CONCLUSION.

Life in the country has many scenes for pictures. Its customs and festivities, though sometimes rude and homely, are never without their romance. The country courtship may not be conducted by laws laid down in books of etiquette, but it is all the more romantic for its frank simplicity. The city courtship may appear the most genteel in the splendid parlor, with the lover on a sofa displaying his stocks and certificates of wealth to the matron, and through her winning his sweetheart; while the maiden at her piano opens absorbing ears to catch his wooing words; but all must confess the country courtship makes the best picture, with the ruddy maiden in the farm-yard, in her cool sun-bonnet and clean checkered frock; the bloom of the season on her cheeks, and its fragrance in her breath; making music with sweet streams in her milk-pail; while her lover at her elbow, or leaning over the wall, as jocund as a bobolink, tells her of his horses and cows; his wheat-lands and meadow-lands; his berry-fields; his melon-patch, and maple-orchard; his nice little rural home, and his pleasant love of her.

The country wedding also makes a charming picture of one of the happiest scenes under heaven; and it was determined by the Fabenses that Fanny’s wedding should lack no joy or enjoyment which they had means to give. The season was never more lovely, and the fruits of the garden, orchard, and field were never more abundant. The commodious farm-house had been re-painted, and it looked as well as new; its doors could open to a goodly company, and a goodly company came before three o’clock to make merry with them.

Neighbor Nimblet and his wife were the first of the wedding-guests who entered; and Nancy and her husband entered soon after. Then came Uncle Walter over the fields, a-foot, with his coat on his arm, in his new wide-brimmed hat, long Lon’on-brown vest, with gilt buttons and scarlet back; his white wristbands turned up, and white collar turned down; enjoying, in the tidiest way, a clean little quid of Cavendish, and selecting and cooking a story for the feast. And Aunt Huldah came with him in the neatest cap, the nicest dress, and the brightest gold beads that any old lady wore. Then came the Teezles; then came the Colwells, followed soon by their young people. Then came the Wilsons; then came the widow Flaxman, thinking how sad it would be to sing one of her old nasal songs alone. Then came Mrs. Troffater and Ruth; and they were able to offer no satisfactory excuse for Tilly, who had refused all their pleas to come with them, and taken to the woods without his dog or gun. Many remarked that they never saw Mrs. Troffater appear so well before. She wore a brand-new calico frock, of a rich de laine appearance; she had a nice cap, and handsome amber beads; and though her cap-border was rather too wide, and plaited too thinly for perfect taste, and the young people smiled to see it rise and fall with the wind; she appeared well enough; and no one attended the wedding with a warmer welcome than she. Then came Seneca Waldron and his wife; and soon all the guests were there.

The fathers and mothers were gathered into the white north-room, exchanging glad looks and hearty salutations, as if each had been autumn itself, smiling in great and abundant heart on the scene; and they were discussing the beauty of the day, and the excellence of the season; relating each other’s history; and recalling incidents of the olden time, when the country was new, and neighbors were farther apart and more friendly; while the young people, happy as a flock of birds in the sunny days of mate-choosing, and freshly blooming as the landscape around them, were out on the mown field adjacent to the house, whirling in the sportive ring, bounding in the merry dance, chatting in agreeable groups, or chasing one another on flying feet to exact or administer some little forfeit, or whisper some mirthful word or tale.

Father Lovelight, the travelling Minister, had long been expected on another visit to Summerfield, and he came three or four days in advance of the appointment, to attend the wedding and perform the ceremony. The time drew near for the company to be called in, and the ceremony to commence, and Mr. and Mrs. Fabens talked to each other of the joy that sat as a guest in their home.

“We feel well for our daughter,” said Fabens, “we believe that life to her must be a blessing, and we are glad to meet our friends when we find it in our power, as in our pleasure, to make them so happy.”

“Certainly, this is a happy occasion as I ever attended in my life,” said Father Lovelight; “and I wish my good wife could be here. I know her whole heart would enjoy it. I have attended weddings, where the parties were unequally matched, or unprepared for a union so sacred, and they have given me funeral thoughts. May this joy be prophetic of the future bliss of the young couple. May my offices this afternoon be always a subject of pleasant thoughts.”

“There’s nothing at all unpleasant in a time like this,” said Uncle Walter; “and I tell you what, Fabens, we have had a good many merry times in these parts.”

“That we have,” answered Fabens, “and I do not recollect any party we have had among us, that did not more than pay the trouble and expense, in the proceeds of joy and love it added to our treasury.”

