Its tender trust, its generous confidence,
Its wondering disdain of littleness,--
These, by the coarser sense of those around her
Uncomprehended, may not all be vain."

A jubilant party were assembled in Mrs. Leroy Edson's elegant parlors to
witness the marriage ceremony of Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet.

Even Mrs. Salsify, as one of the groom's former acquaintances, received
an invite to the bridal feast, and appeared in red morocco shoes and a
cap whose ruffles were the astonishment of the entire assembly. Mary
Madeline's squealing baby detained her at home, and perhaps, also, she
did not care to see her former lover, recreant and unfaithful though he
had been to her, take the solemn vow of eternal constancy to another.

The party was more lively than wedding parties usually are. Mrs. Edson
was everywhere, gliding, like the spirit of grace and beauty, among her
guests, enlivening them by her humor, and spreading a rich glow of
geniality through the apartments. If she ever outshone herself, and
surpassed her own surpassing powers, it was to-night. Col. Malcome's
eyes followed her wherever she moved, with an undisguisable expression
of admiration. He seemed rather cast in the shade by her unwonted
brilliancy, and held himself aloof from her side for almost the entire
evening.

Miss Martha Pinkerton noticed him sitting alone and abstracted on a
sofa, and her kind soul was moved with pity for his companionless
situation, so she resolved to cheer his solitude as well as she was
able. Approaching, she assumed a seat on the opposite side of the sofa.
She looked at him, hemmed, and coughed, but he did not seem to heed her
proximity. At length she resolved to speak.

"Col. Malcome," she said, in her softest tone, "do you know you have
never called to take away the shirts you left for me to make more than
two years ago? I have often thought I would take them to you; but sister
Stanhope said I had better wait, as you would call when you wanted them.
I starched and ironed them all up nice for you; but I am sure the
stiffening is all out, and they are as yellow as saffron by this time."

"Ay, Miss Pinkerton, you were very kind," answered he, bowing politely.
"I had forgot my call on your services entirely. I recollect now that I
contemplated a journey at that time, which circumstances prevented me
from undertaking, and that occasioned my forgetfulness of the package
probably. I