The Manchester Journal

There are middle-aged married people now, but their wedding is kept in greener remembrance than that of many couples since married in the same community. He was a young hard-working farmer out near the middle of the state; she the blooming daughter of a neighboring farmer who had accumulated piece for piece. He had a fine tract of land, a pretentious country home and a family that was looked up to by most of the community. He had worked his own way to the front, and there was nothing that he admired more in young men than the qualities that had won him success.

So Sim, for that was the youth's name, was in the good graces of the father as well as of the daughter.

On the day appointed for the wedding the guests moved toward the big home from all directions and in all kinds of vehicles. It was a holiday with them all, social distinctions interfering very little with universal invitation throughout the large circle of acquaintanceship. Preparations for entertaining the assemblage were of the most elaborate and hospitable character.

There was more food than is ordinarily provided for a regiment of soldiers. There were cider and apples by the barrel, and the mist that poured from the kitchen windows was freighted with appetizing odors. The parson was there, the choir from the little church was there and a few relatives from abroad were there to enjoy the festivities.

The beautiful table was set, the bride was dressed, the parson had begun to move about uneasily, and the good wife, after visiting the veranda several times, called her husband to one side and talked briefly in a low tone.

Then he knitted his brows, scanned the road in both directions and muttered to himself. Before long he put on his hat, slipped quietly up the back way and was soon on the roof, again studying the road. There were growls from the kitchen that the viands were getting cold, and the consoling voices heard in the bride's room did not serve to drown the sound of her weeping. It was a full hour after the time appointed for the wedding, and the bridegroom had not arrived.

The old gentleman went about looking as though he wanted to hurt someone. The mother bravely kept up appearances, and the parson looked at his open face watch at least twice every three minutes. The presence of a crisis could be heard in the air, and the general nervousness increased as the time for it approached.

"Gosh!" shouted a youngster who was whittling at the horse block, "see that fellow ride."

Every eye followed the direction indicated by the boy's knife blade and saw a veritable rough rider dashing down the wooded hill half a mile away.

Even on the steep descent the horse was urged to his utmost, and as he straightened away on the level it could be seen that he was cruelly driven. On he came, reeking, breathing in gasps, his nostrils distended and his head straightened to ease his breathing.

"Sim," said the father sternly as the rider threw himself from the saddle, "what does this mean? You've upset everything and Hattie's almost crazy. Now, where have you been, to come galloping up here like a wild Indian and the women folks most distracted?"

"Am I too late?" asked Sim excitedly. "Just as I got ready I saw that new Holstein cow I bought break out of the lower meadow, and I went after her. She gave me the all firedest chase you ever heard of, and blamed if I didn't forget about the wedding till I run that critter into Webb's yard and the hired girl told me the folks had come over here."

"Cow wasn't hurt, pa, was she?"

"Not a bit."

"Glad of it. That's the way to look after things. Now you come right in and get married and let me do the explaining."

Sim obeyed, and there was never a merrier time at any one's marriage.