CHANTICLEER:

 A

 THANKSGIVING STORY

 OF

 THE PEABODY FAMILY. 

 SECOND EDITION. 

 BOSTON: B. B. MUSSEY & CO. NEW-YORK: J. S. REDFIELD. 1850. 

 ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850. 

 BY J. S. REDFIELD, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. 

PREFACE. 

Shall the glorious festival of Thanksgiving, now yearly celebrated allover the American Union, (said the author to himself one day, ) beushered in with no other trumpet than the proclamations ofState-Governors? May we not have a little holiday-book of our own, inharmony with that cherished Anniversary, which, while it pleases yourfellow-countrymen, should it have that good fortune, may acquaintdistant strangers with the observance of that happy custom of ourcountry? With the hope that it may be so received, and as a kindly wordspoken to all classes and sections of his fellow citizens, awakening afeeling of union and fraternal friendship at this genial season, thewriter presents this little volume of home characters and incidents. 

November, 1850. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE LANDSCAPE OF THE STORY. 

CHAPTER II. 

ARRIVAL OF THE MERCHANT AND HIS PEOPLE. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE FARMER-FOLKS FROM THE WEST. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE FORTUNES OF THE FAMILY CONSIDERED. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE CHILDREN. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE FASHIONABLE LADY AND HER SON. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DINNER. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE NEW-COMERS. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

CHAPTER FIRST. 

THE LANDSCAPE OF THE STORY. 

I see old Sylvester Peabody--the head of the Peabody family--seated inthe porch of his country dwelling, like an ancient patriarch, in thecalm of the morning. His broad-brimmed hat lies on the bench at hisside, and his venerable white locks flow down his shoulders, which timein one hundred seasons of battle and sorrow, of harvest and drouth, oftoil and death, in all his hardy wrestlings with old Sylvester, has notbeen able to bend. The old man's form is erect and tall, and lifting uphis head to its height, he looks afar, down the country road which leadsfrom his rural door, towards the city. He has kept his gaze in thatdirection for better than an hour, and a mist has gradually crept uponhis vision; objects begin to lose their distinctness; they grow dim orsoften away like ghosts or spirits; the whole landscape melts gentlyinto a pictured dew before him. Is old Sylvester, who has kept it clearand bright so long, losing his sight at last, or is our common world, already changing under the old patriarch's pure regard, into thatbetter, heavenly land?

It seemed indeed, on this very calm morning in November, as if angelswere busy about the Old Homestead, (which lies on the map, in the heartof one of the early states of our dear American Union, ) transforming allthe old familiar things into something better and purer, and touchingthem gently with a music and radiance caught from the very sky itself. As in the innocence of beauty, shrouded in sleep, dreams come to theeyelids which are the realities of the day, with a strangeloveliness--the fair country lay as it were in a delicious dreamyslumber. The trees did not stand forth boldly with every branch andleaf, but rather seemed gentle pictures of trees; the sheep-bells fromthe hills tinkled softly and as if whispering a secret to the wind; thebirds sailed slowly to and fro on the air; there was no harshness in thelow of the herds, no anger in the heat of the sun, not a sight nor asound, near by nor far off, which did not partake of the holy beauty ofthe morning, nor sing, nor be silent, nor stand still, nor move, withany other than a gliding sweetness and repose, or an under-tone whichmight have been the echo here on earth, of a better sphere. There was atender sadness and wonder in the face of old Sylvester, when a voicecame stealing in upon the silence. It did not in a single tone disturbthe heavenly harmony of the hour, for it was the voice of the orphandependent of the house, Miriam Haven, whose dark-bright eye and gracefulform glimmered, as though she were the spirit of all the softened beautyof the scene, from amid the broom-corn, where she was busy in one of theduties of the season. Well might she sing the song of lament, for herpeople had gone down far away in the sea, and her lover--where was he?

 Far away--far away are they, And I in all the world alone-- Brightly, too brightly, shines the day-- Dark is the land where they are gone!

 I have a friend that's far away, Unknown the clime that bears his tread; Perchance he walks in light to-day, He may be dead! he may be dead!

Like every other condition of the time, the voice of Miriam too, had achange in it. 

"What wonder is this?" said old Sylvester, "I neither hear nor see as Iused--are all my senses going?"

He turned, as he spoke, to a woman of small stature, in whose featuresdignity and tenderness mingled, as she now regarded him, with reverencefor the ancient head of the house. She came forward as he addressed her, and laying her hand gently on his arm, said--

"You forget, father; this is the Indian summer, which is the firstsummer softened and soberer, and often comes at thanksgiving-time. Italways changes the country, as you see it now. "

"Child, child, you are right. I should have known it, for always at thisseason, often as it has come to me, do I think of the absent and thedead--of times and hours, and friends long, long passed away. Of thosewhom I have known, " he continued eagerly, "who have fallen in battle, inthe toil of the field, on the highway, on the waters, in silentchambers, by sickness, by swords: I thank God they have all, all of mykith and kin and people, died with their names untouched with crime;all, " he added with energy, planting his feet firmly on the ground andrising as he spoke sternly, "all, save one alone, and he--"

He turned toward the female at his side, and when he looked in her faceand saw the mournful expression which came upon it, he dropped back intohis chair and stayed his speech. 

At this moment a little fellow, who, with his flaxen locks and blueeyes, was a very cherub in plumpness and the clearness of his brow, cametoddling out of the door of the house, struggling with a basin of yellowcorn, which, shifting about in his arms, he just managed to keeppossession of till he reached old Sylvester's knee. This was little SamPeabody, the youngest of the Peabodys, and as he looked up into hisgrandfather's face you could not fail to see, though they grew so wideapart, the same story of passion and character in each. The littlefellow began throwing the bright grain from the basin to a greatstrutting turkey which went marching and gobbling up and down thedoor-yard, swelling his feathers, spreading his tail, and shaking hisred neck-tie with a boundless pretence and restlessness; like many ahero he was proud of his uniform, although the fatal hour which was tolay him low was not far off. It was the thanksgiving turkey, himself, inprocess of fattening under charge of Master Sam Peabody. Busy in theact, he was regarded with smiling fondness by his mother, the widowMargaret Peabody, and his old grandfather, when he suddenly turned, andsaid--

"Grand-pa, where's brother Elbridge?"

The old man changed his countenance and struggled a moment with himself. 

"He had better know all, " he said, after a pause of thought, in which helooked, or seemed to look afar off from the scene about him. "Margaret, painful though it be to you and to me, let the truth be spoken. Godknows I love your son, Elbridge, and would have laid down my life thatthis thing had not chanced, but the child asks of his brother so often, and is so often evaded that he will be presently snared in a net offalsehoods and deceptions if we speak not more plainly to him. "

An inexpressible anguish overspread the countenance of the widowedwoman, and she turned aside to breathe a brief prayer of trust and hopeof strength in the hour of trial. 

The thanksgiving turkey, full of his banquet of corn, strutted away toa slope in the sun by the roadside, and little Sam Peabody renewed hisquestion. 

"Can't I see brother Elbridge, grand-pa?"

"Never again, I fear, my child. "

"Why not, grandfather?"

