WEDDINGS

Taranaki Daily News, 7 April 1928, Page 21

WEDDINGS

McDonaId— HARROLD. The wedding was celebrated at St. Mark’s, Darling Point, Sydney, on March 17, by the Rev. Howard Lea, of Miss 0. E. Harrold, of New Plymouth, New Zealand, to Mr. R. J. McDonald, of Leith, Scotland. The bride wore a French model frock of beige shadow lace over pink georgette, with long, tight sleeves and caught in front with a buckle of pink pearls, a Caroline Revel hat with a pink rose on the side, and a sheaf bouquet of radiance roses and delphiniums. Miss M. Harrold, the bridesmaid, wore a pervenehe blue pleated georgette frock, pink beige felt hat, and carried a shower posy of pink roses and zinnias. The reception was held in the Blue Room of the Wentworth Cafe. The honeymoon is to be spent on the Blue Mountains before leaving for Adelaide to join the Oronsay for London. The bride travelled in a red and beige two-piece frock and felt hat to tone, with beige furs. McLELLEN— JONES. A quiet but pretty wedding was solemnised on March 13 at the residence of tile bride's uncle, Mr. J. Whittaker, Waitara, when Kathleen Mary, only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Okoke, was married to Harry Fisher, eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. MeLellen, Douglas. The Rev. Coombs officiated. The bride, who was given away by her father, wore a frock of white crepe de chine, the usual veil and orange blossom. ’She carried a shower bouquet of white flowers. She was attended by I Miss Alice Whittaker, who wore a pale blue frock with hat to match. Little Lola Whittaker was flower girl, wearing a cream frock. Each carried bouquets to match their frocks. The bridegroom’s present to the bridesmaid was a gold bracelet, and to the flower girl a gold brooch. Mr. E. MeLellen was best man. After the ceremony a reception was given, and a large number of relatives and friends were entertained. Later Mr. and Mrs. MeLellen left by ear amid showers of confetti and good wishes. SOCIETY’ WEDDING. BROTHER OF DUCHESS GF YORK. TREMENDOUS CROWDS. Visions of her own wedding nearly five years ago must have come very vividly to the Duchess of York on February 2, when, with the Duke, she arrived at St. George’s, Hanover Square, London, to see her brother, the Hon. Michael Bowes-Lyon, married to her friend, Miss Elizabeth Cator, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Cator, of Woodbastwick Hall, Norfolk, who. was one of her bridesmaids. It was a matter for wonder, though, that, she or the bride ever got to the church—for the streets all round were packed with people. Such tremendously excited crowds they were, too, and not of women and girls only, though these, naturally, were infinitely more numerous than the men. Nor were only the streets crowded; there was not a window within view-range of the church that was not filled with eager faces.

Not far from the church some rebuilding work was going on before the crowds collected, but it could not continue seriously to go on afterwards, for the scaffolding was taken by assault by scores of recklessly excited sightseers who used it as a grandstand. Hours ere the bride was due hundreds of women and .girls took their stand immediately before the church, and they needed a good deal of coaxing by the police to move- aside so that the ceremonial scarlet carpet could be laid on the steps. Presently coaxing had to be reinforced with deliberate pushing—nothing less than this done systematically by long chains of policemen with joined hands would have kept the people back frbm the very doors of the church. Very often, however, the sheer weight of the crowds broke these human barricades.

