wave seeming to waltz with wave, for mirth the airs whispered love-tales to one another, and moved the very leaves of the trees to sympathetic tenderness : the birds sang amorous songs amongst the bushes, and made earth glad with their rich melody the sheep bleated to one another pleasantly, as they wandered over the mountain-side: and the cattle lowed in the green meadows, as if rejoicing in the flowers beneath their feet, and the blue heavens above them. All nature was pleased, and joined in the happiness and harmony of the wedding party. The inhabitants of the united parishes of Craigyvellyn and Glanheathyn were all astir from five o'clock that morning. Every flower and evergreen had been pilfered for miles, and formed into arches, and garlands, hung at every available spot, from the door of the cottage, to the little church upon the cliff. Long tables were laid out in the miller's large field, and portentous-looking barrels

of ale were rolling from the Golden Lion thitherwards. A large fire was in preparation, before which an ox was shortly to hang, and men, women, and children were bustling to and fro, dressed in there Sunday garbs, and making the rocks and hills echo with their merry voices. High praises are spoken of the Earl of Hastings, whose liberality has made the hearts of the poor leap for joy; and warm blessings are poured upon the heads of the brides and bridegrooms.

We will pass over all the heart-beatings, and attirings, and manifold preparations at the cottage; all the mingled feelings of Lady Llewellen and Gwenthlean at the prospect of leaving the scene of so many joys and sorrows: all the fond prayers of the mother, and tears and blushes of the daughters.

We will come at once to the church upon the rock, and proclaim the marriageceremony to have been solemnly per

formed by Mr. Lloyd, and reverently responded to by those whose hands he has joined for weal or woe.

The three bells of the little church strike out as vehemently as their ringers can make thein instantly they are responded to by another peal across the sea at Glanheathyn: and as instantly a long, loud cheer rends the air, begun upon the cliffs, caught up by hundreds of voices upon the beach, and echoed from the wellfilled boats and skiffs, that are bearing reinforcements of guests across the ferry, as fast as oars and sails can move them.

Forth comes the bridal party from the church porch. In pairs they descend the rough step, wind through the narrow churchyard, and walk down the steep circuitous path through the rocks, to the sands below, where the carriages are waiting to receive them. Bright and gay they look, as they make their way through the rock-plants and brushwood, down to

arm.

the wall of luxuriant perriwinkles that cover the rocks on either side at their base, and seem to wear a smile of welcome in their dark blue eyes. First comes the queenly Clare, leaning upon her noble husband's Proudly, he looks upon her tall and graceful form, as she steps into the coroneted carriage that awaits them; and a happy man he feels, as he seats himself by her side, in the consciousness that she is now his for ever. The four prancing horses drive off, and the shouts of the people redouble. Now follows the delicate and trembling Gwenthlean, conscious of nothing but that Herbert is by her side, and that death alone can separate him from her. Beneath the long white veils of both the sisters, the blush of excitement and feeling glows; and the rapid beating of the hearts may almost be seen under the zephyr-like bridal garb. Tenderly Herbert presses Gwenthlean's hand, as he assists her into the handsome travelling carriage pre

pared for them by Colonel Llewellen, and as they drive away, the cheers that would try to follow them, are stifled by the sobs and tears of the kind-hearted peasants who have known and loved them from childhood. Next come the worthy miller and his bride. We must lay aside sentiment and tear-drops, when we look at them, and take to matter-of-fact and laughter. In his zeal for Miriam's-I beg her pardon, Mrs. Jenkins's comfort-the bridegroom is momentarily in danger of slipping down the rocky path, and thereby injuring his bridal garb. This consists of the smartest of blue coats and yellow buttons, on which may be seen emblazoned a windmill, a device of his own, which he considers highly appropriate. A yellow waistcoat and white trowsers, complete his attire, to which we must add the most conspicuous of flower bushes, protruding from the largest of button holes. The bride's peagreen poplin dress, white bonnet, and white