ing perhaps in these pages, as causing a greatexcitement at the time it transpired. It was in the summer of 18—. Saratoga was at its hight of revelry, when one evening it was announced that the wealthy and fashionable Mrs. —, who had recently returned from Europe—where she had flown to prevent her daughter from marrying the man she preferred of all others—had just arrived at the hotel, in a high state of indignation at having caught sight, in the depot, of her daughter's still adoring lover. This was rather too much for Mrs. — to bear; but she stormed and fretted in vain. The engagement was renewed between the lovers, and arrangements forthwith made for an elopement; but the clergyman engaged to unite them was, unknown to them, one of her father's intimate friends, who immediately made the matter known to both of her parents. He, however, appeared on the ground at the appointed hour for the ceremony, accompanied by the lady's father. Here was a scene; the lady fainted, was borne to her apartments, and after a consultation with the respective parties it was deemed advisable to let them be married. Accordingly, preparations upon the grandest scale were commenced, and the wedding took place before the fashion of Saratoga, the next day, in the village church. The bride was simply but elegantly attired, and the nuptial pair, with their twelve bridesmaids and twelve groomsmen, made a splendid wedding array. All the attendants wore white satin rosettes, and the footmen and servants, carriages and horses were streaming with white satin ribbons. The bride's favorite riding horse was decorated off for the occasion, and having been left standing in the rear
