Chapter XXXIV: No. 13 Bellevue Street (2)

When all this takes place--and it is no more of an event than the daily home-coming of our good neighbor and dear friend Arthur Sterling, Esq., barrister-at-law,--when this home-coming takes place, all the birds at The Nest break forth into a merrier song--get so enthusiastic in their pipings that you'd think, to hear them, that they would split their throats; and still gladder and sweeter and merrier than their song is the voice of our dear neighbor's wife, Mistress May Sterling, who pours forth, in a ceaseless chattering song, a whole day's accumulation of love--yes indeed, a whole lifetime's accumulation; and while the rippling flow goes on their two fond hearts sing louder with joy than any birds would ever dare to think of singing.

How they love the birds! And why not? Since but for a little bird they would not have been together in this sweet little nest, outbilling and outcooing the Java sparrows, dwelling in the land of Love's young dream, in the sunshine of each other's affection, and ready to declare upon oath that there is no night in their lives that isn't radiant with the sheen of the honeymoon.

And now I'll tell you the story of a little bird as Mistress May Sterling told it to me one evening while her Arthur and I smoked our cigars in the moonlight on The Nest's piazza. No: on the whole, Mistress Sterling shall tell the story herself: she tells it much better than I can.

"Why, yes," she says, "I'll tell it: why not? I love to tell it, for, taken altogether, it is the best story I ever heard of.--Kiss me, dear."

Arthur having done as he was bidden, Mrs. Sterling begins at once, and all you and I have to do is to listen:

"When I was young and giddy--ever and ever so long ago, of course: indeed I was quite a girl then, only eighteen--I was, as you may imagine, quite a pet with my father--don't laugh, Arthur: you know I was--and quite a belle too, I can assure you, with lots of young men flinging themselves at my feet and swearing all kinds of oaths about fidelity and everlasting affection, and all the other things that young and enthusiastic--"

"And inexperienced," put in Arthur.

"Don't interrupt me, sir. Where was I? Oh yes!--that young and enthusiastic and inexperienced people are accustomed to swear. And my father, who was very stern and had old-fashioned notions--and has now, for that matter, dear old papa!--said that, whatever befell, he would not on any account give the least encouragement or the slightest permission to any lover till I was past twenty years old. Not that I cared, only it was such fun to hear the men talk, and me looking unutterable things and saying softly, 'You must never say anything to me on this subject again till you have papa's consent: he would be very angry if he knew what you've said already'! You see, I knew papa's will--it is unchangeable as granite: at least I thought it was--and I felt perfectly safe.

"This was, you know--no, you don't know--but it was the year I came out in society. And I used to go to receptions and all sorts of things with papa, and receive his company, and sit at the head of the table, and keep house, just as my mother would have done if she'd been living. I hardly remember mamma: I was not four years old when she died. And society and people's admiration seemed so glorious! I declared I'd never marry, but go on to the end of my days saying 'No' to any man that asked me, and enjoying such a lot of pity for the poor fellows. I deliberately hardened my heart, as many a girl does at that age, and fairly pitied--yes, actually pitied--the girls that were so weak as to fall in love and get married. I think papa used to encourage me in the feeling, for he didn't like to think of losing me out of the house, and he a judge and a Congressman, and having ever so much company, and nobody but dear old-fashioned Aunt Jane to help him receive them if I was to leave him.

"When father was re-elected to Congress we had a glorious reception at our house in the country, and among others that came to it was a Mr. Sterling, the son of my father's college chum, and a promising young sprig of the law, father said. He came to stay a day or two in the house as a visitor before the reception, and was to leave the morning after it took place."

At this point in the narrative Mr. Arthur bethought him of a letter he must write, and begged to be excused for a time--a piece of rare good sense on his part, considering how much the story had to do with himself.

"During his stay we had been a good deal together. I had been his guide to all the famous spots in the neighborhood, and he had been chatty and bright, and amused me greatly. We had a little chat in the conservatory that evening of the reception, and I told him I was sorry to have him leave.

"'Thank you,' he said. 'I would rather hear you say that than anything you could have said, except one.'

"'What is that, pray?' I asked.

"'That you would like to see me here again.'

"'Oh,' I replied, 'I never give invitations: papa does that. Of course he'll be glad to see you again.'

"'And you?'

"'Why, since you insist upon my saying it, I shall be glad too: you amuse me greatly.'

"'So might a tight-rope performer or a performing dog, I suppose?'

"'No: I don't care for such amusements. I like to hear the talk of bright men, and you strike me as a very bright man.'

"'It is only the reflection of yourself, Miss Bronson,' he said in a cold society tone, which, strange to say, pained me, and I replied that I didn't care for compliments: I had plenty of them, and they palled on me.

"Then he said, 'Do you want me to tell you the truth, the out-and-out truth--the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God?'

"'That's an oath, Mr. Sterling,' I said: 'don't commit yourself.'

"'I do commit myself--I came here to commit myself. I want you to hear me out and believe that I realize fully the solemnity of what I am saying. I have sought this opportunity to tell you that I love you, Miss Bronson.'

