On the day of the wedding the ushers should arrange to be at the
church an hour or so in advance of the time set for the ceremony.
They should be dressed in cutaways, with ties, gloves and
gardenias provided by the groom.
It is the duty of the best man to dress the bridegroom for the
wedding. As you enter his room you see, lying half-dressed on the
bed, a pale, wan, emaciated creature, who is staring fixedly at
the ceiling. It is the happy bridegroom. His lips open. He speaks
feebly. “What time is it?” he says. You reply, “Two-thirty, old
man. Time to start getting dressed.” “Oh, my God!” says the
groom. Ten minutes pass. “What time is it?” says the groom.
“Twenty of three,” you reply. “Here’s your shirt.” “Oh, my God!”
says the groom.
He takes the shirt and tries to put it on. You help him. “Better
have a little Scotch, old man,” you say. “What time is it?” he
replies. “Five of three,” you say. “Oh, my God!” says the groom.
At three-thirty you and he are dressed in cutaways and promptly
at three-forty-two you arrive at the church. You are ushered into
a little side room where it is your duty to sit with the corpse
for the few brief hours which elapse between three-forty-five and
four o’clock. Occasionally he stirs and a faint spark of life
seems to struggle in his sunken eyes. His lips move feebly. You
bend over to catch his dying words. “Have—you—got—the ring?” he
whispers. “Yes,” you reply. “Everything’s fine. You look great,
too, old man.” The sound of the organ reaches your ears. The
groom groans. “Have you got the ring?” he says.
Meanwhile the ushers have been performing their duty of showing
the invited guests to the various pews. A correctly trained usher
will always have ready some cheery word or sprightly bit of
conversation to make the guests feel perfectly at home as he
conducts them to their seats. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” is
suggested as a perfectly safe and yet not too unusual topic of
conversation. This can be varied by remarking, “Isn’t it a nice
day?” or in some cases, where you do not wish to appear too
forward, “Is it a nice day, or isn’t it?” An usher should also
remember that although he has on a cutaway, he is neither a
floor-walker nor a bond salesman, and remarks such as “Something
in a dotted Swiss?” or “Third aisle over—second pew—next the
ribbon goods,” are decidedly _non au fait_.
The first two pews on each side of the center aisle are always
reserved for members of the immediate family, but it is a firmly
established custom that the ushers shall seat in these “family
pews” at least three people with whom the family are barely on
speaking terms. This slight error always causes Aunt Nellie and
Uncle Fred to sit up in the gallery with the family cook.
With the arrival of the bride, the signal is given to the
organist to start the wedding march, usually either Mendelssohn’s
or Wagner’s. About this time the mother of the bride generally
discovers that the third candle from the left on the rear altar
has not been lighted, which causes a delay of some fifteen
minutes during which time the organist improvises one hundred and
seventy-three variations on the opening strains of the march.
Finally all is adjusted and the procession starts down the aisle
led by the ushers swaying slowly side by side. It is always
customary for three or four of the eight ushers to have
absolutely no conception of time or rhythm, which adds a quaint
touch of uncertainty and often a little humor to the performance.
After the Scotch mist left by the passing ushers has cleared,
there come the bridesmaids, the maid of honor, and then, leaning
on her father’s arm (unless, of course, her father is dead), the
bride.
In the meantime, the bridegroom has been carried in by the best
man and awaits the procession at the foot of the aisle, which is
usually four hundred and forty yards long. The ushers and
bridesmaids step awkwardly to one side; the groom advances and a
hush falls over the congregation which is the signal for the
bride’s little niece to ask loudly, “What’s that funny looking
man going to do, Aunt Dotty?”
Then follows the religious ceremony.
Immediately after the church service, a reception is held at the
bride’s home, where refreshments are served and two hundred and
forty-two invited guests make the same joke about kissing the
bride. At the reception it is customary for the ushers and the
best man to crawl off in separate corners and die.
The wedding “festivities” are generally concluded with the
disappearance of the bride, the bridegroom, one of the uninvited
guests and four of the most valuable presents.
[Illustration]
The Man of Refinement Controls His Emotions _The man of culture and
refinement, while always considerate to those beneath him in station,
never, under any circumstances, loses control of his emotions for an
instant. Though the gentleman-rider in the picture may be touchingly
fond of his steeplechase horse, it is unpardonably bad form for him to
make an exhibition of his affection while going over the brush in plain
view of numbers of total strangers. In doing so he simply is making a
“guy” of himself, and it is no more than he deserves if those in the
gallery raise their eyebrows at each other and smile knowingly._
[Illustration]
Comparative Advantages of the Pen—the Phone _The Romans had a proverb,
“Litera scripta manet,” which means “The written letter remains.” The
subtle wisdom of these words was no doubt well known to the men of the
later Paleolithic Age before them, but evidently the gentleman in the
engraving never heard of it. If he had kept this simple little rule of
social correspondence in mind he would have avoided the painful
experience of hearing his obsolete emotions exposed to the eager ears
of twelve perfect strangers. It is customary nowadays for unmarried
elder sons of our most aristocratic families to express their
appreciation of the qualities of fascinating bachelor girls over the
sensible, though plebeian, telephone._