er and considers sunshine on
the bridal day a specific against all the possible ills of matrimonial
life. This feeling supplies half of a doggrel couplet which came to us
from the Saxons, and which blends marriage and burial somewhat
singularly:--

"Happy is the bride that the sun shines on;
And blessed is the corpse that the rain rains on."

There are thousands of persons who have objections to counting the
number of carriages at a funeral, from the superstition that the one who
does so will very soon be called to attend a funeral at home; and the
same objection exists to putting on, even for a moment, any portion of a
mourning garb worn by another, under the impression that the temporary
wearer will in some way be influenced to wear mourning very soon for
some lost relative. No doubt fifty other and similar superstitions
connected with death and burial might be adduced, even without alluding
to those of more frightful import and now very little regarded, which
belong more peculiarly to the Eastern world, and which inculcate the
leaving open of a window at the moment of death, to allow the
unrestrained flight of the passing soul, and reprobate the leaving of
any open vessel of water in the vicinity of the death-chamber, in the
fear that the disembodied spirit, yet weak and untried of wing, may fall
therein and perish!

One more superstition, connected with the departure of friends, must be
noted--the more peculiarly as there is a sad beauty in the thought. Very
many nervous and excitable people fear to look after those who are going
away on long journeys or dangerous enterprises, under the fear that such
a look after them may prevent their return. One peculiar instance of the
indulgence of this superstition, and its apparent fulfilment, happens to
have fallen under notice, during the present struggle. When the
President's first call for volunteers was made, among those who
responded was one young lad of eighteen, a mere handsome boy in
appearance and altogether delicate in constitution, who left a
comfortable position to fulfil what he believed to be a stern duty. He
had two female cousins, of nearly his own age, and with whom he had been
in close intimacy. Going away hurriedly, with little time to bestow on
farewells, he called to bid them good-bye one dark and threatening
night. Some tears of emotion were shed, and the sad farewell was spoken.
When he passed down the walk, both the cousins stood without the