Canton Weekly Register

MISCELLANEOUS.
From Peterson's Magazine.
WHICH IS WHICH?
BY ETLA RODMAN.
A very cheerful looking upper room was pleasantly littered with all manner of pretty things pertaining to a lady's wardrobe; and two young girls, who were engaged in a valuable discussion of the various articles, harmonized very agreeably with the beauty around them. There were "loves of organdies" spread out on the bed, delicate lilac, and rose, and blue; perfect silks hanging over chair backs, and a simple but exquisitely beautiful bridal dress; arranged in state by itself. Then there was mysterious looking boxes, and parcels, and things for which it would be difficult to find a name, making the room look as though a dry goods store had been suddenly emptied into it.
"There is certainly something very exhilarating in a quantity of new things all at one," exclaimed one of the young girls, as she gazed admiringly upon the attractive paraphernalia. "It is almost enough, of itself, to induce one to get married. But, after all, Jessie," looking around critically, "while all that you have is very pretty, and in perfect taste, there is nothing costly or elegant—I do not quite understand it."
The fair bride elect blushed as though suspected of a misdemeanor, while she replied quickly, "you know, Emma, that papa is not rich, and Herbert is quite a poor young clergyman."
"Yes, I know all that," said the damsel, decidedly; but I also know that uncle Bridges, who is rich, gave you a check for a thousand dollars, 'to be spent in bridal foolery,' as he complimentarily termed it.
Now, in looking upon your purchases, unexceptionable as they are, I see nothing like value received for the sum in question; and I ask what has become of the thousand dollars—or at least five hundred dollars of it?"
Jessie's pretty face was in such an evident state of confusion, that her cousin suddenly exclaimed, "I see land ahead, I do believe! Jessie Ingleson, you've given the missing five hundred to that imaginary little church that Herbert is so frantic to have erected in the coal regions! You needn't deny it. I don't consider that the French Empress' appropriation of her diamond necklace for a school, or something, was anything compared to this—for diamond necklaces were comparatively every day affairs with her; but five hundred dollars is a sort of meteor that will scarcely cross your path once in a century."
Jessie murmured softly, "'neither will I offer burnt offerings unto the Lord my God of that which doth cost me nothing.' Please do not say anything more about it, Emma; Herbert approves of what I have done, and that is sufficient for me."
"Of course," returned Emma, mischievously, "'the handmaid only desireth to do what seemeth pleasing in the eyes of my lord.' But really, Jessie, I think I must reconsider my hasty promise to make you an early visit at the rectory; for I have an unpleasant vision before me of sitting down at the dinner table, fearfully hungry, in full view of my favorite chicken pie, all impatience and expectation, when suddenly his reverence, for whom we have waited, makes his appearance from outside, saying, in a matter-of-course tone, as he seizes the chicken pie, 'My love, there is a poor woman at the door with a drunken husband and six small children, who says she has not tasted chicken pie for a month! I am sure that, after this, you and Emma will cheerfully dine off the cold meat. I will likewise take the sweet potatoes, my love,' (another pet vice of mine,) 'as we shall find bread a very good substitute. When we give let it be of our best.' Now I can't help being hungry," continued the lady, piteously, "and when I am hungry I am cross, so I am afraid I should be very uncomfortable among such good people."
"I declare, Emma, you are really too bad!" said Jessie, laughing in spite of herself, at her cousin's comical expression, while delivering this tirade; "and I have a great mind to punish you by not allowing you to come to the rectory at all. But see here," she continued, as a servant entered with a large bandbox, "is something to divert your thoughts from your anticipated troubles."
Two exquisite bonnets of white crape, trimmed with lilies of the valley, and made exactly alike, soon sent the mercurial Emma into ecstasies of admiration.
"One for each of us, dear," said Jessie, with an affectionate kiss.
"You should not have done this," was the reply, "especially after the deficiency in your accounts; there, don't look so reproachfully at me, I promise not to mention the subject of accounts again. But do you know, you little idiot! that bridesmaids don't wear bonnets exactly like the bride? You must let me take out these lovely lilies that look so pure and modest, and put in a staring pink rose, in order to notify a credulous, trusting public that I am not Mrs. Herbert Wylie."
