the sea. In a sweet, calm voice he
addressed them; then the bride hands her bouquet to her sister
bridesmaid sitting near, and removes her own glove; the groom takes
from his pocket a ring, and gives it to the minister, who places it on
the bride's finger, speaking a few solemn sentences, of which only the
last reaches my ears: "What God hath joined together, let not man put
asunder." For the first time in the service, the bride and groom kneel
before him who bends over them; then follows a prayer, and it is
finished. They rise, and are seated an instant; then rise again as the
pastor gives his hand in congratulation to the groom; and when he
places his hand with a few words in that of the bride, she bends low
over it and kisses it in a pathetic farewell. The pastor goes first.
The bride and groom bow in silent devotion before the altar until the
time seems a little long, then turn and come down the aisle, followed
by their retinue as they went in, but twain no more. The mother wiped
away a tear quietly once or twice during the service, the unmarried
sister bridesmaid looked as sweet and calm as always she does at home,
but the bride, silently taking farewell of friends and native land,
was deeply moved. No one had any voice for the printed hymn, and the
organ alone supplied its music. The newly married couple went in the
first carriage which rolled homewards, the others followed without
observing precedence, and a small and quiet home reception closed the
day.

In a family where we found a home we were once asked, with other
temporary residents, to attend a small evening gathering. At the usual
hour of half-past eight we were led out to supper by the hostess. The
table was very handsome with its fine linen and an elaborately
embroidered lunch cloth extending through the whole length of a board
at which fourteen were seated. I counted ten tall wine bottles, and at
every plate except two, wine-glasses were standing. Several of the
European ladies drank off three or four glasses as they might have
done so much water. "You are temperance?" said a young lady from
Stockholm at my left, in her broken English. I said, Yes; and on
inquiry found she knew something of the great temperance movement in
her own country, of which she told me over her wine. She said she
thought a glass would do me good. I said, "No, it would flush my face
and do me harm;" to which, without any intention of discourtesy, she
replied simply, "I do not b