The last kiss was given--the last embrace over--and, amid a storm of hurrahs and laughter and a hailstorm of old slippers and uncooked rice, we dashed away from my two-hours’ bride’s father’s country mansion in the new family carriage, on our wedding tour. The programme was that we were to stay at the little village of Blank that night, and on the morrow we expected to reach the city of Noname, where we would be able to find conveyances more in accord with the requirements of the last quarter of the nineteenth century of grace than a carriage and pair. Arm in arm and hand in hand we sat during the long, bright June afternoon, as the prancing grays hurried us along the country roads--now bes…
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