f my Nancy's. Fish from the great pond,
roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, boiled fowls and a gammon of bacon, a
green goose and a sucking pig, plum puddings, apple pies, cheese-cakes and
custards, formed a part of the bill of fare, followed by home-brewed beer
and home-made wine, by syllabub, and by wedding cake. Every body ate
enough for four, and there was four times more than could by any
possibility be eaten. I have always thought it one of the strongest proofs
of sense and kindness in my pretty maid, that she rescued me from the
terrible hospitality of her mother-in-law, and gave me back unscathed into
my father's hands, when, about three o'clock, he arrived to reclaim me.

The affluence and abundance of that gala day--the great gala of a
life-time--in that Hampshire farm-house, I have never seen surpassed.

This was my first appearance as a bridesmaid. My next, which took place
about a twelvemonth after, was of a very different description.

A first cousin of my father, the daughter of his uncle and guardian, had,
by the death of her mother's brother, become a wealthy heiress; and
leaving her picturesque old mansion in Northumberland, Little Harle Tower,
a true border keep overhanging the Warsbeck, for a journey to what the
Northumbrians of that day emphatically call "the South," came after a
season in London to pass some months with us. At our house she became
acquainted with the brother of a Scotch duke, an Oxford student, who,
passing the long vacation with his mother, had nothing better to do than
to fall in love. Each had what the other wanted--the lady money, the
gentleman rank; and as his family were charmed with the match, and hers
had neither the power nor the wish to oppose it, every thing was arranged
with as little delay as lawyers, jewelers, coach-makers, and mantua-makers
would permit.

How the first step in the business, the inevitable and awful ceremonial of
a declaration of love and a proposal of marriage, was ever brought about,
has always been to me one of the most unsolvable of mysteries--an enigma
without the word.

Lord Charles, as fine a young man as one should see in a summer's day,
tall, well-made, with handsome features, fair capacity, excellent
education, and charming temper, had an infirmity which went nigh to render
all these good gifts of no avail: a shyness, a bashfulness, a timidity
most painful to himself, and distressing to all about him. It is not
uncommon to hear a quiet, si