunk. I could hear her laughing at me too, — she who so seldom laughed; and it was with dif- ficulty she could muster gravity enough to say she hoped I had not hurt myself. We gained the pier at last, and, guided by a lantern held by one of the boatmen, we saw the boat bobbing and toss- ing some five feet down below. Lizzy sprang in at once, amidst the applauding cheers of the crew, and then several voices cried out, " Now, sir ! Now, your honour ! " while two stout fellows pushed me vigorously, as though to throw me into the sea. I struggled and fought manfully, but in vain. I was jerked off my legs, and hurled headlong down, and found myself caught below by some strong arms, though not until I had half sprained my wrist, and barked one of my shins from knee to instep. These sufferings soon gave way to others, as I became seasick, and lay a: the bottom of the boat, praying we might all go down, and end a misery I could no longer endure. That spars struck me, and ballast rolled over me; that heavy-footed sailors trampled me, and seemed to dance on me, were things I minded not. Great waves broke over the bows, and came 184 m. Paul Goss let's Confe ess ions I fcic I had reached a Z,hf' T^'V^^ ^''' hide„„,,,a„d which .here was^ ot' de. e'''^'';ha?r ''f 7'^'^ '" we succeeded in cicari,,,, ,1 '~ . ^°' ''""^- 'I'hat "f .he bay was let l''?""" "'l"'" ''"™"''' "^ -^e ■he cheer .he boa.men t"e a, TT^'' '"'' ' '™'''"1'" n-y las. hope of our all g, /d„t; tf?Zr''lr''i'"' know no more. ^ " '"^- After this, I A wild confusion of voices t c^r. r grating sound, and mo.^ S da,^ci. ''"'"'"^' "P*-"^"' ^ 'Tie. I looked up. hwas L ^' "'"■ '""' ^'""^"^ W towards the h^ri^on and sh?/' '/'■•'^>' '^"'•^>' ^'^^^^ fwiftlyon the wind^ We ^ ..t ' T ""''' '"''"'^^ W shingl, shore, and 1' Ten ^'"f," F^ "P."" ^ w rVshtt:: r s,t,^rhl^/st:;;: t\ ^-^^ ^^-^^ ^-- heat, -.pproach .he boat ,°,°™'""g 'he waves as .hey once, a,rd he carried h'r bacTtoT"*! '"•" "'^ "™» ^ appose at any other ml,e t a pat i™'?''"""''- ' have shot .hrough me M.lh P^"? of jealousy might love, overcome.h\u .hin^'^T^r"'^""'- "''' "=*« .hanin.hadbee„abu„^.eh'etd"beerSs^„^r,t voice which, low a it wa, 7 h /j°'*. "^"'"•'' ' " '"id a . " By all .'ha. 's droll F his is .he 0"?"'^; mon's ! " cried a loud voke I ^ I T'' ' """ « '"'"- bending over me, was Counsellor Mac N "''' ^"^ "'"'' stranger I had fallen in wi.h a. Dubl'"'"' ""^ '''""^ wehaveyCctrrie'd°f"°"^°"' '^^V' asked he,«or shall " Ob'" "'"' h ^V"'^y ' " I 'd father lie here " " 1° eiryVur^i :7" s^^^^-. > ^ ■» - crue,.- a minu.e t^hUr "' '"'' *"' ™Pa"en.ly, " .here 's no. 1S5 Wedding Day in Literature and Art "Let them carry him, then," said she, pleadingly. 1 mildly protested my wish to live and die where I lay • but they earned me up somewhere, and they put me to bed' and they gave me hot drinks, and I fell into, not a sleep' but a trance, that lasted twenty-odd hours. " Faix ! they had a narrow escape of it," were the first intelligible words I heard on awaking. « They were only just married and druv off when old Dan Dudgeon came up driving like mad. He was foaming with passion, and said if he went to the gallows for it, he 'd shoot the rascal that abused his hospitality and stole his daughter. The lady left this note for honour." It went thus : — ill ^Tr'^l' ^"f'-^-^'-You will, I well know, bear me no il-will for the little fraud I have practised on you. It was an old engagement, broken off by a momentary imprudence on Tom's part ; but as I knew he loved me, it was forgiven. My father would not have ever consented to the match, and we were driven ^^ this strait. I entreat you to forgive and believe me Most truly yours, Lizzy MacNamara. i86 m\ Eliphakt Chapin-s tFeddi "EUPHALET CHAPIN'S WEDDING". By will CARLETON TWAS when the leaves of n,u„„,. fingers picked, """""^ ^^""^ ^y ^^"^P^t- i^'phalet Chapin started to become a benedict • Wuh^an anc.ent t.o-ox waggon to bWngTacrhis new-found ""^ 'rres :"tSr. ^"'^ '^""^-^^ ^'^-"gh -e twenty ^;te;9^-::^;s;d^^^^^ Oh no, woe, woe ! success. Fi; u 1 . . ^'^'^ candour to digress ELphalc. weddtag j„„„,, did ..■eir^'Me wi.h success place ; ^ g^™ents parted ni some inconvenient He Y- given both his oxen to a wife that now was B^t '^:;ZTi::i~, -'' ^ r'^^ -^ a thread. Feeling';hat his we'd^'g:' uirn'ti::'"^"^?^.^ ''^^-«' " Haw, Buck ! " ""''"'""^ °^ ^''^^^ = Gee, Bright I NTn. vv u I ^^'■"^^ pretty mess." No. Ehphalet was not strictly a spectacular success. A'dfsulited family' orfel?oe' TI'" ' ."^^^^ ^^'""'"^^y broke, It joined, with Jtelg"pXtr?hVr'' ' / And he had to cut a saDlinn?' ^■''?^'>' "^ ^''^^^ i sapjing, and insert it 'neath the « ex " • Fro. .. ^... ;.,,,,,,,. ^_^ ^^^^^^ ^ ^^^^^^^^^ 107 Il* fFedding Day in Literature and A> rt So he ploughed the hills and valleys with that Doric wheel and tire, Feeling that his wedding journey was not all he could desire. " Gee, Bright ! G'long, Uuck ! " He shouted, hoarse with ire : No ; Eliphalet's wedding journey none in" candour could admire ! He had not gone fifteen miles with cxtculcd face forlorn. When night lay down upon him hard, and kept him thJre till morn ; And when the daylight chuckled at the gloom within his mind, One ox was "Strayed or Stolen," and the other hard to find. So yoking Buck as usual, he assumed the part of Bright (Constituting a menagerie diverting to the sitrhtV With « Haw, Buck! Gee, Buck ! Sha'n't get there till night." No ; Eliphalet's wedding journey was not one intense delight. Now, when he drove his equipage up to his sweetheart's door. The wedding guests had tired and gone just half an hour before ; The preacher had from sickness an unprofitable call, And had sent a voice proclaiming that he couldn't come at all ; The parents had been prejudiced by some one, more or less. And the sire the bridegroom greeted with a difl^erent word from " bless." " Blank your head. You Blank ! " he said ; « We '11 break this ofi^, I guess ! " No } Eliphalet's wedding was not an unqualified success. i88 id Art 'oiic wheel he could lour could forlorn, liim there vithin his rd to find. Bright Eliphalct Chaphis IFcdding Now,^when the bride saw him arrive, she shook her crimson And vowed to goodness gracious she would never wed an Ami with a vim deserving rather better social luck, "fi,' '" ''' 'y '-'^'^'^ -^'^ ^ —1.; Indian ''^"''dressr'"""' '" '''" ''"''''' "^ ^'' "*^""'^" -^d^'-'g- ^"'^ ^I^^ ""'' "'^^'^ "'''^ •"'^'" H-th Eliphalet, "I No — no ; As things go, That Lhphalct Chapm's weddii^g was an unalloyed success. le delight. eetheart's an hour .11, n't come more or jnt word ccess. 189 .^2f^%L^^'^' J-iieraturc and Art A \ From «'L0RNA DOONE" Bv R. D. BLACKMORR not more than need W\ uu\ h T ^^''*'''«'' ^ ^""g'lt of the women that this |-,st u^.^ „ ' I ' '■'"''y^^s ^^'ai self had declared th4 hi. ^ ^"1''- '". '" ^ ^"'' '"^ '^'■"'- ycomanry^al^o the" ^^^t^^^^^fT^ the made to go thither, with all hi^ch Idrcl, icth , ' '?"" ^^" things, I sav rif n^n^ i »-"iiLren left behuid — these Lorn. We h.arZh 7:;^Z.^Z T' ^f'"'^^' than jhirty mile, „„„„' s'"»"-c c"riosi,y and ebc l„Vc ^nH.'ddC'' """'• *"" "^ ^"-^ insMr.hrlt'' ST,"1" '.'"" ""• ■•■ "'••'" ^•-'IJ come women (a^ tT. :\^\:^:'t Z^'' '""'"'^ '-• ""^ two shi'lings. I thon T, ,. "'"^''> """^ "'"''y one pay warden, beLd ha, ,hf L ""I'S i and, as ehnreh- own ha^d. fh«, aken B ';T T\^' '". '"''' '"'" '^'■" a" law, and he a^-rdfr rom^h "'''■''''' ""^ "-S^i'-^ him „i,hon, any delay So Is 7 'l '""T '" P^^ " '" when I care no', m/ch ablfa , r^'rSh"'^'"""" (ind ^rt knowing any- fur a nionicnt t;«lk (,f John I the Dcjoncs igh I fought r Counsellor- religious feai - 'or he hini- through the I have been lincJ— these y anything), wedding of ■ from more ; my stature 't of sheer liould come g fee, and ;ry one pay »s church- into mine vas against J pay it to he parson 'm have it sometimes he way in ie, and alj I i li it^ Lorna Doone he Snowes, a.ui even Ruth Huckaback (who was there after great pcrsuasi.,,,), nuule such a sweeping of che^es' fo. a start to put by the.r gowns. Then Lorna came tut o a pew haU-w;.y .n a .nanner which .,uite astonished ," rirlr iil"^''^ '" ''- ''^''^ ■-' ' '-^^'^ «"l ; 'and then each dwelt upon the other. It IS niipossibic for any who have not loved as I have to conceive njy joy and pride when, after ring and a was done, and the parson had blessed us, Lorna turned to 1^ k greaT-J. ''"'" "' "'^'^ '"" ^"^^^^^ ^y l^s Her eyes, ^yhich none on earth may ever equal or com- pare wuh, told me such a depth of comfort, yet Twaitil further co..mune, that I was almost amazed,^ th*.w," t,j. T. '3 i9i i IVeddmg Day in Literature and Art '!,■ »• < aged to get up a feeble show of the ancient custom in these latter days." Charlotte hoped the bridegroom was worthy. "Oh, he is worthy enough; although, to speak truth, she would not have lowered even her haughty glance to his level five years ago." " Why will she now, then ? " " Because he stands to her in the interesting position of a last chance for a husband. And it is so very horrible to live an old maid, you know." "But," said Charlotte, "it is dreadful — such a union." " Oh, it will do, it will do, as matches average." Arrived at the bride's house. Hector and Charlotte were ushered into the presence of a large company, some silent some conversing in subdued voices, and all very solemn. ' "If I had never been to a wedding before," whispered Hector, « I should think we had made a mistake, and got into a funeral." Suddenly there was a hush, and the happy pair, appear- mg with the bridesmaids and groomsmen, marched to the place assigned them in the light of wax candles. The centre of observation, of course, was the bride. She was of such commanding presence that the pretty Mr. Creston with his weak face and slender shoulders, seemed scarcely noticeable at her side. "How pale she looks," said Bertha Wing, who sat with Mr. Rukely at Charlotte's left hand. "What a strange brightness in her eye ! " Hector turned with a smile which sent the blood tingling to her cheeks. " She is taking her last look at her bright ideal. Bertha. Or perhaps the phantoms of old-time lovers are flitting between her and the light." Bertha, troubled: "She will be happier when it is all over." Hector : " So you may say of a drowning man." Mr. Rukely : « Let us have charity." 194 Neighbour Jackwood of The' vm""""^ T" "^""'^^'^'^ l^y a staid old clergyman ot the village, who married the happy counle fist .n^ strong, and blessed the union. CongS'ulalt^n k.^ id irlL" '% '"^^'^', ^^'^-^hmentt were introduce., - jellies nuts, coftec, and several kinds of costly cake all rlTon";; w icr'^'"'^'^"'"'^' "^'^''^- -^h ' ^ reason to which the company was invited by the bride- nd i h.;;r witla ""^' s.u.ff-taking, old-fashioned inuiviclual, wi h a wise grimace, spectacles, and stiff iron gray hair stuck up all over his head pre'l-Si '^"if^" ^"-'';' ''^"■'' ^'^ ---iating with slow precision « has prepared a poetical address, appropriate to the occasion, which she will proceed to deli;er'.^ Etty I '' ...nn , u ""-'"' ^'"'^ ^ ^^^g^ ^"'-^'hcad and great eyes supposed to be a genius, stepped forward promptly. ^ ' mnfh.r\ ' r" ,^°"iP"^ition," remarked the child's ::£z.^'^'' "' p^'^'"^"^- "^»^^ --- ^^ without a.; " Mis. Greenwich," interrupted her husband, with loftv d approbation, " I am talking now ! Daughte P ' ra Z his hand, " one, two, three, _ begin I » ^ At the word, Etty rattled away, like a militia comoanv Greenwich ! '' ^ ' '^"''''' '^ y°" P^^'^^'-'' Mrs. hai^s'stS Tuf 'l^f-entially,Etty went on, holding her hai ds stiffly folded across her lap, and looking down as if rec tiiig to the carpet. The substance of the p^em was oke 't^'eXr f^lJ'"' Y'^"^ ^^ ^^^ ^ ^-Tl Te' yoKea together in the car of matrimony, and sailing over -a sapphire ocean in a little Eden of thei/^wn, fu ofVow ry the coll'^sLr ""'"' ^-'^ ' ^°""^ ^' ^PP'-- g--d . " 1 want you all to understand," said the mother of the 195 H ti I Wedding Day in Literature and Art ■ i :> U. ' genius, "thai he poem was composed in one hour and forty minutes — " " Mrs. Greenwich, I was about to speak ! " Mrs. G. meekly : « Oh, certainly ! " Mr. G. : "Daughter! " Young genius prettily : " What, father ? " " I want you to recite the last part again, commencmg at the line, ' There Flora spreads,' and let your voice rho at 'spangled groves.' Slowly and disiinctly." Encouraged by the praises alreaily bestowed, Etty repeater! the concluding lines with improved coiihdenre, and won additional applause. The bride, who hit! borne up undr the infliction with smiling patience, thanked die little pi )digy for liei compliments and good wishes, and asked for a copy (A .he verses. "A copy for me, .o,.., Fity," said the bridegroom. Blushiii;); bridesmaid ; « 1 i,p(.ak for a copy ! " Two or three, in a b"e;it'h : " Mc, too, Etty ! " Chorus of voices: ••' Wonderful genius!" — " Be-e- e-e-eau-tiful ! " — " Sweet pretty ! " — " Ought to be printed I " 'Squire Greenwich : " Daughter, what have you got to say ? " Young genius ready with a speech : " I thank you all very kindly for your good opinion — " Mrs. Greenwich, in a whisper: "Go on, — what is it about talents ? " " If God has seen fit to endow me with talents, I ought not to taice any credit to myself, but show my gratitude by trying to make good use of them. At the same time I trust my friends will be less ready to praise than to tell me of my faults." More applause. Little prodigy's head quite turned. Mrs. G. excited and silly. Mr. G. prosy oji the subject of his daughter's talents. 196 d Art hour and Timcmuig voice hi.e /cd, Etty aiifidenre, li-d borne inked ihe shes, and - " Be-e- to be lu got to : you all t'hat is it , I ought ititude by e time I 3 tell me turned. e subject C( To my Daughter TO MY DAUGHTER, ON BEING SEPARATED FROM HER ON HER MARRIAGE" By MRS. HUNTER ^ Which animates this mortal clav J- or thee I court the waking dream ' And deck with smiles the future day ; ,^r u't"' ''^-"''''' '■^'^ P'-^''^«"t pain ^ With hopes that we shall meet again. Yet, will it be as when the past Twined every joy, and care, and thought. And o er our minds one mantle cast ^ ' Of kind affections finely wrought ? Ah no ! the groundless thought were vain, For so we ne'er can meet again ! May he who claims thv tender heart Deserve its love as I have done I i-or, kind and gentle as thou art. If so beloved, thou 'it fairly won. Bright may the sacred torch remain, And cheer thee till we meet again 197 IVedding Day in Literature a/td Art :iM- (( From "THE STORY OF AN AFRICAN FARM " By olive SCHREINER I DID n't know before you were so fond of riding hard," said Gregory to his little betrothed. They were cantering slowly on the road to Oom Muller's on the morning of the wedding. " Do you call this riding hard ? " asked Em, in some astonishment. "Of course I do! It's enough to break the horses' necks, and knock one up for the whole day besides," he added testily ; then twisted his head to look at the buggy that came on behind. " I thought Waldo was such a mad driver; they are taking it easily enough to-day," said Gregory. "One would think the black stallions were lame." " I suppose they want to keep out of our dust," said Em. " See they stand still as soon as we do." Perceiving this to be the case, Gregory rode on. " It 's all that horse of yours : she kicks up such a con- founded dust 1 can't stand it myself," he said. Meanwhile the cart came on slowly enough. It was eight o'clock when they neared the farmhouse, a red brick building, with kraals to the right and a small orchard to the left. Already there were signs of unusual life and bustle ; one cart, a waggon, and a couple of saddles against the wall betokened the arrival of a few early guests, whose numbers would soon be largely increased. To a Dutch country wedding guests start up in numbers astonishing to one who has merely ridden through the plains of sparsely inhabited karroo, 198 d Art ^ICAN of riding •d. to Oom , in some he horses' sides," he the buggy ich a mad Jay," said ions were ust," said ch a con- mhouse, a d a small if unusual of saddles few early increased, numbers the plains i mi •itff '£^^lSto2of an African F. arm A^ the morning advanccv; ri,J... steeds appear from all ^1;^;-' "''''^ "" "'^"'X shadc-s of and staled aJo.^^" :^L^ ^^t:';; h "^'"'''^'"^ ^•"^-' <-waggo„s as th./are Lb rdctj onhr'h' ^"? '"." of massive Tames and om.-Iu I i ^'"'^ ^'"''t^'" -arms of children ^Ttxx Z^^ ^'^\^^-^' H Pnnt and moleskin, who are taken "are f T""' "^ f-atfer, and half-caste nurse. Jh i Hottentot, Picxions, ranging from~ l") veil ■'' "^'""r^'^-'-' -'"'" variety to th ' animated c .f 7. "'^ ' u ^"'''".'