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THE WEDDING:
BT M 193 SUSAN A- STUART.
“ Which wheu ls;nv rehearsed I must con
fess.
Made mv eyes wuter, but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.”
“ Come Carry, try anti amuse us,”
said Anna Wilmot, “ we can nei
ther walk nor ride this rainy after
noon, and worse than all, there can
be no beaux coming from the city
to see us imprisoned damsels. For
sweet charity's sake ! just glance
at Virginia’s hopeless attitude on
that lounge, and then if you have
any compassion, rack your brain for
something to make us laugh.”
“ Yes, do ; my darling coz,” ad
ded Virginia to her sister’s entrea
ties, “ for I am really tired to death.
1 have been trying to read a stupid
novel, and my exertions to un
derstand the man’s meaning, have
been too much for me. You are sit
ting there so comfortably idle, that
’tis as little as you can do to endeav
or to amuse your guests, and well
beloved cousins. Besides, Harry
cannot possibly arrive till dark, and
you have nothing to interrupt you.”
“Nothing to interrupt me! ” re
echoed their cousin, “ be pleased to
throw a glance towards that crib;
and recall that part of your speech.
They may talk as they will about
the fallacy ol perpetual motion, but
I really believe that dreadfully ac
tive child ol mine is as near akin to
it as possible. Yirgy. if you want
amusement, just wait till be
wakes, and you may have the ex
quisite pleasure of walking him,
and hushing his music, and Anna,
il you wish for something to em
ploy you, get my brush, and smooth
my tangled ringlets before my ‘ lord
and master 1 makes his appear
ance.”
“ I think that would be amusing
twwell;” replied Anna, laughing.
“Ah Carry if you live till dooms
dav, you will be the same incorrigi
ble tease. Now do be good, and
tell us about that country weddin”
- o
in North Carolina, at which you as
sisted before your marriage.”
“Yes, do cousin, and I will em- j
broider Harry a winter mantle j
when I have nothing else to do,”
said Virginia, as she stretched her
self into a still more comfortable po
sition on the iounge.
O
“Come, get the brush, Anna;
and I will try and recollect some
thing about it. But you must be
prepared to listen to all my egrisms,
about my charms, beaux, &c., for
you must know that I was the belle
par excellence. Mercy Anna! anoth
er pull like that will carry T mv poor i
head quite away ; do try and save
the pieces.”
“ 1 wished you to find fault with
my brushing, for I cannot rightly es
timate your narration unless I sec
your speaking face. I really be
lieve that your features take the
character of every one whom you
depict/’
“Heaven forbid! that would
indeed be an Irish compliment; for
my description of the people at
this wedding would excruciate mv
poor features in utter distortion,
were 1 to lake their aspect in my
mimicry. If you could only have
seen some of the animals there, I
am sure you would have been puz
zled to make out their claims to hu
manity. Well, lake that arm chair
lazy-bones, if you won’t brush my
hair, and if Harry only stirs, rock
him, or he will soon give you a con
cert/’
“’Twas in the laughing, cry-ing
month of April, that my school
friend, Helen Harrison, was to be
married, and * nothing would she
have but that I must redeem my
promise of waiting on her if she
married before myself. She ottered
as an inducement, plenty of fun,
and tjje pleasure of flirting with three
a ‘lnurf?rs of mv own, who was to
wan on her ojjiunce, Mamma had
been generous and given me two
beautiful evening dresses, and un
cle James opened his heart enough
jo present me with a* order for HO O,
and so, behold rny inducement for
the trip. Besides, the city was aw
fully dull; the people seemed to be
resting trorri the winter fatigues, so
as to set off fresh for the summer
campaign and, ‘ anything for a
change/ I went. ’Twas a travel, I
assure you, for I had to go a consid
erable distance in the cars, then
take a tiny steamboat, scarcely ‘big
enough to swing a cat in,’ as the
phrase goes, and there Mr. Harrison
and his carriage received me to car
ry me to ‘The Plains’ —his resi
dence.
Helen had commissioned me to
get iier wedding dress and finery
from the city, as she was exactly my
size and figure, and I ordered
mine like it. There were to be four
other waiters besides myself,for Mr.