"No! no!" exclaimed Jessie, eagerly, "promise me that you won't, Emma! You don't know," said the poor little bride elect, trembling all over, "how dreadful that first Sunday in our parish seems to me. I fancy myself walking up the broad aisle with Herbert, and every one pointing and looking at me, as they whisper, 'There's the bride!' 'That's the rector's wife.' What do you think of her?" I know my face will be the color of a beet, and that I will not know what I am doing. You must promise to be with me on that first Sunday, like a dear good girl, and wear the bonnet like mine."
The "amethyst eyes," as her lover called them, were looking most beseechingly into Emma's dark orbs, who exclaimed in delight:
"What a head it is for plotting to be sure, under those innocent looking waves of auburn hair. Yes, my dear, I will enter, heart and hand, into your diabolical scheme; and I do devoutly hope that, as no one could possibly mistake us for twin sisters, there will ensue a most delightful state of confusion."
Jessie looked rather alarmed. "Do you think it would be wrong?" she asked, timidly.
Her cousin immediately assumed a solemn expression of countenance. "I always had a great admiration," said she, "for the woman who, being reduced to selling crumpets for a living, added to herself, after calling out her wares, 'I hope to goodness no one hears me!' Now if you feel at all uneasy respecting the deception of your admirably arranged plan, you can pin a slip of paper on your bonnet, with the word—'I am the bride—but please don't see this.'"
Jessie's pretty under lip had something of a pout, as she exclaimed, "I really think, Emma, it is very unkind of you to tease me so; when I am going away, too!"
The wedding was over, and the wedding trip, which had occupied a blissful month, spent in lounging through quaint, Canadian cities, and dreaming on the beautiful waters of the St. Lawrence; and Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Wylie, with Mr. Allen Wylie, and Miss Emma Raybold—the brother of the groom and cousin of the bride—arrived at the rectory on Saturday evening.
Poor little Jessie dreaded the Sunday ordeal so bad that her mischievous cousin was quite moved in her behalf; and when service time arrived Mrs. Wylie appeared in her gray traveling dress and straw bonnet, trimmed with blue, and took her brother-in-law's arm, while Miss Raybold, looking very lovely in the bonnet trimmed with lilies of the valley, and a white barege dress, with a mantle of the same, coolly took possession of her new cousin.
Now the Rev. Herbert had gone into such lover-like ecstasies over the becomingness of Jessie's traveling costume, that he innocently supposed she wore it this morning to pay him a particular compliment; he was also ignorant that it was not the custom for unmarried girls to attire themselves in bridal white. Thinking too, that Jessie was particularly kind to Allen as his brother, she became more lovely than ever in his eyes; and the unsuspicious man walked blindly into the snare that these two artful girls had prepared for him.
A bright color glowed in Miss Raybold's cheek, and an enthusiastic young man declared that she 'was a vision of beauty,' as the party advanced to the rector's pew; but a mischievous light sparkled in the downcast eyes, as she found herself the object of curious, inquiring stares, that speedily assumed an admiring character. She knew that she was pretty, although by no means unpleasantly conscious of it; and this enabled her to bear with equanimity the wrapt gaze of a young man in the adjoining pew. She rather wished that he had not gazed at her quite so frequently, however; for, in the one glance that she had directed that way, she saw enough to impel her to look again—but that was impossible when she was certain of meeting his eyes. He was first her beau ideal—outwardly at least; tall, fair, and aristocratic looking—and Miss Emma was by no means as attentive to the service as she should have been.
Mr. Wylie was a comparative stranger in the parish, having been there but six months: and all his doings, therefore, were still a subject of interest. People were unanimous in their praises of the bride: and not a few young men sighed that so fair a vision should be appropriated. Some admired the sweet face of the quiet looking little cousin; but it was generally agreed that she was a very pale star beside the moon-like bride.
As they returned to the rectory, Mr. Wylie, who seemed to be looking for some one, observed: "I am quite disappointed that Frank Beechcroft did not come up to us after service, as I supposed he would have done. I wished particularly to introduce him to you Jessie, for he is my pet parishioner, and has been of great assistance to me. He is a very gentlemanly, intelligent fellow, too. What is the matter, Emma?"