^ '''^"''^' -'^^ and bustle, which gradu ly „crea "7: 7 ''■ ^"'■^^''"^■"^ return of the weddin.r r.Jl "'^'^^'"'' ''^ '^e tmie for the the feast are Itiv ' aTa^ 'Y'"'""',"- '^''^P-^^ions for liberally handed rou V^ m I 1" \ "'i'"' ^ "'^^^' '"^ the firinj. of tru„s th, K profound sensation and ding part alfeh ' Ind^.^d'S" '""^ "'^ ^"^ ^''^' -'^- dants, march tlemnK to rh '''"'"^'''"""^ ^i'h their atten- and box are decked ,i;L?'r''''^T"'r''"' ^'^"'^ bed artificu flowers, :„;rh;:et'rr:t:?th"' ''^ ^"^ solemni seat themselves. After 7f ^ ? "'" P='">' best m. nse, and conduct in wi'h '"■'^'"^'"' ^"^ dividual guest, to wish success LJto kr?7^ T'^ '"" j:room. Th t\^^ ( .• ^"" ^" ''"^s bride and bride- -nset befC .hf dit^^ d '" t ""^' ^"^ '^ '^ =«'- - ofthe day .egin . .rv hin '^ "^^'>' ^"'' '^e pleasure front room, and he 7 fl ^' " 'n"'"^'^"'' ^'•""' ^^e great blood, glist'ens like p„,il'"";'r" '"bbed with bullo^ck's tion of the as cmbly£k ), "he^^T^^" '^'^^ ^^'"^'^ P-" selves f, the evening .nT "'^' T"'^'^ '" ^"'''^ 'hem- and gay with bdgt^ibbonr"".' t^ '" "'^'^'^ -"^''"^ dancing bepnsasthVfirtXwcandl'^^ j''"^''^>'- '^^e' the walls, the music comin f '^''"' are stuck up about corner of the rim BW 7a d brid '""^'^ °' ""'"^^'^ '" ^ and the rioor is soon cow-r.^ ''f'^S''"!''" "P^n the ball, eveiy one's spirits hL Thf bT'! , "^"''"^' ™"P'-' -'d the throt,g, aL hen a^d There 'msS "''"'^ ^''^^'^ '" ousiy as he drags his pa.ner '^::;:t ^ZT^:^- 199 Uedding Day m Literature and Art Y I John S|H'riwig; boys shout aiul applaud, ami the enjoy- ment and confusion arc intense, till eleven o'clock comes. IJy this time the children who swarm in the side rooms arc not to be kept quiet longer, even by hunches of bread and cake \ there is a general howl and wail that rises yet hi.!her than the scraping of fiddles, ;i id mothers rush from their partners to knock small heads together, and cufF little nursemaids, and force the waiters down into unoccupied corners of beds, uni' r tables, and behind boxes. In half an hour every variety of childish snore is heard on all sides, and it has become perilous to raise or set down a foot in any of the side ro ins lest a small head or hand should be crushed. Now, too, the busy feet have broken the solid coating of the floor, and a cloud of fine dust arises that makes a yellow halo round the candles, and sets asthmatic people coughiirg, and grows denser, till to recognise any one on the opposite side of the room becomes impossible, and a partner's face is seen through a yellow mist. At twelve o'clock the bride is led to the marriage-chamber and undressed ; the lights arc blown out, and the bride- groom is brought to the door by the best man, who gives him the key, then the door is shut and locked, and the revels rise higher than ever. There is no thought of sleep till morning, and no unoccupied spot where sleep may be found. 200 Vanity Fair From "VANITY FAIR" By WILLIAM MAKKPKACK TIIACKKRAY ONK gusty, raw day at the ciul of April — the rain whipping the pavement of that ancient street where the old Slaughter's Corfee-house was onee situated George Osborne came into the cotiee-rooni, looking very haggard and pale, although dressed rather smartly in 'a blue coat and brass buttons, and a neat buff waistcoat ot* the fashion of those days. Here was his friend C'aptain Dob- bin, in blue and brass too, having abandoned the military frock and P>ench-gray trousers, which were the usual coverings of his lanky person. Dobbin had been in the coffee-room for an hour or more. He had tried all the papers, but could not read them. He had looked at the clock many scores of times; and at the street, where the rain was pattering down, and the people, as they clinkel by in pattens, left long reflections on the' shining stone ; he tattooed at the table ; he bit his nails most completely, and nearly to the cpiick (he was accus- tomed to ornament his great big hands in this way) ; he balanced the teaspoon on the milkjug ; ui)set it, etc., etc. ; and in fact showed those signs of disquietude, and prac- tised those desperate attempts at amusement, which men are accustomed to employ when very anxious and expect- ant, and perturbed in mind. Some of his comrades, gentlemen who used the room, joked him about the splendour of his costume and his agitation of manner. One asked him if he was going to be married. Dobbin laughed, and said he would send his acquaintance (Major WagstafF of the Engineers) a piece of cake when that event took place. At length Captain Osborne made his appearajice, very smartly dressed, but 20I H W) 11 I i Wcdd'mg Day tn Literature a7id Art very pale and agitated, as we have said. He wiped his pale face with a large yellow bandana pocket-handkerchief that was prodigiously scented. He shook hands with Dobbin, looked at the clock, and told John, the waiter, to bring him some cura^oa. Of this cordial he swallowed ort a couple of glasses with nervous eagerness. His friend asked with some interest about his health. "Couldn't get a wink of sleep till daylight, Dob," said he. « Infernal headache and fever. (Jot up at nine, and went down to the Hummums for a bath. I say, Dob, I feel just as I did on the morning I went out with Rocket at Quebec." "So do I," William responded. "I was a deuce deal more nervous than you were, that morning. You made a famous breakfast, I remember. P^at something now." " You 're a good old fellow, Will. I 'II drink your health, old boy, and farewell to — " " No, no ; two glasses are enough," Dobbin interrupted him. " Here, take away the liqueurs^ John. Have some cayenne-pepper with your fowl. Make haste, though, for it is time we were there." It was about half an hour from twelve when this brief meeting and collocpiy took place between the two captains. A coach, into which Captain Osborne's servant put his master's desk and dressing-case, had been in waiting for some time; and into this the two gentlemen hurried under an umbrella, and the valet mounted on the box, cursing the rain and the dampness of the coachman who was steaming beside him. " We shall fmd a better trap than this at the church door," says he ; " that 's a comfort." And the carriage drove on, taking the road down Picca- dilly, where Apsley House and St. George's Hospital wore red jackets still; where there wen- oil lamps; where Achilles was not yet born ; nor the Pimlico arch raised ; nor the hideous equestrian monster which pervades it and the neighbourhood — and so they drove down by Bromp- ton to a certain chapel near the Fulham road there. A chariot was in waiting with four horses; likewise a 202 d Art wiped his idkcrchief uuls with waiter, to swallowed iis friend )ob," said nine, and y, Dob, I h Rocket eiice deal 11 made a )W." ink your iterrupted ive some oiigh, for this brief captains. : put his liting for ied under , cursing who was rap than omfort." n Picca- ital wore i where I raised ; 's it and Bromp- • kewise a Vanity Fair coach of the kind called glass coaches. Only a very few Idlers were collected, on account of the dismal rain « Hang it ! " said (ieorge, " I said only a pair." " My master would have fou.," said Mr. Joseph Scdley's servant, who was ni waiting; and he and Mr. Osborne's nian agreed, as they followed George and William into the church, that it was a " reg'lar shabby turnhout ; and with scarce so much as a breakfast or a wedding fliviour." " Here you are," said our old friend, Jos ' Sedley commg forward. « You 're Hve minutes late, George my boy. What a day, eh? Demmy, it's like the com- mencement of the rainy season in liengal. Hut you '11 hiul my carriage is water-tight. Come along, my mother and tmmy are in the vestry." Jos Sedley was splendid. He was fatter than ever His s^hirt-collars were higher; his face was redder; his shirt-fril flaunted gorgeously out of his variegated waist- coat. Varnished boots were not invented as yet ; but the Hessians on his beautiful legs shone so, that they must have been the identical pair in which the gentleman in the old picture used to shave himself; and on his light green coat there bloomed a fine wedding favour, like a great white spreading magnolia. In a word, George had thrown the great cast. He was gomg to be married. Hence his pallor and nervousness _ his sleepless night and agitation in the morning. I have heard people who have gone through the same thing own to the same emotion. After three or four ceremonies, you get accustomed to it, no doubt ; but the first dip, every- bodr allows, is awful. l^hc bride was dressed in a brown silk pelisse (as Cip- tain Dobbin has since informed me), and wore a straw bonnet with a pink ribbon ; over the bonnet she had a ved of white Chantilly lace, a gift from Mr. Joseph Sedley, her brother. Captain IX)bbin himself had asked leave to present her with a gold chain and watch, which she sported on this occasion; and her mother gave her her diamond brooch — almost the only tiinket which was left 203 ,' f ' I «wl Wedding Day in Literature and Art to the old lady. As the service went on, Mrs. Sedley sat and whimpered a great deal in a pew, consoled by the ]r.sh maid-servant and Mrs. Clapp from the lodgings. Old bedley would not be present. Jos acted for his father giving away the bride, whilst Captain Dobbin stepped up as groomsman to his friend George. There was nobody in the church besides the officiating persons and the small marriage party and their attendants 1 he two valets sat aloof superciliously. The rain came rattling down on the windows. In the intervals of the service you heard it, and the sobbing of old Mrs. Sedley in the pew. The parson's tones echoed sadly through the empty walls. Osborne's " I will " was sounded ifi very deep bass. Emmy's response came fluttering up to her hps from her heart, but was scarcely heard by anybody except Captain Dobbin. / ^ / When the service was completed, Jos Sedley came for- ward and kissed his sister, the bride, for the fi-st time for many months — George's look of gloom had gone, and he seemed quite proud and radiant. "It's your turn William," says he, putting his hand fondly upon Dobbin's' shoulder; and Dobbin went up and touched Amelia on the cheek. Then they went into the vestiy and signed the register « God bless you. Old Dobbin," George said, grasping him' by the hand, with something very like moisture glistening in his eyes. William replied only by nodding his head His heart was too full to say much. " Write directly, and come down as soon as you can you know," Osborne said. After Mrs. Sedley had taken an hysterical adieu of her daughter, the pair went off to the carriage. "Get out of the way, you little devils," George cried to a small crowd of damp urchins, that were hanging about the chapel door. The rain drove into the bride and bridegroom's faces as they passed to the chariot The postilion's favours draggled on their dripping jackets The {^yN children made a dismal cheer as the carriage splashing mud, drove away. ' 204 VaTiity Fair hm H ^ ^^'^ "^^^'^ '^'■'^^ o^ spectators jeered "" c„:?,: ;:;:,:■:,.; "S :!r :fz -i^ ^^^ put the wccpmg „id U^ ,„d her ^ttendan,; imf lie ca Z„: "^r"" ■'"^•' ""'' '"f- •"-" -"''-< fur c woril Pe'"f„„.L^'L3^' r f-^- ^-^ -" "-= "-''^- " Here, you li„|c k-ggars," Dobbin said, givins some and bapp,, be prayed Gck,!" Ne^V si. fb?;: ^Tof bad he felt so miserable and so lonelv H„ iL i ,. '^' earr-sick yearning for ebe firs '"rif day" oKe:"!? he might see her again. / " oe over, that ' * 205 Wedding Day i?i Literature and Art From "A BRIDAL SONG" i' f By henry hart MILMAN TO the sound of timbrels sweet Moving slow our solemn feet, We have borne thee on the road To the virgin's blest abode ; With thy yellow torches gleaming, And thy scarlet mantle streaming. And the canopy above Swaying as wc slowly move. Thou hast left the joyous feast, And the mirth and wine have ceased, And now we set thee down before The jealously unclosing door, That the favoured youth admits Where the veiled virgin sits In the bliss of maiden fear. Waiting owx soft tread to hear, And the music's brisker din At the bridegroom's entering in. Entering in, a welcome guest. To the chamber of his rest. 206 Art Bonaventtire From " BONAVENTURE : A PROSE PAS- TORAL OF ACADIAN LOUISIANA "^ Bv GEORGE W. CABLE ON that instant the quiet of the village is broken by a sound of galloping hoofs. Bonaventure stands still. How sudden is this change ' He IS not noticed now.; everything is in the highest anima- tion. There are loud calls and outcries; children are shouting and running, and women's heads are thrust .^w of doors and windows. Horsemen come dashing into the village around through the lanes and up the street. Look ' they wheel they rein up, they throw themselves from the rattling saddles ; they leave the big wooden stirrups swing- ing and the little unkempt ponies shaking themselves, and rush into the boutique de Monsieur Lichtenstein, and are talking hkemad and decking themselves out on hats and shoulders with ribbons in all colours of the rainbow I buddenly they shout, all together, in answer to a shout outside. More horsemen appear. Lichtenstein's store belches all its population. " ^l ^^^Y •' . ^' ""'"-" ' " ^^^ ^^l^^^^^'e is comin. ' temble'."^'' ' "^'' ^"^^'^ "^"^^^ Bonaventure « Madame," he says in French to a chattering woman who has just run out of her door, and is stancling near olleT';! ' M ^-^^'"^^^-^-^^^ on her head as she prattles to a girl, _-""' w.dd'^t'pair ! ""'^' ■' ^'*''"' '" '-''^' ' - «»d speed .he IenStL''l„5't''r.l,"'%""F"' " '^ ""•■-'' ••« by mile .hey drop ;^l:- "='"''"? ""=■''"»• As mile homes, .hey^ise'^^„''h!^"'8'>' "'■ '" P"irs, .oward .heir ribbonldecked hats , lev sh.T'''', "'"' ^''""^ ^'^^ '^'" and shou. un.il .h 'e e C; em Tt"° "'"' ™"'«= ca.ch the faint fareJeli;_ ' ""' ""^ '" "" ''arcly weddilTg'bair ""''' "" "■= f^" "f "fe"' .'hall bring .he ana"'r,!!",^-;;^,""y Acadian fiddler in Louisi. ing scene of .ha. 1,1 "^.'^ '" ?"sephi„e .he open- sees again "he g eaf cleanT '';""'" '^""""'^a"""- She cconfgin houseS,;i7;raTo„Str.r "'°™ "' ' 14 b h ' -^ cousin oi the ex-governor, ^ 209 ° ' i l|f Wcdduig Day in Literature and Art lighted with many candles ctuck into a perfect wealth of black bottles ranged along the beams of tlu- walls. The fiddler's seat is mounted on a table in the corner, the fiddler is in it, each beau has led a maiden into the floor, the sets are made for the contra-dance, the young men stand expectant, their partners wait with downcast eyes and mute lips as Acadian damsels should, the music strikes up and away they go. It was line from first to last ! The ball closed with the bride's dance. Many a daughter Madame Sosthenc had waltzed the farewell measure with, and now Zosephine was the last. So they danced it, they two, all the crowd look- ing on : the one so young and lost in self, the other so full of years and lost to self, — eddying round and round each other in this last bright eribrace before they part, the mother to swing back into still water, the child to enter the current of a new life. And then came the wedding supper ! At one end of the long table the bride and groom sat side by side, and at their left and right the wedding singers stood and sang. In each corner of the room there was a barrel of roasted sweet potatoes. How everyboiiy ate that night ! Rice ! beef- balls ! Pass them heri; ' pa-s them there! help yourself! reach them with a T-rk' •' «!J 214 2nd Art ater number. f^ preparation other Ameri- the English spread that >e the fourth. legations in Jding in the tal of Italia, n the chapel ground floor rhis greatly d the neces- nielves and tion of the r, when the : the shady plendid and es the bride air of gray St toast of Jncillor of s on their this occa- lense, and le declared tiad linked endour of n and the 1 spite of ot ? " said -r to her He K?tew he was Right eralM::""' '"^ ^ ""^'' ' '"^^^' ^« ^^ese things gen-' "I thought it was so nice. And she looked very well And he was so pleasant, and so much like a gentlemair.- not noisy, you know, and yet not too serious.'' 