"Strangely enough, I wasn't the least moved: I don't think my heart beat the least bit faster; and I said, 'Why, Mr. Sterling, how can you know anything about me? How can you love me, when you've known me only two days, and seen me always on my best behavior? I am a very unlovable person: if you only knew me well you'd soon find it out. Of course, if you love me, it is all very well for you to tell me so, but I can't understand why you should.'

"'Is that all you have to say to me, Miss Bronson?' he asked earnestly.

"'Why, what can I say? You don't know me, and I don't know you; and you think you love me, and I don't love you at all. I'm fond of you in a certain way, to be sure, but love is quite a different thing. I never shall love anybody very much except papa: I never intend to. I'm very kind to you, Mr. Sterling, to talk to you as I do. In a few weeks, when you've all but forgotten my existence, you'll think of me just enough to be grateful to me for talking to you as I have. Love isn't a mushroom to spring up in a night: it is an oak to grow and grow, and only come to perfection after years and years. You don't love me at all, Mr. Sterling: you only think you do.'

"All this time he stood silent, looking more awkward than I ever saw him before or have seen him since. Then he put out his hand and said, 'I'll bid you good-bye, Miss Bronson: I'm going early in the morning. I shall not see you then, so I'll say good-bye now. I am going abroad in a few days.'

"'Abroad! where?' I hadn't heard of it, and I felt a strange sort of pang--of surprise, I thought.

"'To Leipsic, to finish my studies. I shall be gone a considerable time--two years at least. When I return I shall come to you and repeat what I've said to-night.'

"'Oh no, you won't: you'll forget all about it. I'd much rather you would. Please don't feel bound to come back: I release you from your oath, and I shall not expect you.'

"I don't know what more we might have said, but there was a flutter among the vines by the door, and we thought some one was near us. We were just returning into the adjoining dining-room when a little brown bird flew out into the light, and, hopping about among the flowers, began chirping in a sad sort of way that caught our attention at once.

"'It is only the little widow,' I said.

"'Lost her mate, eh?' Arthur said carelessly. He wasn't Arthur then, you know, but Mr. Sterling.

"'Yes: he's deserted her. She built here in the vines last spring when the conservatory was all thrown open. They were such a pair of lovers, she and her mate! She raised two broods of little ones, and it was quite a domestic revelation for me to see them, they seemed so fond of each other, and so happy, and so loving. But a month ago, when the plants were brought in and the cold nights began to come on, he left her, and she has been sad and heartbroken ever since.'

"'Perhaps he'll come back to her by and by,' said Arthur.

"'Oh no: he'll no more come back to her than you'll come back to me.'

"'Then he's sure to come,' replied Arthur; and just then my father came to look for me and bid me join the other guests.

"I didn't see Arthur again that night, and the next day he was gone. I never missed anybody so much. Nobody and nothing seemed to fill his place. I went into the room he had occupied, and found there a glove that he had left behind. I took it to my room and said, 'I'll keep it for him till he comes back.' I tried to speak lightly, and was surprised and angry at myself that the trivial thought seemed to mean so much.

"The winter wore on, and the little forsaken bird remained in the conservatory, and sometimes would fly into the room, and I felt a lonely sort of sympathy with it. I used to take the bird in my hand sometimes and call it a poor thing, and talk to it, and tell it that it was no worse off than many a poor girl or many a young wife, for men were like her mate, and promised all sorts of things they didn't mean, and couldn't be faithful if they tried. After a while we went to Washington, and I saw a great many people and received a great deal of attention. The Prussian ambassador had a brother visiting him--a Baron Dumbkopf--very handsome, very rich, very distingué, and soon very attentive to me. He was constantly at our house, and he was agreeable enough and easy to talk to, and very obedient, and very seldom a bore. I rather liked him, and papa liked him exceedingly. I wasn't at all surprised when one day he suddenly became sentimental and ended by offering me his hand.

"'Have you spoken with my father on this subject?' I asked.

"He had not: would I give him permission to do so? I told him that I should not even consider his proposition for a moment till he had talked with my father; that I never intended to marry without my father's consent; and as for falling in love, I was sure I should never do that.

"So he went away to talk with my father, and I felt safe. I hadn't an idea papa would do as he did, you see; but the truth is, papas are not to be depended upon--at least, not always.

"The next day my father called me into the library and asked me if I loved Baron Dumbkopf.

"'No,' I said, 'I don't love him.'

"'Do you like him?'

"'No.'

"'Do you dislike him?'

"'No: I am quite indifferent to him.'

"'He is of a very good family and of excellent character,' said my father.

"'I know all that,' I replied. 'Do you wish me to marry him, papa?'

"'I can't say that I wish you to, my daughter, but if you loved him I should be pleased for you to have such a husband.'

"I was never more surprised in my life. Then he told me a great many things about the baron--how universally he was esteemed, what a position he held in society, how wealthy he was, how honorable and how good. These things I knew before. They certainly had weight with me in favor of the baron: I think they would have had with almost any girl. I asked my father if he had given the baron any encouragement, and he replied that he had left everything between the baron and myself for settlement.

