For Out Lady Readers. A BICYCLE WEDDING.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXIV, Issue 51, 23 April 1897, Page 28

For Out Lady Readers. A BICYCLE WEDDING.

Londoners have just had an opportnity, says The Buily Telegraph, of witnessing a totally novel sight. It has been left to a party of enterprising foreigners to hold the first bicycle wedding, and, judging from the public interest aroused, it is possible that such functions may become fashionable. The ceremony took place at the French Catholic church, Leicester Square, and some little time before the hour appointed sightseers began to assemble in the narrow thoroughfare in which the sacred edifice stands, necessitating the presenoe of an inspector and half a dozen constables to keep a clear passage. The triumphal ride to the church door was marred by the Burging crowd, whose incursions compelled the vanguard of guests to dismount. All eyes, however, were centred on the nuptial pair. Bride and bridegroom rode a Sociable Safety of the Royal Hampton pattern, as did the best man, bridesmaids and several others of the company. The bride was arrayed in white satin, veil and orange blossoms complete, whilst the appearance of the young groom was equally effective, in frock coat and tall hat. Nearly everybody wore white flowers in their buttonholes, and a number of machines bore large bouquets of lilies of the valley. The early stoppage forced the candidates for matrimonial honours to dismount half-way

down the street, and the "future" obligingly pushed his "bike" in front to the porch, with the lady walking at his side. The crowd, which, was of quite an international character, as English, French or Italian was spoken freely on all sides, waited patiently for the reappearance of the wedding party, which numbered some thirty in all. As the happy couple, Mons. de Gasperi and his wife, late Mile. fcrnily fappacena, rode away, rice was thrown over them, and then the party wheeled out of sight. NOT KNOWING. As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, Leads by the hand her little child to bed, Half smiling, half reluctant to be led, And leaves his broken playthings on the floor, Still gazing at them through the open door, Nor wholly reassured and comforted By promises of others in their stead, Which, though more splendid, may not please him more ; feo Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest so gently that we go, Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, Being too full of sleep to understand How far the unknown transcends that we know. — Longfellow. woman's sphere. They talk about a woman's sphere, as though it had a limit • There s not a place in earth or heaven, There's not a task to mankind given, There's not a blessing or a woe There's not a whispered yes or no, There's not a life, or death, or birth, That has a feather's weight of worth without a woman in it.