Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. "He's not to blame," said Jack, rising. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too. Wood.
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