The parties are wedded. The priest or clergyman has pronounced as one those hearts that before beat in unison with each other. The assembled guests congratulate the happy pair. The fair bride has left her dear mother bedewed with tears and sobbing just as if her heart would break, and as if the happy bridegroom was leading her away captive against her will. They enter the carriage. It drives off on the wedding tour, and his arms encircles the yielding waist of her now all his own, while her head reclines on the breast of the man of her choice. If she be young and has married an old man, she will be sad. If she has married for a home, or position, or wealth, a pang will shoot across her fair bosom. If she has married without due consideration or on too light an acquaintance, it will be her sorrow before long. But, if loving and beloved, she has united her destiny with a worthy man, she will rejoice, and on her journey feel a glow of satisfaction and delight unfelt before and which will be often renewed, and daily prove as the living waters from some perennial spring.