Then followed this sentence, in large characters:
"The Printer and the 'carrier' acknowledge a bountiful receipt of superb wedding-cake.- - - May every blessing attend the happy pair!"
I, too, had my share of the wedding-cake, accompanied by very tasteful, simple cards, as well as a previous invitation to the wedding, written jointly by Mr. and Mrs. Y——, and in terms most flatteringly cordial, and complimentary. Mrs. Y—— and I had, by this time, exchanged letters more than once. I will give you, as a specimen of the agreeable epistolary style of my fair friend, the following communication, which reached me some two or three months after the marriage of her sister.
"Rectory, ——, Aug. 22d, ——.
"Dear Col. Lunettes:—
"I avail myself of my very first leisure to comply with the request contained in your most kind and acceptable letter of last week. Whether your amiable politeness does not overrate my capacity to write a 'true woman's letter—full of little significant details and particularities,' remains to be seen. I will do my best, at least, and 'naught extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.'
"I hardly know where to begin, in answer to your query about the 'possibility of the most economical young people managing to live on so small an income.' The truth is, Julia and I, thanks to a judicious mother, were practically educated, which makes all the difference in the world in a woman's capacity to 'make the worse appear the better reason' in matters of domestic management. The house they live in is their own. Mr. Benton, fortunately, possessed the means of fully paying for it (he was entirely frank with Mr. Y—— about all these matters, from the beginning) and Julia was able to furnish it simply, though comfortably. It is a small establishment, to be sure,—a little house and a little garden, but it is their own, and that gives it a charm which it would not otherwise possess. They feel that they will have the benefit of such improvements as they may make, and it is wonderful what an effect this consciousness produces. The house was a plain, bald-looking building enough, when
Fitz-James bought it. Julia said it would be a bold poetic license to call it a cottage!—but he has studied architecture, at intervals, as he has had time, with a view to future advancement, and so he devised, and partly constructed, tasteful little ornaments to surmount the windows, and a very pretty rustic porch in front. The effect was really almost
magical when united with the soft, warm color that took the place of the glaring white of which every one is becoming so tired. It is quite picturesque, I assure you, now. As a romantic young lady said of it—'it is like the cottages we read of,—quite a picture-place.' But, pretty and tasteful as it is outside, one must become an inmate of Julia's little Eden, to know half its claims to admiration. It is just the neatest, snuggest, cosiest little nest (by the way they call it 'Cosey Cottage,' as you will please remember when you write, dear sir) you can imagine. There is nothing grand, or even elegant, perhaps, but every part is thoroughly furnished for convenience and comfort, and everything corresponds. It is not like some city houses I have been in, where everything was expended in glare and display in the two parlors—'unwisely kept for show,' and up-stairs and in the kitchen, the most scanty, comfortless arrangements. Julia's carpets and curtains are quite inexpensive, but the colors are well chosen for harmony of effect. (Julia rather prides herself upon having things artistic, as she expresses it, even to the looping up of a curtain.) There is a sort of indescribable expression about the little parlor, which, by the way, they really use, daily—her friends say—'How much this is like Julia!' Some of Julia's crayon heads, and a sketch or two of Mr.