disengaged herself from her partner, and ran off to the house; she and the kitchenmaid presently returning with a large tray covered with all kinds of cakes (of which we are great consumers and always have a stock), and a large hamper full of bottles of wine, with coffee and sugar.  This seemed all very acceptable.  The fiancee was requested to distribute the eatables, and a bucket of water being produced to wash the glasses in, the wine disappeared very quickly—­as fast as they could open the bottles.  But, elated, I suppose, by this, the floor was sprinkled with water, and the musicians played a Monferrino, which is a Piedmontese dance.  Madame B. danced with the farmer’s son, and Emily with another distinguished member of the company.  It was very fatiguing—­something like a Scotch reel.  My partner was a little man, like Perrot, and very proud of his dancing.  He cut in the air and twisted about, until I was out of breath, though my attempts to imitate him were feeble in the extreme.  At last, after seven or eight dances, I was obliged to sit down.  We stayed till nine, and I was so dead beat with the heat that I could hardly crawl about the house, and in an agony with the cramp, it is so long since I have danced.”

A MARRIAGE

The wedding of the farmer’s daughter has taken place.  We had hoped it would have been in the little chapel of our house, but it seems some special permission was necessary, and they applied for it too late.  They all said, “This is the Constitution.  There would have been no difficulty before!” the lower classes making the poor Constitution the scapegoat for everything they don’t like.  So as it was impossible for us to climb up to the church where the wedding was to be, we contented ourselves with seeing the procession pass.  It was not a very large one, for, it requiring some activity to go up, all the old people remained at home.  It is not etiquette for the bride’s mother to go, and no unmarried woman can go to a wedding—­I suppose for fear of its making her discontented with her own position.  The procession stopped at our door, for the bride to receive our congratulations.  She was dressed in a shot silk, with a yellow handkerchief, and rows of a large gold chain.  In the afternoon they sent to request us to go there.  On our arrival we found them dancing out of doors, and a most melancholy affair it was.  All the bride’s sisters were not to be recognised, they had cried so.  The mother sat in the house, and could not appear.  And the bride was sobbing so, she could hardly stand!  The most melancholy spectacle of all to my mind was, that the bridegroom was decidedly tipsy.  He seemed rather affronted at all the distress.  We danced a Monferrino; I with the bridegroom; and the bride crying the whole time.  The company did their utmost to enliven her by firing pistols, but without success, and at last they began a series of yells,