The negroes really seem to appreciate the dignity and solemnity of the marriage institution; and they have a great anxiety to enter its bonds fashionably. At the Beaufort wedding, just referred to, the bride wore a calico dress whose colors were as glowing as her own was swarthy; her hands were covered with white cotton gloves; and as for her head, neck and shoulders, a true history will be forever at a loss to tell how they _were_ clad, for over her head was cast, in flowing folds of portentous thickness, a gauzy sheet, supposed to represent a white veil. It shrouded the features in unnatural pallor; it suggested no hint of neck, and but the remotest suspicion of shoulders, and it was only gathered into terminal folds somewhere in the region of what should have been the waist. From beneath this effectual concealment, the bride made haste to give her responses. The poor girl had been cheated out of her marriage, a week before, by some unexpected order to the regiment which claimed the services of her soldier-intended, and she was determined to have “de ting trou wid, dis time.” When the minister asked if he would have this woman to be his wife, she hastily exclaimed, “Oh! yes, massa, I’ll be his wife;” and when the irrevocable words were said, the huge veil disappeared with wondrous rapidity before the ardor of the kiss. But they got, on their marriage certificate, the signatures of a couple of witnesses which the highest born in the land would be proud to possess. It has been seen that, among the Sea Islanders, the course of true love runs very much as it does elsewhere. The course of justice seems to be sometimes as tortuous. Take, for example, the story of a stolen hen in Mitchelville, and what came of the theft. Mitchelville, it must be remembered, is the negro village on Hilton Head Island, regularly organized with negro officers, and enjoying its Councilmen and Supervisor, whom their constituents insist on styling Aldermen and Mayor. The “Aldermen” are enjoined, among other things, to settle disputes concerning claims for personal property and the like. Before one of these Aldermen came a disconsolate negress. Her hen had been stolen, and Gawky Sam was the boy who did it. The boy was summoned, the evidence heard, the case clearly made out, and two dollars fine imposed. But here stepped in another Alderman, who, re-hearing the case, added another dollar to the fine. Before the money was paid, still another managed to get the case before him, and he imposed a fine of five dollars. By this time, the Supervisor (“Mayor”) heard the story, and summoning all the parties before him, inquired: “Uncle Ben, why did you fine de boy two dollars?” “Well, sah, de case was clar; de hen was a mity fine, fat un, and I reckon she worf about a dollar. Den, sir, nobody oughtub be ’lowed to steal for less dan a dollah, nohow. So I made him pay de wuf of de hen to the owner, and a dollah for stealin beside.”