The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 16, No. 98, December, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 16, No. 98, December, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
this, whispered to her maid, who disengaged herself from her partner,
and ran off to the house; she and the kitchen-maid presently returning
with a large tray covered with all kinds of cakes, (of which we are
great consumers and always have a stock,) and a large hamper full of
bottles of wine, with coffee and sugar. This seemed all very acceptable.
The _fiancee_ was requested to distribute the eatables, and a bucket of
water being produced to wash the glasses in, the wine disappeared very
quickly,--as fast as they could open the bottles. But elated, I suppose,
by this, the floor was sprinkled with water, and the musicians played a
Monferrino, which is a Piedmontese dance. Madame B. danced with the
farmer's son, and Emily with another distinguished member of the
company. It was very fatiguing,--something like a Scotch reel. My
partner was a little man, like Pierrot, and very proud of his dancing.
He cut in the air and twisted about, until I was out of breath, though
my attempts to imitate him were feeble in the extreme. At last, after
seven or eight dances, I was obliged to sit down. We stayed till nine,
and I was so dead beat with the heat that I could hardly crawl about the
house, and in an agony with the cramp, it is so long since I have
danced."
A MARRIAGE.
"The wedding of the farmer's daughter has taken place. We had hoped it
would have been in the little chapel of our house; but it seems some
special permission was necessary, and they applied for it too late.
They all said, 'This is the Constitution. There would have been no
difficulty before!'--the lower classes making the poor Constitution the
scapegoat for everything they don't like. So, as it was impossible for
us to climb up to the church where the wedding was to be, we contented
ourselves with seeing the procession pass. It was not a very large one;
for, it requiring some activity to go up, all the old people remained at
home. It is not the etiquette for the bride's mother to go, and no
unmarried woman can go to a wedding,--I suppose for fear of its making
her discontented with her own position. The procession stopped at our
door, for the bride to receive our congratulations. She was dressed in a
shot silk, with a yellow handkerchief, and rows of a large gold chain.
In the afternoon they sent to request us to go there. On our arrival, we
found them dancing out-of-doors, and a most melancholy affair it was.
All the bride's sisters were not to be recognized, they had cried so.
The mother sat in the house, and could not appear; and the bride was
sobbing so, she could hardly stand. The most melancholy spectacle of
all, to my mind, was, that the bridegroom was decidedly tipsy. He seemed
rather affronted at all the distress. We danced a Monferrino,--I with
the bridegroom, and the bride crying the whole time. The company did
their utmost to enliven her, by firing pistols, but without success; and
at last they began a series of yells, which reminded me of a set of
savages.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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