"Answer gently, father, " the widow interposed. "Make not the case tooharsh against my boy. "

"Margaret, " said the old man, lifting his countenance upon her withdignity of look, "I shall speak the truth. I would have the name of myrace pure of all stains and detractions, as it has been for an hundredyears, but I would not bear hardly against your son, Margaret. Thischild, innocent and unswayed as he is, shall hear it, and shall be thejudge. "

Rising, old Sylvester with Margaret's help, lifted the boy to the deepwindow-seat; and, standing on either hand, the widow and the old maneach at his side, Sylvester taking one hand of the child in his, began--

"My child, you are the youngest of this name and household, to you Godmay have entrusted the continuance of our race and name, therefore thusearly would I have you learn the lesson your brother's errors mayteach. "

"That should come last, " the widow interposed gently. "The story itselfshould teach it, if the story be true. "

"Perhaps it should, Margaret, " old Sylvester rejoined. "I will let thestory speak for itself. It is, my child, a year ago this day, that anexcellent man, Mr. Barbary, the preacher of this neighborhood, disappeared from among living men. He was blameless in his life, he hadno enemy on the face of the earth. He was a simple, frugal, worthyman--the last time alive, he was seen in company with your brotherElbridge, by the Locust-wood, near the pond where you go to gatherhuckleberries in the summer, and hazels in the autumn. He was seen withhim and seen no more. "

"But no man saw Elbridge, father, lift hand against him, or utter anangry word. On the contrary, they were seen entering the wood in closecompanionship, and smiling on each other. "

"Even so, Margaret, " said Sylvester, looking at the child steadily, andwaving his hand in silence toward the widow. "But what answer gave theyoung man when questioned of the whereabout of his friend? Not a word, Margaret--not a word, my child. "

"Is Mr. Barbary dead, grandfather?" the child inquired, leaning forward. 

"How else? He is not to be found in pulpit or field. No man seeth hissteps any more in their ancient haunts. No man hearkens to his voice. "

"But the body, father, was never found. He may be still living in someother quarter. "

"It was near the rock called High Point, you will remember, and oneplunge might have sent him to the bottom. The under currents of the lakeare strong, and may have easily swept him away. There is but one beliefthrough all this neighborhood. Ethan Barbary fell by the hand--AlmightyGod, that I should have to say it to you, my own grandson--of ElbridgePeabody. "

The child sat for a moment in dumb astonishment, glancing, withdistended eyes and sweat upon his brow, fearfully from the stern face ofthe old man to the downcast features of the widow, when recoveringspeech he asked:--

"Why should my brother kill Mr. Barbary, if he was his friend? Was notElbridge always kind, mother? I'm sure he was to me, and used to let meride old Sorrel before him to the mill!"

"Ever kind? He was. There was not a day he did not make glad his poormother's heart, with some generous act of devotion to her. No sun set onthe day which did not cheer her lonely hearth with a new light ofgladness and peace from his young eyes. "

"Margaret, you forget. He was soft of heart, but proud of spirit, andhaughty beyond his age; you may not remember, even I could not alwayslook down his anger, or silence his loudness of speech. Why should hekill Mr. Barbary? I will tell you, child: the preacher, too, haddiscerned well your brother's besetting sin, and, being fearless induty, from the Sabbath pulpit he spake of it plainly and with such pointthat it could not fail to come home directly to the bosom of the youngman. This was on the very Lord's day before Mr. Barbary disappeared fromamongst us. It rankled in your brother's bosom like poison; his passionswere wild and ungoverned, and this was cause enough. If he had beeninnocent, why did Elbridge Peabody flee this neighborhood, like a thiefin the night?"

"Why did my brother Elbridge leave us, mother?" said the child, bendingeagerly towards the widow, who wrung her hands and was silent. 

"He may come back, " said the child, shaking his flaxen locks, and notabashed in the least by her silence. "He may come back yet and explainall to us. "

"Never!"

At that very moment a red rooster, who stood with his burnished wings onthe garden wall, near enough to have heard all that had passed, liftedup his throat, and poured forth a clear cry, which rang through theplacid air far and wide. 

"He will--I know he will, " said little Sam Peabody, leaping down fromhis judgment-seat in the window. "Chanticleer knows he will, or he wouldnot speak in that way. He hasn't crowed once before, you know, grandfather, since Elbridge went away; we'll hear from brother soon, Iknow we shall--I know we shall!"

The little fellow, in his glee, clapped his hands and crowed too. Thegrandfather, looking on his gambols, smiled, but was presently sadagain. 

"Would to Heaven he may, " he said. "If they come who should, to-day, wemay learn of him--for to-day my children should come up from all thequarters of the land where they are scattered--the East, the West, theNorth, the South--to join with me in the Festival of Thanksgiving whichnow draws near. My head is whitened with many winters, and I shall seethem for the last time. " Sylvester continued: "If they come--in thiscalm season, which, so soft and sweet, seems the gentle dawn of thecoming world--we shall have, I feel, our last re-gathering on earth! Butthey come not; my eyes are weary with watching afar off, and I cannotyet discern that my children bear me in remembrance, in this gratefulseason of the year. Why do they not come?"

The aged patriarch of the family bowed his head and was silent. From thebroom-corn the gentle voice stole again:

 Why sings the robin in the wood? For him her music is not shed: Why blind-brook sparkle through the field? He may be dead! he may be dead!

The murmur of Miriam's musical lamenting had scarcely died away on thedreamy air, when there came hurrying forward from the garden--where shehad been tending the great thanksgiving pumpkin, which was her specialcharge--the black servant of the household, Mopsey by name, who, withher broad-fringed cap flying all abroad, and her great eyes rolling, spoke out as she approached--

"Do hear dat, massa?"

"I hear nothing, Mopsey. "

"Dere, don't you hear't now? Dey're coming!"

With faces of curiosity, and ears erect, they listened. There was apeculiar sound in the air, and on closer attention they discerned, inthe stillness of the morning, the jingling traces of the stage-coach, onthe cross-road, through the fields. 

"They are not coming, " said old Sylvester, when the sound had died awayin the distance; "the stage has taken the other road. "

"Dat may be, grandfather, " Mopsey spoke up, "but for all dey may come. Ugly Davis, when _he_ drive, don't always turn out of his way to come uphere. Dey may be on de corner. "

As Mopsey spoke, two figures appeared on foot on the brow of the road, which sloped down toward the Homestead, through a feathery range ofgraceful locusts. They were too far off to be distinctly made out, butit was to be inferred that they were travellers from a distance, for oneof them held against the light some sort of travelling bag orportmanteau; one of them was in female dress, but this was all theycould as yet distinguish. Various conjectures were ventured as to theirspecial character. They were unquestionably making for the Homestead, and it was to be reasonably supposed they were Peabodys, for strangerswere rare upon that road, which was a by-way, off the main thoroughfare. 

The family gathered on the extreme out-look of the balcony, and watchedwith eager curiosity their approach, which was slow and somewhatirregular--the man did not aid the woman in her progress, but straggledon apart, nor did he seem to address her as they came on. 

CHAPTER SECOND. 

ARRIVAL OF THE MERCHANT AND HIS PEOPLE. 

"It is William and Hannah, " said the Patriarch, towering above thehousehold grouped about him, and gaining an advantage in observationfrom his commanding height, "I am glad the oldest is the first to come!"

When the two comers reached the door-yard gate the man entered inwithout rendering the least assistance or paying the slightest heed tohis companion, who followed humbly in his track. He was some sixty yearsof age, large-featured and inclining to tallness; his dress wasoldmanish and plain, consisting of a long-furred beaver hat, a loosemade coat, and other apparel corresponding, with low cut shoes. Hesmiled as he came upon the balcony, greeting old Sylvester with a shakeof the hand, but taking no notice whatever either of the widow, littleSam, or Mopsey. His wife, on the contrary, spoke to all, but quietly andsubmissively, which was in truth, her whole manner. She was spare andwithered, with a pinched, colorless face, constrained in a scared andapprehensive look as though in constant dread of an impending violenceor injury. Over one eye she wore a green patch, which greatly heightenedthe pallor and strangeness of her features. 

"Where's the Captain and Henrietta?" old Sylvester asked when thegreetings were over. 

