The state apartments at the White House were profusely decked with flowers, nodding palms, and tropical grasses. The crystal chandeliers poured a flood of light upon the scene, and the warm and glowing colors of the masses of scarlet begonias and jacqueminot roses mingled with the bright tints of the frescoed walls and ceilings. The open fire-places were filled with colias and small pink flowers, while on the mantels were large plaques of pansies bearing appropriate mottoes.
Precisely at seven o'clock the Marine Band struck up Mendelssohn's Wedding-March, and the President came slowly down the staircase with his bride leaning on his arm. They were unaccompanied—even the bride's mother awaited her coming. The bride wore a train four yards in length. Attached to the lower side of the train on the left was a scarf of soft, white India silk, looped high, and forming an overskirt, which was bordered on the edge with orange-blossoms. Across the bodice were full folds of muslin, edged with orange- blossoms. Long gloves were worn to meet the short sleeves. The bridal veil was of white silk tulle, five yards in length, fastened on the head with orange-blossoms, and falling to the end of the beautiful train, which, as the bride stood with bowed head beside the President, lay far behind her on the floor. Her only jewelry as a superb diamond necklace, the President's wedding present, and an engagement-ring containing a sapphire and two diamonds.
President Cleveland wore an evening dress of black, with a small turned-down collar, and a white lawn necktie; a white rose was fastened to the lapel of his coat. The bridal couple turned to the right as they entered the Blue Parlor from the long hall, and faced the officiating clergyman, Rev. Dr. Sunderland, who immediately commenced the ceremony in accordance with the usages of the Presbyterian Church.
After the couple had pledged their troth the President placed a wedding-ring upon the bride's finger, and Dr. Sunderland then pronounced them man and wife, with the injunction: "Whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." The Rev. Mr. Cleveland, a brother of the bridegroom, then stepped forward and concluded the ceremony with an invocation of blessing upon the pair.
At the conclusion of the ceremony the bride's mother, Mrs. Folsom, was the first to tender her congratulations. She was followed by Miss Cleveland and the other relatives and friends in turn. Then the band struck up the march from Lohengrin, and the President and his wife led the way through the East Room to the family dining- room, where the wedding supper was served. The decorations were of an elaborate character. A mirror in the centre of the table represented a lake, on which was a full-rigged ship, made of pinks, roses, and pansies. The national colors floated over the mainmast, and small white flags, with the monogram "C. F." in golden letters, hung from the other masts. The guests were not seated, but stood up and enjoyed the croquets, game, salads, ices, and creams. The health of the bride and bridegroom was pledged in iced champagne. Each guest received a box of cardboard, containing a white satin box filled with wedding cake five inches long by two broad and two deep. On the cover the date was hand-painted in colors, and a card affixed bore the autograph signature of Grover Cleveland and Frances Folsom, which they had written the previous afternoon.
At a quarter-past eight the President and his wife left the supper- room and soon reappeared in traveling dress. He wore his usual black frock business suit, and she a traveling dress of deep gray silk, with a large gray hat lined with velvet and crowned with ostrich feathers. They left the back door of the White House amid a shower of rice and old slippers, and were driven to the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, where they took a special train for Deer Park.
[Facsimile] B. Sunderland BYRON SUNDERLAND was born at Shoreham, Vermont, November 22d, 1819; was graduated from Middlebury College in the class of '38; taught school for two years at Port Henry, New York; was a student at the Union Theological Seminary for two years and a half; was licensed to preach and was ordained in 1848 pastor of the Presbyterian church at Batavia, New York, where he remained for eight years; received a call to the Park Church at Syracuse, and was its pastor until the close of 1852; became pastor of the First Presbyterian Church at Washington in 1853, and has occupied its pulpit since, except from August, '64, to January, '86, when he was temporarily absent in charge of the American Chapel at Paris, France. From 1861 to 1864 he was Chaplain of the United States Senate, and resigned on account of failing health.
CHAPTER XLVII. A SUMMING-UP OF SIXTY YEARS.
The progress of Washington City during the past sixty years—1827- 1887—has been phenomenal. The United States of America, then twenty-four in number, now number thirty-eight, bound together by iron bands, then unknown, while the telegraph and the telephone add their usefulness to that of the railroads. Domestic rebellion showed itself, to be overthrown only after a struggle in which the courage and endurance of the North and the South were equally demonstrated. The teeming population of Europe has overflowed into every section of the Republic where wealth is to be won by enterprise and industry. The fertile prairies of the far West not only supply the inhabitants of the Eastern States with food, but they export large quantities of meat and of grain. The workshops and factories resound with the whir of wheels and the hum of well-paid labor, which, in turn, furnishes a market for agricultural and horticultural products. There has been of late a fomentation of ill-feeling and jealously between classes dependent upon each other, and both equally valuable to the nation. But, on the whole, it is impossible to deny that the United States is a free, a prosperous, and a happy country.
The national metropolis has, during these past sixty years, enjoyed peaceful progress. In 1827 the population of the entire District of Columbia was less than seventy-five thousand, of whom sixty-one thousand were inhabitants of the city of Washington; now the population of the District is two hundred and three thousand, and that of Washington is about one hundred and fifty thousand. The increase of wealth has been even greater than the increase of population. Then there was not a paved street, and it was often difficult to extract carriages from mud-holes in the principal thoroughfares; now there are many miles of stone and asphalt street pavements, shaded by thousands of forest trees. Then there were twenty-four churches, now there are over two hundred. Then there were no public schools for white children that amounted to much, and it was forbidden by law to teach colored children, now there are scores of schools, with their hundreds of teachers, and twenty- six thousand six hundred and ninety-six pupils in the white schools, and eleven thousand six hundred and forty pupils in the colored schools—thirty-eight thousand three hundred and thirty-six pupils in all. The streets, then dark at night when the moon did not shine, are now illuminated by electricity and gas. The public reservations are ornamented with shrubs and flowers, while numerous statues of the heroes and the statesmen of the country are to be seen in different parts of the city.