“Uncle Moses and I determined before any of you came, that there shouldn’t be any hermits in the settlement; but if we could have our say, all should be neighbors, and have our joys and griefs together, without respect to high or low. We have kept our word pretty well; and, if we have not, like the chipmonks, laid up quite so many nuts in our nests, we have had acorns of pleasure in thousands, laid up all the more comfort, and held our ages better.”

“Ay, ay,” answered Fabens; “these neighborly loves, these social regards and reunions, have been the life and wealth of our place; and I for one have been more blest than Hezekiah, as I am sure that more than fifteen years have been added to my life.”

“Our lives are greener and wider, as well as longer for these things,” said Uncle Walter. “Men are like corn, growing all to stalk, and looking sallow, and scrawny, when standing alone; but branching out in broad leaves, abundant silks and lusty ears, when they grow and wave together.”

“Even the young man who came here last night a stranger, Mr. Sumner, I believe he called his name,” interrupted Mrs. Fabens, glancing out on the green where the young people lingered in merriment: “even he seems to enjoy it with the rest. I am glad we invited him to stay and refresh himself, and share our happiness all he can. And I see he is already acquainted with several, and often smiles. But he frequently looks serious and absent, as though his mind was away. He may be reminded of his home, and of some good time like this with hearts near and dear.”

“A stranger?” asked Mrs. Nimblet, “a stranger! and how could you persuade him to stay where all were strangers to him?”

“We urged him considerably,” said Fabens, “and thinking it would rest and refresh him for finishing his journey, he concluded to tarry and enjoy what he could. See, there he stands talking with Jeanie Waldron, near the bee-house on the left, the girl dressed in white with a flower in her hair.”

“Near the girl with a flower? O I see him, I see him,” cried Mrs. Nimblet. “And I,” cried another, “and I” another.

“Well, he’s a real nice-looking fellow, I vow he is, if that’s he with Jeanie,” said Mrs. Wilson.

“I tell you what, he looks like a manly major,” added Uncle Walter.

“I call him handsome,” said Mrs. Fabens, “and I know he must be a good and noble-gifted being; he looks it all from his lovely eyes. And if he is made happy among strangers, surely we have done something for a wayfarer, and ought to take pleasure from the deed.”

“A deed like that will answer very well in lieu of what the Squire was going to do for a young man in ‘Fabens Academy,’ and for a poor homeless heart in ‘Fabens Asylum,’ when he got rich in the firm of ‘Fairbanks, Frisbie and Fabens!’” said Uncle Walter with a roguish leer.

“None of your nonsense now, Uncle Walter!” answered Fabens with a blushing smile.

“I never had a stranger so win upon my heart before,” said Mrs. Fabens. “He seems a stranger, and not a stranger, in the same look. I could kiss him and call him my son, I could, I feel so towards him! O there is one wish that keeps rising in my heart. I have tried to repress it, for it cannot be right to harbor it so long; but it will rush before me, and I sigh for one more blessing. If Clinton could be here, our dear lost Clinton! Last night I dreamed he came back and made us all so happy; and as he sat down to a feast we made for him, a company of joys like little smiling cherubs waited on the table, and gave him the best of every dainty and treat. And telling the dream to Fanny this morning, the tears filled her eyes, and she said, ’If we could have him here, it would be all the heaven we could ask below. What would I not give,’ said she, ’to have my brother at my wedding!’ It was such a joyful dream, and it was so hard to wake up and find it was nothing but a dream, and Clinton was not here!”

“I cannot think of the poor boy for a moment,” said Fabens, “without grief for his loss and regret for the affliction. But we cannot have everything as we like it now. We must be resigned, and wait for heaven to bring the perfect bliss. God afflicts in mercy; I am sure we shall meet him in heaven, and that will be greater than any blessing earth can give. You would have worshipped an Indian, Julia, if he had brought Clinton alive to your arms, on the day of the great search, would you not?”

“I should have been tempted to worship him. Words could not have told my gratitude and love,” said Mrs. Fabens.

“Then, think what sufficing joy we should take to our souls,” said Fabens, “and what thanks of worship we should give our God and Redeemer, for the assurance that he will be brought to our bosom in all the youthful bloom of heaven, never more to wander from us, never more to suffer, never more to sorrow, never more to die!”

“But for that blessed hope,” said Mrs. Fabens, with a flush of lofty feeling lighting all her features “but for that blessed hope, I should be a maniac, I know I should, at this moment.”

“What could have become of the pretty precious boy?” asked Fabens, as a tear rolled over each cheek. “Can he be alive? I often think of the little fawn, and mother’s dying words. O, the terrible mystery! Will it never be solved on earth? The Lord’s will be done!”

