lowers, and had certainly a soporific effect upon the senses.
She felt very sleepy, and as she stroked the shiny surface of the
cracker she found herself thinking it was very soft for paper, and then
rousing herself with a start, and wondering at her own folly in
speaking thus of the white silk in which she was dressed, and of which
she was holding up the skirt between her finger and thumb, as if she
were dancing a minuet.

"It's grandmamma's egg-shell brocade!" she cried. "Oh, Grandmamma! Have
you given it to me? That lovely old thing! But I thought it was the
family wedding-dress, and that I was not to have it till I was a
bride."

"And so you are, my dear. And a fairer bride the sun never shone on,"
sobbed the old lady, who was kissing and blessing her, and wishing her,
in the words of the old formula--

"Health to wear it,
Strength to tear it,
And money to buy another."

"There is no hope for the last two things, you know," said the young
girl; "for I am sure that the flag that braved a thousand years was not
half so strong as your brocade; and as to buying another, there are
none to be bought in these degenerate days."

The old lady's reply was probably very gracious, for she liked to be
complimented on the virtues of old things in general, and of her
egg-shell brocade in particular. But of what she said her granddaughter
heard nothing. With the strange irregularity of dreams, she found
herself, she knew not how, in the old church. It was true. She was a
bride, standing there with old friends and old associations thick
around her, on the threshold of a new life. The sun shone through the
stained glass of the windows, and illuminated the brocade, whose
old-fashioned stiffness so became her childish beauty, and flung a
thousand new tints over her sunny hair, and drew so powerful a
fragrance from the orange-blossom with which it was twined, that it was
almost overpowering. Yes! It was too sweet--too strong. She certainly
would not be able to bear it much longer without losing her senses. And
the service was going on. A question had been asked of her, and she
must reply. She made a strong effort, and said "Yes," simply and very
earnestly, for it was what she meant. But she had no sooner said it
than she became uneasily conscious that she had not used the right
words. Some one laughed. It was the tutor, and his voice jarred and
disturbed the dream, as a stone troubles the surface of stil