"The next evening the German came again to woo me with my father's sanction. He became very earnest, and I told him that I would not, could not, give him any hope. He asked me if it might ever be otherwise, and I told him I thought not. 'Well,' he said, 'I shall certainly ask you again. I return to Germany in April, and I shall hope to carry home the tidings of my betrothal.'

"It was then late in the winter, and pretty soon we returned to the country, for father liked to be close to Nature when it burst into its new life.

"How nice it seemed to be once more in the old house! I soon found myself interested in my old occupations, and most of all in the care of the conservatory, which was then all abloom with azaleas and other spring-flowering plants. There too was the little widow, as sad as ever, but glad to see me back, and more than ready to resume the old friendship. We had hardly got into our old routine ways before my father announced one morning that the baron Dumbkopf was coming down to say good-bye before leaving for Germany. I knew very well what it all meant, and I began to think that as it was my father's wish that I should marry some time, and that as I could hardly find a husband more suited to his ideas, and that as I probably should never fall in love, I might as well accept him as anybody. Then I began to think of Arthur. Thoughts of the two men crossed and recrossed in my mind, closely woven like the threads in a cloth. I used to go and look at his glove and talk to the little bird-widow about him, and really was quite angry with myself for having him so much in my mind and he so long gone.

"At last the baron came. He was a splendid-looking man, and his manners were perfect. These things tell for so much with girls! He came, and one morning--I remember it well: it was a cold, blowy spring morning--he found me alone in the conservatory and renewed his suit. I was petting the little bird when he found me, and he said, 'Dear little bird! he is to be envied in having so much tenderness shown him.'

"'It is a female bird,' I said, 'and a forsaken bird, for its mate has flown away and left it broken-hearted;' and I began at once to think of Arthur, and fell into a reverie.

"The baron interpreted my little speech and my subsequent silence as favorable to himself. He really thought I was beginning to pity myself because he was going away. 'Ah,' he said, 'you know why I have come?'

"'To say good-bye,' I answered.

"'Perhaps, but to say first that I love you still, and to ask you to be my wife.'

"My heart beat rapidly now, and I think the little bird that I was holding to my bosom must have felt it, for it began to chirp in a low murmur as if it would comfort me.

"'Give me a little time to think,' I said; and, strangely enough, all my thinking was of Arthur and his going away, and his promised return; and then I said to myself, 'What folly! he has forgotten me. If he had loved me he wouldn't have gone till he had my word of love in return. He's forgotten all about me.'

"The baron was gaining ground with me: I was reasoning myself into something above esteem for him, and I turned to put my hand in his, when there was a tap at the window, and the little bird, struggling from my hand, burst into such a flood of singing that the whole place was drowned with melody.

"'Oh,' I cried, 'her mate has come back! her mate has come back! He is fluttering against the window. Do let him in, baron, the poor dear, happy little thing!' and I sat down among the azaleas and the budding Easter lilies and cried like a baby.

"The poor baron did let the little bird in, and side by side we witnessed the joy of their meeting, expressed in a hundred tender little caresses.

"At last the baron said, 'You forget, Miss Bronson, you haven't given me my answer.'

"'And I can't answer you now,' I said. 'Please forget me. Indeed, I don't know what to say to you: I believe I shall say No.'

"'Don't say anything,' he replied. 'I have done wrong. I have not given you time to think. I must go now, but a year from now I shall ask you the same question again, and then you must say Yes or No; and God grant it may be the first!'

"'You are very good,' I said; 'and a year hence I will tell you if I can be your wife or not.'

"So the baron went away, and he had hardly been gone a week when I was ashamed of having been so much affected by the bird's return. The idea of believing in omens! Then a little time further on there came a letter from a friend of mine in Leipsic which mentioned Arthur Sterling, spoke of him as a young man very popular in society--you know Arthur is most fascinating--and said that he was very attentive to a young American girl there, a beautiful blond: they were seen everywhere together, and report said he was to marry her.

"'It is a lie!' I said to myself: 'he promised to come back to me.' And then I said again, 'Why should I be angry? why should I believe him? I hardly knew him, and most men are false.' I was such a silly girl, I thought. Then father was always speaking of the baron: I could see that he was sorry I had not accepted him at once. And Aunt Jane, she had to talk to me about it, and say that she couldn't last long, and that father was getting old, and that I ought to think about getting married, and--Well, you know how women talk to each other about marrying. Considering that Aunt Jane had never thought of marrying herself, it oughtn't to have had much weight with me, but it did.

"The year wore on. Of course I thought a great deal about Arthur, but I thought a good deal about the baron too. The little bird was no longer lonesome; and as she and her mate had built themselves a nest, and had domestic duties to perform in rearing a brood of young ones, they were too much wrapped up in their own affairs to be very companionable. But when autumn came again, and the leaves were falling and the cold winds blew out of the north, that foolish little mate flew off to the south, and the little forsaken thing came back into the conservatory and wanted to be comforted. And we did comfort her as best we could. All the winter through she was in and out from the conservatory to the dining-room, becoming very friendly and answering to her name instantly: papa had named her Niobe.