1 dare say, my love." " f ^ ''^ ^asy enough, mamma, for a girl to be married for she has nothing to do but wear her%lothes and fok as petty as she can And if she cries and has a red nose h s forg.ven her. But a man has so difficult a part to daJ If he tnes to carry himself as though it were not a snecbl occasion he looks like a fool that tay ; and The T,^ spec,., h. looks like a fool the other ^^ay. I ho'^ht Mr' Crlascock did -t very well." ^ Hi 215 IVedding Day i?i Literature and Art f f 'A From "THE DIAMOND WEDDING " ^ Bv EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN RING ! ring the bells and bring The people to see the marrying ! Let the gaunt and hungry and ragged poor Throng round the great Cathedral door, To wonder what all the hubbub 's for, And sometimes stupidly wonder At so much sunshine and brightness, which Fall from the church upon the rich. While the poor get all the thunder. Ring ! ring, merry bells, ring ! O fortunate itvt With letters blue, Good for a seat and a nearer view ! Fortunate few, whom I dare not name ; Dilettanti ! Creme de la Creme ! We commoners stood by the street fa9ade And caught a glimpse of the cavalcade ; We saw the bride In diamond pride. With jewelled maidens to guard her side, Six lustrous maidens in tarlatan. She led the van of the caravan ; Close beside her, her mother (Dressed in gorgeous moire antique That told, as plainly as words could speak, She was more antique than the other) Leaned on the arm of Don Rataplan 1 By special permh-Jon of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 2l6 The Bridal Jewels. Schachinget. If •)■ "f I li:f i ^..___Z^^J^j^^^ond^ Santa Claus de la Muscovado bei^r Grandissimo Bastinado. Happy Mortal ! fortunate man ! And Marquis of El Dorado, in they swept, all riches and grace, S.Iks and satins, jewels and lace; I" they swept from the daz^led sun, And soon m the church the deed was done Ikno?/!, ''",r°^ °" '^' chancel high P '^""^ ^I'^fg^Jd and silver can buy ^ C.O d and s.lver may yet untie, ^ Unless .t is tightly fastened ; A^/'.h' ^r^'^^'^g ^^ all 's worth doing well And the sale of a young Manhattan Belle Is not to be pushed or hastened. 217 mm IVedd'uig Day in Literature and yirt From «ROXY"i By EDWARD EGGLESTON THERE was nothing out of the ordinary about Roxy's wedding. There were present her aunt's family and Twonnet's; Miss Rachel Moore, who was to take her place as mistress of the house the next week, was there, of course, and Colonel Bonamy and his daughters, and as many besides as the old house would hold. Adams had asked Whittaker, but the minister had not come. Jemima stood in the background, the most impressive figure of all. The Methodist presiding elder, a venerable, white-haired man, familiarly called " Uncle Jimmy Jones," conducted the simple service. I said there was nothing out of the ordinary. But Bobo was there. Eor days he had watched the cake-baking and the other preparations. He heard somebody say that Roxy was to be married, and he went about the house conning the saying like a lesson, as though he were trying to get some meaning out of it. " Roxy is going to be married," he would say over and over, from morning till night. When he saw the company gathering, he went into an ecstasy of confused excitement. And when at last Roxy came into the room, in her simple bridal dress, he broke from his mother's side and seized Roxy's disengaged h^nd. Jemima and his mother made an effort to recapture him, but Roxy turned and said, " Let him come." " Let him come," echoed Bobo, and walking by the side of the bride and her bridegroom till they halted in front of the minister, he looked up at the stately old man and said with childish glee, *' Roxy 's going to be married." 1 By ptrmhikn of Charles Scribner's Sons, from *' Roxy," by Edivard Eggltiton, Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons, iSjS. 2l8 ! I A.. Roxy rh.s outburst of Hobo's sent the colour of Mrs. Hanks's face up to scarlet. What would the Honam s t „k Jcm.uKi put her handkerchief over Ikt nun h to Jf i augl, and Anunula JJo„an,y turned ha- S 1:^1 mm.seer conceded .he bcnedici,,,, with w.^^^ u crc^T,::.:;:;:'--; "■*" ^""s"- - -^^ '« -ti ..1, u V ';/^'^'""'^^> Koxy, evermore." evernKjrc." ^ *^'-^' evermore and Roxy had .aught hm Ho wc„,?,^ f?" ""'^t "^ "'= ''">'" " For ever and ever, amen " hav'cTh:'vty"firS HsT"""' '""' "™"' '"' "°- )"- '>■=" fian.ly. He had a „„,"„ "h" L,\ 7''' ""'' ''=- their family len. a lus,re"„ R^' "" , 7!"'' '^°"8^' """ some of ,hem over, bu. he keM firm h mT? '" ^""''' con.en.cd himself wirh 1„ i. ' ,-, ""''' "^ '"^ '^"'at and Mrs HanTr t" J "S like a wild bease a. bav. / lu xviarK. Amanda Bonamy kissed Roxy 'nl r'»l ;! I ^ (1 1 - ' ( • ( ■ ■€:; fp'ifefr I- i h ^ lf^cM'//g Day in Literature and Art coiulcscfiidingly as became a wcll-hrcd eirl ; but when it came to Janet's turn, she kissed Ruxy Inst on one cheek and then on the other, called her a dear, dear bisttr and said, — " Was n't that sweet that ,)Oor little Robo said ? It made your wedding so solemn ami beautiful, — just like vour wedding ought to be." And from that moment Roxy took the enthusiastic girl into her heart of hearts. She made her sit by her at the wedding dinner to make which had exhausted all the skill of Roxy ami her helpers, and the whole purse of her father. For the custom of the time did not allow of coft'ec and sandwiches and cake passed around the room. As for light breakfasts and an imnudiate departure on a tour to nowhere in particular, that only came in with locomotives and palace- cars. In the good old days it cost as much to get married as it decs now to be buried; one must then feed one's friends oi. fried chickens and roast turkeys and al' sorts of pies and pound cake and "floating island" and "peach cobbler," — an enormous dish of pastry inclosing whole peaches, pits and all, — and preserves with cream, and grape jellies, and— IJut this is not a bill of fare. There could be no wedding in a Hoosicr village thirty or forty years ago without an infare on the following day. In those days \k\c faring into the house of the bridegroom's parents was observed with great rejoicing. At an earlier stage of the village's history the little brass cannon was fired in honour of weddings, and almost the whole town kept holi- day. On the day after Roxy's wedding Colonel Bonamy made a great infare, as became a great man like himself. It was preceded by a week of cooking and baking. On the day of the infare, " Uncle Billy," a skilful old negro, was imported from Kentucky to roast the pig which hung sus- pended by a wire in front of the wide kitchen fireplace, while Billy turned it round and round, basting it from time to time. P'or roast pig at a wedding feast was the symbol of aristocracy ; a Bonamy might lose his soul, but he could not be married without a pig. 220 /? oxy Evorybody who culd be- c,.n,,dcr„l a, all i„vi,able was m.y from town, but from the country an J even n... Vhc SB:o.4h;r?brr:,::i;;r:::!^;rr;L"^''"'-'-^- • . , ^ tnmmed pyram.dal cedars that stood about^hc house' ^ .< it 221 vtmrnmimmitM III Wedding Day in Literature and Art I , I h= ;j W ! From "ELDER PETTIGREW'S HELPMEET "1 By will CARLETON ELDER PETTIGREW was married on the fifteenth of July, And some sixteen jealous maidens let their disappointment fly; And some seventeen other maidens scorned to give their sorrow air, And some eighteen other maidens laughed and said they did n't care ; And some nineteen other maidens felt the fact come rather near, For the Elder's face was handsome, and his heart was full of cheer. And his older friends were sorry he had done as he had done, For the bride was young and little, and retiring as a nun ; To be sure, her face was comely ; still, she wasn't much to see, And they had their own opinion what a pastor's bride should be. And they said, " Lone-handed pastors ought to search, and search, and search. Till they get a proper partner that can help them run the church." m « H And she closed her eyes devoutly, or looked down upon the floor. When the fateful fact was mentioned that her maiden days were o'er ; 1 From " City Ftstivah," publhhed by Harper & Brothers. 222 I and Art iW'S )n the fifteenth disappointment 1 to give their and said they ict come rather heart was full as he had done, ring as a nun ; ; was n't much pastor's bride to search, and them run the Elder Peuigrew's Helpmeet """ ■^:^, ""^ j-' > «"-, and hir:;;:-;;^ tor's wife, "^^"'^ '^'"^ "'^s now the pas- She gWd round upon the people with a newish lease of mi ed down upon ;r maiden days Brothers, 223 Ifedding Day in Literature and Art li : • fi From "THE WRECKER "» By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON and LLOYD OSBORNE TO fit out a schooner for sea, and improvise a marriage between dawn and dusk, involves heroic effort. All day Jim and I ran, and tramped, and laughed, and came near crying, and fell in sudden anxious consultations, and were sped (with a prepared sarcasm on our lips) to some fallacious milliner, and made dashes to the schooner and John Smith's, and at every second corner were reminded (by our own huge posters) of our desperate estate. Be- tween whiles I found time to hover at some half-a-dozen jewellers' windows ; and my present, thus intemperately chosen, was graciously accepted. I believe, indeed, that was the last though not the least of my concerns, before the old minister, shabby and benign, was routed from his house and led to the office like a performing poodle ; and there, in the growing dusk, under the cold glitter of Thir- teen Star, two hundred strong, and beside the garish glories of the agricultural engine, Mamie and Jim were made one. The scene was incongruous, but the business pretty, whim- sical, and affecting ; the typewriters with such kindly faces and fine posies, Mamie so demure, and Jim — how shall I describe that poor, transfigured Jim ? He began by taking the minister aside to the far end of the office. I know not what he said, but I have reason to believe he was protesting his unfitness ; for he wept as he said it : and the old minister, himself genuinely moved, was heard to console and encourage him, and at one time to use this expression : « I assure you, Mr. Pinkerton, there are not many who can say so much" — from which I 1 By permisiion of Charles Scrihner's Sons, from " The Wrecker^" hy Robert Louis Stevenson. Copyright, iSqi, by Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd' Osborne, 224 md Art %-t.x ' 1 'D OSBORNE se a marriage c efFort. All :d, and came jltations, and lips) to some ichooner and :re reminded estate. Be- half-a-doz.en ntemperately indeed, that cerns, before ted from his poodle ; and tter of Thir- ;arish glories re made one. •retty, whim- kindly faces how shall I e far end of ve reason to : wept as he moved, was one time to :erton, there •m which I ktr" by Robert d Lloyd Osborne, I il I '', 'Hi I Weddicd. LeightoH. The IFrecker thou;^tve?gt^^^^^^^^^ - -; and name and one fierce hand.rin ^ "'"^ """''^"^^ "^ "^X own emotion, like a char5of VlT'"""'''^^^ ^"'"^ «^ ^^'^ We stood UD to H,r ^ electricity, to his best man. kindly discom'posure Tim ""'^ ?f 'f ^' '" =' g^"-^' -"d himself betrayed hiT^^^^^^ all abroad ; and the divine concluded wkh a father7a ^ '"'"''•' '"'^ ^-"^eanour, and lated Mamie t;-^t^^'L:t:r'''T -'^'■^^ '^^-"g-u- an excellent husband, and pTotes Ld he H '' l"*"""' '^^ 3 more interesting couple ^"'^ '■^'■"^>' '"^'''•'^d opportunity to whisoer • « in , ro"ch it, I had found as drunk as a^ddle '' And^r 'TV' ^'" '"^'^^ y«" with a "God Ble s You Lolif" '' 7""^ "^ ''-''' Hard following upon dl tL T ' '^''" ' '' Frank's with som'ewhV trt^i, 1^^ Tnt tf " with one-half of the Perrier-Jouet ^^T^would '"'"' mort — we vova^ed in ^ ),o 1 T "^'^ ^^^^pt no " What a dirtlesh p " 'er :d'Ma" ''°"'' ^"""'•" ■ure craft was pointed o.f ,o h ™^ AnT'.h' '' '""' """'■'; ■hough,, she turned ,o the best man i 5?,^' T T"'' you must be, Mr. Dodd," she crM « , • T ^^^ thing so far upon the ocean I" A^d V ^° '" '^ "">' ™« in the lady's estimation ' P"™"'^'' ' ^ rJtntiL'^lVi-'LT^Ses^aSh^^^^^ .t 2"ha*id?:trar",f '^^ ^- "^' '"^«e!a"nd iirtiiui, sweaty and sullen, were naccmo- *u c one to another from the wai.f Tl ^ ^ ^^^"^ ^''"'^ ^^ om tne wa^ist. Johnson was three parts i I] '11 Wedding Day in Literature and Art asleep over the table ; and in his bunk, in his own cabin, the captain sourly chewed and puffed at his cigar. « See here," he said, rising ; « you Ml be sorry you came. We can't stop v/orlc if we 're to get away to-morrow. A ship getting ready for sea is no place for people, anyway. You only interrupt my men." I was on the point of answering something tart ; but Jim, who was acquainted with the breed, as he was with most things that had a bearing on afFairs, made haste to pour in oil. « Captain," he said, " 1 know we 're a nuisance here, and that you 've had a rough time. But all we want is that you should drink one glass of wine with us, Perrier- Jouet, from Longhurst, on the occasion of my marriage and Loudon's — Mr. Dodd's — departure." " Well, it 's your lookout," said Nares. " I don't mind half an hour. Spell, O ! " he added to the men ; "go and kick your heels for half an hour, and then you can turn to again a trifle livelier. Johnson, see if you can't wipe ofF a chair for the lady." The little party in the cabin, so disastrously begun, fin- ished, under the mellowing influence of wine and woman, in excellent feeling and with some hilarity. Mamie, in a plush Gainsborough hat and a gown of wine-coloured silk, sat, an apparent queen, among her rude surroundings and companions. The dusky litter of the cabin set off her radiant trimness : tarry Johnson was a foil to her fair beauty ; she glowed in that poor place, fair as a star ; until even I, who was not usually of her admirers, caught a spark of admiration ; and even the captain, who was in no courtly humour, proposed that the scene should be com- memorated by my pencil. It was the last act of the even- ing. Hurriedly as I went about my task, the half hour had lengthened out to more than three before it was com- pleted : Mamie in full value, the rest of the party figuring in outline only, and tlit artist himself introduced in a back 226 ? and Art 1 his own cabin, cigar. sorry you came. to-morrow. A people, anyway. ;thing tart ; but as he was with made haste to nuisance here, all we want is ith us, Perrier- jf my marriage " I don't mind men ; " go and ^ou can turn to can't wipe ofF The IFrecker Self I r^^^^ But it was to with her I .ade m^chtf su^Ll '"^ """^'^"^ -'' ^^ -- Ji- ■" "sVd'-V^^^^^^^^^^ No wonder good ! " she cried : an ^ni.ram wh ' h "'"'' '' ^""'""^^''^^ ^^ '' repeated as we made ouf sallr "^'f ^PP'^^'^^^^d. and the retreating couple as ThevnT'' ""'^ ''^^'^ ""^ after light on the iharf ^ ^'''"^ ^^^>' ""'J^''" the lamp- Lisly begun, fin- ne and woman, Mamie, in a e-coloured silk, rroundings and )in set off her 11 to her fair IS a star ; until irers, caught a who was in no hould be com- :t of the even- the half hour re it was corn- party figuring uced in a back 227 'ii IFedding Day in literature and Art I :i r III From "OFF THE SKELLIGS'" By jean INGELOW AT last Wednesday came. I woke, and could hardly believe it. We breakfasted precisely as usual ; then the two children and their parents set off on foot to the quiet little church, and Giles and I followed over two or three fields. We sat down on a grassy bank, to put on some new gloves ; they were not white, however, and I, though I wore a white dress, as I usually did in the morn- ing, had no other bridal array. I did not even then believe that all would go well. I had a vivid recollection of the telegrams ; but we rose, and he took me on to the church, — a little rural building that stood open. There I saw Mr. Crayshaw, who had come from London to give me away, — and no one else at all, but Mr. Mompesson with his white gown on, and Mrs. Mompesson with the children. The ceremony actually began, and I perceived, almost to my surprise, that we certainly were being married, after all ! But as if it was quite impossible that anything con- cerning me could be done as other people do it, all on a sudden, while Giles held my hand, a thought seemed to flash straight out of his heart into mine, that he had for- gotten the ring. I was quite sure of it ; he did not even put his finger into his waistcoat pocket, as a man might have done who had bought one and left it behind. There was no ring ; he had forgotten it. A pause. " Fanny," said Mr. Mompesson ; and Mrs. Mompesson, with all the good-will in the world, and with Mr. Crayshaw to help her, tried to get her ring off her dear, fat, friendly hand, and tried in vain. Giles almost groaned. He had expected me to be more than commonly nervous ; now seemed some ground for it j 1 From " Off the Sie/ligs," published by Little, Brown, & Co. 228 Off the Skelligs complex,oned young woman in a linen sunbonnct vv th a fat, crowng baby on her arm. She was out of brcatr and com,ng up to Giles c,uickly, she thrust out her ho ett lla ft A hlth T u- ^"" '^^ •■'"S "ff' and marry me wkh •t. A hea thy-lookmg young fellow, in a paper cap which he presently removed, came slouching in after h'eranS looked on, unable, as it seemed, to repress an occas'ional grm o amusement; and when the ceremony was To httle whHe t,ll some rmgs were brought from a shop for rriir^:'Brat:n;"^ ^-^ ^^'^ ^- ^^- ^^^^ ^ ^^^^^^ He returned the ring he had nsprl *r. »k but I observed that she^'^e'trttl ^^r.