ime; so don't let us miss the sight; for
doubtless it will be overpoweringly interesting."

The melancholy man let himself be dragged along by his merry talkative
friend, and they soon got to the cottage. The procession was just
sallying forth on its way to church. The young countryman was in his
usual linen frock; all his finery consisted in a pair of leather
breeches, which he had polisht till they shone like a field of
dandelions: he had a very simple look, and was a good deal ashamed.

The bride was tanned by the sun, and had only a few farewell leaves of
youth still hanging about her: she was coarsely and poorly but cleanly
drest: some red and blue silk ribbons, already somewhat faded,
flaunted from her stomacher; but what chiefly disfigured her was, that
her hair, after being stiffened with lard, flour, and pins, had been
swept back from her forehead and piled up at the top of her head in a
mound, on the summit of which lay the bridal chaplet. She smiled, and
seemed glad at heart, but was bashful and downcast.

Next came the aged parents: her father too was only a labourer on the
farm; and the hovel, the furniture, the clothing, all bore witness
that their poverty was extreme. A dirty squinting musician followed
the train, grinning and screaming and scratching his fiddle, which was
patcht up of wood and pasteboard, and instead of strings had three
bits of packthread.

The procession halted when his honour, their new master, came up to
them. Some mischief-loving servants, lads and girls, tittered and
laught, and jeered the bridal couple, especially the ladies' maids,
who thought themselves far handsomer, and saw themselves infinitely
better drest, and wondered how people could be so vulgar.

A shudder came over Emilius: he lookt round for Roderick; but the
latter as usual had already run away. An impertinent fop, with a head
pilloried in a high starcht neckcloth, a footman to one of the
visitors, eager to shew off his wit, shoved up to Emilius, giggling,
and cried: "There your honour, what says your honour to this grand
couple? They can neither of 'em guess where they are to find bread for
tomorrow; and yet they mean to give a ball this afternoon, and that
famous performer is already engaged."

"No bread!" said Emilius; "can such things be?"

"Their wretchedness," continued the chatterbox, "is notorious to the
whole neighbourhood; but the fellow says he bears the creature the
same goodwill, though she has n