"In due course of time the early spring came round again, and one April morning there came a letter from the baron. He asked me for my answer: should he come and take me with him to his German home? I showed the letter to papa, and all he said was, 'My daughter, he would make you an excellent husband--such a one as your poor mother would wish for you were she alive. I hope you'll consider the matter well before you say No.'

"I thought it all over. Why not? Yes, I would write to the baron and say Yes. Arthur was away; he'd never come back; he was in love with that pretty blond. Was it likely I was going to ruin my life for him? I had too much sense for that. I would just go and throw his old glove into the fire and all thoughts of him to the winds. So I went for the glove, and kissed it--foolish thing!--and put it back in my treasure-box, and went on thinking of Arthur more than ever. Then I remonstrated with myself for my foolishness, and took my writing-desk in my lap and sat down in the conservatory to write to the baron. I began my letter 'My dear Arthur,' and then had to begin again, and started fairly with 'My dear baron.' Then I tried to frame a proper sentence to start with, but that desolate little bird came flying to my shoulder, and chirped so sadly and so persistently that it put me all out.

"'Oh, you poor foolish little thing!' I said: 'anybody would think there were no other birds in the world but your faithless mate.'

"The bird fluttered and chirped and talked with a purring song, which I fancied to say, 'Oh, my poor heart! poor heart! poor broken heart! Alas!' and it was such a strong impression that I put my hand to my own heart and held on there, while I laid my head on one side till it touched the feathers of the bird on my shoulder; and so we sat silently musing.

"What do you think roused us? There was a quick fluttering in the bird's breast. She flew away from my shoulder: she flew to the top of the highest azalea, and she sung--oh, how she sung! Joy, victory over doubt, faith crowned, glimpses of heaven in the spring sunlight,--they were all in that song. I knew in a minute what had come. I threw open the sash, and out of the sunshine, borne in with the odors of the new grass and budding trees, came a little brown bird, tired as from a long journey, but with a song of greeting that overtopped even the song of welcome that awaited him.

"I watched them a moment, as if in a spell, and then I tore up my letter to the baron and tossed it among the flowers; and the tears came in my eyes, and I said aloud, 'Oh, Arthur, I do love you--I know I do! If you don't come back I shall die.'

"'Then, dear, you shall not die, for I am here;' and the foolish boy--for it was Arthur come back and stolen upon me to surprise me--put his dear strong arms about me, and I was ready to faint, and cried a little on his shoulder, and he kissed me, and we went in to papa and talked it all over; and he told me about his finishing his studies and hurrying home, and all about the blond, a cousin of his who was out in Leipsic with her mother studying music, and they'd made a home for him, and said I should know them and they should know me; and it was all lovely. And the result of it all is, here we are, and we love birds, and we love each other. And do you wonder at it? And here's Arthur, coming back from his letters. And, and--Come and kiss me, Arthur."

And so the little lady finished with a kiss, as she had begun, and the parrot moved uneasily on his perch at being disturbed with conversation at so late an hour, and the Java sparrows twittered a little; and I rose to go, only asking, "And the baron?"

"Oh! he's married since--such a lovely wife!--and I dare say is as grateful to the bird as Arthur and I. You see, he was only infatuated--Arthur and I were in love."

"Good-night," from me.

"Good-night, good-night," from them; and I heard another kiss as I went down the walk.

WM. M.F. ROUND.

THE MOCKING-BIRD.

A golden pallor of voluptuous light
Filled the warm Southern night:
The moon, clear orbed, above the sylvan scene
Moved like a stately queen.
So rife with conscious beauty all the while,
What could she do but smile
At her own perfect loveliness below,
Glassed in the tranquil flow
Of crystal fountains and unruffled streams?
Half lost in waking dreams,
As down the loneliest forest-dell I strayed,
Lo! from a neighboring glade,
Flashed through the drifts of moonshine, swiftly came
A fairy shape of flame.
It rose in dazzling spirals overhead,
Whence, to wild sweetness wed,
Poured marvellous melodies, silvery trill on trill:
The very leaves grew still
On the charmed trees to hearken; while for me,
Heart-thrilled to ecstasy,
I followed--followed the bright shape that flew,
Still circling up the blue,
Till as a fountain that has reached its height
Falls back, in sprays of light
Slowly dissolved, so that enrapturing lay
Divinely melts away
Through tremulous spaces to a music-mist,
Soon by the fitful breeze
How gently kissed
Into remote and tender silences.

PAUL H. HAYNE.

POPULAR MARRIAGE CUSTOMS OF SICILY.

The customs of the Sicilian people in regard to the celebration of marriages are so numerous and so strange that were I to attempt to describe them all I should furnish not only the material for a volume, but also for a series of quaint pictures. I shall not pretend to collect the most of them, but only present a few which will awaken, I trust, some interest in those who study popular traditions and the comparative history of customs and usages.

