had begged my father to give me a
_feroniere_ for this occasion, and he had presented me with a very
pretty string of pearls, having a pearl pansy and drop in the centre.
This fashion, I afterwards learned, was very ill suited to the contour
of my face. At the time, however, I had the comfort of supposing that I
looked uncommonly well. The ceremony took place in the evening at the
house of the bride's parents. A very elaborate supper was afterwards
served, at which the first groomsman proposed the health of the bride
and groom, which was drunk without response. A wedding journey was not a
_sine qua non_ in those days, but a wedding reception was usual. In this
instance it took the form of a brilliant ball, every guest being in turn
presented to the bride. On the floor of the ball-room a floral design
had been traced in colored chalks. The evening was at its height when my
father gravely admonished me that it was time to go home. Paternal
authority was without appeal in those days.

In my character of bridesmaid, I was allowed to attend one or two of the
entertainments given in honor of this marriage. The gayeties of New York
were then limited to balls, dinners, and evening parties. The afternoon
tea was not invented until a much later period. One or two extra
_elegantes_ received on stated afternoons. My dear uncle John, taking up
a card left for me, with the inscription, "Mrs. S. at home on Thursday
afternoon," remarked, "At home on Thursday afternoon? I am glad to learn
that she is so domestic." This lady, who was a leading personage in the
social world, used also to receive privileged friends on one evening in
the week, giving only a cup of chocolate and some cakes or biscuits.

My eldest brother, Samuel Ward, the fourth of the same name, has been so
well known, both in public and in private life, that my reminiscences
would not be complete without some special characterization of him. In
my childhood he was my ideal and my idol. A handsome youth, quick of wit
and tender of heart, brilliant in promise, and with a great and
versatile power of work in him, I doubt whether Round Hill School ever
turned out a more remarkable pupil.

From Round Hill my brother passed to Columbia College, graduating
therefrom after a four years' course. His mathematical attainments were
considered remarkable, and my father, desiring to give him the best
opportunity of extending his studies, sent him to Europe before he had
attained his m