^o^f^rT; ajam ; and as he did so, he remarked to Giles, w"h a ce - tarn qua,nt compkcency, that wives wanted humouring • heir due. Then ,n all good faith, assuring him that he would never repent what he had that dav done, he set hit paper cap on h.s head, and retired withhis family whie we havmg taken leave of our friends, stepped out intrthe fields, and departed together to begin our s^ory 11 229 if If?^ I' ' Wedding Day in hi ter attire and 4rt ( I ill! From "SUSAN'S ESCORT'" By EDWARD EVERETT HALE THEY had no minister at New Padua, or rather he had a sore throat, and was studying evolution at Halle. So our p'ather Lawrence went ovtr there to marry them. All the people went over. Strangest of all, Mrs. Montague went over. " Not that I go willingly," she said to Effie at the last moment, as the giil arranged some magnificent diamonds which Romayne had given his mother ; " I do not go will- ingly, and -,o one thinks I go willingly. But who knows? They mry be married by the bishop. They were never very sound. Then there must be some one to give my sou away." For Mrs. Montague leans to the third primitive seces- sion, and is doubtful about other rituals than her own. So she went to her martyrdom. She herself saw to the toilets of her daughters, in a fashion, so that those wretched girls at the Hoods' should not in any sort eclipse them. How many there were she did not know, she said ; she believed they made up most of the scholars. Her own "exhibit," as the managers of fairs say, was perfect. Her coachman Michael was in a new livery with an immense favour. Otto was on the box with Michael, with a bigger favour. Only Fritz was in, Mrs. Montague's carriage; and the girls, with Romayne, were in their own carriage behind, with Anders as grand as Michael, and Fran9ois with him on the box, each with gorgeous favours. Even the horses had favours covering the blinders, which the grooms had compelled the ch;:mbermaids to make for them. Then, in that great drag which the Montagues sent to the station for their guests, followed every man and woman of the staff of 1 From " Susan' i Eicort," puhliihed by Harper Qif Brothers. 230 a?td 4rt P»» I , or rather he g evolution at there to marry St of all, Mrs. -file at the last cent diamonds Jo not go will- It who knows ? ey were never le to give my )riniitive scces- her own. So V to the toilets wretched girls ; them. How ; she believed ivn " exhibit," Her coachman mense favour, bigger favour, iage ; and the irriage behind, i^ois with him ven the horses e grooms had :m. Then, in the station for of the staff of Brothers. p' \*l i:i the house. Actually olj Katv ,h-T I ~ carried Runuyne to ,hc fom 2^h ^'""'"''r'^''' ' '"' ''»'' do,,,t,„,: , „„„,:i=,,„:'it^;M,.,a,uc.,tay„l,, An Jt' h ■'': ;:::iir":^"' -■ ^v*'"-- -" »"«• the Klindcr's lor ,^, r "^7 ^l '""' '^'"- """'I I-uuk"" ™.|.lcs;thc pX '',,;',th " T" ,""""'= ""■"■'8'' '>" as they mak^'' t Ihc .hi'"' "', '™' ""'""" "^ «"^ light, and the dosi' , r the ill '• ■""'8 "'"' ' '"' showy, were all eoL, • '""minatio,., „ „hou, .■ emptied, I sho'i.ld L. i J, S" waTth"!' "^7 t""' « the entrance. Bu, ,ft,, •, J,^ ^n [ t«ri. "'" '" there to tjet a nart nf tKic , r "'^ Jiianca iittle conirsation^' f . • '^ ^'^^'^ ^'' ^"^ »" have' ever. Any::^l, [^tS T \' ' "" ^^ ^^'"^"^ - sa^v that dried-up Mr R , ""^ 1"'"^''^"' g^''^^"- ^ and Hugh Roge? bV him ' . r u^^ "^'''^'''''y ^^-^^ old friends. ^ ^ '""• ^^''^ h^'' ""^ forgotten hei' n.a)I:Xhad'S ^^0^70;^^^^°""^^ '^ ^^^ orchestra from New York vv.s ° ;'"g^-^'°'''^«'"«- ^^^auss's that I would have pardoned Fath^ T^ '""'"•f '''''^'"'^ all went out of his head s he I^t -,ed" r"" '^^'^---- w.th me and some of the other r.il ^"'"S"" "'"^^ "P sister carry in for T..Iip^ lu , '^"''""- ^^^^ "^adc his bouquet. ^ -^ " '''" g'"^^^ ^ '^ box which held her A minute more anrl va:^ priest and .aid, ""/ulifetnTtr,, '^ Z"]^^'"' '" he h':! ne°ve?'L':'be^^;: "TTT '"'^^^^"'^^'^ w^ieh girl, -onderf„ra::d ;[;•„, Hc'r V ilT"' "'" °"" ""^'^ table waiting for the^ bride „,aid,„ „ ^''oTr ' ^'T 'ast „,o.en,. The dan,a.k in .^a:L^ ^^S, t i m I< 11' IVedding Day in Literature and Art grcat-graiulmothcr, had been manicci, had been dug out of a Ciincvia chest. Madam Mifflin's skeleton was not found with it, for she lived to dance at Madison's second inau- guration. This brocade was to be worn to-night. And Romaync said, " Oh, my darling, I 'm afraid to kiss you." "Never fear that," said she. "We will do it again when I am ninety to remember to-night by." " It seemed to me," said he, " that the day would never be done." " But it is, you sec. When will you learn to be reason- able ? Romaync, when you say such things 1 am afraid for you." " Afraid for me, Juliet ? " " I am afraid that you will forget that the pressure in- creases with the squares, and even with the cubes, and if yt)ur lower ranges are to stand it long, you must put in heavier tubing." "Oh, now you can laugh; you may say anything," said the happy fellow, only wondering that she chose to chart' him just now. " You goose ! " said she ; " do you not know why I have called you ? " " I hoped you called me to marry me," said he, ruefully. " I called you to explain to you the niystery." " My darling, you arc so beautiful I forgot there was a mystery." "That is enough," said Juliet. "I thought you were perfect ; now I know you are. All the more shall you know." Then, with a tragic pause, " Do you see this key ? Do you see yon door ? Open it." And she stood silent, not tpiite daring to lot)k up. Romaync opened the door. Within was a perfect plumber's equipment, — pincers, clippers, big solderers, little solderers, bismuth strip, superstrip, substrip, saws, augers, test-bottles, cinnamon and rose-water, piping of every size, — all were there. "Romaync, yoin- own Juliet does the plumbing for the seminary. Hiis is my mystery — and my mother's." 232 e and Art been (lug out of )ii was not foil nil n's second inau- to-night. And id to kiss you." m\\ do it again Jay would never \x\\ to be rcason- igs I am afraid the pressure in- c cubes, and if ou nuist put in say anything," it she chose to t know why I aid he, ruefully. cry." got there was a Dught you were more shall you o you see this And she stood was a perfect !; soldcrers, little I, saws, augers, ^ of every size, unihing for the mother's." T^^:!^_^^'f_^^ my Jeanie From "THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, MY JKANJE" Bv ALLAN CUNNINOHAM ^HOU hast sworn by thy (J„d, „,y Jeanie, -TK •■ u "''' '"^'"^^ '''"-^ '" ''^-aven, 1 Hat thou wad aye be mine ' And I hae sworn by ,uy (Jod, my Jeanie, And by that kind heart o' thine, ' «y a the stars sown thick owre heaven, i nat thou shalt aye be mine. Then foul fa' the hands that wad loose sic bands And the heart that wad part sic luve! ' «ut the hnger o' Hun abuvc. Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield And my daething ne'er sae mean, ^ ' 1 wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve _ Heaven s armfu' o' my Jean. ' nz I ^ Mia ga a rjs--;-^i;j jiija^,^^-^ ^_^^ ■ Wedding Day in LAterature and Art ■VI ir i: 1 From «A COLONIAL WOOING "» By CHARLES CONRAD ABBOTT, M.D. AS John Bishop had said, the proposed wedding had caused a dissension, and several members of the meeting had expressed themselves so freely that serious trouble was feared. John did not attend, even on First- day, but calmly awaited the decision of a new committee to whom the whole matter was referred. What he feared would be the case resulted. There was a division ; and if he and Ruth were married on the chosen day and at Pearson's they would be subject to discipline, and the ques- tion of legality might arise: was the wedding in accord- ance with the customs of i -riends } And if not, and no magistrate was present, or hireling priest performed the ceremony, might not trouble be the outcome, and their opponents triumph in a manner to blight their whole lives ? John could stand anything for her sake, but was powerless to alter the decision of the constituted authorities. No wonder he was sorely troubled. "Please don't set me wild by all this law and custom and so on," said Ruth, when Robert placed the matter before her. "What does John say? How should I know ? But oh, dear, I did want it to be on my birthday, as John and I planned. And if it 's wrong one day, why not another ? " And Ruth threatened to treat the Pearsons to an hysterical scene which her cousin Robert neatly avoided by saying, — "There is a difference in the matter." " Is there ? Do some think it would be right ? Then tell John I side with them, and let the matter ' go to court,' 1 By permission of J. B. Lippincott Co., from "A Colonial Wooing,'" by Charles Conrad Abbott. 17 ure and Art H* VOOING" ^ Co/onia/ IFooing Ihat u will come out all right, Kairie- b,„ I ■,„ „ judge or man of the law." ' ' "" "° proceed^. "'""'"'" P'^P^™'""" '- the wedding rap'idly onilctm^irhrl:;, :;\,^;- -;,;-'''.^ ^'•^r- ', -- •he apple.tre« that lined his te' «l"u"m "bT "''' ""! spread in P^ofu •on.^^dt: hT deaf bt T^ "".= peaceful clouds floatiuLr Deacefnll "''>'' ""'' make a most fit.im b, Pe-ieefully across ,t, combined to By noon the neighbours eenerallv ha l the Pearson mansion, and^after the IT^^''^'''''^ '^""^ comments they gathered in th s, ac 'L3 Lf rhal^ ^ to-day no interior decoration, thLg? h^ wa" no, "I '^ as every window was open and the fln, '''""S' and the merriest birds posted the^^T'' """'' l''^'"^ '"' bushes. When the 7.,.^^ '^'^'"^^'^f «" the nearest ensued, and then wereC 7"'" "'"''^^ ' ^^«« «i'^"-- siljand sati^jX BX:nTR^:thlt^^^^^^^^^^ °^ said those words 'of mighty i:;^.^ ttt'^jt^f b^o^ hil^ 1 Province of Pennsylvania, in the year ,695. ^1 i 1 *» r- 1 Wedding Day in L,iterature and Art to her. She made like promises to him, and they were married. The marriage certificate, brought under protest and not likely to be accepted, was signed by those present, but lacked the one signature that Ruth most highly prized, — her mother's. Then the restraint of formality and of solemnity fell away, and the buzz and hum of many voices filled the room. There was now an end to the mystery, and the good people of the valley must find some other subject for discussion and wondering. While the excite- ment was at its height and every one was talking as if not to his fellow, a little incident caused a momentary pause. For reasons she alone could explain, but many correctly surmised, the Watsons had not been present. Now, her daughter married, she was free to come to her cousin's house, and as she entered the room, Ruth saw her mother the first time since the day of her departure for England. There was a quick exclamation of joy, and in another moment the words "Mother," "Ruth," heard only by those nearest, they were in each other's arms. John Bishop stood by with folded arms and a look of triumph lighting his handsome face, the proudest and happiest man in the province. 236 I, and they were Elizabeth From "ELIZABETH "i Bv HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ^HEN John Estaugh came back o'er the sea r . -■• gift that was offered ^ ^"'' ^''^ " *ct„'°"'^^ '"' '-'^' •-' gift of a „„„.„, ' By spcaalfcrmh,u„ of Houghton, Mifflin ©■ Co. I! i 237 i ; J^ IVedding Day in Literature and Art I! !i From "THE ROMANCE OF A JESUIT MISSION: A HISTORICAL NOVEL "^ By M. BOURCHIER SANFORD " A ^^ T^'' f-^''"'^''' ^ "^""'^ '^P^^'^ «f o"'- marriage," -^ sa.d Godfrey. " We hope, we believe, that you will conseiit that .t take place to-morrow before we set out on our return. "To-morrow Father, as you know, we part from Leon de Charolais when he begins his lonely journey to seek the Hu.ons on the North Shore. It is our wish that he should be w.th us; for Dorothy has a deeper regard for her brother Leon than for any one else upon the earth _ save myself. ' " Is this your wish, Leon ? " asked the Superior, gently. " It is my heartfelt wish, Father." ' 6 / « Then, my son, it shall be granted. We will set up our altar .n yonder grove. Doubtless the fair bride will not regret that her garments are but of rough material " " Reverend Father, my mother has sent to her many garments of goodly texture. We have carried them with uithculty over rough ways." « Will your parents be satisfied that you should be joined in marriage by one not of their faith ? " " They will, Father." When the Superior had questioned Godfrey and was satisfied that he and his betrothed had been baptised, he appomted for the two certain meditations and prayers to preceu= the sacrament of matrimon ^ and directed the 1 By permission of the Baker & Tav/or Co from n Ti. d i- Mission;^ by M. B. Sanford. ^ ^"'^ from The Romance of a Jemt 238 re and Art A JESUIT NOVEL "» RD )f our marriage," believe, that you before we set out our arrival in : part from Leon journey to seek our wish that he eeper regard for pon the earth — Superior, gently. We will set up e fair bride will gh material." nt to her many irried them with should be joined odfrey and was en baptised, he and prayers to id directed the Romance of a Jtiuit ^ li % im CoNGRATULAriONS. Erdmjitn, ■'^y^n i' i I 4 J • / l^ih^u^rLt'^' «'■" •" ^''^*™-"' --■ for a bridal bower i,; a grove. *^ '"™"'^' "=""' "'"' "'"I' wiid'flotr TL;^„'::f' ^7" -» --. ''-.cd w,u from ,hc for.,, and from """'f "/"^'^ '•"J whitHilics low, and crimso ,_w j\-ri:""erTf.' " -h"''. Pink, yd- To Nialona l,,;i I, ' ^? ''''"' a"« -he had fasrcneTa ;■ •': ™: "d"^"''" '''•?^ "'"I -■" 'he Bca^irarirZrd:]: wlrc;!;dr"'.-r'"»" - prise and delight And m-.T ^,^''''''^'^^" •" their sur- the bridegroonTbytt asS^;f/'^","' alike gratified never been wedded. '' ^ ^"^^^'^'- "^^id had Dorothy stood alone with H^ (^u i • his face with her joy iXnr her h •';',' '"'^ '""'^^^ '"^^ Brother Leon, U true and n m'^u^"' '^^'' " ^^' "^V said,u,hymu'st y' u who tv t o ^^J" ^^°"'" ^''^^ live and suffer alone ' hZ\ Z t' ^^^PPi'^^^s to us, your face, in your eyes d,"t I nV ' '^''\'' ^"'"^^'''"g i' reminds me of wordri 1. T"\ ''^ '^""'^ ^^^"'•-- ^^ ' A Conqueror retu^rtg' ^Z ^t::^ ^T ^^ ^^her read, possi^:, i::::z:^j z^ -^y sist. Dorothy, u , ,. shall find happiness!^ V^T^U Crt t^-^^^l '" ''^' ' you ; joy and peace and no regrets "^ ^'"^' be granted W;;.; ani "So^dfrefDelm ""'^ ^''^ '"^^^ ^-othy Superior's directionThe gTe ^"her:;,"' "''^- ^^ ^^^ her adopted parents "'^"^'^" "^^e that of A. .he wedding fea._,be noon dinner of which all Wedding Day in Literature and Art partook before setting out on the journey — it was notice- able that l)e C:harolais was as full of life and interest as any one at the board. Presently Dorothy and her husband took their places in their canoe over which Bernard (iautier and the Huron boys had made a canopy to protect the bride from the glare of the summer sun. As they went down the river, they looked back many tines to wave their last adieux to Leon, who stood with Wcnckin on the lonely shore. ?40 %J- a?td Thistles From "FIGS AND THISTLES- Bv ALBION W. TOURGEE A'-^/^^t^Ltci-^-^^i in the stores and offices in regard to the m^^^^TT^^ ''^^^' '""^""'-s the day before. iVw as h ml tc'tcM "h ^' "^ ''^■''■«'^'"' ^" or what they were Tn^ th V "'''''"'•'' '''''>' ''=''' ^""'^, to that ni.h( Tthe tic Tn i '."'"'"'u"' ^''^' ^''^"'•^^ and ^.W..« °vvas to be made. ' ' ^'^^''•^ -"»^- startling Since morning, Markham Churr's bavs h-, I i h'ther and thither, flashing the br Xllb 7" ^'"'"^ tnmmings and abundant rtbcs% < '?„ '}''^\^^'' '^-^ gay Pected places. The hou for'/i '•" ' ''""^''"^ "»^^- Theold pastor sat alone hwK.'?"'"^^ service arrived, wascrowcled. The ga ler,^/ ^^^ '^^^e house house was full. pLfJ'/, "" "^'^J ^' '^' ^ody of the and around the altar Ph ''"" ''^'. '''P' "^ ''^^ P^'P't aisles, and it was ick^/fi^.^r F ^^ '" ""'^ "' ''^^ lookout for somethinrt r "^ ""*^ ^^'^ °n the sat in the seat befo e^\td 1 "7 ^""1 ^'^*''^- ^'^''•^ ^^- his poor wife witf L: n^^ wh l^shi;"^"?, '''' '''' answer than her inquisitors -1 ''""''^ "" '""••« tha^J:;. "Was^'his Y""'''"^^r • "^^' «'- --' him did he Lme'Tr b 'V^C /•-^,^^--^-- ^ How pulpit ? Why were not hj r^ ^ ^^ .