“I remember just how he looked the last time I saw him,” said Uncle Walter, wiping his eyes. “I fingered his crinkling curls, and said ’What does Uncle Walter want of Clintie?’ ‘A kiss,’ cried the little beauty, and threw his soft arms around my old neck, opened hit lips, like sweet-pea blossoms, and planted a rousing smack on my chin. Then, I caught him in my arms, kissed his velvet cheeks, chanked his fat neck, chuckled under his chin, and called him a bobolink; and he made all ring again with his merry bobolink laugh. That was the last time I saw him.”

“He was a dear boy,” sighed Fabens.

“Too dear, too dear to die as he did. O, Lord, continue thy comfort!” sobbed Mrs. Fabens.

The conversation was then interrupted, for it was announced that the couple were ready to appear for the ceremony as soon as the guests could be called into the north room. The guests gathered in, and took their seats, more than filling the room. Then entered the bridegroom, leading as bright a blooming beauty of a bride, as your dainty eyes would choose to see; and they seated themselves where nearly all the company had the blessing of a view of their joyful looks. Uncle Walter declared, that the sight was feast enough for him, and he should have no appetite after that for supper. Colwell thought it was lighter and more summer-like in the room than before.

Then, when every breath and pulse were so hushed, that nothing but silence itself filled all ears, Father Lovelight begged leave to perform a ceremony before the marriage one. It would not be a great interruption, and he hoped it might heighten, and not dampen their joys. And leading in the stranger, he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Fabens, the gentleman I hold by the hand, revealed to me a mystery last night, which I am not unhappy now to disclose. Your prayers are answered. Your joy is complete. Receive your lost son. Clinton returns in joy to your arms!”

“Has heaven been opened so soon?” cried Fabens, standing like a statue.

“It cannot be Clinton, but, only my dream of him!” cried Mrs. Fabens, clasping her hands, and looking amazed.

“Believe me, madam, it is your own dear son,” said Father Lovelight.

“Father!” cried the stranger.

“Clinton!” cried Fabens, rushing to embrace him.

“My child! my dear, dear child!” cried Mrs. Fabens, falling in his arms.

“O, father! mother! sister!” cried the stranger, as the loving three contended to clasp him closest to each heart.

“Is it my brother, or my mother’s dream I hold! It must, it must be he! O, we will be happy now!” cried Fanny, embracing all of that precious form she could extort from her father and mother.

“I will have at least one hand my brother’s hand!” cried George Ludlow, grasping his left hand and pressing it warmly.

“It is he! it is Clinton! I know this face these eyes! I do not dream! It is not heaven has opened. Clinton’s alive, and mother’s word fulfilled!” cried Fabens, pressing the stranger closer to his heart.

“Merciful heavens! what can this mean?” exclaimed Mrs. Nimblet.

“It is amazing strange!” replied Mr. Nimblet.

“I’ll have one grab at him, any way,” cried Uncle Walter, making for the hand, so warmly clasped by George Ludlow.

“So’ll I! So’ll I, and take pay and interest for my four days’ hunt,” cried Wilson.

“I loved to kiss him, too; and where is my part?” cried Aunt Huldah, joining in the group.

“And mine!” “and mine!” cried Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Colwell.

“Gracious alive! what’s comin’ to pass? Good! good! good! if it’s Clintie but, O, I fear now, that Tillson’s in fault I fear!” exclaimed Mrs. Troffater, seeming to be shocked with some new suspicion of her husband.

“Bring water! bring water! Mrs. Fabens is faint!” cried Mrs. Teezle, and Mrs. Troffater brought water, and her mind and strength were restored, while she exclaimed, “too good! too good, I fear! too good to be true!” and “just right! just right in the nick o’ time!” replied Uncle Walter.

Others attempted to edge in their hand and word of joy, who were crowded back by those before them. It was no dream. It was their own worshipped Clinton in their arms. And it remains only for the present to relate, that the marriage ceremony, though delayed longer than any one was aware, till Father Lovelight at last gave the hour, was still performed, and rare and high was the joy that made Uncle Walter forget his story, and Mrs. Flaxman her song; and was carried on by that glorious company full to the very midnight.

Tilly Troffater had bitterly repented the crime of the boy’s abduction, to which he was accessary, and he received not a moment’s respite from the tortures of hell, that tore his anguished heart, till he heard where Clinton remained; went, and informed him of his parents, and home, and directed his steps to that door. But the young man’s story is reserved for another volume, on another labor of life.