Let us begin by supposing two young people in love with each other. The parents of the young girl are aware of the fact, but have shut their eyes because the match is a good and fitting one. When, on taking her daughter to mass, the mother has noticed her blush on meeting the young man more than once, she has pretended not to notice it. At night she has heard some love-song at the door, and seen that her daughter was the first to awaken at it, but has remained oblivious of this also. She knows all, and pretends to know nothing--sees her daughter careful about her dress, often hears mentioned a name dear to her, mentions it herself with praise, and contributes without seeming to do so to increase that love which sooner or later becomes a subject of conversation to neighbors, to friends, to all. The matter is known, and it is time for the parents of the young man to go or send to the parents of the young girl to ask her hand.

Here begins the business of the future marriage. The young man's mother visits the girl's mother, and gives her to understand that they wish to make the match, and therefore would like to know whether their proposal is agreeable and what dower the girl will have. The other mother, after the usual compliments have been exchanged, either gives at once, or promises to give, a memorandum of all that she is able to bestow on her daughter as dower.

This is the most usual way of arranging a marriage, but the manner formerly varied, and still varies, in places. In Noto, in the province of Syracuse, fifty years ago the mother of the young man put under her Greek mantle the reed of a loora, and going to the house of a young girl asked her mother if she had a reed like that. If the match was acceptable, the reed was found at once: if not, there was no reed, or they could not find it, or they would look for it.[14] In the county of Modica the mother selected the future daughter-in-law by trial. She went to one of the young girls of the neighborhood, and if she found her busy the matter was settled: if idle, she went home again, repeating three times the word _abrenuntio_, Sicilianized as well as possible.[15]

The memorandum above mentioned, written, according to traditional usage, by some one for this particular occasion, is sent wrapped up in a silk handkerchief which belongs by right to the young man. As soon as the memorandum is sent and accepted the announcement of the engagement or the betrothal takes place. On this occasion the relatives of the parties are present, and at the proper moment one of the parents of the young girl announces in a solemn tone the future marriage, and makes known the time (generally it is a matter of years) which will elapse before it is celebrated. Everything is religiously accepted by the guests and the interested parties, and after congratulations have been offered a banquet or supper (technically termed _trattamento_, "entertainment") takes place, in which a sort of fried pastry called _sfincuini_ plays an important part, accompanied by filberts, almonds and chestnuts. The whole is washed down by copious draughts of wine.

The manner in which the betrothal is celebrated is sometimes very curious. At Salaparuta, in the province of Trapani, the girl takes her place in the centre of the room: her future mother-in-law then enters and parts her hair, places a ring on her finger, gives her a handkerchief and kisses her. At Assaro, in the province of Catania, the young man presents his betrothed with a red ribbon, which she braids into her hair as a sign of her betrothal, and does not leave off until the wedding. This custom is observed in many places in Sicily, and is called the _'nzingata_ (from _'nzinga_, "sign"). In the county of Modica the girl is veiled in a broad white veil, tied under the chin with a purple ribbon. This custom of the ribbon (also called '_ntrizzaturi_, "head-dress") often takes the place of the formal proposal and announcement of the betrothal. In a popular song a young man in making love to a girl offers her a red ribbon, which is the same as offering her his hand.[16] As soon as the betrothal has taken place, the _fiancé_ must think at once about a present for his _fiancée_. This varies, of course, according to the ability and taste of the giver. Formerly it was a tortoise-shell comb, a silver needlecase, a silk handkerchief, ear-rings, finger-rings, gloves, etc. Now-a-days nothing is left but rings and a certain silver arrangement to support the hair, and called, like the ribbon above mentioned, _'ntrizzaturi_. In Milazzo and its territory the fiancé makes a present of a small gold cross for the neck, an engagement-ring and a dish of fish.

The fiancée returns the gift, usually with under-clothing, handkerchiefs, etc. During the betrothal, while the lovers are enjoying their love, the fiancé does not let the principal festivals of the year pass without expressing his affection by suitable presents--at Easter, a piece of pastry containing an egg, or a little wax lamb; on the feast of St. Peter, keys made of pastry, with honey or confectionery or cinnamon, according to the ability of the giver. On All Souls' Day he gives candy, fruit, etc.; on St. Martin's, a kind of biscuit named after the saint; at Christmas, cakes and pastry containing dried fruit; and finally, for his fiancée's birthday, something still finer.

