THE WEDDING EEE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2545, 5 June 1882, Page 3

THE WEDDING EEE.

One morning, fifty years ago, When apple trees were white with snow And fragrant blossoms, and the air Was spellbound with the perfume rare— Upon a farm horse, large and lean, And lazy, with its double load, A sunbrown youth and maid wore seen Jogging along the winding road. Blue were the arches of the skies. But bluer were that maiden’s eyes 1 The dewdrops on the grass were bright, But brighter was the loving light That sparkled ’neath each long fringed lid Where those bright eyes of blue were hid. Adown the shoulders, brown and bare. Rolled the soft waves of golden hair, Where, almost strangled with the spray, The sun a willing sufferer, lay. It was the fairest sight, I ween, That the young man had ever seen ; And with his features all aglow, The happy fellow told her so. And she, without the least surprise, Looked on him with those heavenly eyes— Saw underneath that shade of tan The handsome features of a man. And with a joy but rarely known She drew that dear face to her own, And by that bridal bonnet hid— I cannot tell you what she did. So on they ride, until among The new-born leaves, with dewdrops hung. The parsonage, arrayed in white, Peers out—a more than welcome sight. Then, with a cloud upon his face, “ What shall we do,” he turned to say, “ Should ha refuse to take his pay From what is in the pillowcase ?” And glancing down, his eyes surveyed The pillowcase before him laid, Whose contents, reaching to its hem, Might purchase endless joys for them. The maiden answers, ‘‘Let us wait ; To borrow trouble, where’s the need ?” Then at the parson’s squeaking gate Halted the more than willing steed. Down from his horse the bridegroom sprung; The latohless gate behind him swung ; The knacker of that startled door, Struck as it never was before, Brought the whole household, pale with fright; And there, with blushes on his cheek. So bashful he could hardly speak, The farmer met their wondering sight. The groom goes in, his errand tells, And us the parson nods, he leans Pur o’er the window sill, and yells, “ Came in 1 He says he'll take the beans I ” Oh, how she jumped! With one glad bound Bho and the bean bag reached the ground. Then clasping with each dimpled arm The precious product of the farm. She. bears it through the open door, And down upon the parlor floor, Dumps the best beans vines ever bore. Ah ! happy were their songs that day. When man and wife they rode away. But happier this chorus still. Which echoed through those woodland scenes: " God bless the priest of Watsonville ! God bless the man who took the beans 1 ”