On Wednesday morning, at eleven o'clock, the time appointed for the ceremony, Eugene ushered us into the parlor, where we found Allen and Lucy, Dr. and Mrs. Clapp, Miss Proctor, uncle and aunt, Mr. Benson and Emily, and our dear mother with our beloved pastor and his family, while Cæsar, Phebe, Ruth and Ann filled up the back ground, and gave an agreeable variety to the shading of the picture. Eugene formally conducted the Doctor and myself to the seats of distinguished guests, and then retired to fulfil his duty as master of ceremonies, which from the youthfulness and inexperience of many of the company, and the perfect order with which they entered the room, must have required no little skill in the training. First entered Eugene and Nelly; then Charles Karswell and Anna Reynolds, who are shortly to be married; next Henry Marshall, grandson of our friend the Attorney General, and Emily Lenox Mansfield; next Franky Lenox and Susy Benson, while Willie Reynolds and little black-eyed Hatty Clapp brought up the rear. These all walked, with the order and dignity befitting the occasion, to their proper places, leaving a vacant space in the centre for the young bride, who entered last, leaning on the arm of him whom she had loved "from very childhood up." Truly, they were a noble pair. He was tall and erect, with a broad, high brow, and eyes beaming with fondness upon the fair face so confidingly upturned to his own. She wore a white satin dress with an over-dress of gossamer lace. Her hair, which she always wore in natural curls, falling upon her neck, was looped up at the sides with a wreath of orange flowers, that also confined her veil. Sister Emily, who, with Lucy Mansfield's assistance, dressed the bride, and gave the finishing touch to the dress of all the young men and maidens, was much delighted at the complete success of her efforts. Rev. Mr. Munroe, by a few mystic words made the twain one forever. Then after prayer for a blessing on the happy union, all walked up to salute the bride. Though my heart was overflowing, yet I had been able to command myself until my husband led me to the bride. I tried to speak, but finding my voice inarticulate, hastily kissed her and retired for a few moments to recover myself. When I returned to the room, Cæsar was passing the cake, while his countenance wore a ludicrous mixture of sorrow and delight. He evidently felt a strong inclination to weep; but his duties rendering this inappropriate and inconvenient, he tried to assume an expression of the joy which he conceived to be more befitting the occasion. Uncle and aunt Morgan will remain with us until after Pauline's return and levee. A list of the persons to be then invited she put into the hand of her brother Eugene. The day before she went, she consulted me about the number she should invite. I replied, "just as many as you please, and just whom you please."