Harrison wished to give his only
child quite a ‘ blow out.’ Helen
insisted that I should be first bride’s
maid. Light’s were dancing about
when we arrived, and in the hall
stood my friend expecting me, with
blushes and smiles she bade we wel
come to 4 The Plains.’
This was three days before the
wedding; but I made myself quite
busy, and I fancy, equally as useful
as an assistant about the supper ta
ble. Mrs. liarrisou, lived quite re
tired, excepting a widowed sister,
and had only an Irish girl as a hel
per. Ann McCarthy, enjoyed that
most enviable of all stations, a step
ping stone between an inferior and
an equal. She had been adopted in
somewise into the family; her pa
rents died when she was a baby, I
believe, and she therefore did not
have much of the brogue, till exci
ted, and then it came rolling off in
rich morsels, sufficient to satisfy a
true Milesian. I had nearly died
laughing at her, she was so comica]
in her anger, for not understanding
how the pyramids were to be placed
and other confections, she made
several faux pas ; and when Mrs.
Harrison reminded her rather sharp
ly, she became like a negro ; the
more vou may scold, the more stu
pidiy will act.
“ Dear me ! Ann, dont put that
jelly stand there”—exclaimed Mrs.
Harrison—“ Someone will be sure
to knock it down in passing..’
“ Och ! an sure, St. Patrick him
self would be bothered to know
what to be at, near ye,” muttered she
as she came into the little pantrys
where I was decorating some cakes.
“’Tis no pace I’ve had for the last
week, wid ye’re fault finding. Pm
sure, for one, I’ll be glad when this
hulabaloo is over.”
44 Miss Ann,” said a negro girl,
entering, 44 Miss says, has you seen
the big cut glass bowl anvwhars?”
“ Bad cess to ye ! on what fool’s
journey are ye coming now ? the big
bowl is yander in the corner press ;
and ye could have found it ye’re
self, did ye but use yer big gogglin’
eyes. It’s meself that belaves ye’r
daling wid the ould one, for tber’s
no rest for a body near ye, day or
night.”
Helen kept her room during all
this confusion; being very busy
with some little “ fixings,” but I en
joyed it. Monday evening, the
groom and his attendants rode down
to the Plains to call on me, and so
we had to dress up and receive them.
Mr. Warren, the groom elect, was
a quiet, gentlemanly young man ;
but it would be hard to tell which
was the most silent and diffident of
the two, Helen or himself. Then
came three old acquaintances of
mine: Frank Branner, Dr. Morris,
and Charley Moreton, a young wid
ower, who had finished his weeping
and removed the bombazine from
bis beaver; and last, though not
least, in his own estimation, came
he who was to enact the part of firs
waiter on Mr. W arreu. Oh ! girls 1
wish yon cou’d have seen that Jerry
Homely. He appeared to have
swallowed a decoction of ramrods ;
for he was most awfully straight.—
When he bent to the introduction
given, I expected no less than to hear
him squeal as I am certain from the
effort made, it musL have been pain
ful, And he talked too, as primly]
as he looked; apparently thinking
twice over each, word ere uttering
it in his nimminy priminy voice.
14 Any thing new stirring in the
city, Miss Wilmot ?” questioned he
of me, 44 1 presume the theatrical
corps were in full force when vou
left.”
“Oh no ! they have been gone at
least a month.”
“ I presume,” (be did nothing but
presume the whole evening,) “ I pre
sume, you have had many weddings
in the city, this winter, among the
beaux and belles ?”
What on earth, thought I, as I an
swered him, does the creature want
to know about people whom I will
wager he will never see in his life.
And a question somewhat to that
effect, I propounded to Charley
Moreton, in the course of the eve
ning.
“Do for Heaven’s sake,” he re
plied, “appreciate him ; and endea
vor to be gratified, for I assure you
it is not every young lady he honors
with his conversation and bis at
tempts at playing the agreeable.”
“The agreeable ! what shall I do
with the young man during the
whole of these festivities? Indeed,
indeed Helen is asking too much of
my friendship; and lam certain 1
shall die a martyr to her cause.”
“Wait with me , then ; .and I will
promise to compliment your bright
eyes; and to talk scandal about all
y T our female friends.”
“I would with pleasure, with such
a recompence in view ; but Helen
insists upon my being first waiter.
Can’t you get that Hopeless man to
exchange with you ?”
“Never; now that he has seen
you,” replied he, with a bow.