^' ""' '" ^^e dred more, of'similar mpo Si The " """^ ' '^""- only reply,— '"Port, until the poor woman could" -hebcu hushed ;ht;„':;trL;': 'T" ""'^-^ •" , „ y """^ "^ '^^i neighbours, and with 16 241 "J 1 .,-,„/ f N' !i-ii|iii' Wedding Day in literature and Art its last echoes her husbaiul rose in the pulpit and read the opening hymn. He was very pale, and seemed much art'ected. Kvery seat in the house was full except (ieni lal Churr's — no one sat there. Whei cr it was b\ arrange- ment, or because their family were so seldom absent that no one else had been put in there, no one seemed to know. Yet every one looked at it — some ominously and with a shake of the head which bespoke unutterable mystery, and others just wonderingly. The town of Lanesville might be said to have collected in the church. Not only this, but there were a great num- ber from Aychitula. It seemed that the fame of the young preacher had reached there, and a large number had made their curiosity, as it seemed, an excuse to try the fine sleighing by a moonlight ride. Among these were four old people, for whom, at their two houses, a sleigh had called at a late hour, the driver of which declared there was no mistake. He had been especially directed to drive them to Lanesville to hear the great Western preacher, and return the next day. He declared that the team was already paid for, and the arrangements for their comfort made, though he refused to disclose the name of his employer. So, after much consultation, the old neighbours had consented to accept the favour of their unknown friend, and the ride from Aychitula had not been merrier to any of the young hearts who made it that night than to those hearty old people who sat side by side on the front seat in the little church, waiting in mute wonder to hear the preacher who was not present. The service proceeded and the old pastor poured out his heart in prayer. Flis tender, almost tearful, tones were scanned with curious criticism by his watchful auditors, who thought they might gather from his words the secret which they felt was in his heart, in his voice, in the very air, only so vague and evanescent that they could not quite catch its form and outline. The prayer is finished, the Scripture lesson read, and yet the mystery is not defined. The air is charged with a mysterious electricity, yet they 242 'I ^tgs and Thistles poured out his cannot trace its currents Th ' wondering auditors look into c"w"h '"I"'' ^^"^ ^*'^^' "'"' ^^e they a' ^>' '^^'^Y humble tenderness, as if h oh ' "' ^rr^^^'^-m a hc-cn with Fisherman pJter ii 'h '^"' '"'^ ''^•^■''"^'y pat white sheet was let dow \- V."""' "^^'^ "'^" heard the gentle reproof whLh.mr;.- """"' f"^' '^^'^ cloud after it was withdrawn Thf T ""' ''^^ ''^'''■'^ ,acl sanctified all mani:r;o T.^ '^t^ ''•'', '^"^- hearers forgot what so manv of .T' ^"'^""^^'""^'X, his and, by the lips of his servam h m"" """■" '''^''"■"g f"'", to willing hea-'ts the one g e \ Jh!^?;"";-^ taught Vin the Brotherhood of Man. ' dispensation, -- Hearts which nmp *^ • • • ■" the closing pc4i„„,; E 'rw re rV'""rV''""'"^ tremulous i„ ,hat conLTO-atLn r T ' ""' "l« "ere re««l above many a sm„ ' '^' ""'B"" "^ «™e tha'^Jr.tlret.;;:;:' r;::,^^"^-.;^ --^ he,,„., the holy ordinance if ma Tia!re " ' . u """ """' «''l'™te . among the crowded l,Tr '*; .Tt"'" '^''^'^f >■- «'y the audience manifested no ^e" '^"'"' "' ""= "''ar, thev had so far f™,"?;: '"?":'"'■ "'"1"- '"tcrese '!>f « firs,. Bu. 'Xi; ,he;';:7 r ;'' '"'■'^«»^'' aisle on the left, the form J ,h^ ' """^""ay "P the Levis upon his\™, while eSillrtf™''""' ""'' ^"-^ Churr and his wife, lo'okinghapplh^'ti; ""7, ".'^""" remembered to have seen them T '''^'; <^^''l«t friends ment was intense from,!,,; '">' ">« the excitc- «• All rose to th i^e f' I'""' "J'"''' •"" "I ank Horton's fault. Yet so stricken does he feel that he is anxious to escape from you here and bury himself once more in tTie Great West. He has given you a surprise to- night. Will you come to my house to-morrow night and surprise him, whom I am glad to call my friend, with a greeting which shall make his old ftither young again and shame his distrust of your goodness ? " 244 and Art lie felt that the to be revealed, the old pastor look that he el in his most age o^ P'rank f any of you s woman may V speak, or for en the names iphasis; but no hich they had It the words of !ry tongue was Our four old le bride and of the full mean- w noticed that 1 without, and ic brow of the lid the voice of iiudience to re- n as they had ig, — the bcau- a heart in this ngton, he who L'deemcd Frank feel that he is y himself once lu a surprise to- rrow night and friend, with a X young again ^jgf_fndThistles ^1 Yes! ^^'^^^ti^:^' « T'" 'hake ,ha. left 1.= lost ae Chickamll^a " '" "" '"' ""^ "'s'" which clango.,^ of MiriaJ-nrXVl";;': "a'lfir t ^^"^ which came after i, „, like ,h "« bcnedieti,,,, Apos,les „„ .he Mo^r^f T^Ih^S:;. "^ ''' '" "■^■ W/ 245 -~_4t_ r. ' I I 'ifi I i;-^^ ' *■ I ,i ml '-11 ^]l^ tf^eddtng Day in Literature and Art From "THE VILLAGE RECTOR" By HONORE DE BALZAC IN the month of April formal invitations were sent to all Graslin's circle of acquaintance. At eleven o'clock one fine sunny morning a caleche and a brougham, drawn by Limousin horses in English harness (old Grossetete had superintended his colleague's stable), arrived before the poor little shop where the dealer in old iron lived ; and the excited quarter beheld the bridegroom's sometime partners and his two clerks. There was a prodigious sensation, the street was filled by the crowd eager to see the Sauviats' daughter. The most celebrated hairdresser in Limoges had set the bride's crown ori her beautiful hair and arranged her veil of price- less Brussels lace; but Veronique's dress was of simple white muslin. A sufficiently imposing assembly of the most distin- guished women of Limoges was present at the wedding in the cathedral; the Bishop himself, knowing the piety of the Sauviats, condescended to perform the marriage ceremony. People thought the bride a plain-looking girl. For the first time she entered her hotel, and went from surprise to surprise. A state dinner preceded the ball, to which Graslin had invited almost all Limoges. The dinner given to the Bishop, the prefect, the presi- dent of the court of first instance, the public prosecutor, the mayor, the general and to Graslin's sometime employ- ers and their wives, was a triumph for the bride, who, like all simple and unaffected people, proved unexpectedly charming. None of the married people would dance, so that Veronique continued to do the honours of her house, 246 v f and Art lCTOR IS were sent to y a caleche and English harness eague's stable), le dealer in old be bridegroom's street was filled iaughter. The set the bride's ;r veil of price- was of simple le most distin- at the wedding )wing the piety 1 the marriage i-loolcing girl, and went from ich Graslin had efect, the presi- blic prosecutor, netime employ- :he bride, who, sd unexpectedly /ould dance, so rs of her house, The Village Rector great kindness for her for i„T •' "''"' '""' "ken a and so avoiding blunders ^ """"P ''^'" ><" g"«ts, -..•red -.anfeers^rrd' :-news™f4'l%"'"'"«"'' ™° for L.n,o„si„, .Hich .he P^r^^Ze^^J^Z^^ ■I!?'! I I ml H7 Wedding Day in Literature and Art \\ From "THE STORY OF A NEW YORK HOUSE "^ By H. C. BUNNER AND in May of the next year, King's Bridge being out of the question, and etiquette being waived at the universal demand of society, the young couple stood up in the drawing-room of the Dolph house to be wed. The ceremony was fashionably late, seven o'clock in the evening. And after it was over, and the young couple had digested what St. Paul had to say about the ordinance of wedlock, and had inaudibly promised to do and be whatever the dominie required of them, they were led by the half- dozen groomsmen to the long glass between the front win- dows, and made to stand up there, with their faces toward the company, and to receive the congratulations of a mighty procession of friends, who all used the same formulas, ex- cept the very old ones, who were delicately indelicate. The bridegroom wore a blue coat and trousers, and a white satin waistcoat embroidered with silver-threaded roses and lilies-of-the-valley. The coat was lined with creani- coloured satin, quilted in a most elaborate pattern ; and his necktie was of satin, too, with embroidered ends. His shirt was a miracle of fine linen. As to the bride, she was in white satin and lace, and at her throat she wore a little bunch of late white columbines, for which Mr. Jacob Polph the younger had scoured the woods near Fort Washington. There was to be a grand supper later ; and the time of waiting was filled up with fashionable conversation. It was all over at last, and old black Julius, who had been acting as a combination of link boy and major-domo 1 By permission of Charles Scribner' s Sons, from " The Story of a New York House;' by H. C. Bunner. Copyright, 1SS7, by Charles Scribner't Sons. 24S and Art l?G iW YORK ridge being out waived at the ile stood up in wed. I o'clock in the ung couple had e ordinance of nd be whatever ed by the half- the front win- ir faces toward ons of a mighty e formulas, ex- indelicate, trousers, and a r-threaded roses ed with cream- tattern ; and his red ends. Kis e bride, she was he wore a little Ir. Jacob Polph )rt Washington, and the time of ersation. • • Julius, who had and major-domo Story of a New York icribner^s Sons. h ne Story of a New York House at the foot of the front steps, extinguished his lantern, and went to bed, some time before a little white figure stole un the stairs and slipped into a door that Chloe— black Chloe — held open. And the next day Jacob Dolph the elder handed the young bride mto the new travelling carriage with his state- l.est grace, and Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Dolph, junior, rolled proudly up the road, through Bloomingdale, and across ^ings Bridge— stopping for luncheon at the Des Aimes house- over to New Rochelle, where the feminine head of the house of Des Angcs received them at her broad front door, and where they had the largest room in her lar-^e, old-fashioned house, for one night. Madame Des Anjes wanted to keep them longer, and was authoritative about it But young Jacob settled the question of supremacy then and there with the utmost courtesy, and Madame Des Anjics being great enough to know that she was beaten, sent off the victor on the niorrow, with his trembling accomplice by his side, and wished them ban voyage as heartily as she possibly could. So they started afresh on their bridal tour, and veiy soon the travelling carriage struck the old Queen Anne's road and reached Yonkers. And there, and from there up to l^ishkill, they passed from one country-house to another bright particular stars at this dinner and at that supper, stav- ing a day here and a night there, and having just th^ sort of sociable, public, restless, rattling good time that neither of them wanted. At every country-house where they stayed a day thev were pressed to stay a week, and always the whole neieh- bourhood was. routed out to pay them social tribute. The neighbours came in by all manner of conveyances. One family of aristocrats started at six o'clock in the morning, and travelled fourteen miles down the river in an ox-cart the ladies sitting bolt upright, with their hair elaborately dressed for the evening's entertainment. And once a regu- lar assembly ball was given in their honour at a town- hall, the use of which was -lanted for the purpose specified 249 m If I Wedding Day in Literature and Art by unanimous vote of the town council. Of coups'^, they had a very good time ; but then there are various s Tts of good times. Perhaps they might have selected anciher sort for themselves. There is a story that, on their way back, they put up for several days at a poor little hostelry under the hills below Peekskill, and spent their time in wandering through the woods and picking wild-flowers ; but it lacks confirmation, and I should be sorry to believe that two well-brought-up young people would prefer their own society to the un- limited hospitality of their friends in the country. 250 and Art f coursp, they rious s >rts of d anclher sort liey put up for le hills below 5 through the confirmation, ell-brought-up ty to the un- itry. ill I ^% J (i / !^ I 111' The Bridesmaids. tVilli Jills. !>■,■ •v.,-t The Bridesmaid "THK BRIDESMAID" Bv ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON For while ihe ,,^ f "" '™"' ' '-^^n^d, 1 loved hec for S-""'^' """'' "'°' "''^"' And thought, " Mv \\t T \ r '"■'■''' '■""'•ned, 0..app,gHdes™^fd,'tLTlt'Sc."^P-- li 251 I Wedding Day in Literature and Art From "A WOMAN HATER" Hy charlks readk TI^EY were married in St. Cicorge's Church very (juietly, by special licence. . . . Hut Vizard was too old-fashioned, and too proud of his wife to sneak into Vi/ard Court with her. He did not make it a county matter ; but he gave the village such -Apte as had not been seeii for many a day. The preparations were intrusted to Mr. Ashmcad, at Ina's request. " He will be sure to make it theatrical," she said -, "but perhaps the simple villagers will admire that, and it will amuse you and me, love ; and the poor dear old Thing will be in his glory — Ihope he will not drink too much." Ashmcad was indeed in his glory. Nothing had been seen in a play that he did not electrify Islip with, and the surrounding villages. He pasted large posters on walls and barn doors, and his small bills curled round the patriarchs of the forest and the roadside trees and blistered the gate- posts. A soapy pole with a leg of mutton on high for the suc- cessful climber. Races in sacks. Shot blindfold races with wheelbarrows. Pig with a greased tail to be won by him who could catch him and shoulder him without touching any other part of him ; bowls of treacle for boys to duck heads in and fish out coin ; skittles, ninepins, aunt sally, etc., etc., etc. But what astonished the villagers most was a May-pole, with long ribbons, about which ballet-girls undisguised as Hi -^hlanders danced, and wound and unwound the parti- coloured streamers, to the merry fiddle, and then danced a reel upon a platform, then returned to their little sent ; but out again and danced a hornpipe undisguised as Jacky Tars. 252 l\ ^ atid Art :r Church very t Vizard was vifc to sneak ikc it a county s had not been re intrusted to be said ; " but at, and it will car old Thing nk too much." hing had been I with, and the s on walls and 1 the patriarchs tered the gate- gh for the suc- Ifold races with )e won by him thout touching ir boys to duck ins, aunt sally, as a May-pole, undisguised as )und the parti- then danced a little cnt ; but liscd as Jacky 'I'Hh Marria.,1.: Trocission. Heipfer, ___________j;^_^^^^>'/ Hater "rth meats, l-akc^ l.oik-J mfl ^'"'';'''''' '"'I" ''""""S loaves like a l.ay-s aek and i ' "',<■'■<.■ was a pile „f <"-.• green; andll, , .k^'l^ T"^'' "" ',■" ""'•'''■■ "" raw, chey fc,cl,ed .he bu[e er likel,,"'-?'," '™,""'8 "- Jismcmbcral 'he L'iant m,,! '""-.""siWe (elluws, and I" the n,id t of the ,r '■"'"'"■■'' •"■"' '■'■a.sonaWy. Mrs. Vi,,atd ter: . ■ e ^'ir" 'fr""«' V''"'' -'' coa^h. with ton, l.otses::,C4t ,; itL'J' ''" '^""'^ They dr.)ve round the Green I '.'^''«ns. answer to the acclamatic ns . . I M "^'"^^ ^''^ «'"'■''%' ''n tJ'cn to Vizard Co:" ''"Th, ' rt^T'"^";' '""^ '-"'' ->d scTvants, male and female lintt X t iP T "'''^"- '^''^^ received her bowing and ^ 1'?,? '?" "" ^"^^ sides, and where she had neaWv met he ?^^ u"^' "" '^'^ ''''Y «P"t hand and conducted h'i^s LeTh '^"' '^"^^"'^ '""^ ^er Itwa.s open house to "ll'h "I^- T" ''''"'"'"'• magnificent fireworks on the i •'"^'"' .