We have now reached the eve of the wedding, and the time has arrived for the valuation of the bride's trousseau--a ceremony known by different names in different parts of Sicily, but usually termed _stima_. Let us enter for a moment the house of the bride. Everything is in a pleasant state of confusion. Friends and relatives of the betrothed have been invited to the ceremony, and take part in it with an air of satisfied curiosity. Upon the large bed of the bride's mother is displayed the trousseau, sorted according to the various articles composing it, while from lines stretched across the room hang the dresses and suits of clothes. Near by are tables, chairs and chests of drawers. A woman called the _stimatura_ ("appraiser") examines each article of the outfit and appraises its value, announcing the approximate price, sometimes publicly, sometimes secretly to the accountant. The appraisal is final, and generally in favor of the fiancée, for the value of the trousseau goes to increase the dower. Not infrequently the mother of the fiancé complains of the exaggerations of the _stimatura_, and disagreeable recriminations follow. Finally, the parents of the bride bestow on her a certain number of "ounces,"[17] which the _stimatura_ announces in a solemn tone. If the parents have anything else to give their daughter in the way of money or silver, they announce it with the utmost gravity, while the fiancé, for his part, declares that he will give his wife after his death the sum of twenty or thirty ounces as a gift. This present is known at Salaparuta by the name of _buon amore_, at Palermo as _verginista'_--true _pretium sanguinis_ which the giver does not possess, and which the wife will never receive. At this valuation, in some parts of the island, each one of the relatives offers to the parties gifts of jewelry and clothing, which are requited by similar gifts from the bride and groom.

The civil marriage precedes the religious, which, however, is more important to the people than the former: hence the evening after the civil marriage the groom goes about his business as though he were not yet married. The religious marriage, on the contrary, is a festal occasion. The hour differs according to habits and family tastes. In Salaparuta the marriage takes place before night--in Ficarazzi, before daybreak, a favorite time for those contracting a second marriage. In Palermo the wedding formerly took place late in the evening or in the night, whence there was a necessity for attendants with lighted torches. If the Sicilian Jews preferred to go in the dark to their synagogues, and considered themselves favored by King Peter when in 1338 he allowed them to go to their weddings with a single lantern, the Christians were not satisfied with four or six lights, but wanted twenty or more--an actual procession. Frederick II. in 1292 limited the number of lights to twelve only, six for each party. Now, at Palermo, the wedding takes place at any hour of the day or night, and only the poorest walk to the church: the others ride in carriages paid for by those using them at so much apiece. In the first carriage are the bride and her mother and intimate friends--in the second, the other women in the order of relationship. The groom occupies the first place in the carriages assigned to the men: then come his father, brothers and others. The bride is dressed in various ways, and her dress is called _l'abitu di lu 'nguaggiu_ ("wedding-dress"). In Salaparuta she wears the Greek peplum, gathered under the arms; in Terrasini, a dress of blue or some other bright color; in Milazzo, a blue silk skirt with wide sleeves; in Palermo, a white dress, the _tunica alba_ of the Romans, with a veil kept on the head by a wreath of orange-flowers. In Assaro (province of Catania) by an old baronial custom the wedding-ring is presented by a young man of noble family. Speaking of the wedding-ring, it may be noted that formerly it was carefully preserved on a table for many purposes, as at Valledolino the whole dress is kept to be used some day as a shroud.[18]

There are some parts of the country where the entrance to the church is also a ceremony. An old tradition of Palermo, grafted on a popular tale, informs us that in certain districts esteemed somewhat rude by the inhabitants of the old capital the bride entered the church on horseback, erect and proud.[19] In Salaparuta she enters by the lesser door of the cathedral and departs by the principal one, afterward passing beneath the belfry. In Palermo the newly-wedded pair on leaving the church enter the same carriage, and followed by relatives and friends take a drive about the city. It is on this occasion that they throw to their neighbors confectionery, which they are also accustomed to present personally. This custom is a Roman one, in spite of the fact that candy has taken the place of the nuts which the bridegroom bestowed on the children after the wedding. Outside of Palermo and other large cities the confectionery is replaced by roasted chickpeas, alone or mixed with beans, almonds, filberts, etc. On the other hand, relatives and friends as the bride and groom go by throw after them not only confectionery, but dried or roasted fruits, wheat and barley; which they call a sign of abundance. In Milazzo the simple ceremony is turned into a spectacle: when the pair come out of the church they are suddenly received by a perfect hail of confectionery thrown by their nearest relatives, from which they strive to escape by quickening their pace or running away.[20] In Syracuse salt and spelt are thrown as a symbol of wisdom, which recalls the _confarreatio_ of the Romans; in Assaro, salt and wheat; nuts and wheat in Modicano; in Terrasini, nuts, chestnuts, beans and sweetmeats of honey and flour; in Camporeale, wheat alone. In Avola (province of Syracuse) one of the bride's most intimate lady friends, upon the arrival of the pair, presents the bride with an apronful of orange-leaves, and tossing them in her face exclaims, congratulating her, "Contentment and sons!" and scatters orange-leaves also over the sill where the bride must pass. Sometimes she breaks at her feet two eggs--a truly Oriental symbol of fruitfulness. In the county of Modica wine is sprinkled before the door and the bottle broken: when the married pair have entered, the husband is offered a spoonful of honey, of which he takes half and gives the rest to his wife. There gifts of sweetmeats, dried fruits, etc. are given to the guests.[21] In Avola a spoonful of honeyed almonds is presented to each of the lady-guests--in Marineo (province of Palermo) and in Prizzi clear honey and a sip or two of water.