"They started from the city in a chay, " he was answered by WilliamPeabody, "some hours before us, --the captain, --seaman--way of drivingirreg'lar. Nobody can tell what road he may have got into. Should'nt besurprised if did'nt arrive till to-morrow morning. Will always havehigh-actioned horse. "

William Peabody had scarcely spoken when there arose in the distancedown the road, a violent cloud of dust, from which there emerged atwo-wheeled vehicle at a thundering pace, and which, in less than aminute's time, went whirling past the Homestead. It was supposed tocontain Captain Saltonstall and wife; but what with the speed and dust, no eye could have guessed with any accuracy who or what they were. Inless than a minute more it came sweeping back with the great whitehorse, passing the house again like an apparition, or the ghost of ahorse and gig. With another sally down the road and return, with a longcurve in the road before the Homestead, it at last came to at the gate, and disclosed in a high sweat and glowing all over his huge person, thejovial Captain, and at his side his pretty little cherry-faced girl of awife, Henrietta Peabody, daughter of William Peabody, who, be it known, is old Sylvester's oldest son. There also emerged from the one-horsegig, after the captain had made ground, and jumped his little wife tothe same landing in his arms, a red-faced boy, who must have beenclosely stowed somewhere, for he came out of the vehicle highly colored, and looking very much as if he had been sat upon for a couple of hoursor more. The Captain having freed his horse from the traces, and at oldSylvester's suggestion, set him loose in the door-yard to graze at hisleisure, rushed forward upon the balcony very much in the character of agood natured tornado, saluted the widow Margaret with a whirlwind kiss, threw little Sam high in the air and caught him as he came within halfan inch of the ground, shook the old grandfather's readily extended handwith a sturdy grasp, and wound up, for a moment, with a great cuff onthe side of the head with a roll of stuff for a new gown for Mopsey, saying as he delivered it, "Dere, what d'ye say to dat, Darkey!"

Darkey brightened into a sort of nocturnal illumination, and shufflingaway, in the loose shoes, to the keeping of which on her feet the betterhalf of the best energies of her life were directed, gave out that shemust be looking after dinner. 

It was but for a moment only that the Captain paused, and in less thanfive minutes he had said and done so many good-natured things, had shownhimself so free of heart withal, and so little considerate of self orthe figure he cut, that in spite of his great clumsy person, and thegash in his face, and the somewhat exorbitant character of his dress, his coat being a bob as long and straight in the line across the back, as the edge of a table, you could not help regarding him as a decidedlywell made, well dressed, and quite handsome person; in fact the Captainpassed with the whole family for a fine-looking man. 

"Where's my little girl Miriam?" asked the jovial Captain, after amoment's rest in a seat by the side of old Sylvester. "I must see myDolphin, or she'll think I'm growing old. "

Being advised that the young lady in question was somewhere within, theCaptain rushed into the house, pursued by all the family in a body, saveWilliam Peabody, who remained with old Sylvester, seated and in silence. 

"How go matters in the city, William?" he said, removing his hand fromhis brow, where it had rested in contemplation for several minutes. 

"After the old fashion, father, " William Peabody answered, smiling witha fox-like glance at his father; "added three new houses to my propertysince last year. "

"Three new houses?"

"Three, all of brick, --good streets--built in the latest style. The citygrows and I grow!"

"Three new houses, and all in the latest style--and how does Margaret'slittle property pay?"

"Poorly, father, poorly. Elbridge made a bad choice when he boughtit--greatly out of repair--rents come slowly. "

"In a word, the old story, the widow gets nothing again from the city. Ihad hopes you would be able to bring her some returns this time, for sheneeds it sadly. "

"I do the best I can, but money's not to be got out of stone walls. "

"And you have three new houses which pay well, " old Sylvester continued, turning his calm blue eye steadily upon his son. 

"Capital--best in the city! Already worth twice I gave for 'em. The citygrows and I grow!"

"My son, do you never think of that other house reserved for us all?"

William Peabody was about to answer, it was nonsense for a man onlysixty and in sound condition of body and mind to think too much of that, when his eye, ranging across the fields, espied in shadow as it were, through the dim atmosphere, the mist clearing away a little in thatdirection, an old sorrel horse--a long settler with the family andwell-known to all its members--staggering about feebly in a distantorchard, and in her wanderings stumbling against the trees. --"Is oldSorrel blind?" he asked, shading his own eyes from the light. 

"She is, William, " old Sylvester replied; "her sight went from her lastNew-Year's day. "

"My birth-day, " said the merchant, a sudden pallor coming upon hiscountenance. 

"Yes, you and old Sorrel are birth-mates, my son. "

"We are; she was foaled the day I was born, " said William Peabody, andadded, as to himself, musingly, "Old Sorrel is blind! So we pass--so wepass--young to-day--to-morrow old--limbs fail us--sight is gone. "

They sat silently, contemplating the still morning scene before them, and meditating, each in his own particular way, on the history of thepast. 

To William, the merchant, it brought chiefly a recollection how in hisearly manhood he had set out from those quiet fields for a hard strugglewith the world, with a bare dollar in his pocket, and when that was gonethe whole world seemed to combine in a desperate league against him toprevent his achieving another. How at last, on the very edge ofstarvation and despair, he had wrung from it the means of beginning hisfortunes; and how he had gone on step by step, forgetting all thepleasant ties of his youth, all recollections of nature and cheerfulfaces of friends and kinsfolk, adding thousand to thousand, house tohouse; building, unlike Jacob, a ladder, that descended to the lowerworld, up which all harsh and dark spirits perpetually thronged andjoined to drag him down; and yet he smiled grimly at the thought of thepower he possessed, and how many of his early companions trembled beforehim because he was grown to be a rich man. 

Old Sylvester, on the other hand, in all his memory had no thought ofhimself. His recollection ran back to the old times when his neighborssat down under a king's sceptre in these colonies, how that chain hadbeen freed, the gloomy Indian had withdrawn his face from their fields, how the darkness of the woods had retired before the cheering sun ofpeace and plenty; and how from a little people, his dear country, forwhose welfare his sword had been stained, had grown into a great nation. Scattered up and down the long line of memory were faces of friends andkindred, which had passed long ago from the earth. He called to mindmany a pleasant fire-side chat; many a funeral scene, and burying insun-light and in the cold rain; the young Elbridge too was in histhoughts last of all; could he return to them with a name untainted, theold man would cheerfully lie down in his grave and be at peace with allthe world. 

In the meanwhile, within the house the Captain in high favor was seatedin a great cushioned arm-chair with little Sam Peabody on his knee, andthe women of the house gathered about him, looking on as he narrated thecourses and adventures of his last voyage. The widow listened with a sadinterest. Mopsey rolled her eyes and was mirthful in the most seriousand stormiest passages; while little Sam and the Captain's wife rivalledeach other in regarding the Captain with innocent wonder andastonishment, as though he were the most extraordinary man that eversailed the sea, or sat in a chair telling about it, in the wholehabitable globe. Miriam Haven alone was distant from the scene, glidingto and fro past the door, busied in household duties in a neighboringapartment, and catching a word here and there as she glanced by. 

It was a wonderful story, certainly, the Captain was telling, and itseemed beyond all belief that it could be true that one man could haveseen the whales, the icebergs, the floating islands, the ships in theair, the sea-dogs, and grampuses, the flying-fish, the pirates, and thethousand other wonders the Captain reported to have crossed his path ina single trip across the simple Atlantic and back. He also averred tohave distinctly seen the sea-serpent, and what was more, to have had aconversation with a ship in the very middle of the ocean. Was thereanything wonderful in that? it occurs every day--but listen to thejovial Captain!--a ship--and he had news to tell them of one they wouldlike to hear about. They pressed close to the Captain and listenedbreathlessly; Miriam Haven pausing in her task, and stopping stone-stilllike a statue, in the door, while her very heart stayed its beating. 

Go on--Captain--go on--go on!

"Well, what do you think; we were in latitude--no matter, you don't careabout that--we had just come out of a great gale, which made the seapitch-dark about us; when the first beam of the sun opened the clouds, we found ourselves along side a ship with the old stars and stripesflying like a bird at the mast-head. There was a sight, my hearties. Wehailed her, she hailed us, we threw her papers, she threw us, and weparted forever. "

"Is that all?"