^'^' ^""^ ^" "'g^t 'oom by Mrs. vT/ad M T/'•^'''"^'■"'"^h^ Dover, lind th rorcheeS'c "/'"'l' ^^'" ^^'^' ^ifs her apron-strings. ^ '"•■"'" ^'^""' «he had tied to At two in the morning Mr H-irn« c», j .. mead to his couch. Both rrl.ui ''''''''*''^ ^'- ^sh- h«le graver than any of oufm r'"-T^ "P the stairs a rock ; but their firmne L reset^rT ^l"^^''^ ^"'^ ^''^ ^s a than a wall, for the e dignS 1 th'' '' ' "°^' "''^- 'nverted V — so, ^. "'S"'^'" as they went made one III Hi 253 Wedding Day in Literature and Art From "LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG" By CHARLES READE I HAVE already noticed that Lucy, after capitulation, laid down her arms gracefully and sensibly. When she was asked to name a very early day for the wedding, she opposed no childish delay to David's happiness, for the " Rajah " was to sail in six weeks and separate them. So the licence was got, and the wedding day came ; and all Lucy's previous study of the contract did not prevent her from being deeply affected by the solemn words that joined her to David in holy matrimony. She bore up, though, stoutly; for her sense of propriety and courtesy forbade her to cloud a festivity. But when the postchaise came to convey bride and bridegroom on their little tour, and she had to leave Mrs. Wilson and Eve for a whole week, the tears would not be denied ; and, to show how • .ious a road matrimony is, these two risked a misunder-^ ; ig on their wedding day, thus : Lucy, all alone in the jjost-chaise with David, dissolved — a perfect Niobe — gushing at short intervals. Sometimes a faint explanation gurgled out with the tears : " Poor Eve ! her dear little face was working so, not to cry. Oh ! oh ! I should not have minded so much if she had cried right out." Then again it was, " Poor Mrs. Wilson ! I was only a week with her, for all her love. I have made a c-at's p-paw of her — oh ! " Then again, " Uncle Bazalgette has never noticed us ; he thinks me a h-h-h-ypocrite." But quite as often they flowed without any accompanying reason. Now, if David had been a poetaster, he would have said : " Why these tears ? She has got me. Am I not more than an equivalent to these paltry considerations ? " and 254 •vtT'-mi'KXtfirtf^i.i [y^,,. OVE ME all this salt water wmyul \ ' — — - liquid caustic. If h7S J"'" !""•«<' into hi, vanity lite "Alas! I maite her u"ar/ T' ''? ^"'''"-'^ »=^^ happy;" and with .hi hcTourd 7 \ '"""<' '" "-ke prolonged her sadness, and peT" I", ,""" ''^' '"•> » Oav,d had two good things,'"'rri;'t'' ""^ '""'"'H- «« ?°o thn, ; and such are the men w ","' ""' " "''''" "<" ^h-^,tr weSnrjeaTt;"^^ "-"V ^ »" ■"" "ot ^TreSl'-'-"--=^'"'^'"^"'--" ,..u. Mritt'^-^^^'-^t'^"™' ^-' "i'O - eyes leas,^c„ified ,_.,,. '^--.e_^me; you don, seem^.he' have been in w„rs"periPtS\hi'= ' ^"eerful horn: -i 'rubles are all over, I see t h X« !■" '''' '""■ °"' He then drew a sunny Bictur? f"'.''???'"™ ahead." «;h,ch she listened i.JXl„YL ,1" 'T" ''"'^' '" »" -- .heir Journey, e„rhett t Vr^h.t hi t,^^ ■i!j i .< 3*; 1^. 255 l',^^ Wedding Day in L,iterature and Art From "MAUD MELVILLE'S MAR- RIAGE "^ By E. EVERETT-GREEN I HARDLY know when it wrs that I was definitely told that I was to marry Ru- whilst we were still children, but the consciousne? c the vaguely meditated plan was taking shape forced itself upon me quite early in the spring of the year 1682 (the year in which I was married) j and as 1 knew little enough of the political troubles surging round us, I thought it a curious time to choose, because Rupert was going to be taken from England quite soon. f, !: ; s:i I do not remember my wedding day itself so well as the day that preceded it. 1 know that the household seemed astir from an early hour, and that everybody was bustling and excited. I had been awake quite a long time the pre- ceding night, and I slept late on into the next morning, and nobody came to arouse me. So that when I did at last wake up, it was almost time for me to be dressed for the ceremony. We were to be married in a little ciiapel in connection with one of Sir Charles Melville's manors. These private chapels, with their beautiful architecture and stained glass windows, seemed somewhat Popish in mother's eyes ; and this particular little chapel was one of the very few places of the kind that had escaped the destructive zeal of the Roundhead soldiers. It was almost perfect still ; and I was pleased to be married there, for Rupert and I were very fond of the little place, and would often visit it 1 fiy permission of Thomas Nelson & Sons, from *« Maud Mel-uilW s Marriage," by E. Everett-Green. 256 !l Iclvillt's Marriage" pretty child, bu. I rem°„be 1T '.""^ considered a « I beheld my reflectTon in 1 "^ " S'"" "^ satisfaction 'he hall. I J,, ZZ-Zl 7^:j: ,7? ^^y •<— •<• ny eyes were dark and briX and 1 V ."''' "S''. ""J My hair was shore and cS r„ld '^ 7 P/'° ""'' ^'^'"•• to grow long now ,ha. I was mardedT^'A """ " "^^ and to-day mv curls w^r. „ ™f ned, ^furse Gowrie said, an.1 <.hi,e' ve'Cof Th "h , fd^' ""^=" »« "f coronej sisters were also in wl^i.e J u"'"'^ P"'"'- % little I though,. ConZd^Tot' 'r^-" ""^ P'"')'. advance, but father and^.K ,"■ '""' ""'ed on in family coach, wh h rumbl, " ""' T ^'^'^ «- - the jolted a great'deal, for h "=i ''=1 'T'"''^'.'' '■'-g, and holes and lumps. "^"^ '''""'>'s >'ery full of f4t~nd'fLr,™t ""^ "^"- I "- "o< at all when I ^as no, retted L"' '"%""" ^™^ ^""osity particularly. ^ ^ '° 'P'^"'' or to attend very chaKir:o;ro?fh:iT;^i"^'^''^='^='' p-p'^ ■" -he "-ere strange. OneTf ,v. Z '' '"""^ "f whose faces deal. It bdongcd to a n,a„ '^"\?^^'™<=" ''"^'"' ^"■> = ^orn- his features were":-ro„gi; AtkT^:?' ''"'!"" ^^"°-' s^n hir'-^f *■ ' ^™'' "« tal'ine IhrrfcouH h""^ bride for ZrseTf"'' ITh'"'' ,''."' )">" have won a fair and he bJnt^'^Lrd til ^^.hi ra^Tb""^^ '"'^"P^'" I? '*"fe'""g> as It he meant to kiss ^57 J : II Wedding Day in Literature a7td Art me. But I drew back a little, and answered boldly : « I belong to Rupert now. I shall not kiss anybody unless he allows me to," " Odds fish ! but she has a spirit of her own, this bride of yours ! She will assert herself one of these fine days, and you will have need to look to yourself," laughed the stranger, whilst all around stood dead silent, and Rupert whispered quickly and hurriedly, — « Kiss him, Maud ; kiss his hand. It is the king ! " At that I felt frightened and knelt down to kiss his hand, as I had seen people do in the few pictures we pos- sessed of court life. But the king only laughed louder, and held me up and kissed my forehead ; and then he linked his arm within that of my Lord Halifax and went out of the church with him, laughing and talking. After that I remember very little about my wedding day, though I know that we had a banquet in the hall, and that the tenants and the poor, people were feasted in the park, the weather being very warm and dry. I never heard clearly how it was that the king had come to be there. I do not think mother quite liked it, and I heard no more about it at all. Indeed my thoughts were now almost en- tirely taken up with Rupert's speed" departure, and I was sad at heart in the thought of losing my husband and play- fellow, whom I loved very dearly in my childish way. i SB I I? * i f, % 258 2nd Art \ boldly: "I udy unless he i^n, this bride se fine days, laughed the and Rupert e king ! " 1 to kiss his ures we pos- d louder, and sn he linked ivent out of A'edding day, all, and that in the park, never heard be there. I ird no more V almost en- :, and I was nd and play- h way. Counsel to Girls l.(i Fkom "COUNSEL TO gIRLS >• B' ROBERT HERRICK For having ,„',, b^o'ncr ^' f„ "^"^ ' You may f„r ever ta"/"" '"■""^' ^59 Wedding Day in hiterature and Art From "THE LOVELY WANG OF CHINA "1 A BIT By the HON. LEWIS WINGFIELD IN consternation, giddy, with swimming head and grop- ing hands, the bride-elect — face to face with Fate — staggered from Wang's presence into the arms of a posse of women. What female is there in any land whose blood is not warmed by a wedding ? Although circumstances of a peculiar nature would have to be considered, the new mem- ber of the Wang family was to be tied up in the Foh-Kien fashion with as much solemnity as might be. Intricate preparations had been going forward for several days in secret, while unconscious Chu was moping. Chu had always intended to flee if matters came to a crisis with- out succour appearing from without ; and yet, now that, like a summer thunder-clap, the stroke had come, he was irre- sistibly tickled by the absurdity of his predicament, while alarmed at possible results. As to fleeing it was out of the question ; for was he not caged fast in the inner apartments, surrounded by a score of women ? A marriage between two men could in no sense be binding ; that was a comfort. How the rickety groom was to be got to the Hall of Ancestors was to the bride a marvel. Sure he would fall to pieces on the way. If the farce must be played out, it must. After the cere- mony the groom would be packed off to bed again ; and then good-bye ! His affectionate spouse would take the earliest opportunity to show a clean pair of heels. But, ah ! the barbed shaft that smote the heart of Chu ! The world would be black, the sun extinguished ; for he would see Plumbloom no more ! The pang of the thought was harrowing, but, I regret to record, on this occasion 1 By permhiioii of the Puh/ishcrs' Plate Renting Co. 260 becomTnl gra"L''t''e 'L-JT^"^ ^''"^^'^ P'-^^uced with shout of ll'ughlen "*'' '"^^^'^"'^ Chu burst im^ a An indecorous bride tn K«K • , . most serious occasion'orher 1 "e'- "^ '"'^^ °" ^'^''^ ^^^^ i^or, seizing the dress and crown nf ? ^'"^^'"tric bride ! sk'pped with great strides Yntoh ""'"'' '"'^ ^^^^^^'"^^ ^he door behind her. The ve erahl '""'"' '"'^ ''^"'^^'^ ^^e I^'ghtness of heart is good irsttn'T. "^^ -^^^^^'-d. a time they were all like to h?. ^ • l^'' '^^^'" ' ^^at matron should assume the rein? f " '^''^" ''^''^ ^^'•^"ge .It was almost daTk when Mi^I^lf ""'""^'^"^ ' m.tted the tirewomen To com^^^ ."^ '""''^'^ ^"^ Per- was worthy of the occas^n S '^" T'^' ^'^ -«'•-« and pearls in alternate "reoverd'h K^"'^'"' "^"^^'-^ was l.ke the first blush of mnm ' ^'"''''- W^*- '"obe of the moon. Her ev.h. ^^ """"'"^'^ ^''^^ fragments % li^e the scarlTt i:'^?' ^^^''V^^ ^-'-f, her went tmkle, tinkle, as she walked ^'"""'l^'^''' ornaments J'i^e the phc^nix, while lle^fl' r"' '^'''' ^^^^ ^^aped was freely difFus'ed around' C thatTh ' ^^ -^"^'^^g- evemng could be permitted to wa k far ^.^T"' "^ ^'^^ Wrapped in an immen^^ rS , ^'^' '^'^^^ "o. f Jarge as a manda^n's ^ir"^'' '"'^ ^^''' "'^'^ a hat W.«, H^hich, being i:cStv'th/ "'' ^"'^^^ '■" ' '-^d the shoulders of four^men and A ""?'' ^"^ ''^'""'^ «" deposited in the Hall of Ancestor^ n u ."^ ^''^^'^^'-'S paper lanterns, the mandarin stood th ^ '^\^'u"^ ^'^^' ""^ h's side, surrounded bv fhl ""'''' '^"'^ '^'s son by There was a bangi g ol IrLZ'T'' °' ^'^ P^^^^^^- a waving of wooln'dragon"^ L^s aX? f- '^^'^'^^^^ The youneest trenfi^^ • . " official insien a ;t aloft I a Sk' a" hTerrm"' ^'T ^°^^^ P"^'^' -'^ ^'^^d f'-om the nurse the kev fnd '.'";'' ^ ^^eisances, took bn-de. Hand in hand ^she ^7 l'^ '^"^ P"^«" ^' his moved along the linp ?%"",'" ^^' ^"^ mantle, they bowstoeach^ Then flfn ^'T^^ '^'''^^^' making 'three ^-g, they so JX\ow??if '""^^" '«"" b^^'- m" "y vowed, ,„ presence of the dead, to be 201 ' aj ... ^1 " 1 iw : I, '• r Wedding Day in Literature and Art faithful till the summons of Death. Then two cups of wine, joined by a scarlet thread, were handed by a little child ; and the gentleman unveiling the lady by a graceful jerk, the twain pledged each other, while music struck up again, and there was another discharge of crackers. Thus were the forms of a ?\)h-Kien marriage properly complied with, and the pair were man and wife. Rut now ':he nn Jujin^ or new chatelaine, began what is to many a painful ordeal. Unveiled by her husband, she had to stand with her hands before her to undergo the criticisms of the crowd. They audibly discussed her nose, suggesting to Nature improvements to be wrought out in the next specimen ; and so all-engrossing was the amuse- ment that for some time nobody perceived the advent of another guest, who, fluttering a-tiptoe, stood trembling in the rear. Mrs. Wei — at last — too late! Her eyes did not deceive her. Oh, luckless day ! Oh, fell disaster ! What is done may not he undone ! How blamably dila- tory had been the elder Hung ! There was no doubt of the terrific fact ! His son was Mrs. Wang! As, unobserved herself, she stood silently watching, a thrill passed down the spine of the White Ant, and she rubbed her blear eyes, scarce believing what she saw. Yes ! No ! Could it be ? Great Heaven ! By the fitful light of crack- ers, she noticed the husband's hand. All Chinese hands are small and long ; but this one was unduly tiny, more fragile than the one it held. The truth flashed upon her, and ?he groaned. Diamond cut diamond, indeed. 'T was not a mock marriage, but a real one. If the bride was a man, the groom was a woman ! They were tied fast enough. Chu was not Mrs. Wang. Miss Wang was Mrs. Hung. Which was it ? This way lunacy ! Did Chu know it ? Was he himself deceived ? What would the merchant say when the dread news was broken ? Who would break it — she, Mrs. Wei ? Never ! She would far rather perish. After all the lectures about espousing an heiress ! Most horrible of all — what would Granny say — the gruesome tyrant ? Chu must be mad. 262 !!J md Art two cups of (1 by a little by a graceful ;ic struck up kers. Thus :rly complied pgan what is husband, she undergo the sed her nose, ought out in ; the amuse- le advent of trembling in ier eyes did "ell disaster ! lamably dila- no doubt of :hing, a thrill she rubbed Yes! No! jht of crack- this one was The truth :ut diamond, one. If the ley were tied s Wang was nacy ! Did tVhat would )ken ? Who he would far spousing an Granny say The IVellofSt. Kt eyne Fkom ..the well of ST. KEVNE" Bv ROBERT SOUTHEV ''ATthrw:,^nn^rpi^'^''-^^^-^^"^-n On the well-side he rested it'. And he bade the stranger hail "St^ Keyne," quoth the countrvman « m Drank of thi. crystal well ^ ' '"""^ " '""^ And befbre the angel summo'ned her i^he laid on the water a spell. "^Sh!'ll!!"''^'".'^"^'''''«g'ft^dwell Shall dnnk before his wife, A happy man thenceforth is he i-or he shall be master for life. "^";:''^^'^lffe should drink of it first Heaven help the husband then "' A '!T^T ""°P^d '« fhe well of St 1^ And drank of its waters again. ^'^"'' 263 if u Wedding Day in Literature and Art ".You drank of this well, I warrant, betimes ? " He to the countryman said. But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake, And sheepishly shook his head. " I hastened as soon as the wedding was done, And left my wife in the porch. Hut i' faith she had been wiser than me, For she took a bottle to church." 264 Edwin Brot/jertoft From M.:i)wrN broth,; ktoivt-', T1 was agreed amon.r all thn ., / and the gossips vv^re ight'l""''!^ l' ^^^ i'rovi„ce -- cenary n.atch. Youth and^ bc^utv 'f ^''* ""' -^ "'^t- could be more natural than W 2"" •^"'^ *^' ^''at he guss.ps went on to ^dgh the J,- 7'''"f ' ^"'' ^h^'" he H.lop fortune, and t. pronoun '?"^x;'^"^^' ^'S^inst those days loved blood more h ~ ^"' ^''"^ ^ork in --nds hardly balanced th";Si^' -ampum -- that t e f-p mournu,g. or course 5e!" . "? ''^"'^'^ ^^•'•^' '" ;^".|. But all the female qu i " • 'f ''^ "" £-« vvcd- !', r-r-mty Church to see the cere m " ^'^l"'' ''^^^^^^'^ cheered lustily when the BhL ? k ^^^ ^^'^ '''^tlc boys f""r m town, brought itf b7 .'f''' """^ «^ ^he three ^r ^;;-h porch, and,^,;,;;;';;f:;;^/o bear agains^^C Blc^ motto, ccp,,„^,^.fe ^^J^->r^ .nscnbed with the 'ng bndegroom and his bride ^ ' ^"^charged the blush- ' he beadle — for h,.a^i ' l quelled ,he boy» and u'S .tV""'"-'^ "" •"" -">- ™l It is Plea.a„, ,o k„;:X ,h?7 ''"'■ '° ""^ *"cd read,„g.desk and pulpi,, which me, !h"'""" "^ "■= ^''ar, venerable Rector Bard Mohawk accent. He had'be'^'v''' '"''''' "^'"^ ^ slight -'•y among that respectable tr be ' '°T ^^^-"^ ^ '"'«''on ""vvorthy offshoot known as a'TT ""J' ^' ''^ "f^^^'ved, the London, -and had ge, erallv .! "'^^ '"^"^ colonised in c-hemse.es down ^om^;:?;,-;^;::^^^^^^^^^^ r^ ^ Wedding Day in Literature and Art 'I I I end Samuel Auchmuty assisted the Rector with occasional intcijcctit)ns of Anicn. The great officials of the Province could not quit business at this hour ; but the Patroons who happened to be in town mustered strong in honour of their order. Of pretty girls there came galore. Pages would fail to name then) and their charms. There was the espujh' Miss jay of that fine old Huguenot Protestant stock which still pro- tests pertinaciously against inii|uity in C'hurch and State. There was the sensible Miss Schuyler, the buxom Miss ik-ekman, high-bred Miss Van Rensselaer, Miss Winthrop, faultless m toilette and temper. Miss Morris, wearing the imperious nose of the family, popular Miss Stuyvesant, that Amazonian filly, Miss Livingston, handsome Mary Phillipse with her determined chin, Julia Peartree Smith, //fz en ra'n\, as usual, and a score of others, eciually fair, and equally worthy of a place in a fashi»)nable chronicle. " Poor Edwin Hrothertoft ! " said the Peartree Smith, as the young ladies Hied out after the ceremony. " Did you hear that bold creature make her responses, ' I Jane take thee Edwin,' as if she were hailing the organ loft ? These vulgar girls understand the policy of sht)rt engage- nients. They don't wish to be found out. Hut company manners will not last for ever. Poor Mr. Hrothertoft ! Why could he not find a mature woman ? " (Julia had this virtue, perhaps, to an exaggerateil degree, and had been suspected of designs on the bridegroom.) " CJirls as young as she is have had no chance to cv.rrect their ideal. She will correct it at his expense. She will presently find out he is not perfect, and then will fancy some other man would have suited her better. Women should have a few years of flirtation before they settle in life. These pantalette marriages never turn out well. An engagement of a few weeks to that purse-proud baby, her father's daughter ! Poor Edwin lirothertoft ! He will come to disappointment and grief." With this. Miss Julia, striving to look Cassandra, marches off the stage. 