On the rug stood the Rev. Dr. Barber, in his surplice, just as he had stood some six months before; but all the rest was changed now. That was a dark and stormy November night. This was a bright and beautiful May day.
The bridal party, with due decorum, took their places before the officiating minister. There was no let or hindrance now. The face of the blooming bride was as clearly seen as that of the happy bridegroom. Both parties responded clearly and distinctly to the questions of the clergyman. General Lyon, with smiling lips, but moist eyes, gave the bride away. And the ceremony proceeded and ended amid the prayers and blessings of the whole company.
Kisses and congratulations, tears and smiles followed and took up twice as much time as the preceding solemnity had.
Then, at length the company, headed by the two marshals, marched off to the breakfast room. The ladies were handed to the table, and the gentlemen waited in duteous attendance behind them.
And the feast began.
These ladies did not care so much about the fish, flesh, or fowl, delicately dressed as these edibles might be. So they were left almost untouched, for the benefit of the gentlemen who might come after. But the beautiful pyramids of pound cake, the snowy alps of frosted cream, the glittering glaciers of quivering jelly, the icebergs of frozen custard, the temples of crystallized sweetmeats and groves of sugared fruits were quickly demolished.
The bride’s cake was cut up and distributed; the piece containing the prophetic ring falling to the lot of Nanny Seymour.
At the right moment the first groomsman arose and made a speech, which was heartily cheered, and proposed the health of—
“The bride and bridegroom,” which was honored with bumpers of “Cliquot.”
Then the bridegroom arose and returned thanks in another speech, which was also cheered; and he proposed the health of—