choose your bridesmaids, and we'll call the
minister in and be married at once.' Says he, 'I always intended that
my bride should wear yellow silk.' And one o' the gyirls says, 'But
she must take off the pearl necklace; pearls at a wedding mean tears.'
And Hamilton says, 'Let it alone; every pearl stands for a tear of
joy.' And then he looked around and says he, 'I want four groomsmen.'
And the young man that Miss Amaryllis was about to dance with when
Hamilton come in, he spoke up and says he, 'I'd rather be the
bridegroom, but if I can't be that, I'll be first groomsman.' And
three other young men, they said they'd be groomsmen, too. And they
all stood up, and the preacher come in, and he married 'em jest as
solemn as if they'd been in church.
"They said it was right curious, how they'd been fiddlin' and dancin'
and carryin' on, but the minute the preacher stepped into the room
everybody was as still as death. I've heard folks say that they always
felt like laughin' when they oughtn't to laugh, at a funeral or a
communion service or a babtizin', but, child, when a man and a woman
stands up side by side and the preacher begins to say the words that
binds 'em together for life, nobody ever feels like laughin' then. A
weddin', honey, is the solemnest thing in the world, and they said
before the preacher got through sayin' the ceremony over Hamilton and
Miss Amaryllis, there was tears in nearly everybody's eyes, and when
he stooped down to kiss the bride, it was so still you could hear the
little screech-owls in the woods at the side o' the house. And
Hamilton turned around and bowed to the first groomsman and says he,
'Sir, I robbed you of your partner a while ago, now I give her back to
you for the next dance'; and he took hold o' the first bridesmaid's
hand and motioned to the fiddlers to begin playin', and they struck up
a tune and everybody went to dancin' as if life wasn't made for
anything but pleasure. And the next mornin', Hamilton and his bride
started for home, ridin' horseback and stoppin' along the way as they
come to taverns or their friends' houses, and folks said they looked
like they'd found the pot of gold at the foot o' the rainbow."
Aunt Jane began rolling up her knitting, a sure sign that the story
was ended. But even the tales of childhood went farther than this. It
was not enough to know "and so they were married"; I must hear also
how they "lived happily ever afterward."
"Oh! go on," I cried
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