"Not half. One of these was a list of passengers; I run my eye up, and Irun my eye down, and there, shining out like a star amongst them all, Ifind, whose d'ye think--Elbridge Peabody--as large as life. "

Miriam Haven staggered against the door-post, the widow fell upon herknees, "Thank God, my boy is heard from. "

Little Sam Peabody darted from the Captain's knee and rushed upon thebalcony, crying at the top of his lungs, "Grandfather, brother Elbridgeis heard from. "

"I don't believe it, " said William Peabody; the poor old blind sorrelhad disappeared from sight into a piece of woods near the orchard, andthe merchant had quite recovered his usual way of speaking. "Never willbelieve it. You hav'nt heard of that youngster, --never will. Always knewhe would run away some day--never come back again. "

The Captain's story was rapidly explained by the different members ofthe family, who had followed little Sam, to repeat it to old Sylvester, each in her own way. Miriam and Hannah Peabody, who at sound of thecommotion had come forth from an inner chamber, whither she had beenretired by herself, joined the company of lookers on. 

"What all amount to, " he continued, in his peculiar clipped style ofspeech. "Expect to see him again, do you. Mighty fine chance--wheregoing to?"

The Captain could'nt tell. 

"One of the Captain's fine stories--no--no--if that boy ever comes backagain, I'll--"

There was a deep silence to hear what the hard old merchant proposed. 

"I'll hand over to him the management of his late father's property, hewas always hankering after, and thought he could make so much more ofthan his hard-fisted old uncle. "

This was a comfortable proposition, and little Sam Peabody, as though itwere a great pear or red pippin that was spoken of, running to hismother, said, "Mother, I'd take it. "

"I do, " said the widow, "and call you all to witness. "

William Peabody smiled grimly on Margaret; his countenance darkenedsuddenly, and he was, no doubt, on the point of retracting his confidentoffer, when his wife uttered in an under tone, half entreaty, halfauthority, "William, " at the same time turning on her husband the sideof the countenance which wore the green shade. He stifled what heintended to utter, and shifting uneasily in his seat, he looked towardthe city and was silent. Whatever the reason, it was clear that whenthey were seated at the table, partaking of the meal, it was CaptainSaltonstall that had the best attention from every member of thehousehold, (and the best of the dish, ) from all save old Sylvester, whoheld himself erect, as usual, and impartial in the matter. 

"The ways of Providence are strange, " said old Sylvester. "Out ofdarkness he brings marvellous light, and from the frivolous acorn hespreads the branches wide in the air, which are a shelter, and a solace, and a shadowy play-ground to our youth and old age. We must wait theissue, and whatever comes, to Him must we give thanks. "

With this sentiment for a benediction, the patriarch dismissed hisfamily to their slumbers, which to each one of the household brought itspeculiar train of speculation; to two, at least, Miriam and the widowMargaret, they brought dreams which only the strong light of day coulddisprove to be realities. 

CHAPTER THIRD. 

THE FARMER-FOLKS FROM THE WEST. 

With the following day, (which was calm, gentle, and serene as itspredecessor, ) a little after the dispatch of dinner, the attention ofthe household was summoned to the clatter of a hurrying wagon, which, unseen, resounded in the distant country. Old Sylvester was the first tohear it--faintly at first, then it rose on the wind far off, died awayin the woods and the windings of the roads, then again was entirely lostfor several minutes, and at last growing into a portentous rattle, brought to at the door of the homestead, and landed from its rickettyand bespattered bosom Mr. Oliver Peabody, of Ohio; Jane his wife, abuxom lady of fair complexion, in a Quaker bonnet; and Robert, theireldest son, a tall, flat-featured boy, some thirteen years of age. 

The countryman in a working shirt, who had the control of the wagon, andwho had been beguiled by Oliver some five miles out of his road home, (to which he was returning from the market town, ) under pretence of awish to have his opinion of the crops--the poor fellow being withal ahired laborer and never having owned, or entertained the remotestspeculation of owning, a rood of ground of his own, --with a commendationfrom Oliver, delivered with a cheerful smile, that "his observations ontimothy were very much to the purpose, " drove clattering away again. Mr. Oliver Peabody, farmer, who had come all the way from Ohio to spendthanksgiving with his old father--of a ruddy, youthful and twinklingcountenance--who wore his hair at length and unshorn, and the chiefpeculiarity of whose dress was a grey cloth coat, with a row of greathorn-buttons on either breast, with enormous woollen mittens, broughthis buxom wife forward under one arm with diligence, drawing his tallyouth of a son after him by the other hand--threw himself into the bosomof the Peabody family, and was heartily welcomed all round. He didn'tsay a word of half-horses and half-alligators, nor of greased lightning, although he was from the West, but he did complain most bitterly of theuncommon smoothness of the roads in these parts, the short grass, andthe 'bominable want of elbow-room all over the neighborhood. It was withdifficulty he could be kept on the straitened stage of the balcony longenough to answer a few plain questions of children and other matters athome; and immediately expressed an ardent desire to take a look at thegarden. 

"We got somefin' to show thar, Mas'r Oliver, " said Mopsey, who had stoodby listening, with open mouth and eyes, to the strong statements of thewestern farmer, "we haint to be beat right-away no how!"

Old Sylvester rose with his staff, which he carried more for pleasurethan necessity, and led the way. As they approached there was visiblethrough all the plants, shrubs and other growths of the place, whateverthey might be--a great yellow sphere or ball, so disposed, on a littleslope by itself, as to catch the eye from a distance, shining out in itsgolden hue from the garden, a sort of rival to the sun himself, rollingoverhead. 

"Dere, what d'ye tink of dat, Oliver, " Mopsey asked, forgetting in thegrandeur of the moment all distinctions of class or color, "I guessdat's somefin. "

"That's a pumpkin, " said Mr. Oliver Peabody, calmly. 

"Yes, I guess it is--_de tanksgivin punkin_!"

She looked into the western farmer's face, no doubt expecting a spasm orconvulsion, but it was calm--calm as night. Mopsey condescended notanother word, but walking or rather shuffling disdainfully away, muttered to herself, "Dat is de very meanest man, for a white man, Iever did see; he looked at dat 'ere punkin which has cost me so manyanxious days and sleepless nights--which I have watched over as thoughit had been my own child--which I planted wid dis here hand of my own, and fought for agin the June bugs and the white frost, and dat mousedat's been tryin to eat it up for dis tree weeks and better--just as ifit had been a small green cowcumber. I don't believe dat Oliver Peabodyknows it is tanksgivin'. He's a great big fool. "

"I see you still keep some of the old red breed, father, " said Oliverwhen they were left alone in the quiet of the garden, pointing to thered rooster, who stood on the wall in the sun. 

"Yes, " old Sylvester answered, "for old times' sake. We have had themwith us now on the farm for better than a hundred years. I remember theday the great grandfather of this bird was brought among us. It was theday we got news that good David Brainard, the Indian missionary, died--that was some while before the revolutionary war. He died in thearms of the great Jonathan Edwards, at Northampton; their souls are atpeace. "

"I recollect this fellow, " Oliver continued, referring to the redrooster, "When I was here last he was called Elbridge's bird, that wasthe year before last. "

"There is no Elbridge now, " said the old grandfather. 

"I know all, " said Oliver, "I had a letter from Margaret, telling me thestory and begging me to keep a watch for her boy. "

"A wide watch to keep and little to be got by it, I fear, " old Sylvesteradded. 

"Not altogether idle, perhaps; we have sharp eyes in the West and seemany strange things. Jane is confident she saw our Elbridge, makingthrough Ohio, but two months after he left here; he was riding swiftly, and in her surprise and suddenness she could neither call nor send afterhim. "

"You did not tell us of that, " said the old man. 

"No, I waited some further discovery. "

"Be silent now, you may easily waken hopes to be darkened and dashed tothe ground. Which way made the boy?"

"Southward. "

During this discourse, as though he distinguished the sound of his youngmaster's name and knew to what it related, Chanticleer walked slowly, and as if by accident or at leisure, up and down the garden-wall, keeping as near to the speakers as was at all seemly. When they stoppedspeaking he leaped gently to the ground and softly clapped his wings. 