“ Well! I presume as he says, that
I shall he obliged to content myself,
| but talk of the friendship of Damon
and Pythias after this sacrifice.”
Wednesday evening had arrived
—the supper room was arranged
most sumptuously and tastefully—
the large new outbuilding was duly
decorated as a dancing saloon pro
tempore , —and imagine Helen and
myself, locked into her room at the ;
invsteries of our grande toilette. —
’Twas necessary I assure you to turn
the key, for the other waiters would
have kept my fingers pretty busy
dressing their oiled locks, thinking to
get die last city fashions. Besides
which, some of the early company
had commenced coming; and we
were subject to the incursions of the
natives.
Helen looked quite pretty and in
teresting in her bridal attire ; and
I hope ’tis unnecessary to assure
you / was quite bewitching. Don’t
laugh in that incredulous manner,
Virgy, you know that dress makes
a decided difference ; and I bcseach
you, not to glance at my dishevelled
ringlets, for recollect Master Harry
has been arranging them with his
dexterous and sugary fingers.
Our white crepes , were embroi
dered beautifully in floss around
the skirts and berthe's, and trimmed
most becomingly with the richest
blonde ; and my curls then, were as
silky and floating, as—ns —oh, I can
think of nothing halt so graceful
with which to compare them.
After we had finished adorning
ourselves, we walked into the little
room, at the right of the drawing
room, where we received the groom,
and his attendants. I caught Char
ley Morcton’s laughing eye, as I took
the bridal favor to pin on my tall
beau ; for he knew I would have to
tip-toc, as Mr. Hopely either could
not, or would not bend. But I saved
myself ibis exertion, by handing it
to that gentleman to pin on for him
self.
The ceremony was like all other
marriages ; as she of course blushed,
&c., &c.—though, I caaie very
near laughing when I endeavored to
drew off* Mr.Warren’s glove, by see
ing the manner in which Mr. Hope
ty performed the same office for my I
friend : standing so erect that as the
boys say r —“ lie was crooked tother
way”—and at the same time look
ing so intent and dignified, as if even
his visible muscles could not bend,
t Among the guests,! was delighted
to see Edmund Browne, a young
lawyer from the adjacent town ; and
quite a favorite of mine, too. He
had been a correspondent for some
time, and I never had but one fault
to find with him, and that was, he
was a Jcctle affected, and super-ele
gant in manner. But he enjoyed
a quiz, even more than myself,
though he gave no evidence of it.
The whole neighborhood had
been invited, and among some very
excellent people came a sprinkling
who afforded a fine opportunity for
a laugh. One instance which oc
curred whilst at supper l must tell
you. The waiters, as I suppose
you are aware, did not sit down,
but acted during the repast ver} r
much like managers at a ball. Au
gusta Parker, a 3*oting friend of
Helen’s, was one of the attendants,
and being a resident of the neigh
borhood, she knew the whole coun
try, if I may say so. I, being much
of a stranger, and not wishing to
tire myself before the dance, wars
content to play the ornamental whilst
she enacted the useful part, for the
compan3 r . She undertook to press
some very nice whipped cream,
upon a country bumpkin, who
seemed to have been playing a fa
cetious part at his end of the table
if one might judge from the sup
pressed giggles coming from thence.
I thought when she offered it, that
’twas very much like ‘throwing
pearls to the swine,’ and that a hunk
of gingerbread would have suited
better his most capacious mouth.
“ Do try a glass of this sylabub,
Mr. Griffon ?”
“No, no, Miss Gusta, I ain’t so
easily fooled, as 3*oll might sup
pose.”
“ I don’t understand you, really,”
replied she. “It is delightful, I
assure you.”
“You’re mighty cute, Miss Gusta,
sarlinly; but you didn’t fool this
child with soap-suds. Get some of
them green 21ns down tliar to try
it.”
“Soap-suds! did ever any body
hear the like,” said Augusta, turn
ing to me and Edmund Browe,
who were standing near. “Oh !
but you must try it after that, Mr.
Criffen, to assume yourself that I
never play jokes.”
“Wall! give it here. A spoonful
can’t kill me, and 1 will be obleging
for once and a while.”
