The suggestion was received with applause by all present, and preparations for the wedding proceeded with.
On the day following, an exceedingly brief ceremony was performed on the frozen river, the only part of which the bewildered bridegroom could remember being the last words of the Scotchman: "I pronoonce ye mon and wife." The solemn words seemed to echo and re-echo in unison with the merry jingle of the sleigh-bells as he drove with his young bride through snowy fields and drifts of spotless purity to his father's house, followed by a long line of sleighs. The limbs of the dignified elms which guarded the approach to the house hung heavily glittering in the setting sun, the ice laden spruces waved wearily and crackled as the numerous guests filed into the large front room.
There was an awkward silence, as though it might have been a funeral, for the tendency of life in the woods seemed to impart to many of the early settlers something of the characteristics of their surroundings—calmness, silence, stability—and they seemed to shrink from the sound of their own voices. Some of the young men looked as though they would like to have given up their seats to the young ladies who were standing, but were too bashful to propose it.
Fortunately the embarrassing silence was soon broken by the happy announcement that supper was ready in the kitchen.
What a bright and cheery appearance that kitchen presented! On the hearth a huge pile of dry resinous logs burned brilliantly, filling the room with light and warmth and good cheer. On the iron crane which swung back over the fire hung a huge "spare rib" of fresh pork, the gravy of which dripped into a pan below. Several pots or "kittles" were also suspended from the crane, containing fowl, potatoes, or apple-sauce, while willing hands assisted in placing upon the long trellis tables steaming hot pies, cakes, and loaves of fancy bread, which were brought from the outer brick oven.
Full justice having been done to the repast, they formed in couples, the best man with the bride. The bridegroom with the first bridesmaid led the way back to the front room, which had been cleared of all superfluous articles of furniture, and where Joe Larocque was tuning his "fiddle."
Then followed a scene of merriment such as the young people of the settlement had never before beheld, and in which even the bashful lads who had been slow to offer their chairs to the ladies took as active a part as any. The dancing was prolonged until the small hours of the morning, when the guests drove off in the moonlight to relate the circumstances of the romantic wedding to their friends.
CHAPTER XVI.
A PERILOUS JOURNEY.
1815-16.