A moment after there came hurrying into the garden, in a wildexcitement, and all struggling to speak first, little Sam Peabody in thelead, Robert, the flat-featured youth of thirteen, and Peabody Junior, (who, it should be mentioned, having found his way into a pantry acouple of minutes after his arrival with the Captain, and appropriatedto his own personal use an entire bottle of cherry brandy, had beenstraightway put to bed, from which he had now been released not morethan a couple of hours), and to announce as clamorously as theyrespectively could, that Brundage's Bull had just got into "our bigmeadow. "

"Nobody hurt?" asked old Sylvester. 

"Nobody hurt, grandfather, but he's ploughing up the meadow at adreadful rate, " said little Sam Peabody. 

"Like wild, " Peabody Junior added. 

This statement, strongly as it was made, seemed to have no particulareffect on old Sylvester. Oliver Peabody, on the other hand, wasexceedingly indignant, and was for proceeding to extremitiesimmediately, the expulsion of the Brundage bull, and the demanding ofdamages for allowing his cattle to cross the boundary line of the twofarms. 

Old Sylvester listened to his violence with a blank countenance; nor didhe seem to comprehend that any special outrage had been committed, forit must be acknowledged that the only indication that the grandfatherhad come to his second childhood was, that, with his advancing years, and as he approached the shadow of the other world, he seemed to havelost all idea of the customary distinctions of rank and property, andthat very much like an old apostle, he was disposed to regard all men asbrethren, and boundary lines as of very little consequence. 

He therefore promptly checked his son Oliver in his heat, anddiscountenanced any further proceedings in the matter. 

"Brundage, " he said, "would, if he cared about him, come and take hisbull away when he was ready; we are all brethren, and have a commoncountry, Oliver, " he added, "I hope you feel that in the West, as wellas we do here. "

"Thank God, we have, " Oliver rejoined with emphasis, "and we love it!"

"I thank God for that too, " old Sylvester replied, striking his stafffirmly on the ground, "I remember well, my son, when your great statewas a wilderness of woods and savage men, and now this common sky--lookat it, Oliver--which shines so clearly above us, is yours as well asours. "

"I fear me, father, one day, bright, beautiful, and wide-arched as itis, the glorious Union may fall, " said Oliver, laying his hand upon anaged tree which stood near them, "may fall, and the states drop, one byone away, even as the fruit I shake to the ground. "

As though he had been a tower standing on an elevation, old SylvesterPeabody rose aloft to his full height, as if he would clearlycontemplate the far past, the distant, and the broad-coming future. 

"The Union fall!" he cried. "Look above, my son! The Union fall! as longas the constellations of evening live together in yonder sky; look down, as long as the great rivers of our land flow eastward and westward, north and south, the Union shall stand up, and stand majestical andbright, beheld by ages, as these shall be, an orb and living stream ofglory unsurpassable. "

The children were gathered about, and watched with eager eyes andglowing cheeks, the countenance of the grandfather as he spoke. 

"No, no, my son, " he added, "there's many a true heart in brave Ohio, asin every state of ours, or they could not be the noble powers they are. "

While old Sylvester spoke, Oliver Peabody wrenched with some violence, from the tree near which they stood, a stout limb, on the end of whichhe employed himself with a knife in shaping a substantial knob. 

"What weapon is that you are busy with, Oliver?" old Sylvester asked. 

"It's for that nasty bull, " Oliver replied. "I would break every bone inhis body rather than let him remain for a single minute on my land; thefurtherance of law and order demands the instant enforcement of one'srights. "

"You are a friend of law and order, my son. "

"I think I am, " Oliver answered, standing erect and planting his club, in the manner of Hercules in the pictures, head down on the ground. 

"I hope you are, Oliver; but I fear you forget the story I used to tellof my old friend Bulkley, of Danbury, who, being written to by someneighboring Christians who were in sore dissension, for advisement, gavethem back word:--Every man to look after his own fence, that it be builthigh and strong, and to have a special care of the old Black Bull;meaning thereby no doubt, our own wicked passions;--that is the trueChristian way of securing peace and good order. "

Oliver threw his great trespass-club upon the ground, and was on thepoint of asking after an old sycamore, the largest growth of all thatcountry, which, standing in a remote field had, in the perilous timessheltered many of the Peabody family in its bosom--when he wasinterrupted by the sudden appearance of Mopsey in a flutter ofcap-strings, shuffling shoes, and a flying color in her looks of atleast double the usual depth of darkness. It was just discovered thatthe poultry-house had been broken into over night, and four of thefattest hens taken off by the throat and legs, besides sundry of theinferior members of the domicile; as wicked a theft, Mopsey said, asever was, and she hadn't the slightest hesitation in charging it on themniggers in the Hills, (a neighboring settlement of colored people, wholived from hand to mouth, and seemed to be fed, like the ravens by somemystery of providence. )

Oliver Peabody watched closely the countenance of the patriarch, not alittle curious to learn what effect this announcement would have uponhis temper. 

"This is all our own fault, " said old Sylvester, promptly. "We shouldhave remembered this was thanksgiving time, and sent them something tostay their stomachs. Poor creatures, I always wondered how they gotalong! Send 'em some bread, Mopsey, for they never can do anything withfowls without bread!"

"Send 'em some bread!" Mopsey rejoined, growing blacker and more ugly oflook as she spoke: "Send 'em whips, and an osifer of the law!--the fourfattest of the coop. "

"Never mind, " said old Sylvester. 

"Six of the ten'drest young'uns!"

"Never mind that, " said old Sylvester. 

"I'd have them all in the county jail before sundown, " urged Mopsey. 

"Oliver, we will go in to tea, " continued the patriarch. "We have enoughfor tea, Mopsey?"

"Yes, quite enough, Mas'r. "

"Then, " cried the old man, striking his staff on the ground with greatviolence, rising to his full height, and glowing like a furnace, uponMopsey, "then, I say, send 'em some bread!"

This speech, delivered in a voice of authority, sent Mopsey, shufflingand cowering, away, without a word, and brought the sweat of horror tothe brow of Oliver, which he proceeded to remove with a great cottonpocket-handkerchief, produced from his coat behind, on which wasdisplayed in glowing colors, by some cunning artist, the imposing sceneof the signers of the Declaration of Independence getting ready to affixtheir names. Mr. Oliver Peabody was the politician of the family, andalways had the immortal Declaration of Independence at his tongue's end, or in hand. 

CHAPTER FOURTH. 

THE FORTUNES OF THE FAMILY CONSIDERED. 

When Oliver and old Sylvester entered the house they found all of thefamily gathered within, save the children, who loitered about the doorsand windows, looking in, anxious-eyed, on the preparations for tea goingforward under the direction of the widow Margaret, and Mopsey. The otherwomen of the household were busy with a discussion of the merits of Mrs. Carrack, of Boston, the fashionable lady of the family. 

"I should like to see Mrs. Carrack above all things, " said the Captain'spretty little wife, "she must be a fine woman from all I have heard ofher. "

"Thee will have small chance, I fear, child, " said Mrs. Jane Peabody, sitting buxomly in an easy arm chair, which she had quietly assumed, "she is too fine for the company of us plain folks in every point ofview. "

"It's five years since she was here, " the widow suggested as sheadjusted the chairs around the table, "she said she never would comeinside the house again, because the best bed-chamber was not given toher--I am sorry to say it. "

"She's a heathen and wicked woman, " Mopsey said, shuffling at the door, and turning back on her way to the kitchen--"your poor boy was lying lowof a fever and how could _she_ expect it. "

"In one point of view she may come; her husband was living then, "continued Mrs. Jane Peabody, "she has become a rich woman since, and mayhonor us with a visit--to show us how great a person she has got tobe--let her come--it need'nt trouble thee, nor me, I'm sure. " Mrs. JanePeabody smoothed her Quaker vandyke, and sat stiffly in her easy chair. 

Old Sylvester entering at that moment, laid aside his staff andbroad-brimmed hat, which little Sam Peabody ran in to take charge of, and took his seat at the head of the table; the Captain, who was busy atthe back-door scouring an old rusty fowling-piece for some enterprise hehad in view in the morning, was called in by his little wife; the otherswere seated in their places about the board. 

