Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1867-10-12

above. The canopy was silken and
white, Topped up with golden tassels,
golden corded, A couple of bronzed
cherubs were astride the headboard,
looking away from the bed, and holding
fast the curtains of the canopy; two
others at the foot were saying silence
with their fingers on their lips, and both
their quivers were empty. The bed
stead was of satinwood, delicately grain
ed; the coverlet was pure white knitted
silk .; the sheets were perfumed family
such pillows you never saw in size; each
one a bed of itself, and the pillow cases
we're bordered with Spanish point lace,
six inches wide. There was no day
light in the room, and the man had
lighted the chandelier, so that pure
white fame made all the gildings in the
window-cornices glisten. They were
plain arched cornices except in the key
stones, where two hearts transfxed with
an arrow gave me cruel pang for
moment and like the bed canopy, the
white silk curtains fell in folds to the
floor, with golden tassels swinging be-
tween. The carpet was white and blue
Administer, very rare, with small de-
sign of lily in it; like pattern was
the wall paper, without the blue one
gilt band ran around the ceiling; the
only pictures were a copy of Titan's
Venus, lying very cool and negIige upon
a sheet, with her hair bound up in an
old fashioned basket braid, and no sign
of clothes anywhere; and a Autograph
of the King CANDIDATES. and his wife and
friend-not very modest. A sandal
wood dressing stand and mirror reflected
case of smelling bottles in Bohemian
glass there were upon brackets upon
either side statuettes in alabaster of
Love and Pysche, and Diana and En-
dymion. The towel-rack was of sandal
wood shod with gilt feet. Out of the
soft, white splendor of the silence a
canary bird in cage at the window
sang so shrilly that [ was frightened
the more. All the tints and patterns
of the room were in pure and beautiful
taste but it was seraglio that | had
entered, not my husbands chamber.
Had [ dared to show that | noticed
these things, [ would have moved to
some modest room and sat in the soil
Jude Of it among my trunks. To add
to the show character of the place,
champagne was sent up with the COM
pliments Of the house, and by the buzz
Of conversation around the doors l knew
that men were walking to and fro there,
if not to look, to laugh.
In the interim before dinner I un-
locked my trunks and laid my linens in
the dressing case drawers 1t was warm
and put my feet in the white satin
slippers you admired SO much, undid
my close-bodied dress with its long waist
and points, and wrapped about me the
dressing gown my brother gave me,
open at the neck and of most white
Marseillcs from the broad boyish lap
pels to the pearl buttoned hem. Every
where [ turned, so whitley attired, the
frequent mirrors reflected me, showing
winter yet my painted, expectant face,
and often giving me starts, as if In those
long contrived sacrifcial roles [ came
face to face with my past self-so soon
to surrender my existence to one loved,
but still human, perhaps changing af-
lection. Then, as [ placed away my
many 'kerchiefs, my rival corsets of
French and English, the handkerchiefs
marked with the old family name no
longer mine, the embroidered skirts,
the folded chemisettes, doubt, the
first and last, came to my mind, of the
wisdom of my choice and its awful ire
vocability.
was disturbed by Larry l knew
that he had been drinking when he
kissed me-
Mary if you pray tonight, ask that
our home be no bridal-chamber. These
nuptial menageries make men no proud
er, women no purer.'
We were dinned with music that
night. But in the morning we quilted
the American harem; and in our little
modest room, we pity the bridal parties
to take our place.