Into the
church have thronged the elect, proud and disdainful; on the outside has
stared the vulgar multitude, too ignorant for anything but rapt
wonderment. From the temple of high-priced worship the celebrants have
passed, in a still more exclusive body, to a residence where a banquet
has been prepared by a man who generally makes ice cream for a living,
and where a dazzling display of wedding presents has been uncovered to
the careless gaze. Then the train bears away the twain of one foolish
flesh, and the farce is over.
OF COURSE IT WAS A FARCE.
The elect read the newspapers next morning with a smile. None but he of
the vulgar multitude was hoodwinked. The man and the woman have spent
all their money to purchase a "swell wedding." The presents were hired,
so were most of the "hacks." The florist has got part of his money. The
couple, six months afterward, are "beating" some poor landlady out of
their board, and the man, in all likelihood, will never again be heard
of. But the women have been intensely agitated by the event. They have
never thought about the subsequent aspects of the case.
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