The ceremony was not very impressive, but it did the required amount of damage. That was all that was necessary.
The applicants seemed to miss the wedding-march and some other little preparatory arrangements, which I had overlooked, but I apologized to them afterward, and told them that when times picked up a little, and I got established, and the new fee-bill went into operation, I would attend to these things.
The wedding presents were not numerous, but they were useful, and showed the good sense of the donors.
The bride's mother gave her one of the splint-bottom chairs that one always sees tied to the rear of every well regulated emigrant wagon, and her father gave her a cream-colored dog, with one eye knocked out.
With his overflowing wealth of flea-bitten dogs, he might have done much better by her than he did, but he said he would wait a few years and if she were poor enough to need more dogs, he would not be parsimonious.
The young couple went up on Coyote Creek and went to housekeeping, and years have gone by since without word from them.
In the turmoil and hurry of life, I had almost forgotten them until Cole's circus was in town the other day.
That brought them to light.
They had done well in the dog business, and had succeeded in promoting the growth of a new kind of meek and lowly dog, with sore places on him for homeless and orphan flies.
They also had several children with reddish hair and large, wilted ears.