366 ind Art th uccusiunal lUI not quit happened ti) r order. Of tail to name ;;"■/'• Miss Jay lich still pio- ■h and State. Inixoni Miss ss Winthrop, , wearing the Stuyvesant, ilsonie Mary artree Smith, eciiially fair, chronicle. rec Smith, as " Did you ' I Jane take organ lot't ? (hort cngage- I3ut company Hrothertoft ! (Julia had ce, and had ) "CJirlsas t their ideal. iresently Tind some other should have life. These engagement her father's m11 come to Cassandra, Edwin Brotbcrtoft '^iit Kdwin Hrothertoff Iv, i :l"y. Jivc-rg.,,,, i„ ,,„, . ' •:,'"":".'l'"l, ..r ,„.,x,iv„l faithf.il love shall gently ,i;'::','.;'i"'' '■". '-i « to w,;,'.;; '«'»il her love shall f The Hill iiithfully name the fault "P coach rumhlcil correct them." > "«■ point the ox Mv ror, , \' V Will. II j down Wall Street. | and irlowcd u/lfK I Hvay „n its little i »wcd with good wishes. 'J'l, ;'.';M>n Harch.y bagged h lournei f'o". The little I •artily at the bell- boys huz/.aed. 'J'hc I II- world l)ii/,/.ai ad IS neat fee mira- t"i the noisy earth, th 'ope. And res iponded, « Go, h > t'lc musical hi IH'II-Illlgt.,. tugiri-d :«t every tug of his, d no hale ! '» happy pair I y\|| |,| •S "p in the lown serene air. Th ss, no hale I All hi '« nmihl. of the « i^^.^,^ Iiss. plausc of were so lou<| that J-id yming New York, and th ern conveniency," th his wife's cheek whil It \M I Win was forced" to I lie ap Ji'hilation of the hell- VVc le h c wh were alone, and (Jod" h ispered, — lean very dose to compa.n-on. Wc arc orph "'le another. Lo„,. | 's give,, us each a beloved plians; we shall be •.-..gr;™s,:^:t:rt:;^;i"7!'>^'«'- all in all to hefoi how h e us. How h ', clearer th eai «PPy in our generou :>PPy we shall be ;ui was ever il 'ii'ig years of in 'eanied, lie "V-St 'iff! Ah, my love I for the gift of this be , my love I how s ambitions ! how h "' '•««•"• Guests swarmed with friends con^^o T' '".l^""^^' 'The town cart renewed his youth and R Z't^'"'^' '^^'^ CatT --Pressed thanics'giving. "'hL'^ R '"^ ^''"^ -'"^'^ ^V not? As he had gone to D^ w'"'' ^^^ S'^'^'o^s. "; a neat cottage buiJt efnl„ ^ /^'^' ^^"tworth's to Jive charge of the Actor's ^^VZ ""Z' f' ^° '^-^ ^" " i'e not consider this occasion a's a flil'^ ^^^''^ ^^^ ^^^"W i^ete Sawmill was trfnm V '^>' "tatter? ^nd glory that cam rw^-H-^"^^ ^^ ^he honour :- in the intellects^ ^-^t^L^a: a A , " "% as an -^h^rrteri^-Wn that Pete was to li.e mornmg with a bran-new uft ofh'!'^ ^PP^^'-^d on this had a red cord sewed I^e whole ,''^^°;''' ^"^ ^^at he «f h,s pantaloons, and that he wi ^"^'v °^ ^'^^ ^'^e seams coat and vest. Pete hankered J "^t""'^ ''""°"« «" '^s was not believed that f h. '^'^ canities, and i would be hurt. . \t[ \ ^^« Pleased, anybody else P«c carried him e'lf'mTst bf ^"^. t ^^^^ wed'din/ d t' ^'on during the ceremoTv bc^r'"''^.' ^'"'''"g '^'"^ ^ttel' war-horse. He was m^h^ s^^c^-" tT "'^ ^^«-'s he ceremony, did not mourn w" ^'^^'^ ^^««"> after hant feats of horsemanship whthhK ^"'"' "^ ''^^ ^'■''- ^«™. But supposing thaf for fl^' '^^^ «^-' him per- t nat for some good reason, Baion 1 ; I Iv o: mm ' si ^^^Ksfi ^;i' rf ,i Wedding Day in Literature and Art had changed his mind, he led the scarred horse back to his oats. At noon, when all the company were assembled, and everybody was merry, chatting and chattering, all at once the church bell biuke out iuto the must musical of invita- tions. To be ;surc> its duty was lo ring at twelve, every day. But any one could tell that ;.here was more than that in it to-day. its pat-.-rnal soul !nd a wedding thought in it. It ,vas no ineasured, u.ictri!i;i- ring, fit for Sunday. It was no fearful funeral ring, thick and heavy. It was a real, out-springing, merry ring, as that of a bell that would liki' to kick up its heels and dance on the green with the best of them. Befof the bell had done imging a movement was seen about Dr. Wentworth'y mansion, PVom the front door issued first \}x. Buf'll and a brother clergyman, then came Dr. and Mrs. Wen.vvorth, and then came Rose and Bar- ton ; (while the boys that were looking in at the gate nodded to each other and said, " By George, jest look at that ! ain't they bunkum ? ") and then came Agate Bisscll, and all the other members of the family ; and after them flocks and crowds of friends. They moved down to the great elm-tr* c, which hung down its paternal arms about them and filled all its top with blessings. There, at length, stood Rose and her husband, under the flickering shadows and checktred golden light that had amused her when a babe. While Parson Buell prayed, all the birds in the tree-top made responses and said amen ! Then there was a moment's pause. There stood the noble pair. By Barton's side stood Will Belden on one leg and a crutch. On Rose's side stood Rose Hetherington, " too pretty for anything," said several young gentlemen near by. Then, in the simple forms of the good times, the ceremony pro- ceeded ; and Parson Buell, at its close, laid his hands upon their heads, bowed to his touch, and blessed them. And they were blessed ! No salutation of mere ceremony followed. Barton turned to Rose with an embrace that seemed like to have 270 ; back to his Norwood morgej her imThiiii^df B '. " ' -^ ^bou; her hu.|,a„d,'"";;; atco,!';'.''" '™^ "'"' M\ love ^-'«-r,:- --„;^^ be|e„ the p„, .,,, ■■■'f'H a trcm„ious„css « „r ' ""''■''"S ""^-ice pro t: ^'' ■'"-'"'■'-■J "°t . g,v e Zl aTr^'y "«'. I™ f."'. '^f'e could hold out m ^ '" '^'^ *"» ■"amed J^'ved the salutations of he «"' , ^"'"'y had RosJ father called her aside and he/ h°7 '"''«<' before he «!r and excitement arose „t/"t"'' "f' '"'' 1"''^" w, h some d,gnity and firmnes"\1f "'""'' '' '^^ B"<^", ?r:^airdrr .frf i«'-^i^ '"^~>Verrf s:;ro -t {r ^'^ --re f^f >"- "fe"' held giotst ; ^ii'j;* r--" «"ei t.Jmt;™ "■■dnight whether sin T ?'''":°'"ey, discussing ,ii| Xr hegan only „hen derel ,n TV" "" '"""« of a child or ''«-e of generous atd°.u, ,>"■ ""'°" ' »'''^' « the change, ""ether conversS, stood""' I"''"" '" a sav nl ^'"« -o„71,iS'th^™, j -- ot l^z --"-i-.ushasp-rh^£%\7£ :|) Wedding Day in Literature and Art were just seventeen, she accepted her bridal kiss from Dr. Buell. Deacon Marble was all a-tremble. The tears ran down his cheeks, " I wonder what Polly would have given to have seen this day. I guess she thinks she died too soon. Howsomever she couldn't help it. Well, well, well, — Agate, you 've took us in this time. This is the best one yit ! I dew say, when I saw Parson Buell a-kissin' you, I sort of shivered all over. But you stood it beautiful. But no merit, you know, no merit, cos 1 s'pose you 're used to it, eh ? " ' Agate, who really looked queenly, replied, — " Why, Deacon Marble, my husband never kissed me before in his life." "You don't say, now! I can't hardly b'lieve that. Dr. Buell is a nice and strict man. But courtin', you know, and engaged, why kissin' is accordin' to natur, and grace, too. I kissed Polly a hundred times afore I married her, and you say that Buell never kissed Agate Bissell before ? " " Yes ; I believe he kissed Agate Bissell^ but he never kissed Agate Buell before." This quite overthrew the good deacon — he laughed immoderately, and repeated the story to every one on the ground, as an instance of remarkable wit. N 272 ss from Dr. Silas Ml arner r kissed me ut he never F«OM "SILAS MAR>fER" Bv GEORGE ELIOT f-ta.r,r ;- -■» Si: :s,— - ■- J'^'-d and down tfr^ir '' ''" "^'^ed across ,h. . . before thev wenf 7 ^! "^ '"^ ^^^V, father " c u . .■^^^ JFedding Day in literature and Art 'f \% -4i' to drive up to the door of the Red House just in time to sec this pretty sight. They had come to keep Nancy com- pany to-day, because Mr. Cass had to go away to Lyerly, for spci iai reasons. That sctmed ti; be a pity, for other- wise he might have gone, as Mr. Crac kcnthorpe and Mr. Osgood certainly would, to look on at the wedding feast which he had ordered at the Rainbow, naturally feeling a great interest in the weaver who hul been wronged by one of his f>wn family. " I could ha' wished Nancy had had the luck to find a child like that and bring her up," said Priscilia to her . .', as they sat in the gig ; " I should ha' had some- thing young to think of then, besides the lambs and the calves." "Yes, my dear, yes," said Mr. Lammetcr ; "one feels that as one gets older. Things look dim to old folks : they 'd need have some young eyes about 'em to let 'em know the world 's the same as it used to be." Nancy came out now to welcome her father and sister; and the wedding group had passed on beyond the Red House to the humbler part of the village. Dolly Winthrop was the first to divine that old Mr. Macey, who had been set in his arm-chair outside his own door, would exp'( ' ome special mice as they passed, since he was too old to be at the weddmir feast. " Mr. Macey 's looking for a word ftv us," said Dolly ; " he '11 be hurt if we pass hun and say nothing — and him so racked with rheumatiz." So th< turned aside to shake hands ^^ Ji ihe oM man. He had looked forward to the occasion, and had s pre- meditated speech. " Well, Master Marner," he said in a voice that quaverta a goor deal, " I 've lived to see my words come true. I was the first to say there wa no harm in you, though your looks might be again' you ; and I was the first to say you 'd g.' your money back. And it 's nothing but right- ful as you should. And I'd ha' said the 'Amens,'and willing, at the holy matrimony ; but Tookey 's done it a 274 W\l and Art list in time to p Nancy com- 'ay to Lyerly, Ity, for othei- orpe and Mr. wedding feast rally feeling a •ongcd by one luck to find a •iscilla to her la' had somc- imbs and the r; "one feels to old folks : ;m to let 'em er and sister; ond thf Red that old Mr. itside his own they passed, St. " said Dolly ; g — and him ihe ( M man. hai pre- that quaveii ome true. 1 , though your ' first to say ing but right- ' Amens,' and ' 's done it a Silas Marner good while now^iiiTTT -_ r , """^ tr.i-' worse "P as peculiarly his own a^d .'"""■"'■•^' ^' took t present to contradict h7m it r'T'"^ ^"^ ^^^^y l>crso diction ; and all A-ar '""* ^^ met with .,» m».. J • " differences am..,, l "" contra- 2 ?:s=^~:K :■:■■■•'• -quiring ,he proptd ,• e„:r:'r ^-"s'--'-''- ' « »o-vers shone „,-,h an w" „r.w""' ""'"'S'' """'^l' 'S " oVtr':!"" ^'8'" ^rit"^'' - ">e four „ni,ed ■75 « i IVedding Day in Literature and A. rt From "MR. GILFIL'S LOVE-STORY" Bv GEORGE ELIOT /^N the 3otl. of May, 1790, a very pretty sight was W seen by the villagers assembled near the door of l-oxholm Church. The sun was bright up,,,, the dewy grass, the air was alive with the murmur of bees and the thnlling of birds, the bushy blossoming chestnuts and the foamy flowenng hedgerows seemed to be crowding round '"•^^'■",^':y;^,.'^hurch bells were ringing so merrily, as Maynard G,mi h.s face bnght with happiness, walked out of the old Gothic doorway with Tina on his arm. The little face was still pale, and there was a subdued melan- choly in It, as of one who sups with friends for the last tune, and has his ear open for the signal that will call him away. But the tiny hand rested with the pressure of con- tented afFection on Maynard's arm, and the dark eyes met his downward glance with timid answering love. There was no train of bridesmaids; only pretty Mrs Heron leaning on the arm of a dark-haired young man' hitherto unknown in Foxholm, and holding by the other hand little Ozzy, who exulted less in his new velvet cap and tunic than in the notion that he was bridesman to Tin-Tin. Last of all came a couple whom the villagers eyed yet more eagerly than the bride and bridegroom : a fine old gentleman, who looked round with keen glances that cowed the conscious scapegraces among them, and a stately lady ,n blue-and-white silk robes, who must surely be like Queen Charlotte. "Well, that theer's what I call a pictur," said old "Mester" Ford, a true Staffordshire patriarch, who leaned on a stick and held his head very much on one side, with the air of a man who had little hope of the present genera- 276 'e and Art i-STORY" iretty sight was i-ar the door of upon the dewy of bees and the estnuts and the crowding round g so merrily, as less, walked out his arm. The subdued mclan- ids for the last lat will call him iressure of con- : dark eyes met love. ily pretty Mrs. ed young man l by the other lew velvet cap > bridesman to lagers eyed yet n : a fine old glances that >, and a stately surely be like :iir," said old h, who leaned one side, with resent genera- " ^"E ^'kddin,; 'J -our. Kiesel. i 'iN'C'Vl',; tio'i, but would it -,11 „ ' ' v^car. The' 're 's ne'er un MI T' ""'"'^ ^^e' wooJt Cris'fer Chuvrcll." " " ''''y '"« '^^^s like that Sir A \ ' ' ' ' ' . .At the church .Mte Mr R..^». «".'t ready to spJJ^^'JZ/" '''"'^'"^ ''" ^ "«- bndcgroom approached He C "'"'" .ri'^' ^^'■'''^' ^'"^ Cheverel Manor on purnos. ^ ^T^ ^'^ '^"^ ^^^X from f^'- the inferiority of the JI I r "^ ""'"'^''d (oy bu' could have furnil-d from 1 "^ "°''^*-W^ ^" ^^at .e "God A'mighty ble " h f'^'" '' '^' ^'''-^' an' happiness,'^e're th^ Tod I'-d!:: ""' T ^"''^ '-^« words. ^""'^ gaidencr's rather tremulous 277 Wedding Day in Literature and Art From "MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK'" Bv ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER THE sun is well up in the heavens when next morn- ing Miss Anstiuther, after an exquisite little yawn or two, finds she has been awakened by Marina's kisses. " Bride's kisses ! " she murmurs, and then ejaculates, " Ah ! How perfect ! How divine ! " For Marina is already in her bridal costume and looks a picture of blushing joy. Save the myrtle flowers that shade her heaving breast, everything about her dress is white, but Corsican ; the graceful mandile ornamenting her dark hair, and thefatdetta draping her beautiful figure. " Quick ! Fnid ! " cries the bride. " No more sleep to-day ! Rosita will put your native costume upon you and make you a Corsican like me. Hurry ! my brides- maid, if you love me. I go now to receive Danella ; during the ceremony he acts as my father." And she runs excitedly to the portico. A hvf minutes after Rosita comes to Marina, laughs and says, " The English young lady wishes to see you." She darts to her, and finding Enid not yet dressed, asks, " What 's the matter ? " "Matter!" cried the English girl; "despair's the matter ! I 've used twenty hairpins and look at my mandile" " Of course. No one but a native cr-n arrange that," laughs Marina ; she seizes Enid, and her dexterous hands soon put the finishing touches to that young lady's toilet. " Now ! " she cries, leading her to a mirror, " behold a Corsican ! " "Oh! — ah!" says Enid. "I wonder if my dress- 1 From "Mr. Barnes of Neiu yurk,""^ hy A. C. Gunter. by A. C. Gunter. 278 Copyright, iSSjf Mr. Barnes of New York -]J" ry'^Trfil^'lf"™-""'' shorter ,ha„ ™i„e .a.ive''wuth;;;gL:crl?h;3™™"r/f.! '^'""S ^ -^Ji- lt 's wonderfully fetchin,, . f ^° "" /"" the truth herself how Burton would aW mi, ' "^^"^ ''^'"'^^ to -akes up her„.i„d Tll^T:i)l\^: ^'^ ^ress, and i-nglish fancy ball. ^ '^ ^"^ costume for an Half an hour afteru7Qivlo i? -j -ying, " Here'staX^^l^"; J,:-/:- f/^'^ -. the portico ; where they see Z '^ ^''•-' ^^' ^o dressed in full Corsicari . . """""^ J"«^ '''ding up ^^^ hat He is^olWed 7 ™;rvo"^'^' •'^^^'^'^ ^^ men m the gala dress of the isTanH ?