lescope."

Then he explained that though the marriage ceremony was unknown to the
early Christians, and never referred to in the old Bible, where Abraham
"took" Sarah to wife, and Jacob "took" Rachel, yet that the marriage of
the Church was a most holy and beautiful thing, symbolizing the union of
Christ with His people. Last of all, he spoke of the stainless and pious
parentage of both bride and bridegroom, and warned them to keep their
name and fame unsullied, for "What is birth to man or woman," said the
teacher, "if it shall be a stain to his dead ancestors to have left such
offspring?"

Greta bowed her head meekly, and Paul stood, while the parson spoke,
with absent eyes fixed on the tablets on the wall before him, spelling
out mechanically the words of the commandments.

In a few moments the signatures were taken, the bell in the little
turret was ringing, and the company were trooping out of the church. It
was a rude old structure, with great bulges in the walls, little square
lead lights, and open timbers untrimmed and straight from the tree.

The crowd outside had gathered about the wheelless landau which the
carpenter and blacksmith had converted into a sledge. On the box seat
sat Tom o' Dint, his fiddle in his hand, and icicles hanging in the
folds of his capacious coat. The bride and bridegroom were to return in
this conveyance, which was to be drawn down the frozen river by a score
of young dalesmen shod in steel. They took their seats, and had almost
set off, when Greta called for the parson.

"Parson Christian, Parson Christian!" echoed twenty voices. The good
parson was ringing the bell, being bell-ringer also. Presently the
brazen tongue ceased wagging, and Parson Christian reappeared.

"Here's your seat, parson," said Paul, making space.

"In half a crack," replied Parson Christian, pulling a great key out of
his pocket and locking the church door. He was sexton as well.

Then he got up into the sledge, word was called, the fiddle broke out,
and away they went for the river-bank. A minute more and they were
flying over the smooth ice with the morning sunlight chasing them, and
the music of fifty lusty voices in their ears.

They had the longer journey, but they reached the vicarage as early as
the coaches that had returned by the road. Then came the breakfast--a
solid repast, fit for appetites sharpened by the mountain air. Parson
Christian presided in the parlor, and Brother Peter in the kitc