The house of the wedded pair is ornamented with flowers, as we learn from the popular Sicilian song: "Flowers of roses: the bride when she returns from the church finds the house adorned with flowers." The marriage _pro verbo de præsenti in faciem ecclesiæ_ is termed _'nguaggiàrisi_ (and hence the dress above mentioned, _l'abitu di lu 'nguaggiu_), but the contracting parties are not yet man and wife; and to become so it is necessary to undergo another religious ceremony, which consists in hearing mass and kneeling before the altar holding a lighted wax candle while the priest bestows on them the benediction _pro sponso et sponsa_. The old legal grants (_concessi_) to young girls who married could not, nor can they now, be claimed without this ceremony; and the bride does not enter into possession of the legacy which she has acquired until she shows to the proper person the certificate of her parish priest that she has been married and espoused (_'nguaggiatu e sposatu_). The latter ceremony may take place within a year after the marriage. Widows, according to the Roman ritual approved by Pope Paul V., were not formerly, nor are they now, ever _espoused_: nevertheless, in the seventeenth century there were many examples[22] of widows blessed a second time in the parish church of St. Hippolytus in Palermo.

We are face to face with a newly-married couple in the midst of people who have a good breeding of their own; and we, who measure our words and are ashamed to eat our soup with a wooden spoon, must enter their cottage and take part in the poor but sincere, joyful and cordial festival of the evening. Let us betake ourselves for a short time to Trapani, and look in on one of those modest houses during a wedding-night.

When the bride and groom return from the church they find at the house of the former a drink prepared from the milk of almonds and some small cakes. While at table the groom leaves his wife a moment to go to his father's house, and returns when the meal is half finished. He remains with her until midnight, when he takes her to his mother's, where there is a new celebration, similar to the one that has already taken place at the bride's mother's. The hour at which the groom goes for the bride is so scrupulously observed that any delay would be a grave cause of complaint, and perhaps of quarrels. The first day of the celebration is called the "festival of the bride" (_fistinu di la zita_), and the guests are all selected by the bride's mother. The second day is called the "festival of the groom" (_fistinu di lu zitu_), and the guests are all the friends of the groom. This ceremonial is, however, not so fine as that called "of the bride," _di lu macadàru_. The bride, elegantly dressed, is seated beneath a mirror to receive the congratulations of her friends. At her right and left are placed seats for relatives and friends, arranged according to certain traditional laws which no one ever thinks of violating. The right side is reserved for the relatives of the groom; and if any one is prevented by ill-health from attending the festival, the seat belonging to him is either left vacant, or some friend is sent to occupy it, or a pomegranate is placed in it, or it is turned upside down. We may note, in passing, that the women alone are allowed to be seated in the circle: the men, of every age and rank, remain standing. This custom, and especially the position assumed by the bride at that time, has given rise to the proverbial expression of comparison: _Pari la zita di lu macadàru_, which is said of a woman in gala-dress.[23]

Let us now pass to other parts of the island and share the nuptial-banquet. Everywhere great quantities of macaroni or of fried fish are prepared, and the guests eat and drink to repletion. Even the most miserly are liberal on this occasion, and a proverb advises one to attend the weddings of the avaricious: _A li nozzi di l'avaru trovaticci_. The bride and groom, as can be easily imagined, have their heads full of other things than macaroni and fried fish. At Borghetto baked beans and pease are served not only to the bridal-party, but also to the others, to whom, during the banquet, it is the custom to send a dish of _maccarruna di zitu_--a dish in use also in Modica until within fifty years. In Assaro there are the accustomed sweetmeats, the cakes of honey and flour, and roast pease and almonds. At the banquet, where usually these things are not lacking, they begin with macaroni, which in Milazzo is poured out on a napkin, with cheese grated over it. Then follow sausages or roast meat. At the nuptial-banquet of the peasants of Modica a dish is placed on the table intended to receive the gifts of the guests for the bride: one gives money, another gold; one a ring, another a dollar; nor do those who come last wish to be outdone by the first. At the end of the banquet come the toasts, more or less lively and witty.

After the banquet follows the ball, which at Favaratta is held eight days after the wedding. The orchestra consists of two or three violins, which play the whole evening, or afternoon if the marriage took place in the daytime. The répertoire is that of the people, and embraces the dances known as the _fasòla_,[24] the _tarantella_, the _tarascùri_, the _'nglisina_, the _capona_, the _chiovu_, etc. In some of the towns in the province of Palermo it is the groom who engages the musicians and conducts them to the house. In Modica they dance the _ciovu_ (the _chiovu_ above mentioned) to the accompaniment not only of violins, but also of tambourines, etc. The groom opens the ball, holding his hat in his hand and making a profound bow to the bride, who rises with alacrity and begins to dance with all her might. The groom makes another bow and sits down again, and the bride, dancing alone, makes a turn round the room and selects a partner from the guests, who in turn choose a woman, and so on in graceful alternation.

