no words to pray.
Too sweet for incense! (bravo!) Take our loves instead--
Most freely, truly, and devoutly given;
Our prayer for blessings on that gentle head,
For earthly happiness and rest in Heaven!
May never sorrow dim those dove-like eyes,
But peace as pure as reigned in Paradise,
Calm and untainted on creation's eve,
Attend thee still! May holy angels," &c.

This is all very well, my dear country cousins. But will you say "Amen"
to this prayer? I won't. Assuredly our fair Princess will shed many
tears out of the "dovelike eyes," or the heart will be little worth. Is
she to know no parting, no care, no anxious longing, no tender watches
by the sick, to deplore no friends and kindred, and feel no grief?
Heaven forbid! When a bard or wildered minstrel writes so, best accept
his own confession, that he is losing his head. On the day of her
entrance into London who looked more bright and happy than the Princess?
On the day of the marriage, the fair face wore its marks of care
already, and looked out quite grave, and frightened almost, under the
wreaths and lace and orange-flowers. Would you have had her feel no
tremor? A maiden on the bridegroom's threshold, a Princess led up to the
steps of a throne? I think her pallor and doubt became her as well as
her smiles. That, I can tell you, was OUR vote who sat in X compartment,
let us say, in the nave of St. George's Chapel at Windsor, and saw a
part of one of the brightest ceremonies ever performed there.

My dear cousin Mary, you have an account of the dresses; and I promise
you there were princesses besides the bride whom it did the eyes good
to behold. Around the bride sailed a bevy of young creatures so fair,
white, and graceful that I thought of those fairy-tale beauties who are
sometimes princesses, and sometimes white swans. The Royal Princesses
and the Royal Knights of the Garter swept by in prodigious robes and
trains of purple velvet, thirty shillings a yard, my dear, not of course
including the lining, which, I have no doubt, was of the richest satin,
or that costly "miniver" which we used to read about in poor Jerrold's
writings. The young princes were habited in kilts; and by the side of
the Princess Royal trotted such a little wee solemn Highlander! He is
the young heir and chief of the famous clan of Brandenburg. His eyrie
is amongst the Eagles, and I pray no harm may befall the dear little
chieftain.

The her