"Where's William?" old Sylvester asked. 

He was at a window in the front room, where he had sat for severalhours, with spectacles on his brow, poring over an old faded parchmentdeed, which related to some neighboring land he thought belonged to thePeabodys, (although in possession of others, ) and which he had alwaysmade a close study of on his visits to the homestead. There was a darkpassage, under which he made their title, which had been submitted tovarious men learned in the law; it was too dark and doubtful, in theiropinion, to build a contest on, and yet William Peabody gave it everyyear a new examination, with the hope, perhaps, that the wisdom ofadvancing age might enable him to fathom and expound it, although it hadbeen drawn up by the greatest lawyer of his day in all that country. Hiswife Hannah, grieving in spirit that her husband should be toilingforever in the quest of gain, sat near him, pale, calm and disheartened, but speaking not a word. He could not look at her with that fearfulgreen shade on her face, but kept his eyes always fixed on the oldparchment. When his aged father had taken his seat, and began his thanksto God for the bounties before them, as though the old Patriarch hadbrought a better spirit from the calm day without, he thrust the paperinto his bosom and glided to his place at the table. It would have doneyou good to hear that old man's prayer. He neither solicited forgivenessfor his enemies nor favors for his friends; for schools, churches, presidents or governments; neither for health, wealth, worldly welfare, nor for any single other thing; all he said, bowing his white old head, was this:

"May we all be Christian people the day we die--God bless us. "

That was all; and his kinsfolk lost no appetite in listening to it--forit was no sooner uttered than they all fell to--and not a word more wasspoken for five minutes at least, nor then perhaps, had not little SamPeabody cried out, with breathless animation, and delight of feature, "The pigeons, grandfather!" at the same time pointing from the door tothe evening sky, along which they were winging their calm and silentflight in a countless train--streaming on westward as though there wasno end to them; which put old Sylvester upon recalling the cheerfulsports of his younger days. 

"I have taken a couple of hundred in a net on the Hill before breakfast, many a time, " he said. "You used to help me, William. "

"Yes, I and old Ethan Barbary, " said the merchant, "used to spring thenet; you gave the word. "

"Old Ethan has been dead many a day. Ethan, " continued old Sylvester, inexplanation, "was the father of our Mr. Barbary. He was a preacher too, and carried a gun in the revolution. I remember he was accounted apeculiar man. I never knew why. To be sure he used to spend the time hedid not employ in prayers, preaching and tending the sick, in working onthe farms about, for he had no wages for preaching. When there was noneof that to be had, he took his basket, and sallying through the fields, gathered berries, which he bestowed on the needy families of theneighborhood. In winter he collected branches in the woods about, asfire-wood for the poor. "

"That was a capital idea, " said Oliver the politician. "It must havemade him very popular. "

"Wasn't he always thought to be a little out of his head?" asked themerchant. "He might have sold the wood for a good price in the severewinters. "

"I remember as if it were yesterday, " old Sylvester went on in his ownway, not heeding in the slightest the suggestions of his sons, "he andblack Burling, who is buried in the woods by the Great Walnut tree, nearthe pond, both fought in the American ranks, and had but one gun betweenthem, which they used turn about. "

"You saw rough times in those days, grandfather, " said the Captain. 

"I did, Charley, " old Sylvester answered, looking kindly on the Captain, who had always been something of a favorite of his from the day he hadmarried into the family; "and there are but few left to talk with me ofthem now. I am one of the living survivors of an almost extinguishedrace. The grave will soon be our only habitation. I am one of the fewstalks that still remain in the field where the tempest passed. I havefought against the foreign foe for your sake; they have disappeared fromthe land, and you are free; the strength of my arm delays, and my feetfail me in the way; the hand which fought for your liberties is now opento bless you. In my youth I bled in battle that you might beindependent--let not my heart, in my old age, bleed because you abandonthe path I would have you follow. "

The old patriarch leaned his head upon his hand, and the company wassilent as though they had listened to a voice from the grave. Hepresently looked up and smiled--"Old Ethan, I call to mind now, " herenewed, "had a quality which our poor Barbary inherited, and forwhich, " he added, looking toward his son William, "and for which Igreatly honor his memory. He counted the money of this world but asdross. From his manhood to the very moment of his entering on theministry, he never would touch silver nor gold, partly, I think, becauseit was the true Scripture course, and partly because a dreadful murderhad once happened in the Barbary family, growing out of a quarrel forthe possession of a paltry sum of money. "

The bread she was raising to her lips fell from the widow's hand, forshe could not help but think of the history of her absent son; and thevoice of Miriam, who did not present herself at the table, was heardfrom a distant chamber, not distinctly, but in that tone of chantinglament which had become habitual to her whether in house, garden, orfield. It was an inexpressibly mournful cadence, and for the timestilled all other sounds. They were only drawn away from it by descryingMopsey, the black servant, at a turn of the road, hurrying with greatanimation towards the homestead, but with a singularity in her progresswhich could not fail to be observed. She rushed along at great speed, for several paces, and suddenly came to a halt, during which her headdisappeared, and then renewed her pace, repeating the peculiarmanoeuvre once at least in every ten yards. In a word, she wasshuffling on in her loose shoes, (which were on or off, one or the otherof them every other minute, ) at as rapid a rate as that peculiar speciesof locomotion allowed. Bursting with impatience and the importance ofher communication, her cap flaunting from her head, she stood in thedoorway and announced, "We've beat Brundage--we've beat Brundage!"

"What's this, Mopsey?" old Sylvester inquired. 

"I've tried it and I've spanned it. I can't span ours!"

On further questioning it appeared that Mopsey had been on a pilgrimageto the next neighbor's, the Brundages, to inspect their thanksgivingpumpkin, and institute a comparison with the Peabody growth of thatkind, with a highly satisfactory and complacent result as regarded thehome production. Nobody was otherwise than pleased at Mopsey's innocentrejoicing, and when she had been duly complimented on her success, shewent away with a broad black guffaw to set a trap in the garden for thebrown mouse, the sole surviving enemy of the great Peabody thanksgivingpumpkin which must be plucked next day for use. 

With the dispatch of the evening meal, old Sylvester withdrew to theother room, with a little hand lamp, to read a chapter by himself. Theothers remaining seated about the apartment; the Captain and Oliverpresently fell into a violent discussion on the true sources of nationalwealth, the Captain giving it as his opinion that it solely depended onhaving a great number of ships at sea, as carriers between differentcountries. Oliver was equally clear and resolute that the real wealth ofa nation lay in its wheat crops. When wheat was at ten shillings thebushel, all went well; let it fall a quarter, and you had generalbankruptcy staring you in the face. Mr. William Peabody was'nt at thepains to deliver his opinion, but he was satisfied, in his secret soul, that it lay in the increase of new houses, or the proper supply ofcalicoes--he had'nt made up his mind which. Presently Oliver wastroubled again in reference to the supply of gold in the world--whetherthere was enough to do business with; he also had some things to say(which he had out of a great speech in Congress) about bullion and ratesof exchange, but nobody understood him. 

"By the way, " he added, "Mrs. Carrack's son Tiffany is gone to the GoldRegion. From what he writes to me I think he'll cut a very great figurein that country. "

"An exceedingly fine, talented young man, " said the merchant, who had, then, sundry sums on loan from his mother. 

"In any point of view, in which you regard it, " continued Oliver, "thegold country is an important acquisition. "

"You hav'nt the letter Tiffany wrote, with you?" interrupted theCaptain. 

"I think I have, " was the answer. "I brought it, supposing you mightlike to look at it. Shall I read it?"

There was no objection--the letter was read--in which Mr. TiffanyCarrack professed his weariness of civilized life--spoke keenly ofmisspent hours--a determination to rally and do something important, intimating that that was a great country for enterprising young men, and, in a familiar phrase, closed with a settled resolution to do ordie. 

