mmering and pounding by day and by night;
All sleep from my eyelids he scares in affright:
Ah, Master Carpenter, work still more fast,
That so I may slumber in peace at last!

--HEINE.

DIARY OF FRANCES KRASINSKA;

OR, LIFE IN POLAND DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

Shrove Tuesday, _February 26th_.

Our little Matthias says: 'One hundred horsemen despatched after _Miss
Barbara_ could never reach her.' She is now her ladyship the starostine.
How can I ever describe all the entertainment and pleasure we have had
during this festival? I was as much bewildered as charmed, and must
endeavor to arrange my ideas, that I may proceed in an orderly manner.

Early yesterday morning we went to the church of Lissow; the bride and
groom made their confession, and then took communion at high mass. They
knelt before the high altar, and after mass, the parish priest gave them
the benediction. I was much pleased when I saw that Barbara wore the
pretty morning dress I had made for her: it fits her exactly. But as it
was excessively cold, she was obliged to throw over it a white satin
pelisse, lined with the fur of the white fox, which somewhat rumpled the
morning dress. Her head was charmingly arranged--a white blonde veil
hung down to her feet.

Immediately after their return to the castle they breakfasted, and the
repast was served with great magnificence.

After breakfast, Barbara went up into her room, where my mother,
accompanied by twelve ladies, presided at her toilette. She wore a dress
of white satin with watered stripes, and trimmed with Brabant blonde,
embroidered with silver. Her dress had a long train. A bunch of rosemary
was fastened at her side, and a few sprigs of the same flower were
placed in her hair, secured by a gold clasp, on which were engraved
verses containing the date and day of the marriage, and various
felicitations appropriate to the occasion.

Barbara looked very handsome in this attire, but my mother did not wish
her to wear any jewels. She believes that wearing them at such a time is
a presage of misfortune, and said: 'She who wears jewels on her wedding
day, will weep bitter tears all the rest of her life.' Poor Barbara
needed no more, for she had already wept so much that her eyes were all
swollen. In the bouquet placed by my mother at Barbara's side were a
gold ducat, coined on the day of her birth, a morsel of bread, and a
little salt.