14000 MILES 



trees. As the procession approached, zigzagging up the 

 steep path, it was very effective, suggesting an old Greek 

 chorus, or a festival group from some poetic page, as 

 why should it not, the bride being herself an ancient 

 Greek in spirit, with her translations of the classics and 

 her profession as stage manager of Hellenic dramas? 

 The bridal party, a score and eight in number, was all in 

 white, with touches of red, camp colors. First came the 

 bugler, blowing manfully. After him two white flower 

 girls, scattering daisies along the path. Then followed 

 the two head ushers, white from top to toe, with daisy 

 chains wreathing their shoulders in Samoan fashion. 

 Next, with flowing black academic robes, a striking con- 

 trast of color, climbed the two ministers — one the bride's 

 father, the other a local clergyman, whose word, since 

 this was a "foreign country," was necessary to legalize 

 the bond. Two more ushers preceded the groom and his 

 best man in white attire; and bridesmaids, two and two, 

 with a maid of honor, escorted the bride, who walked 

 with her mother. 



As for the bride herself, surely no other ever wore garb 

 so quaint and pretty. Her dress was of beautiful white 

 silk, simply shirred and hemstitched, the web woven by 

 hand in Greece and brought thence by Miss Barrows 

 herself during a trip in search of material and antiqua- 

 rian data for her Greek plays. The gown was short, 

 giving a glimpse of white shoes and open-work stock- 

 ings — part of her mother's bridal wear on her own wed- 

 ding day, of which this was an anniversary. The bridal 

 veil was a scarf of filmy white liberty, with an exquisite 



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