Now, this very winter have I caught it.
Marvellous is this bird! for it possesses
Not wings, but arms for tenderest embracing;
Not down, but locks of silky, sunny lustre;
No beak, but two fresh lips so warm and rosy!”
The Young Fowler.—Runnèberg.
It was the morning of the wedding-day, and that day, of course, Sunday. Autumn was a little advanced, but the sky was as serene, and the lake as still and as smiling as it was on that day on which the fishermen had last looked upon it.
The Parson had strolled out with Birger, after a very hurried and uncomfortable breakfast,—the only time such a thing had ever occurred under the hospitable roof of Torgensen; this was not so much for exercise as for the sake of being out of the way of the good lady Christina, who looked as if she considered the whole of her daughter’s earthly happiness to depend on the perfection of the wedding-dinner, which, even at that early hour of the morning, was in the course of preparation. Upstairs and downstairs was she, with a face as red as her scarlet stomacher, her great bunch of keys jingling like a sheep-bell as she moved, and her embroidered skirt whisking round every corner. She was partially dressed for the grand occasion, though her head was as yet muffled in a rather dirty handkerchief, but the glories of her holiday gown were in a great measure obscured by an immense apron, which bore indisputable marks of something more than mere superintendence of her peculiar department. The whole district would be there, no doubt, for though there are generally appointed days for weddings, and several couples were usually married at the same time, and moreover, the beginning of winter is a very favourite time for such matters, yet the Torgensens were so indisputably the squires of the place, that besides their own party which had been collected from far and wide, and that of one or two of their dependants who were to be married on the same day, the chances were that they would have visitors enough from other and inferior bridals.
Come as many as there might, there were provisions enough for them all; there was brandy enough to float a barge; there were heaps of fish and game of all sorts; and—a much rarer thing at the beginning of autumn and before the cattle have returned from the sœters,—plenty of beef and mutton. Puddings, sweet soups, and all the infinite variety of gröds had been in preparation for days and nights; still the good house-mother distressed herself; and rendered uncomfortable everything around her, lest something should have been forgotten, and the credit of Torgensen’s hospitality should suffer in the eyes of the strangers.
The Captain, who had offered to officiate as bridesman, was taking lessons in his arduous duties from little Lilla, the præst’s daughter, who, proud of her English, and not at all unwilling to get up a flirtation with a good-looking foreigner, had neglected her own duties as bridesmaid, and enticed the Captain, nothing loth, to the præstgaard, where he was practising the required duties of his office; and, to judge from the time he took at his lessons, he must have been particularly slow and stupid in comprehending them.