Accordingly he shovelled a spoon
ful into his wide mouth ; but if that
was wide, I am sure his eyes were
wider, as he cried out, after smack
ing his lips vei*3 T audibl3 T ANARUS:
“ Fore my gracious! what’s this
stuff’, Miss Gusta, I put a big spoon
ful in my mouth, just now, and it
ain’t dar.”
Soon after, searching for the ring
in the bride’s cake, we adjourned
to the dancing room ; for which pur
pose, we had to cross the yard, the
band, in the meanwhile, playing a
march for us, I could hardly reach
the place for laughing; and it was
impossible for me to keep step with
Mr. Hopely, who in his dignity,
strutted along with a gait com
pounded, of a turkey, goose, and
the waddle of a duck. He thought
l was laughing at some foolishness
Charles Morton was saying, who
was immediately behind, talking
nonsence, most surely; but
“Oh! it was something more exquisite still.”
“Is that a march from Norma,
they are playing?” questioned he.
I looked up into the man’s face
to see if he had not unbent suf
ficiently to endeavor to be funny.
But no; he was in dead earnest,
for he repeated the question.
•‘lt is Hail Columbia,” I an
swered.
“All! I really did not recognize
it. I presume it is with variations.”
“No, Mr. liopely, ’tis the real
Simon Pure tune itself.”
What a delightful partner, for the
bu.ll, thought I, for I was obliged to
dance the first cotillion with him. I
shall see if he knows any thing
more on that subject than he does
in music.
“You are fond of dancing, Mr.
Hopely,” as wc entered the room;
which, thanks to abundant wreaths
ot cedar, flowers, and sparkling
lamps, looked quite pretty.
“Yes, very fond of it, indeed,
though I am no adept in the art.
But with a partner whom I presume
is a perfect mistress of the figures,
I expect to do tryself some credit,
with a little instruction.”
“Oh, mercy! the man is going
j to make a perfect Juchj of himself,”
thought TANARUS, as I used one of the be
set Ann’s Irishisms ; though I an
swered him with all the politeness
I was capable.
And now behold 113 in the cotil
lion. My favor having come un
pinned ; as it was my lime to ad
vance, I gave it to Mr. Hopely to
hold for me. 1 had told him to
watch the others when his time
came, and to do as they did : but
the adept when I danced to the first
gentleman on my right, came pa
cing after me with the saver stream
ing its long ends behind like a pen
nant; and when I looked round, I
found him at my heels swaying
from side to side with a motion
which he thought graceful, of
course ; and looking quite as com
placent as usual.
“ Sure, an Mr. Hoply knows as
much about the dancing as I did
about the pnjcnnidsf said Miss Ann,
as I approached her during the even
ing, with another partner —“An
true for me, I felt sorry to see the
crature, so bothered intirely with
the fagure.”
I enjoyed several very good dan
ces, for finding I was about to be
asked I)3* all the debutant in the art,
I made a standing engagement with
Mr. Browne and Charley Moreton,
to dance with them, when asked bv
any’ with whom I did not wish to
stand upon the floor, they of course
keeping themselves disengaged to
be at ay service.
“ I think Harry would have been
jealous Cary, had he been there,”
said Anna.
“ I have no doubt he would, but
during our engagement he got used
to it, pretty much like ‘eels to be
ing skinned alive.’ But as I live,
there is his step, and 1113* hair has
yet to be arranged.”
“ Oh ! but tell me Coz about3*our
going home with the bride and the
party there.”
“Not now. Recollect I am not
my mistress at present,” said she
laughing. “ Besides that horrid
child is stirring. Oh mercy r ! there
he goes. Now for a nice cry. Do
Virgy darling walk him for exercise
and amusement for y r ourself.”
“ Thank you. I believe Y ll run
down and keep Harry in chat till
you come, lest he should scold his
meek wife.”
“Ah ! do, dear cousin, and for a
reward I will tell you of the Bridal
Party at the next opportunity.
MAJOR JONES’ MISCELLANIES.
THE BABY’S GHOST— a TRUE STOUT.
BY MAJOR JOSEPH JONES.
I know ther’s a heap of people
what don’t blieve in ghosts, and
I’ve seed the time when I didn’t put
much faith in ’em myself; but the
followin circumstance, which tuck
place in the family of one of my
nearest trends,’ convinced me that
theris more things in Heaven and
earth, than is dreamed of in our fil
osonhy.