"I have a letter to the same effect, " said the Captain. 

"And so have I, " said William Peabody, "word for word. "

"He means to do something very grand, " said the Captain. Something verygrand--the women all agreed--for Mr. Tiffany Carrack was a nice youngman, and had a prospect of inheriting a hundred thousand dollars, to saynothing of the large sums he was to bring from the Gold Regions. It wasevident to all that he was going into the business with a rush. They, ofcourse, would'nt see Mr. Tiffany Carrack at this Thanksgivinggathering--he had better business on hand--Mr. Tiffany Carrack wasclearly the promising young man of the family, and was carrying thefortunes of the Peabodys into the remotest quarters of the land. 

"In a word, " said Mr. Oliver Peabody, developing the Declaration ofIndependence on his pocket-handkerchief. "He is going to do wonders inevery point of view. He'll carry the principles of Free Governmenteverywhere!"

The consideration of the extraordinary talents and enterprise of the sonimparted a new interest to the question of the coming of Mrs. Carrack;which was rediscussed in all its bearings; and it was almost unanimouslyconcluded--that, one day now only intervening to Thanksgiving--it wastoo late to look for her. There had been a general disposition, secretlyopposed only by Mrs. Jane Peabody, to yield to that fashionable personthe best bed-chamber, which was always accounted a great prize anddistinguished honor among the family. But now there was scarcely anyneed of reserving it longer--and who was to have it? Alas! that is aquestion often raised in rural households, often shakes them to the verybase, and spreads through whole families a bitterness and strength andlength of strife, which frequently ends only with life itself. 

To bring the matter to an issue, various whispered conversations wereheld in the small room, lying next to the sitting-room, at firstbetween Mrs. Margaret Peabody and Mopsey, to which one by one weresummoned, Mrs. Jane Peabody, the Captain's wife, and Mrs. HannahPeabody. The more it was discussed the farther off seemed any reasonableconclusion. When one arrangement was proposed, various faces of thegroup grew dark and sour; when another, other faces blackened andelongated; tongues, too, wagged faster every minute, and at length grewto such a hubbub as to call old Sylvester away from his Bible and bringhim to the door to learn what turmoil it was that at this quiet hourdisturbed the peace of the Peabodys. He was not long in discovering theground of battle, and even as in old pictures Adam is shown walkingcalmly in Eden among the raging beasts of all degrees and kinds, the oldpatriarch came forward among the women of the Peabody family--"Mychildren, " he said, "should dwell in peace for the short stay allottedthem on earth. Why make a difference about so small a matter as alodging-place--they are all good and healthful rooms. I have seen theday when camping on the wet grounds and morasses I would have held anyone of them to be a palace-chamber. The back chamber, my child, " hecontinued, addressing the Captain's wife, "looks out on the orchard, where you always love to walk; the white room, Hannah, towards yourfather's house; and Jane, you cannot object to the front chamber whichis large, well-furnished, and has the best of the sunrise. The Son ofMan, my children, had not where to lay his head, and shall we who arebut snails and worms, compared with his glory and goodness, presume toexalt ourselves, where he was abased. "

The old patriarch wished them a good night, and with the departure ofhis white locks gleaming as he walked away, as though it had been thegentle radiance of the moon stilling the tumult of the waters, they eachquietly retired, and without a further murmur, to the chambers assignedthem. 

CHAPTER FIFTH. 

THE CHILDREN. 

There was no question where the children were to lodge, for there hadbeen allotted to them from time immemorial, ever since children wereknown in the Peabody family, a great rambling upper chamber, with bedsin the corners, where they were always bestowed as soon after dark asthey could be convoyed thither under direction of Mopsey and themistress of the household. This was not always--in truth it wasrarely--easy of achievement, and cost the shuffling black servant atleast half an hour of diligent search and struggling persuasion to bringthem in from the various strayings, escapes, and lurking-places, wherethey shirked to gain an extra half-hour of freedom. 

To the children, however darker humors might work and sadden among thegrown people, (for whatever hue rose-favored writers may choose to throwover scenes and times of festivity, the passions of character are alwaysbusy, in holiday and hall, as well as in the strifes of the world, ) tothe Peabody children this was thanksgiving time indeed--it wasthanksgiving in the house, it was thanksgiving in the orchard, climbingtrees; it was thanksgiving in the barn, tumbling in the hay, in thelane. It was thanksgiving, too, with the jovial Captain, a grown-up boy, heading their sports and allowing the country as he did, little rest orpeace of mind wherever he lead the revel; it was not four-and-twentyhours that he had been at the quiet homestead before the mill was seta-running, the chestnut-trees shaken, the pigeons fired into, a new bellof greater compass put upon the brindle cow, the blacksmith's anvil atthe corner of the road set a-dinging, fresh weather-cocks clapped uponthe barn, corn-crib, stable, and out-house, the sheep let out of thelittle barn, all the boats of the neighborhood launched upon the pond. With night, darkness closed upon wild frolic; bed-time came, andthanksgiving had a pause; a pause only, for Mopsey's dark head, with itsbroad-bordered white cap, was no sooner withdrawn and the door firmlyshut, than thanksgiving began afresh, as though there had been no suchthing all day long, and they were now just setting out. For half aminute after Mopsey's disappearance they were all nicely tucked in asshe had left them--straight out--with their heads each square on itspillow; then, as if by a silent understanding, all heads popped up likeso many frisking fish. They darted from bed and commenced in the middleof the chamber, a great pillow-fight amicable and hurtless, butfuriously waged, till the approach of a broad footstep sent themscampering back to their couches, mum as mice. Mopsey, well aware ofthese frisks, tarried till they were blown over, in her own chamber hardby, a dark room, mysterious to the fancy of the children, with spinningwheels, dried gourd-shells hung against the wall, a lady'sriding-saddle, now out of use this many a day, and all the odds and endsof an ancient farm-house stored in heaps and strings about. 

It was only at last by going aloft and moving a trap in the ceiling, which was connected in tradition with the appearance of a ghost, thatthey were at length fairly sobered down and kept in bed, when Mopsey, looking in for the last time, knew that it was safe to go below. Theyhad something left even then, and kept up a talk from bed to bed, for agood long hour more, at least. 

"What do you think of the turkey, Bill?" began Master Robert Peabody, the flat-featured, rising from his pillow like a homely porpoise. 

"I don't know, " Peabody Junior answered, "I don't care for turkeys. "

Little Sam Peabody, the master of the turkey, took this very much toheart. 

"I think he's a very fine one, " continued Master Robert, "twice as bigas last year's. "

"I'm very glad to hear you say that, Cousin Robert, " said little SamPeabody, turning over toward the quarter whence the voice ofencouragement came. 

"As fine a turkey as I've ever seen, " Robert went on. "When do they killhim?"

Little Sam struggled a little with himself, and answered feebly, "To-morrow. "

There was silence for several minutes, broken presently by PeabodyJunior, fixing his pillow, and saying "Boys, I'm going to sleep. "

Allowing some few minutes for this to take effect, Master Robert calledacross the chamber to little Sam, "I wonder why Aunt Hannah wears thatold green shade on her face?"

"Pray don't say anything about that, " little Sam answered, "Cousin don'tlike to hear about that!"

Master Robert--rather a blunt young gentleman--is not to be baffled soeasily. 

"I say, Bill, why does your mother wear that green patch over her eye?"he called out. 

There was no answer; he called again in a louder key. 

"Hush!" whispered Peabody Junior, who was not asleep, but only thinkingof it, in a tone of fear, "I don't know. "

"Is the eye gone?" Robert asked again, bent on satisfaction of somekind. 

"I don't know, " was the whispered answer again. "Don't ask me anythingabout it. "

"I'm afraid Aunt Hannah's not happy, " suggested little Sam, timidly. 

"Pr'aps she is'nt, Sam, " Peabody Junior answered. 

"What is the reason, " continued little Sam, "I always liked her. "

"Don't know, " was all Peabody Junior had to reply. 