^^ ^^ "'""" gentle- to Enid ; and one, a dark eved ^ -'^ ^'^ introduced who is to make th^ add ess ,o th^'^K"^'^^ -^^""^ -^". eyes upon Miss Anstruther ll ^"'^'^ P^'''' ^is brigh the place of the absent Ba'eT '" "^^"''"' "'^^ '^ ^^^e But he has little time for th:. arrival a great shouting iXa,;' " rV^'""y after their from the count's estates „„"he M ' '"o'' "'' t-'a'-herds ^Itins and armed with double ba^e?' '*°'™''°' '='''' '" avenue, followed by half Z „" ^ > """= "P '*«= Bocognano, to eseort^he bride, oTh? °^ "'^ "'"^S" °f For the count, in order that the °"'' "'' ""^ '"'*and. ducted in true Corsica" form ht 2°Z''l>: ""' ^' -"- •■'e^day in possession of the b"'d4i'^ "'^ ™»"^'<'" for I ' (In IFedding Day in Literature and Jrt address that, according to ancient custom, the voun^ cavaher who acts as bridesman makes Marina upon h^ leavmg her native commune. ^ ^^^ After a httle the count distributes among the villagers p.fts of money as a souvenir for the co^nmun^^^nA wh 1 fo Fni/h ' '" her. saddle; the same office being Tne for En.d by young Signor Bernardo, who struts proudlv about, feehng that he has distinguished himself. . ! ^ ^ 1 he vveddmg procession is soon formed in ancient Cor |can stye; a spinning-wheel made gay with flowers and nbbons the emblem of a fruitful marriage, being Lre before the bnde; and with great firing of guns from the sTea^sfomT'"' of ric., flowers, Lits,^nd 'iTeatt afon?th.T..I ■,Y°"''"' "^^"^ ^"^ "^ °" ^he dusty road, along the httle village street, under a great arch of ever- greens, bnghtened with flowers and fesLned with gaudJ ribbons. And so with mandolins thumbing at theirTead hey final y come up the avenue of olive-tfees tha brings them to the count's great house on the hillside, whe e a number of country magnates are gathered with he br de groom, awaiting the coming of the bride tenrT'^f'i "f ^"""^ "'^"^""' ^'^'^'^ '" ^^is island sen- tences the bridegroom to be bashful, Anstruther the s^X'he^nT ^^^'"l'. ^P-g^ d-n the^'eps' ^nd seizmg her in his arms kisses her before the concourse and calls her his wife so tenderly, that the girl f2 re:n'a7no"m^^:e.'^^^'"^^^ ^' ''' ''^^'^ ^'^' ^-'^ Then he stands by her side, his simple English naval uniform in marked contrast to the picturesque native cos umes about h.m, every now and then saying a merrv wo^d to Enid or Manna as the usual speeches are made the count demanding, in their quaint^ ancient way of' he bridesman: If he and his companions are theVcepted 280 '^ ^r. Barnes of New York irina upon her esco. of the gentle lady^fi^T^^^T^-— ;^^ ln^tSa^:r:i.-rl;S„5^j;-e. and his ^,W. and have escorted her from ^ff. V ^ ^''""^"' ^^""^^ flower of Bocognano to a7,obt r" r ". P*"'^'"^ ^^'^ ^« '^e spouse; and that they are al in V^'^'' Z-n^.\.n.^n as his enemies, as they fi e the 'ns^:?! '"Vu"'^ '"^"^ ^"^^ "° The count being fi nail n J ,";? ^u"''' '" ^h^'"' bandits, invites BerLdo "nd'h f ^^ ''^'^ ^'^^^ ^''^ "°^ ding festivities; and after fhi<= II "TPf"'°"« ^^ the wed- ^i.° iittle stone cLnel Vn .1 u , °'' concourse go to becomes the wi e of E wi W Th "'"^ ^^^'^ ^-'' bi- and do him hotur "aft Se "'^''7"^! ^° ^^^^ Roman Church. ^^ '^''"^^ ^^ the HoJy beinglig^td S V;Ssttdta"T '^^^' ^^ - again with more firing o:"n"tJ':,'^^^^"^8-« back to the count's great ho^use, S '"he blT'^"'^ ''^'^"^'"S' all comers; and that being fin shed with"'"\T.''^ ^"'• of wme, : nd speeches of congratulationld •'""''' .'^'"'"'^'"g the ball begins, at which thf yTuth "nd JT ^""^hter, the tararuaia, rnaniUana, and other natior^'f"' ^^'''"'""^ mus.c of rhc mandoline Ld .S.^ ''"""'^' '° ^'^^ with ^S^rS.f^^J.trSii'^^ ^™ ^-^' the guests couple good luck and haoDv n, T. ^''^ '"^^ ^^-'^^^ hill-pathsand through the Xe and"' h"^ ''^P^" ^'°"g ^^e homes, as the fires of%o' d ^ "''"'''"'"t ^^^^^^ to their summits of the ne ghbouS V""? ■ ""^ ^^^''^ ^'^ ^be ^^ Wing a, t,.,^g^tTnstrh:^^^^^^^^^^ , . "To-day has been to me like a Rnm ^ ? ^^' ^'"^^'^e'"* "Theatrical, was n 'Tit " ' J^ "''^'/"'•"'^^^■" got her - she s mine - and h^"' ^^T' " ^^' ^ '^e happiness ; " and he gles a verv n J T't ^""^ "^^ ^^«bly - Marina, who, a^1irC^torhS:^f ^ 281 i 1 IVedding Day in Lite rature and Art S IWl^ '*'' c t'''' '''^ '^""^^' •« '^^'^'"g consultation with Daiie la « However, s.nce you like romantic effects, En.d, we 11 have all the yokels at Beechwood dressed up as American cowboys and backwoodsmen to follow Mr liarnes and you to church next month, in dear old Hamp- shire; and may you be as happy and fortunate as I." i^ancy Diggs the sexton's astonishment at cowboys coming up the aisle," laughs Miss Anstruther. "Your Idea IS worthy of consideration." 282 I A Daughter of Hctb From "A DAUGHTER OF HETH " By WILLIAM BLACK A^?.rJl ^^" '•''' ^" " ^'^'^ J""^ -"^rning, when the Coquette arrayed herself in white rrarmen^^ Xh '''P''*'"''' deco,.a„„„ had been planned by ,h. Whaup h m'elf Vhe Acceding ,o .he culr'of he cS„°;Z"" ''' ''""• ha':' beetrilt o^^o^lranrar' '''"' -°""' Strange loveliness of rL i^ \ admiration over the a s::^rtr^"Thtt ^-f F- - rs n look o7 a woml r ""', ''^'^ ^""^ "^'-^ ^''''^ ' ^"^ ^^^ woman - strai)gcly young to have such an 283 ■i 1 Hi ' * 'n 1 J i />i^<;^«'/«g- £)ay /;^ Z^W^^^7w3^ express Xti"'- '■" "- -" "™~"-"5 "You are not tired with standing so long, Coquette ? " She started s ghtlv. Then __ n,.,-i,o ^ V*?^""f^ • eyes of her brid^smLs we e 7pS fhT TnTTll^V"' that she ought ,o wear a more cheerfu ' exnresZ ' k^ smiled fantlv and «5,;h • «v expression — she foolish name'^'anylrre ' UhZV:^ 't "^ ""^ "'^' we were girl and'^boy together " ' °^ "' "^ ""^ "''=" likrbelv'tid h^" '"' ^"^ "^"^ '•" y" '"- I 'hali for^'heir IptZrl'Tn^th" ''"''""'™^ ''-'' ^-" "■^<>= side !!; "eparture, and the carnage was waitina out- .he d^r of he carriag'i'as Lt^^J 'cle'^or" '""" "^ on h?rte;J'^-"'a He'fhf '"•"^."'■'•^'^^'"8 '- '>-'' lowed hin. in^Urw"„ltg?:i h=''SniTttTh'' ''"- you and bless you at all times and places?"^ ' '' 284 '1 and Art d all hope in JiiiecJ or pale I ; she stood ^ though she Jnd her, and, ations of her Iream. he had seen Tiore anxious "gc of scene, he was full is look. As er, with his I face bright 'as apparent t had much ■rame. And len he went y, and said jquette?" ng that the recollecting ssion — she me by that time when hat I shall been made siting out- hissing and ■ stood by ; his hand , and fol- 'atch over ^ J^aughter of Heth uncle she could not ay fa/ewel T' "\ '^' ^^'^^ ^er 'ength she was driven awav .r "^f"^'' ^"^ ^^en at hands and burst int^ ZZ' " ^""'"''^ ^'' ^^« ^'th he 285 fiy IFeddtng Day in Lite-att^^7~^^^7~A7t From " MH O YASHIKI : A TALE OF OLD JAPAN"! Bv ARlllUR COLLINS MACLAY, A.M.. LL.B. K^^hn,^"^ complained of a headache and remained at x:m. Home. I hv day was very warm. So he placed a mat upon the grass beneath one of the magnificen cr n tomer.a that so deepiv shaded the terrace,^nd y thefe" med.tat.vely smoking his pipe and gazing down through the trees on the blue waves beneath. Fi„Jl|y, he appeared to have been sm.tten with a !,rilliant idea, for he eaierrcalled to the abbot, who was lounging on the veranda, to come out and keep h,m company. Th . jovial gentl mar wa! always ready to converse with his intelligent guest .JZ once hastened to spread his mat also be'neath' the ^^. trees. After havmg exhausted quite a number of topics of conversat.on, Konishi suddenlv .urned to his com^ nion and said in a grave voice, j«"iuii " I have something of great importance to communicate Issfs^a";.e r' 7«,^'- wherein I shall need your friendly assistance. Can I rely on having it ? " aback"''" 't '"''^^ •' '•n-'"P|''^ '^' ^^'^°^' ^^'"^^hat taken aback « I very willingly place my humble services at f: be seeT' ^''^'" ' ^^" ^' ^"" '""^'^ ^ -' ---« " Be quite easy on that point," replied Konishi, "for I have carefiilly considered the point and feel that your ser- vices will be of the utmost benefit to me " "Whatw.ll be the nature >f the services .?» languidly inquired the abbot after a pause which he had improv^ed by taking several brisk whisks from his pipe. ^ Mlclay/"'"''"'''" '^''- ^- ^""'-•^&«W>- '^Mi,o YaMkl- by A. C. 286 l:U an(^ Art ^LE OF f., LL.B. remained at he placed a lificcju cryp- nd lay there through the appeared to ■agcrly called da, to come itlf-man was ;ucst, a. id at the shade- of topics of companion ammunicate our friendly what taken services at not remains shi, « for I It your ser- languidly nproved by ki" by A. C. Si The Marriace Bureau. Daelen. MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1^ 15.0 I 2.8 Ui ■ 3.2 1^ 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ /APPLIED IM/IGE ^^ 1653 East Main Street \S^S Rochester, New York 14609 USA '^^ (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone ^S ("6) 288- 5989 -Fox m:\ '•« Mito Tashiki mean ? Was protracted londhLs mak „. the'' " crazy ? Konishi laughed at his Send '7 ^ f ^"""? '""" tapped hi. on the sLuld" td'^xl S^"^'": D^n'M " frightened, austere and holy priest for l.h U ? ''^ to speak to the lady herse^^H::-thert",i:•;,^^\^ fore your communications will be addressed to him ^u W.11 remove all awkwardness from the s' ation 'l have long loved the daughter of Mr Nakashim; ' 'a'/ now desire to make her n.y wife and c^r^iV'"? ^° imagme the young lady will not be shocked bv thrn. , bo,h need ,o.^zzXz:/;;tT>-'"' "" "'^' - he::,' Teipor."'^ ™""^ ""^ ^^^ ^^■— .- -s .he of the conk TK« )• v J ^ ™'^ *° the ingenuity roLTe'e";:t' -e^ Z ^^^^''-fP -.tS the abbct T the members of the family and of s.tt:. :i s,r„:., 'eT^'^ >;« -^ p/-e for protection 9^ .ho7 T ^ ^"^ ^^^ monasteries -eVHerf7-t.t:<^v:r;.^r;A- 2o 7 Ilf' JVedding Day m Literature and Art ment provoked by this event was that they were meTel^ pohfcal refugees. That explained everything to the satis fact.on of everybody, and no further quLtions were aS am no acqua.ntanceship was sought.' Consequen Iv o r ends were as much strangers as on the day of' their ;r' Th b-f"',*""^""^'^' --"heless, ^^ith gre ,i ;-' r ','"'' ^''■""'" ^''■^"'^ ^'•°'" the same cup and duly were dedared man and wife amid the usual banterings Late .n the afternoon the entertainment came to an end ^ 1 hen the happy couple prepared to depart. The ka,o was ready at the gate, and the boat was rJady on theThr After a season of protracted farewells the ladies f^na'lv sur rendered the bride to her husband to be carried ofF^^Th^ children were greatly grieved at her departure, for she had mdeed made herself one of them, with her sprightly ways and joyous temperament. After she had been tenderl packed m her ka,o the gentlemen escorted her down "oZ shore The road was exceedmgly steep and rugged It wound down through most magnificent sceneiy. fl hough the distance traversed was not over twenty miles, yet k was late in the evening before they reached the deep^inl where the boat had been moored. It was a bright moon out dSl. T^' " t' T" ^"^'''^'^ *° ^-'ark witS- out difficulty The scullers then made for the open s-a where the sails were quickly spread, and the wings^ of the trbXTrnThom^r '^^"^ '"^^^ "^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ 288 Ik i and Art were merely ; to the satis- s were asked eqiicntly our day of their with great ame cup and il banterings, to an end. Fhe kago was n the shore. s finally sur- d ofF. The for she had rightly ways -en tenderly down to the lugged. It Although niles, yet it e deep inlet light moon- nbark with- e open sra, ings of the ast towards The Beads of Tasmer it. From "THE BEADS OF TASMER"" Bv AMELIA E. BARR rh?4'"hL'iide' 'ir' "n '"v^^^ ^"-^^^ b-^gj^^ the air is fine and s £ a"! golden September days wh'e n the shimmering b'a cht' Th. 'T ' 'T ^'^'"^ ^'^''-'gh splend,dglorie^.orS.asaI^^^^^^^^^^^^ sweet-bner and southernwood, andTall kind f '''"'', "^ perfumes, -emanations of th^ earth of h. ". "''""'"''' of the ripened fruit of rhr. ' r , ^ ^'■""''' "^^'"--'S, laughed w^h incllH^' d n p eT" 'Wc^ fe" ""'' -^^^^ their latest songs in Mie woodr V u '^^ ""^'^ ""^'"g the village the bells serf;^ ^''""^ ^'^^ ^^urch-tower in dilating i'n the^ir tn^r ng°l\: .f;!!' .^"^ '^™""^' out to sea,, As he mornfnlT^ the castle-turrets and far ^11 like a glorio^: n^:^e ^'^' ^ ^^^ ^^^^ %'^t mountains more like clouds -,.! ""?""' '"^^'"S the There had been in Fdh,h !""^*^"'"g ^^an real things, ceremony, in which Mi i tef B^air^T'^ ^t^' '-^^'g'"- hands of his daughter and SrDo-M%^'^^ ''"""''' ^'^^ and Maclane and a few of R K ^^T^"''" ^"'^ ^^'"^ present. A very bllsfd servii ^h^ 5 ^^'^''^'^ '^^'^ ^e^ and Roberta, fo^hems Ives ould hat H^^^^^^ ''^"^^'^ no more blessed sacrament "f heiHo rtha'Th t"t "t'"' service in the manse parlour. ^ touchmg But others had to be f\Vpn I'Mi^ • i necessary for >he Torauir n I, 'i!^'''".™'''"' ^'"l " »-=•» ancient ifai.l,, in '-hlh 'h ft.herf h JT '"'J'''^ ^'^° '''' *^ pbyits blessing, makeR^S* .t'd^- r^'fj'^^' -" In a l,„,e gray church where .he old ^^^^ By pcrmtsihn of Robert Boi,»,r< , " ^ '''^-" °P-' or renown. T en Don^^d I /""^I'^ T^ ^"^^^^ «^ ^^""°"r he had made [ d^ o^ To , ^ ""!' ^°^^^^ ""-- ^^om and irrepressible ran thr. T , ^ '""™"r, indescribable such a near L' V ^ ''' P'"''"^ assemblage. Had dexed the superb lovelines^ nf h ^''"'>^ '^^^ "^^4 in- stature; and h r fine^.. '" ''' "^^^^ ^^^ Donald's lofty brow and shining ev s and .T""' ""f "^ "'^^' -^'^^ ng eyes and glonous colouring, reflected a 291 '7 i 1; ^eddmg Day hi Literature and Art soul full of tenderness, intellect, and generosity. A robe of rich white satin cl.jthed her. It had borders of silver- work, and the sapphires of 1 asmer gleamed on her white throat and wrists, and clasped the supple silver zone which marked her wa.st. Orange-blossoms crowned her dark hair and lay among the laces at her bosom. Every heart bowed down to her _ every tongue praised her. When the wedding toast was drunk, the whole people came m. They stood around the hall in rows four deep and when Father Contach blessed the bride-cup and lifted It toward heaven, hve hundred cups were lifted with it and the murmur of the ^^Amm" was a music that smote each heart beyond the power of speech, beyond all human interpretation, but such as eyes shining through tears may 292 re and Art ■ncrosity. A robe holders of silvcr- ned on her white silver zone which :rowncd her dark oni. Every heart -d her. the whole people ti rows four deep, ide-cup and lifted re lifted with it, music that smote lieyond all human hrough tears may Out of 'Town From "OUT OF TOWN-i Bv ROSINA EMMET SHERWOOD T"f;^-?X' stif • ,^7;^r ^ r\f' ---^ young couple soon found h^r.^ 'i""S'--hold, and the i" the final arra^JZ L M ^77 '\''"^- "" ^"'- with everv ticket tr-u a "'"'■' ^^^""^ consulting railroad, made ;uT;nditt^'h^'r'^"'^" "" ^'' the transportation of the ' uet and'^h 'r '''','''''"' ^"' wife had settled the mauer'two weTkt hZ. 1 ''\ ''' •"g the invitations engraved Ihh i •' ^"i"^'"' ^^'^- tions about trains itZ ?' ^'ving full direc- bustled about S. ."''■""'' '" ^"«h. Uncle Chad of securities. He t ^"/o,^ ^ 3"- ^l?"™ -d a number not more showy, but exniL.J ! "' *"" P'"^""' «« not a bad thing for .L°,?„ ' „? "P°'°!;".'<^''"y '^'' " was '^Tht hT"^ "r^ °f '"e •tirpe't'leel^.-''''' "" ford's friend from Wvl ^/f^;"?"- ,'^' " "^^^r, Har! of stalwart frame, a^d ^'bes^rf 7"''' ''"""S """" ='^iirwitS-rsB'™r'^^-™^^ ^«d on one side, wa.edtl:Ai:'-i:-si:'i^: ■9i . A ni..ni„uslv to ehc , r • r""""""/ >">^"K core- circlaec/ahle'l :^-^'. :';r:.:,'"'' r^-. «'-"y Mtrria'ln «'f I'is friends ,ha, .hi^ was fnc'^'f ?Z'"""« '" -<^'' ""= ever was to. "' ""• slrckest picnics he or?h/iLKd::' '" ''' '"'' ^ photographic group with gilt scrol '/ ;,rhTS '•" HIack vfalnu? Starling Hicvclc^^i'Xo .^^^^^^^ ^- 'he the station, the whcds t, be dcxo^atcd t T"^ ^""""' '^ favours. This ccren.ony wa with Sfffi"' u ^^"^' ^f^^'""^- last moment. Tommv Mn. ^'^^ulty averted at the cousins, sang al trfate^t m '•'H""'^'^ ^>' ''^^ ^"""g Chad, who had hd sole lT.r'V°"^^^ "'^ ^'^'^ Madeira which he had eservecf m'^ '''"'' ^"^ ^'^'"^ out in his deepest has «7n Goo " ofd? ^ ""'^^i"^^ ^^""^'' to the great delight of the chte^t T ^^'^^'" ^"^^ the Virginia Reel on the lawn .nHi: ,""^ "»' ^^ '^^'''"g Hornpipe in great shape! ' ^ ''''" ^'"'^'"^ ^'^'^ ^^ailor'! Miller scurried about amnnrr tU tions to the waiters, lookeTaf hi """T'' ^''' ^''•^<^" times,and, aided by Miss La.il^T^^ ' ^reat many various photographic vwsoL"V ^/f''"' J"^^' ^«"^ amid loud cheers and 'Leusu.1 ri f f'^^'' *''"^">'' and his bride drove awaywTth it l' V"u '^'^^^^ "^^^"'^ on the box by the corchmaT h/ ^ ■^"'u'' '"'''^ '" ^'•'"'"Ph Marsh hanging on behind 'fo^r''^"? '^' ^'"'P' ^"^ ^^ A shrieking mother ' °"°^'^ "^ ^ '^'stance by his 894 e and ytrt 'pc for sonic of leaned gloomily lly howing ccrc- Hilly Mcrriam "g to each one ^Jft'st picnics he ographic group II hiack v/ahiut •ranged for the and groom to »vhitc wedding- averted at the by the young s; and Uncle E fine Hector edding, trolled y Days," and, "P by leading ig the Sailor's 5 gave direc- great many Jr Judd, took ty. Finally, 'ers, Harford d in triumph , and Heniy ance by his