I don’t wish to be understood as
blievin in common ghost stories—
not by no means. I don’t believe
in no vagabone ghosts what go
about the country knockin in peo
ples houses and thro win turnips and
pokers at ther heads and tellin ’em
all sorts of cock and bull stories
about the other world ; but I aint so
certain that mortal attachments do
not sometimes exist of such strength,
of such a etherial natur, that death
itself can’t dissolve ’em, and that
even after one ofthe persons is ded,
his sperit can cum back to this earth
and hold communion with the ob
ject of its affections. If any body
who doubts my theory axes
me why more husbands don’t see
the ghosts of ther ded wives, or
more wives don’t sec the ded hus-
hands, my answer is
always the best subjects for
lustration of my argyment. j n
dor to preserve a spiritual i n ,° N
course, sich as I speak of, the at! ,'T
ment must be of the purest,
exalted naier, so that the living
unwillin to give up the <le<l,
longs and yearns to have ’em * 1
back to’em. •
But I haint got room here to di’
cuss ny r theory of ghosts. Th e *
cumstance what I’m about t or I'.
and which may be relied on f ur C
positive fact, will explain my„ 0| | 0 *
of sich things better than any f.
what I could write. “ v
Dick Ramsy and his wife A
was bout as affectionate a ’ ’
r i ,
ever lived on the face of
Nancy was a only daughter,
was a great pet in the family bef ore
she was married. She was \- Crv
handsome, and one of the best na
tu red cieaters in'the world, so
every body loved her that knowl
her, and when Dick Ramsy led h t
up before Squire Rogers to marr ‘
her, ther wasn’t a young feller in
the settlement what didn’t feel like
he couldn’t help brakein the tenth
commandment. Nancy \ Vas so
much attached to her mother
that she cculdn’t make up her mind
to leave her for a long time, and it
wasn’t til after ther first child was
two years old that Dick could git
her consent to move on to the pl an .
tat ion. It was a grate trial
Nancy to leave her home andgontn
and live on that lonesome plantation
but she kuow’d it was belter for her
husband’s interests to he on tin
place, whar he could sec to things
hints elf without trustin ’em to n
overseer, and she made up her
mind to be happy with him and her
boy, sense she c< uldn’t eypret
always to be with her mother.—
Dick was a fust rate farmer, and had
everything comfortable about bin),
and Nancy was a smart managio
wife. She soon er>t satisfied will)
her new home anti devoted hersc/f
cheerfully to the care of her W
and the comfort of her husband.
All went on pleasant enuff for about
six months, when her little son tuck
sick. It was his first sickness,anil
pore Nancy was most out of her sen
ses. Iter mother was sick at the
same time, so she couldn’t cum out
to the plantation to help her nurse
the baly. Pore little Tommy got
worse and worse, in spite of nil the
doctor could do, and after suffer/ri
for most a month he died.
The shock was 100 much for pore
Nancy. For some time every body
tlioughl she would go distracted, i! I
she didn’t fuller her baby to the
grave herself. For more’n a wees I
she had to have the doctor with her, I
and when she got able to set up die I
done nothing but cry all the tiin- I
and talk of her little boy. I
would not blieve he wasded - J6 ’ I
sed she could not give him up, uml I
that she never could be satisffed tih I
she could see him once more.
Her husband tuck the loss of ; I
litde son very hard, too, but hem’ I
to hide his feelins, and clone all *“ I
could to passify his wife, tellin i I
it was wrong to grieve so anJ I
little Tommy was a great deal b-* I
ter off in Heaven. He g pi I
preacher to talk to her, too. h i
all seemed no use. She I
mornin till night about her *• I
Tommy that was ded.
It was way in September Wm
she was able to be about
though Dick staid to home wid> 1
all he could he had to lea' 0 I
sometimes to look after the m£j ■
that was pickin out his cotton, ■
when he cum home in the
was sure to find her out in th p 0 I
ard wbar little Tommy ‘ vaS
under the trees, sometimes
up and down ringin her han ? > ■
sometimes sittin down by h lS £
cryin like her hart would hr 3 c I
It troubled Dick very
see her take on so about the
but all he could do he could”’ 1
her to give up grievin a^ei : j
One evenin he had been to J
rather later than usual, and * J
he cum home Nancy was not j:! I