"HERE COMES THE DUCHESS!” It was when the crushing and pushing and shouting were in full swing that the cry arose: ‘Here comes the Duchess!” Instantly the crowds swayed in the direction of the voice—and then swayed back again under the more than ever determined pressure of the police. Finally the police gained just sufficient space to allow the passage of the ear in which the Duke and Duchess sat smiling. And when at last she stepped out and walked into the ehurch beside the Duke the cheering was deafening. The bride, too, was cheered until the streets rang. She came in a mist of ivory satin and Brussels lace-—lace which her grandmothers wore at their weddings. A very beautiful bride she was, though the sight of the great crowds had made her a little pale and nervous. Within the church a very charming scene was set. There were waiting for the bride her four little pages—miniature Highland chiefs in all the bravery of the Stuart elan, and with bejewelled skean dims, the bridegroom's gift to them, stuck in their hose. One of them was David Stuart, the 34-year-old son of Lady Rachel Stuart, and the others were the Hon. Timothy Bowes-Lyon, twin sister of the Hon. Lord and Lady Glamis, Janies LevesonGower and Frank Seymour. Side by side with them, sweetly wondering, stood the little bridesmaids, dressed like the great ladies of Charles the First's time, their feet in shoes of red satin. They were the Hon. Nancy Bowes-Y’yon, twin sister of the Hon. Timothy Bowes-Lyon, Miss Anne Bowes Lyon, Miss Juliet Colman and Miss Daphne Richardson. Each carried a posy of red tulips, and wore a diamond brooch —a present from the bridegroom. Lilies and chrysanthemums decorated the church, and just within the doors stood two bay trees, on one of which rosy apples had been tied, and on the other oranges. The bride was given away by her father; the best man was the 'Hon. David Bowes-Lyon, youngest son of the Earl and Countess of Strathmore. Chief among the officiating clergy was the Rev. Lord Victor Seymour, uncle of the bride. The old form of service was used, the bride promising to obey. CROWDS WAIT IN RAIN. Outside the crowds waited ■ patiently, though rain was falling heavily, and the scenes that occurred when the

Duke and Duchess of York left the church wer e even more tumultuous than those which marked their arrival. Their car was swallowed up in the dense masses of people when it began to move away, and again and again it was stopped. Women and girls pressed against the sides of the car, rapped on the windows, stood on the running-boards and clustered on the back. By very strenuous efforts the police at last cleared space for it, but only at a snail’s pace eould it pass through New Bond Street and into Brunton Street, where the press of people was less. Thereafter its progress was uninterrupted. The Duke and Duchess passed through the ordeal smiling, as though they thoroughly enjoyed it. A large number of friends and relations attended the ceremony, and the subsequent reception held by Mrs. Cator at 26 Belgrave Square, which was lent by Lord and Lady Stradbroke. Mrs. Cator wore a handsome gown of dark blue ring vel T ’t and a hat to match. Lady Strathmore, the bridegroom’s mother, had a black lace gown with a ring velvet cloak and a tulle hat, and her daughter, Lady Rose LevesonGower, was in mole-colour corduroy velvet. The Dowager Duchess of Montrose was with Lady Helen Graham, Lady Delia Peel, in ruby velvet, came with Lady Margaret Spencer, and Lady Ottoline Morrell and her nephew, Lord Morven Cavendish-Bentinck, were together, while there were a host of other titled people present.

LITTLE TALE FOR LITTLE Mother was well-meaning; but her judgment, not too good. And she coms mitted errors that a wise wife never should. One most important lesson that as yet remained unlearned, was to practise “live and let live” where poor Father was concerned. She suffered wifely tortures when he constantly refused to agree with her conception of how he should be amused. She said he had no social side; she ieally might as well be either widowed or unwed, for ail that folks eould tell. They never saw him with her when she paid her social calls; a grievance that, with little wives, inevitably galls. He seemed to ask *o more of home than slippers, pipe, and book; while all be looked for in his wife was just a good plain cook. And so on, infinitum; till there came a certain day when Father, in pursuit of peace, let Mother have her way. He followed her in leading-strings to dine chez Mrs. Brown; and Mother was the most triumphant little wife in town. Until some fortnight later, when, a sewing evening planned, Father turned up smiling with a weird, assorted band of colleagues from the office and of cronies from the club, and turned a well-run household into something like a pub. "I thought you’d love a change, my dear,” said beaming Machiavel, “Now here’s a chance to entertain my own good friends as well.” Mother's sense of humour wasn t equal to the blow. But she learned her wifely lesson, and she now lets Father go in search of his amusement on his own old beaten tracks; and makes no further comment on the social side ho lacks. H'S'