The damsel had heaved a deep sigh. "I don't know," she replied, "unless I am in love. Who is that nice looking gentleman who sat on my right, and was so very devout and attentive?"
"The very friend of whom I was speaking," said Mr. Wylie, his face all aglow with enthusiasm. "I look upon Frank Beechcroft as a model man; he is superintendent of the Sunday School: is devoted to the poor and sick in an unostentatious way; and yet he is the very incarnation of fun and frolic wherever circumstances warrant an outburst. We must have him at the rectory Jessie, and let Emma give him some of her delicious music."
Allen Wylie was a college boy, rather at a loss what to do with himself, or his brother's fair guest, and far more disposed to devote himself to Jessie than to the bright and formidable Emma. The latter laughingly declared that he was too hopelessly 'veally' for her to have any patience with him, and they seemed to enter into a tacit agreement to let each other alone.
The bride was not left long without callers: each one of whom was apparently more astonished than the last to find that the bride was not the bride at all, but only her cousin. This ordeal was bad enough, to be sure; but Jessie felt intensely grateful that she had been spared that first Sunday appearance, for, by the next Sunday, all wonder would have died out. The feminine portion of the community were now fully acquainted with the identity of Mrs. Wylie, as were also certain young gentlemen, who could scarcely conceal their joy at the discovery that the fascinating Emma was not forbidden fruit.
But Frank Beechcroft had no sisters to enlighten him, for his home was in a distant city; and on the very day after the arrival of the party at the rectory, he most unaccountably took himself off there on a visit of a week's duration. The young clergyman was considerably puzzled and disappointed; he had quite looked forward to displaying his prize to Frank, and he was the very one of all others who seemed to avoid them.
But the rectory became so transformed by the two bright presences that seemed to fill every nook and corner of it, that the master found himself afloat in such a sea of happiness, as left him very little opportunity to trouble himself about secondary matters. Even Jessie displayed quite an elfish and mischievous propensity, incited and abetted by Emma: and with Allen's contributions from his college stores, the inmates of the rectory conducted themselves in such a manner as rather to astonish the head of the house, and give people generally the idea that they were "having a good time."
The rectory was a very pretty, picturesque looking place, with its vine shaded veranda, that was very aptly designated the 'summer parlor.' A young man passed slowly by one evening, looking lingeringly through an opening in the vines, where a bewitching vision in a white dress and scarlet shawl, that contrasted brightly with the rich coils of dark hair, presented itself.
"Why, Frank!" called out Mr. Wylie, "is that you? Do come and show yourself!" and he rose to welcome the expected visitor.
But the gentleman, raising his hat respectfully to the ladies, passed quickly on, murmuring something about 'business,' and 'great hurry.'
"I am very much afraid that Frank is in love," said Mr. Wylie, solemnly.
A sort of hysterical giggle proceeded from Emma's direction; but the next moment she was commenting very calmly on the stars.
The morning after, Mrs. Wylie was considerably surprised by the abrupt entrance of her cousin, in a glow of excitement, and looking her very loveliest. The jaunty little hat, with its rose colored feathers, was a most becoming contrast to the dancing eyes beneath; and the white dress, with rose colored ribbons, was exactly like Emma, for she understood dressing herself to perfection.
"Such an adventure as I have had!" she exclaimed. "I feel so delightfully wicked."
Then, throwing her hat on the sofa, she continued, "You must know, Jessie, that I rambled off by myself to explore that delightful piece of woods just opposite the orchard; and I was enjoying the cool, fresh, greenness exceedingly, and feeling quite good and sentimental, when I heard an individual, like one of the brothers in 'Comus,' wandering near me, and repeating poetry to himself. I could not distinctly hear the words, but they referred to some she of whom the speaker professed to know very little, but who had evidently made sad havoc with him generally. Animated by the spirit of mischief, and just to see what effect it would produce, I repeated the words 'She only said, my life is dreary.' The effect was not at all what I anticipated, being nothing less than the sudden apparition of that very good looking Mr. Beechcroft, who glared at me so wildly that I believe I screamed, or did something foolish. You see I was reposing very comfortably on the grass, in an attitude that rendered a speedy and graceful retreat out of the question; and I was, moreover, engaged in the infantile occupation of twining butter-cups into a wreath. Had I been a queen, he could not have approached me with more deference.
