The invitations were issued for yesterday evening, and every one has been exact in coming. The arrival of the guests was magnificent; everything had been prepared for their reception; expresses announced their coming, and our dragoons, all ranged in battle array, presented arms to each lord as he appeared. The cannon were discharged, and the musketry kept up a rolling fire, while at intervals were heard joyous peals of music. I never witnessed any scene so beautiful, so animated, and imposing as that of the reception. One may well believe that the most especial honors had been reserved for the king's representative. My father awaited him with uncovered head upon the drawbridge, and before he reached the castle he was obliged to pass through a double file of courtiers, guests, and attendants. He received profound salutations from right and from left, and the hurrahs seemed never ending.
The contract of marriage was signed to-day amid a large concourse of persons, and in presence of the appointed witnesses. I do not understand the forms of the document, but I do know that the young bride's presents are superb and in the best taste. The starost has given her three strings of Oriental pearls and a pair of diamond earrings with drops. The palatine's gifts are a diamond cross, an aigrette, and a diadem; the colonel, always amiable and gallant, has presented her with a charming watch and chain from Paris. The Abbé Vincent's gifts are worthy of himself, consisting of certain precious relics. She is indeed overwhelmed with kindness.
Barbara has never worn any jewelry; until now, her only ornament has been a little ring bearing an image of the Blessed Virgin; she will certainly not lay that aside, notwithstanding all her pretty new things.
But I must stop writing, for here comes my morning dress, all nicely bleached and ironed. The embroidery makes an excellent effect; I must put the last stitches into the dress and then carry it to Miss Zawistowska, that she may offer it to Barbara to-morrow when she dresses; how lovely she will look in the pretty white morning dress!
THE SLEEPING PERI.
LINES SUGGESTED BY PALMER'S STATUE.
Lo! upon the stone reposing,
Dewy sleep her eyelids closing,
Rests the Fay;
Wearily hath the exile wandered,
Sadly o'er her sorrow pondered,
All the day.
Flinty pathways, lone and dreary,
Quite unmeet for foot of Peri,
Soft and fair;—
Heavy air with vapors laden,
Shrinking, fragile wings from Aidenn
May not dare;—