In general, in large cities, there is no one who calls out the figures at the ball: the musicians play what they please, unless they are asked to change or continue a tune that has tired or pleased any one of the guests. The dancing is without any rule or order: nevertheless, there is some regularity in its execution, especially in the pantomime that accompanies it. The bride and groom dance their share: the first one with whom the bride dances is the groom, who permits her to dance with others.

An interesting subject in the history of the Sicilian people would be this ball after the nuptial-banquet if it could be illustrated in all the varieties of ancient and modern customs. Buonfiglio, the historian of Messina, has left us in his larger work an account of these customs two centuries and a half ago. The peasants, he says, have not abandoned the ancient custom of dancing in a crowd and in a circle to the sound of the lyre and flute, although these have been changed for the songs of the musicians; and they dance with the handkerchief, being extremely jealous of allowing the hands of their wives to be touched. So also with the collection of the presents from the relatives and guests in profusion; and this takes place after the groom has offered them something to eat three times, on which account the ovens are filled with meat, with kettles of rice cooked in milk, the wine constantly going the rounds.[25]

In Milazzo the dance "threatens the existence of the bride," to cite an historian of the place. Here, as elsewhere, the groom has a patron, a gentleman to whom he lends his services, and by whom he is rewarded, not always generously. At the ball the bride knows that if the patron or other gentleman of the city dance with her, he will leave a silver piece in her hand; and if her partner is of her own rank, it will not remain empty. So she summons up all the strength of her limbs and spends hours and hours in dancing; for dancing with the new bride that evening is an occasion for boasting.

However rich the popular songs of Sicily are, they are very poor in nuptial-songs. Among the many thousand that have seen the light the following, from Cianciana and Casteltermini, is characteristic, because peculiar to the evening of the wedding: "Come and sing this evening to the bride and groom. Oh what joy! what delight! (You, O wife!) hold the seat of power: when the sun appears you rise. There are pleasant sights, with dress of gold and all embroidered. This song is sung to the bride and groom. Good-day! long life and health!"[26] The following song, from Borghetto, is a greeting to the pair on their return from the church: "Long live in health the bride and groom! What a beautiful and fortunate marriage! Let the mind be firm and the heart constant. And so we come to the happy day. I would that my words were as sweet as those of a song, and my lute well tuned! A hundred years I would sing new songs. Long live love and marriage!" This other song, from Palermo, a variant of one already published, is also an expression of good wishes for the pair: "Health to this excellent pair! What a fine and gallant wedding! The bridegroom seems like a resplendent sun, and the bride like a Greek from the Levant. How many obstacles there have been! The stars of heaven go before. Now the bride and groom are happy: the diamond is set in gold."

At the ball the singing is done alternately by some of the guests. The favorite song in the cities is that of the class called _arie_--in the country, _canzoni_. The three songs above cited are those which are heard on such occasions.

Song, dance and music alternate, and are prolonged for hours, until the guests are tired out and prepare to leave the bride and groom, who are already sleepy.

Let the reader accompany the pair to their abode. The door is open, the room lighted, the bed prepared: some sighs and laments are heard among the bystanders. It is the mother, the married sisters (young girls do not accompany to her home the sister who marries), who are grieved at seeing their sister leave her home and become another's, uncertain of the lot that will be hers in the future. An old custom requires the bride to be undressed and put to bed by her mother-in-law. In lack of the mother-in-law the right belongs to the oldest sister-in-law. Woe to whoever dares to transgress this custom! Grave quarrels would arise, and even worse. I have myself been present when a family having wished to do as they pleased and not adhere to custom, blows and wounds followed, and the bride and groom were obliged to spend the night in jail.

The first visits paid to the newly-married pair are by their mothers, who hasten to congratulate them. These are followed later by friends, who go to make the _bon lirata_.

The bride remains at home a week to receive the visits of relatives, friends and acquaintances who either did or did not share in the wedding-festivities. After this time she leaves the house solemnly for the first time to go and hear mass, high mass being ordinarily preferred. The white dress which in some localities constitutes the wedding-dress, in others is the one worn on the first occasion of leaving the house and in returning the visits of the guests.

The last act of this drama or comedy of life is a journey on which the husband must take his wife within a year after their marriage. In the marriage-contract, written or verbal, there is a clause by which the husband assumes the obligation of taking his wife within the year to such and such a festival of some town more or less remote--the farther away the more important to the contracting parties and their relatives. Where no contract is made the custom is enough, the "word"--which, as the proverb says, "is more than the contract"--is sufficient. In Piana dei Greci, an Albanian colony of Sicily, the husband obliges himself to take his wife a journey in honor of St. Rosalia on the 4th of September to the sanctuary of Monte Pellegrino in Palermo. In many of the villages of the _Conca d'oro_ ("the golden shell," the plain of Palermo) the husband binds himself to take his wife to the _festino_ of St. Rosalia in Palermo, the 13th-15th of July; and this is an obligation that involves much expense, because the statue of Charles V. in the Piazza Bologni (Palermo) says, according to the people, "Palermu un saccu tantu!"[27] The husband of Noto was accustomed, and perhaps still is, to take his wife to the festival of St. Venera in Avola.