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Man, Women and Ghosts
Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
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there would ever
be such a story to tell. It was such a pretty, peaceful
wedding! If you
were there, you remember it as you remember a rare
sunrise, or a
peculiarly delicate May-flower, or that strain in a
simple old song
which is like orioles and butterflies and dew-drops.
There were not many of us; we were all acquainted with
one another; the
day was bright, and Harrie did not faint nor cry. There
were a couple
of bridesmaids,--Pauline Dallas, and a Miss--Jones, I
Harrie's little sisters; and the people were well
dressed and well
looking, but everybody was thoroughly at home,
comfortable, and on a
level. There was no annihilating of little country
friends in gray
alpacas by city cousins in point and pearls, no crowding
and no crush,
and, I believe, not a single "front breadth" spoiled by
Harrie is not called exactly pretty, but she must be a
very plain woman
who is not pleasant to see upon her wedding day.
Harrie's eyes shone,--I
never saw such eyes! and she threw her head back like a
queen whom they
Her father married them. Old Mr. Bird was an odd man,
with odd notions
of many things, of which marriage was one. The service
was his own. I
afterwards asked him for a copy of it, which I have
Covenant ran thus:--
"Appealing to your Father who is in heaven to witness
you .... do now take this woman whose hand you hold--
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