d transformation here! Back of the congregation the
organ-loft is concealed from view by ornamental screen-work and an
arbor-like arrangement of vines and leaves, from which the gilded pipes
and gothic spires shoot up into the vaulted ceiling; but no one knows
who or what may be there concealed. Towards the altar the church is a
bower of beauty. Immediately in front of the chancel rail and facing
inward towards the centre aisle are the elevated seats of the
choristers, with the pulpit and lectern on opposite sides and at the
outer edge of the choir-stalls. The pulpit and lectern themselves are a
creamy mass of daisies,--Marion's own flower,--while between them
stretches a light trellis-work, half concealing, half disclosing, the
choir-stalls beyond, twined with smilax, and thickly studded with white
roses and carnations. Over the centre aisle this trellis takes the form
of an exquisite floral arch, spanning the steps to the choir-level and
the broad aisle beyond. All the pillars are twined with smilax; all the
chancel rail is similarly decked, while roses, carnations, and
"snowballs" are everywhere. Each side of the altar is ornamented by tall
pyramidal groups of palms and tropical plants, while the upper portion
of the church is filled here and there and everywhere with foliage and
blossoms. A great marriage-bell of carnations hangs over the altar
steps; the altar itself is one mass of daisies; the air is heavy with
perfume and now, as eight o'clock approaches, rich with soft, exquisite
melody that comes floating from an unseen orchestra in the loft. Every
now and then there is unusual flutter and curiosity as the ushers stride
up the aisle with comrades in full uniform, who, with their wives, are
"army guests," and they are escorted to the seats just back of the
choristers, among the relatives and nearest friends, where they are
placed half facing the crowded assemblage, and are at once the object of
hundreds of curious eyes. There are the bald head and red face of old
Colonel Pelham and the majestic proportions of his much-better-half,
who, as scion of all the De Ruyters, is quite at home confronting the
social battery; and Mrs. Stannard with her happy blue eyes and noble
bearing, and Mrs. Truscott, exquisitely dressed and an object of no
little admiration among observers of both sexes. "Old Stannard" fidgets
at the unaccustomed harness of full uniform, and kicks impatiently at
his sabre, wishing himself out on the Ari