'Lady,' said he, in a most fascinating voice, 'do not be alarmed, I know too well what is due Mrs. Wylie to cause you any uneasiness.' I believe I sighed, (for the life of me I could not help it, Jessie,) and it all sounded so delightfully, like what you hear about French novels, (you know we were not permitted to read them,) where the heroes and heroines are always in love with other people's wives and husbands, that I quite held my breath in wonder as to what would come next. What did come next was, that the individual, after a prolonged gaze, (which I saw out of the tail of my eye) suddenly stooped and kissed my lips in the most melancholy manner imaginable, and saying, as he did so, 'Farewell forever in this world!' seemed to vanish into thin air. I cannot imagine, I am sure, how he could suppose that a kiss was 'due Mrs. Wylie,'
"Oh, Emma!" exclaimed her cousin, "this is really dreadful!"
"Isn't it?" continued the heroine, gayly, "Only fancy how Herbert will storm when he hears of this interview between Mrs. Wylie and Mr. Beechcroft."
"Why did you not tell him at once that you were not Mrs. Wylie?" asked Jessie, rather indignantly. "It would save a great deal of trouble, besides putting at ease this man, who has evidently fallen in love with you."
"Because, dear," replied her cousin, demurely, "I do so love to be engaged in a little bit of romance; and I do not think that men who fall in love with people ever should be 'put at their ease'—it just spoils them. The unattainable is always most attractive, and should Mr. Beechcroft discover that there is only a plain, commonplace 'Miss' before my name, I am afraid that his devotion would immediately sink down to zero immediately. Only think of the fascinating enormity of his conduct: to lose his heart to the wife of his rector."
Jessie laughed a little at Emma's nonsense, but she did not feel quite easy on the subject. Allen came in just then to bid them good-bye, as he was going back to college: and all conversation on the matter ceased.
The next day, at dinner, there was a very perceptible cloud on Mr. Wylie's face—he looked sad and troubled.
"Has anything occurred to disturb you, Herbert?" asked his wife, anxiously.
"Yes," he replied, as though he scarcely knew how to begin it. "I had a very painful letter from Frank Beechcroft this morning, explaining his strange conduct, and informing me that he intends leaving the place at once. He is an upright, noble fellow, and I cannot blame him; but I would have given much if this had not occurred. He has told me everything."
Very much to his surprise, Jessie, who had turned crimson at the beginning of his speech, burst into tears, and suddenly left the table; while Emma sat there, pale and trembling, under a powerful effort to command herself.
"What does this mean?" asked her cousin in anxiety. "Can it be possible that Jessie—"
A dreadful solution of his wife's distress rose to his mind, and almost maddened him; but with a forced smile Emma exclaimed,
"Don't be making mountains of mole hills, cousin Herbert; the whole affair from beginning to end is only a piece of girlish nonsense, as I will soon convince you.— When I get through you can give me a good shaking, if it will be any relief to you."
Mr. Wylie did not exactly administer the shaking; but he did administer rather a stern reproof, which Emma professed to laugh at: then, going in quest of Jessie, he found her such a wretched little bundle of tears and trembling that he was obliged to take her in his arms, and soothe her with caresses and protestations of the most lover-like character.
His next performance was to seize Frank Beechcroft, just as he was packing his trunk with an air of the fiercest melancholy, and drag him, almost by the hair of his head over to the rectory; where he was presented, in due form, to the wicked Emma, whose face burned painfully at the remembrance of that kiss: and then to the bona fide Mrs. Wylie, who looked so pretty in her confusion that her husband thought it would have been an easy matter for the youth to commit himself, as he thought he had done.
It took but a short time, after such a promising beginning, for Miss Raybold and Mr. Beechcroft to feel very well acquainted; and matters progressed so rapidly that Mrs. Wylie was not at all surprised when her mischievous cousin informed her that she had given a promise to a certain individual to wear her bridal bonnet to church on the first Sunday after the ceremony that converted her into Mrs. Beechcroft.