This Miss Scott were young lady of 20 years complete beauty. O such smiling hair & blond eyes! How well her complexion matched her costume! Before her marriage her name was Gladys, but I are not sure what she is called now, as each American girl must change her name when she get married. This is very confusing custom to Japanese boy. I was working for that Scott family when that Hon. Gladys obtained matrimony. I never seen an American wedding before. Now I realise why so many people in these U. S. object to being married more than once. Hon. Scott, who has been a father to Gladys all her life, arrived up to me last Tuesday P. M. and say fidgetfully, “Togo,” he say, “there will be a wedding in this house next Satday & I wish you would be as stylish as possible in passing food. You must appear fashionable in every way, because it are customary on such occasions to look more wealthy than you are.” “Are you going to be married again, Hon. Sir?” I ask with chivalry. “Not if I could avoid it!” he say peevly. “It is my daughter Gladys who I shall give away.” “To who will you donate this charming lady?” I ask out. “Hon. Charlie Sweetberry will be the blushing bridebroom,” he pronounce. “You remember Charlie who arrive here more & more frequently bearing flowers?” “Distinctually,” I report. “He came with rose-bud tokens so frequently I thought that he was a florist.” “We intend to make this wedding so joyful that we are all quite miserable preparing for it,” he describe. “The event will be shot off at high noon.” “Are noon on a wedding day any higher than any other noon?” I require for information. “If you paid the bills you would think so!” he explode glubly & walk in an offward direction. Mr Editor, you would be surprised to see how much burden that wedding was to Hon. Express Co. who brought the packages! For several entire days bundles arrove in large quantities of freight. Street in front of that house was headquarters for delivery wagons. Messengers came continually bringing Merry Christmas parcels enwrapped in paper. Hon. Samule Scott, assisted by me & family, would spend long-time each day disenwrapping those parcels and gossiping about what came. Excitement. Out would drop some golden fork or swollen pitcher marked “Happy Returns.” “Why should these be labelled ‘Happy Returns’?” I negotiate. “Because,” pronounce Hon. Samule with depressed eyebrows, “they are all returns of wedding presents we sent other folks.” I stand gast at this phenomenal. Each day for 14 complete hours that hansom Scottish home stood full of dressmakers, vacuum cleaners, dentists, milliners, reporters and other necessities of life. Hon. Samule Scott walk around looking tense like a financial crisis. Mrs. Scott were always busy. When not engaged in any other housekeeping she set down and wept some tears. “Why you wept, Hon. Lady?” I ask to know. “I am preparing for the wedding,” she say back. “No wedding can look fashionable without a few weeps.”