zzy,"
said Davis, "when that Classon came in." It was very hard for him not to
add an epithet; but he _did_ escape that peril.

"I own, papa, he did not impress me very favorably."

"He's a first-rate man, a great scholar, a regular don amongst the
shovel-hats," said Grog, hastily; "that man was within an ace of being a
bishop. But it was not of _him_ my head was full, girl. I wanted to talk
to you about Beecher and that haughty sister-in-law of his. _She_ 'll
'try-it on' with you, Lizzy; I 'm sure she will!"

"Dearest papa, how often have you told me that in preparing for the
accidents of life we but often exaggerate their importance. I'll not
anticipate evil."

"Here's Beecher!--here he is!" cried Davis, as he clasped her once more
to his heart; and then, opening the door, led her down the stairs.

There was a full assemblage of all the folk of the little inn, and the
room was crowded. The landlord and his wife, and four buxom daughters
and two sons, were there; and a dapper waiter, with very tight-fitting
trousers, and a housemaid, and three farm-servants, all with big
bouquets in their hands and huge bows of white ribbon on their breasts;
and Mademoiselle Annette, Lizzy's maid, in a lilac, silk and a white
crape bonnet; and Peters, Beecher's man, in a most accurate blue frock,
except his master, looking far more like a gentleman than any one there.

As for Annesley Beecher, no man ever more accurately understood how
to "costume" for every circumstance in life; and whether you saw him
lounging over the rail in Rotten Row, strolling through the Park at
Richmond, sunning himself at Cowes, or yawning through a wet day in a
country-house, his "get-up" was sure to be faultless. Hundreds tried in
vain to catch the inimitable curl of his hat, the unattainable sweep of
his waistcoat-collar; and then there were shades and tones of his color
about him that were especially his own. Of course, I am not about to
describe his appearance on this morning; it is enough if I say that he
bestowed every care upon it, and succeeded. And Paul,--Holy Paul,--how
blandly imposing, how unctuously serene he looked! Marriage was truly
a benediction at such hands. He faltered a little, his dulcet accents
trembled with a modest reluctance, as he asked, "'Wilt thou take--this
woman--'" Could he have changed the Liturgy for the occasion, he had
said, "this angel;" as it was, his voice compensated for the syllables,
and the question was breath