, and he still means to do a little in the
knife-grinding line. So his cart is to be wheeled up for him to the
Park this afternoon, and he is to sharpen just as many or just as few
knives for the squire, and scissors for the ladies, as he pleases. And
now--for it is almost half-past ten o'clock--there is a straggling of
various groups up to the neat little ivy-covered church. Oh, what a
joyful day it is for Thomas Johnson and Betty! They hardly know how to
hold all the love that swells in their hearts, and every one is so kind
to them. Then the bells ring out joyfully, and the churchyard is filled
with expectant faces of old and young. The squire, his wife, and
daughters are to be there, and after the wedding there is to be a short
service and an address from the clergyman. And now the little wedding-
party winds up the hill, two and two, from John Walters' cottage, all
supremely happy down to little Samuel and the babe, who are to share in
the festivities of the day. All enter the church; the squire and his
party being already seated. Old Crow is there, of course, for he is to
give Deborah away. He has a Sunday suit on now, the garments of various
eras being only for working days. Who so full of joy as Samuel, as he
passes through the gazing throng with Deborah on his arm. They are to
drive at once after the wedding to the Park in the squire's dog-cart.
The marriage-ceremony is duly performed, and the address delivered.
Then comes the band, with its brazen roar strangely jangling with the
merry bells. The road is all alive with labourers in clean smocks, and
lads with polished faces. The children in their holiday attire and Band
of Hope ribbons run in and out everywhere. Fathers and mothers look
glad, and old men and women benevolent. Flowers are to be seen in
profusion, for total abstinence and flowers go everywhere together:
there are flowers in the churchyard, flowers in the church, flowers in
button-holes, belts, and bonnets, flowers in huge fragrant nosegays,
flowers in choice little bouquets. And so, laughing, smiling, running,
walking, hastening, sauntering, chatting, greeting, on go young and
middle-aged and old, and the sloping sward of the Park is gained, and
the Hall comes into close view. And there, under a wide expanse of
canvas, is spread the healthful, bountiful repast--plenty of meat,
plenty of drink of the right sort, and nothing to stimulate appetite but
those odours which never tempt