Australian Tales - Setis

Jonathan seized her hand, and pressed it warmly, and as her loving
eyes met his, he drew her to his heart, and kissed her again. How could
he help it?
It is not necessary to describe the smooth course of their courtship for
the next few months, or to notice the numerous preparations made by
Phoebe and Betsy Brown for the coming event, so important in the
history of Phoebe, and which most young girls look forward to with
peculiar heart fluttering. Neither is it expedient to record all the
preparations which Jonathan made to set himself off to the best
advantage: his injunction to Mr. List, the tailor, about the cut and quality
of his wedding suit; or his cautions to Mr. Welt, the bootmaker, about the
shape of his wedding cossacks; those are minor matters, still they were
all carefully studied. Their household furniture, too, was selected with
taste and judgment; everything was good, serviceable, and consistent
with their means and their station in life; and when their little cottage
was ready for them, it centained everything that was necessary for
comfort and convenience, and was quite free from gaudy trumpery
— made for show and not for use — which is often seen in cottage
homes, to mock the bad taste of the owners, and their extravagance, too,
in lavishing money for what is wholly unserviceable, or, at all events, for
what they could easily do without.
The long anticipated wedding day at length arrived, and a bright
sunshiny day it was. The bride and bridegroom, with brother Bob and
Mr. Skimmer, rode to church in the yellow cart (without the milk cans),
while Betsy Brown and her sweetheart, Sandy White, with three young
lasses and three young lads, dressed in their best, and decorated with
nosegays, followed in a furniture van belonging to Sandy. A casual
observer might have fancied from their gladsome looks that they were all
going to be married that morning except Bob and his father, who were
evidently feeling rather sad at parting with Phoebe. When the solemn
ceremony was over, they all returned to Syllabub cottage, where a
luxurious luncheon awaited them. On the centre of the table, in the midst
of some choice bouquets, some one had waggishly placed a miniature
sweetbrier bush, the sight of which so excited Jonathan, that as soon as
the guests had laid down their knives and forks, he told them all about
his courtship at Kissing Point, and his being tossed up “head or woman”
like a pieman's penny, and how he made his love declaration to Phoebe,
while standing on his head with a thorn sticking in his nose, at which
they all laughed long and heartily; and none more so than Phoebe herself.
“Now just listen to me a minute or two, friends,” said Jonathan, as soon
as he could control his risibility, “and I'll give ye a little bit of advice for
nothing. If either of ye lads loves a young woman, dontee go moping and
sighing for months, as I did, aveared to speak up; or somebody else
might pop in and take her from thee, and serve thee right too. But first of