altar. So brilliant was the spectacle that few took notice of a
singular phenomenon that had marked its entrance. At the moment
when the bride's foot touched the threshold the bell swung
heavily in the tower above her, and sent forth its deepest knell.
The vibrations died away and returned with prolonged solemnity,
as she entered the body of the church.

"Good heavens! what an omen," whispered a young lady to her
lover.

"On my honor," replied the gentleman, "I believe the bell has the
good taste to toll of its own accord. What has she to do with
weddings? If you, dearest Julia, were approaching the altar the
bell would ring out its merriest peal. It has only a funeral
knell for her."

The bride and most of her company had been too much occupied with
the bustle of entrance to hear the first boding stroke of the
bell, or at least to reflect on the singularity of such a welcome
to the altar. They therefore continued to advance with
undiminished gayety. The gorgeous dresses of the time, the
crimson velvet coats, the gold-laced hats, the hoop petticoats,
the silk, satin, brocade, and embroidery, the buckles, canes, and
swords, all displayed to the best advantage on persons suited to
such finery, made the group appear more like a bright-colored
picture than anything real. But by what perversity of taste had
the artist represented his principal figure as so wrinkled and
decayed, while yet he had decked her out in the brightest
splendor of attire, as if the loveliest maiden had suddenly
withered into age, and become a moral to the beautiful around