have been kings and queens for the honour with which they were treated.

Netta thought it quite beautiful to see her grandmother dressed in pure white, with a gilt crown on her silver locks, sitting in the great armchair, which served as a throne, hand in hand with her fifty years' bridegroom, both looking as shy and happy, as tremulous and tearful as they had done that day fifty years ago. Then the presents; how grand they were! Most of them gold, some of them gilt, one a large bunch of buttercups and dandelions presented by the youngest great-grandchild.

"Here, 'big-granny," said the toddling cherub, "be a pesent of golden fowers," with strong emphasis on the golden. And Netta thought the true gold of the heart was in that present, when she saw 'big-granny" snatch up the child, and kiss and cry over him, to the imminent danger of the tinsel crown. Then came the vows of betrothal, and the exhortation of the priest to the newly-married pair, and he had no more serious listeners than the bride and her bridegroom. To the spectators his words were but shadows of things past, to the

bridal couple it was a true betrothal, a second wedding; the first had been for time, the second for eternity. A golden wedding truly! And when the blessing was pronounced, all the children and grandchildren came round the bride and knelt at her feet to have her hands placed on their heads; for it was thought there was virtue in a bride's touch, and still more when her marriage was for heaven. After that came the feast, and it was a pretty sight to see the old grandmother going round the room serving all her own children and guests, to the youngest infant there, before she herself would taste a morsel.

"Let her alone," said the old grandfather when the guests wanted to interfere; "it's a bride's duty; she began it on her first wedding-day and has carried it on till now. She will carry it on with the angels in heaven, bless her, some day."

Netta looked on, thinking it all beautiful, and indeed I only wish every bride were as comely and gentle, as true and loving as silver-haired "biggranny" on her Golden Wedding-day. One duty yet remained for the bride to perform, which was

to dance at her own wedding. This was in the evening, when the lights were lit, and the windows open, and the sounds of music and laughter stole out under the great trees in Wood Street. Grandfather and grandmother walked gracefully through the first dance together, and then retired to their armchairs by the window in a cool, quiet spot where the breeze came in through the open lattice and fluttered the white lace on granny's sleeves. Then it was that Netta lifted the heavy crown from the bride's brow, and placed on it instead the wreath of Wonder Flower which she had just brought in from the garden.

"Tell me her story, sweet flowers," murmured Netta; and in the half-twilight by the window, clasping each other's withered hands, with the sounds of music and dancing around them, the aged couple told the story of their love, while Netta sat on a stool at their feet and listened.

"It was all a mistake, good wife," said the bridegroom, with a shrewd smile; "we might never have been married if it had not been for a mistake."