I had lost both my parents, and I had but few friends.

My dear father's faithful old clerk, Benjamin, attended the wedding to "give me away," as the phrase is.

He had known me from a child, and, in my forlorn position, he was as good as a father to me.
The last ceremony left to be performed was, as usual, the signing of the marriage register.

In the confusion of the moment (and in the absence of any information to guide me) I committed a mistake--ominous, in my aunt Starkweather's opinion, of evil to come.

I signed my married instead of my maiden name.
"What!" cried my uncle, in his loudest and cheeriest tones, "you have forgotten your own name already?
Well, well! let us hope you will never repent parting with it so readily.