I mean to come
three days before, and stay three days after the wedding, if I
may, and altogether it is going to be a lark of larks. Little
Rose can talk quite fluently now, and almost read; that is, she
knows six letters of her picture alphabet. She composes poems
also. The other day she suddenly announced,--
"Mamma, I have made up a sort of a im. May I say it to you?"
I naturally consented, and this was the
IM.
Jump in the parlor,
Jump in the hall,
God made us all!
Now did you ever hear of anything quite so dear as that, for a
baby only three years and five months old? I tell you she is a
wonder. You will all adore her, Clover particularly. Oh, my dear
little C.! To think I am going to see her!
I met both Ellen Gray and Esther Dearborn the other day, and
where do you think it was? At Mary Silver's wedding! Yes, she is
actually married to the Rev. Charles Playfair Strothers, and
settled in a little parsonage somewhere in the Hoosac
Tunnel,--or near it,--and already immersed in "duties." I can't
think what arguments he used to screw her up to the rash act;
but there she is.
It wasn't exactly what one would call a cheerful wedding. All
the connection took it very seriously; and Mary's uncle, who
married her, preached quite a lengthy funeral discourse to the
young couple, and got them nicely ready for death, burial, and
the next world, before he would consent to unite them for this.
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