One of the first fruits of the spirit of freedom was the American girl's determination henceforth to choose her husband. She made mistakes sometimes, poor child, but was probably silenced by the reflection that she had no one to blame but herself. She was much under the influence of French fashions, but had a prejudice against the French manner of conducting matrimonial alliances, while the French at once conceived a horror of the American departure. "We must marry our daughters as soon as possible," said a Frenchwoman to an easy-going American husband. "If we do not take care, she will be like your terrible Americans, and end by joining in the '_hount for housband_'!" dropping her French to quote the enormity in its own appropriate tongue. Something of the old-time English customs in contracting parties remained in the formal correspondence of the prospective bridegroom's father with the father of the bride-elect, presumably before the young lady had been consulted. The former stated that his son proposed "paying his addresses," and he therefore announced the number of acres and slaves, and the kind of house he could give his son, and, without any expression of romance or sentiment, politely requested a similar statement from the "party of the second part." This party informs the other that his son has applied for "leave to make his addresses," and states what _he_ can do. Of course, it sometimes happened that the matter rested just here--the ideas on one side or the other being unsatisfactory. Then it was that Cupid had his opportunity! More than one lover has hidden in the close-screened, cedar summer-house, and more than one maiden has stolen in the gray dawn from her back door, disguised as her own maid, to join him in an early horseback ride to Gretna Green. Moreover, more than one such maiden was "cut off with a shilling" by an injured father, and went through her life stoutly declaring herself the happiest woman in the world, albeit not as rich in worldly goods as her dutiful sisters! Betty Washington's wedding-dress we must imagine. It was probably not unlike Martha Custis's wedding-gown a few years later. This was thus described by one of her guests: a white satin quilt, over which a heavy white silk, interwoven with threads of silver, was looped back with white satin ribbons, richly brocaded in a leaf pattern. Her bodice was of plain satin, and the brocade was fastened on the bust with a stiff butterfly bow of the ribbon. Delicate lace finished the low, square neck. There were close elbow-sleeves revealing a puff and frill of lace. Strings of pearls were woven in and out of her powdered hair. Her high-heeled slippers were of white satin, with brilliant buckles. Just this dress, in style if not material, was certainly worn by Betty.