Jacques Arago himself writes so much of the story as has served to make the back-bone for this; and we appeal to the ninety thousand readers of our gossip if Jacques Arago needed any thing more than the _finesse_ of Lamartine, and a touch of his poetic nature, to weave the story of poor Marie into another Raphael? AN OLD GENTLEMAN'S LETTER. "THE STORY OF THE BRIDE OF LANDECK." DEAR SIR--I now resume the very interesting tale I wished to tell you; but from which, in my last, I was diverted in a manner requiring some apology. You know, however, that this failing of being carried away to collaterals, is frequent in old gentlemen and nurses; and you must make excuses for my age and infirmity. Now, however, you shall have the story of "The Bride of Landeck." A bride is always interesting, and therefore I trust that my bride will not be less so than others. There is something so touching in the confidence with which she bestows the care of her whole fate and happiness on another, something so strangely perilous, even in her very joy, such a misty darkness over that new world into which she plunges, that even the coarsest and most vulgar are moved by it. I recollect an almost amusing instance of this. The very words employed by the speakers will show you that they were persons of inferior condition; and yet they were uttered with a sigh, and with every appearance of real feeling. I was one day walking along through the streets of a great city, where it is the custom, in almost all instances, for marriages to take place in church. My way lay by the vestry of a fashionable church, and I was prevented for a minute or two from passing by a great throng of carriages, and a little crowd gathered to see a bride and bridegroom set out upon their wedding tour. There were two mechanics immediately before me--carpenters apparently--and, being in haste, I tried to force my way on. One of the men looked round, saying quietly, "There's no use pushing, you can't get by;" and in a moment after, the bridal party came forth. The bridegroom was a tall, fine-looking, grave young man; and the bride a very beautiful, interesting creature, hardly twenty. They both seemed somewhat annoyed by the crowd, and hurried into their carriage and drove away. When the people dispersed, the two carpenters walked on before me, commenting upon the occurrence. "Well," said the one, "she's as pretty a creature as ever I saw; and he's a handsome man; but he looks a little sternish, to my mind. I hope he'll treat her well." "Ah, poor thing," said the other, "she has tied a knot with her tongue, that she can not untie with her teeth." It is not, however, only sentiment which is occasionally elicited at weddings. I have known some of the most ludicrous scenes in the world occur on these solemn occasions. One, especially, will never pass from my mind, and I must try to give you an account of it, although the task will be somewhat difficult.