A New-England country-wedding is admirably depicted in the subjoined paragraphs:
"We reined up to an old-fashioned, solitary farm-house, flanked by a range of barns and stables of more modern date, and their capaciousness spoke well for the thrift of the owner.
"The farmer himself answered our summons at the door.
"'Can you give us a lodging to-night, my friend? The roads are perilous in the dark, the storm is increasing every moment, and 'tis fifteen miles to the nearest public house. You will really do us a Christian office, if you will but afford us a shelter until day-light to-morrow.' The old gentleman hesitated, as he stood with the door half open to shield himself from the rain and hail.
"'Why, gentlemen, ye see, it is not quite convenient to-night. We've got a wedden here. I can't tell what our folks would do with so many people. We shall have to keep all the weddeners, like enough—'tis a savage night, out, I guess.' At this crisis the son of 'mine host,' and heir-apparent of house and homestead, came forward.
"'Father, I guess we can accommodate the gentlemen somehow. The young men can sit up—there will be no difficulty. We can give them a shelter and a warm supper at any rate.'
"All was settled, and in we went; and after due stamping, shaking over-coats, and brushing up, with suitable ablutions, we were ushered into the presence of the bride. She was an interesting girl of eighteen, with a countenance bright with health, intelligence, and happiness, dressed with marked simplicity, and in charming taste. On one side she was sustained by her lover—I beg pardon, her husband; the knot had been tied a few minutes before our untimely intrusion—on the other by two fair girls, their white favors, I took to be bride's-maids.
"The ceremony of congratulating, or saluting, the new-married lady, now commenced; but I perceived the young lady grew pale, and showed symptoms of great reluctance at receiving the salutations of this promiscuous company. The pretty bride's-maids too, were considered fair game, and after resisting, with very becoming shyness, they escaped from the room, till the odious ceremony, as they called it, was over.
"This odd custom duly complied with, a custom now quite obsolete in our cities, cake and metheglin were handed about. An apology was made to the strangers for the absence of wine, on the plea of 'total abstinence.' A question was made at once, whether metheglin did not come under the ban.
"'Well, well, my friends,' said the old gentleman, 'if it goes agin your consciences, ye need not partake; but one thing I can tell ye, 'tis better than any wine. When I was a young man, I read a book called the Vicar of Wakefield, and I remember how the minister used to praise madam's gooseberry wine; now I don't believe it was a grain better than my wife's metheglin, and I don't think there's any sin in drinking on't either—at a wedden.'
"The company seemed very well pleased with the old gentleman's logic, and still better satisfied with his lady's excellent metheglin; and the two hours that intervened between cake and supper were passed in cheerful conversation and music. * * * Supper was now announced, not by bell or gong, or even the whispered 'supper is ready' of some pampered son of Ethiopia. No, no; by the good patriarch of the household himself, who, with looks of real kindness, and true-hearted primitive hospitality, threw open the door of the large old-fashioned inner kitchen, and, rubbing his hands, cried out, 'Come, my friends, all; supper is smoking; take your seats.' Thus saying, he led the way, while the company followed in his wake, rather unceremoniously, considering the occasion. * * * We had venison brought in a frozen state from the Canadian borders; we had delicious oysters from the coast of Connecticut; we had salmon that had been preserved fresh in ice; we had ducks that surpassed the famous canvas-backs, and the most delicate of wild fowls and chickens, dressed in various ways. I must not omit to mention a famous bird of the barn-yard, fattened and killed, as the old gentleman asserted, 'a purpose for Clary's wedden, and if it a'nt nice,' he added, 'it is not my fault.' * * * Next came our dessert: I like to be particular. We had of pasties a variety—custards, sweet-meats, jellies, both foreign and domestic, honey rifled from the white clover of their meadows, and all the different products of their dairy in high perfection.
"After supper a toast was proposed. 'Long life, prosperity, and concord to the newly-married couple;' which was drank with all gravity."
These 'Wild Flowers' are tastefully secured by the publisher, who has contributed not a little to the cause of typographical reform. Two pretty engravings, also, embellish the volume.
Live and Let Live; or Domestic Service Illustrated. By the Author of 'Hope Leslie,' 'The Linwoods,' 'The Poor Rich Man, and the Rich Poor Man,' etc. In one volume, pp. 216. New-York: Harper and Brothers.
A half page is left us, by the 'chances of type,' wherein to express an opinion of this little volume; and we forego the pleasure of extracts, that we may early call attention to a work which should be in the hands of every mistress of a family and servants in the United States. A thorough knowledge of American domestic life; a spirit of generous kindness toward all, even the humblest, conditions of humanity; a combination of incidents the most life-like, and all fertile in useful lessons both to servants and those under whom they are placed by Providence; a style simple, touching, and level to every capacity; these are some of the characteristics of this charming little book. We cannot doubt that the warmest hopes of the benevolent writer, in relation to her work, may be realized; that it will rouse female minds to reflection upon the duties and capabilities of mistresses of families, making them feel their obligations to 'inferiors in position,' and quickening their sleeping consciences.
[EDITORS' TABLE.]
William Tyndale's 'Newe Testamente.'—We have often thought how delightfully a few hours might be passed in the London British Museum, in examining the first translation that was ever made of the Scriptures into the English tongue; and lo! without the expense, trouble, or peril of journeying so far, that celebrated work, more than three hundred years old, is before us, with a full and complete memoir of the ever-memorable author, and eke his engraved portrait, which whoso examines, shall forthwith pronounce, from prima faciæ; evidence, to be a faithful likeness. What an expanse of forehead!—how clear and searching the eyes!—what an air of decision and martyr-like firmness in the compression of the lips!—forming, in connection with the surrounding multitudinous beard, such an expression as might be produced by a blending of Lorenzo Dow's and Ex-Sheriff Parkins' most satirical smile. This acescent aspect, however, may well be pardoned; for Tyndale was persecuted through life, and finally suffered a painful martyrdom in the cause of his Master.