"Did you ever see that other eye? Bill, " asked the blunt younggentleman, whose head was still running on the green shade. 

"Oh, go to sleep, will you, Nosey, " cried Peabody Junior. "If you don'tleave me alone I'll get up and wollop you. "

The flat-featured disappeared with his porpoise face under thebed-clothes and breathed hard, but kept close; and when he fell asleephe dreamed of dragons and green umbrellas all night, at a fearful rate. 

"I would'nt be angry, Cousin, " said little Sam, when the porpoise gavetoken that he was hardbound in slumber. "He don't mean to hurt yourfeelings, I don't believe. "

"Pr'aps he don't, " Peabody Junior rejoined. "What could I tell him, if Iwanted to; all I know is, mother has worn the shade ever since I canrecollect anything. I think sometimes I can remember she used to have iton as far back as when I was at the breast, a very little child, andthat I used to try and snatch it away--which always made her very sad. "

"Don't she ever take it away?" asked little Sam. 

"I never saw it off in all my life; nor can I tell you whether my dearmother has one eye or two. I know she never likes to have any one lookat it. It makes her melancholy at once; nurse used to tell me there wasa mystery about it--but she would never tell me any more. It alwaysscares father when she turns that side of her face on him, that I'venoticed; and he always at home sits on the other side of the table fromit. "

"I wouldn't think any more about it to-night, Cousin, " said little Sam. "I know it makes you unhappy from your voice. Don't you miss some oneto-night that used to keep us awake with telling pleasant stories?"

"I do, " answered Peabody Junior. "I'm thinking of him now. I wish CousinElbridge was back again. "

"You know why he isn't?"

"Father says it's because he's a bad young man. "

"And do you believe it, William?"

"I'm afraid he is--for father always says so. "

A gentle figure had quietly opened the chamber-door, and stood listeningwith breathless attention to the discourse of the two children. 

"You wait and see, " continued little Sam firmly, "I'm sure he'll comeback--and before long. "

"What makes you think so?" William asked. "I'm sure I hope he will. "

"Because the red rooster, " answered little Sam, "crowed yesterdaymorning for the first time since he went away, and the red rooster knowsmore than anybody about this farm except old grandfather. "

Thinking how that could be, Peabody Junior fell asleep; and little Sam, sure to dream of his absent brother, shortly followed after. The gentlefigure of Miriam Haven glided into the chamber, to the bed-side oflittle Sam, and watching his calm, innocent features--which were held togreatly resemble those of the absent Elbridge--with tears in her eyes, she breathed a blessing from her very heart on the dear child who hadfaith in the absent one. "A blessing!" such was her humble wish as shereturned to her chamber and laid her fair head on the pillow, "ablessing on such as believe in us when we are in trouble and poverty, out of favor with the world, when our good name is doubted, and when thecurrent running sharply against, might overwhelm us, were not one or twokind hands put forth to save us from utter ruin and abandonment!"

CHAPTER SIXTH. 

THE FASHIONABLE LADY AND HER SON. 

All the next day, being the Wednesday before thanksgiving, was alive andbusy with the various preparations for the great festival, now held tobe a sacred holiday throughout this wide-spread union. The lark had nosooner called morning in the meadow than Mopsey, who seemed to regardherself as having the entire weight of the occasion on her singleshoulders, slipped from bed, hurried to the garden, and taking a lastlook at the great pumpkin as it lay in all its golden glory, severed thevine at a stroke and trundled it with her own arms, (she saw with asmile of pity the poor brown mouse skulking off, like a little pirate ashe was, disappointed of his prize, ) in at the back-door. The Peabodyswere gathering for breakfast, and coming forward, stood at either sideof the entrance regarding the pumpkin with profound interest. It fairlyshook the house as it rolled in upon the kitchen floor. 

When little Sam, who had lingered in bed beyond the others, withpleasant dreams, came down stairs, he was met by young William Peabody. 

"What do you think, Sam?" said Peabody Junior, smiling. 

"I suppose Aunt Carrack has come, " Sam answered. "It's nothing to me ifshe has. "

"No, that isn't it. --Turkey's dead!"

Little Sam dropped a tear, and went away by himself to walk in thegarden. Little Sam took no breakfast that morning. 

Every window in the house was thrown wide open to begin with; everychair walked out of its place; the new broom which Miriam had gatheredwith a song, was used for the first time freely on every floor, in everynook and corner; then the new broom was carried away, and locked in acloset like a conjuror who had wrought his spell and need not appearagain till some other magic was to be performed. All the chairs were setsoberly and steadily against the wall, the windows were closed, and asacred shade thrown over the house against the approaching festival. Thekey was turned in the lock of the old parlor, which was to have nocompany (save the tall old clock talking all alone in the corner tohimself) till to-morrow. 

And so the day sailed on, like a dainty boat with silent oar on acalm-flowing stream, to evening, when, as though it had been a new-bornmeteor or great will-o'-the-wisp, there appeared on the edge of thetwilight, along the distant horizon, a silvery glitter, which, drawingnearer and nearer, presently disclosed a servant in a shining bandmounted on a great coach, with horses in burnished harness; withchamping speed, which it seemed must have borne it far beyond, it cameto in a moment at the very gate of the homestead, as at the striking ofa clock. A gentleman in bearded lip, in high polish of hat, chains andboots, emerged, (the door being opened by a stripling also in a bandedhat, who leaped from behind, ) followed by a lady in a gown of glossysilk and a yellow feather, waving in the partial darkness from her hat. Such wonder and astonishment as seized on the Peabodys, who looked on itfrom the balcony, no man can describe. 

Angels have descended before now and walked upon the earth--giants havebeen at some time or other seen strutting about--ghosts appearoccasionally in the neighborhood of old farm-houses, but neither ghost, giant, nor angel had such a welcome of uplifted hands and staring eyesas encountered Mrs. Carrack and her son Tiffany, when they, in the bodyentered in at the gate of the old Peabody mansion at that time. Therewas but one person in the company, old Sylvester perhaps excepted, whoseemed to have his wits about him, and that was the red rooster who, sitting on the wall near the gate when Mr. Tiffany Carrack pushed itopen, cocked his eye smartly on him, and darted sharply at his whitehand, with its glittering jewel as he laid it on the gate. 

"Nancy, " said old Sylvester, addressing her with extended grasp, and apleasant smile of welcome on his brow, "we had given up looking foryou. "

Was there ever such a rash old man! "Nancy!" as though she had been acommon person he was speaking to. 

Mrs. Carrack, who was a short woman, stiff and stern, tossing herfeather, gave the tips of her fingers to the patriarch, and ordering ina huge leathern trunk all over brass nails and capital C's, condescendedto enter into the house. In spite of all resolutions and persuasions tothe contrary the door of the best parlor unlocked before her grandeurof demeanor, and she took possession as though she had not the slightestconnection with the other members of the Peabody family, nor theremotest interest in the common sitting-room without. Mr. TiffanyCarrack, with patent shanks to his boots which sprang him into the airas he walked, corsets to brace his body in, new-fangled straps to keephim down, a patent collar of a peculiar invention, to hold his headaloft, moving as it were under the convoy of a company of invisibleinfluences, deriving all his motions from the shoe-maker, stay-maker, tailor and linen-draper, who originally wound him up and set hima-going, for whose sole convenience he lives, having withal, by way ofpaint to his ashy countenance, a couple of little conch-shell tufts, tawny-yellow, (that being the latest to be had at the perfumer's, ) onhis upper lip; the representative and embodiment of all the latest newimprovements, patents, and contrivances in apparel, Mr. Tiffany Carrackfollowed his excellent mother. 

"Why, Tiffany, " said old Sylvester, who notwithstanding the immensity ofthese people, calmly pursued his old course, "we all thought you were inCalifornia. "

The family were gathered around and awaited Mr. Tiffany Carrack's answerwith a good deal of curiosity. 

"That was all a delusion, sir, " he replied, plucking at his little cropof yellow tufts, --"a horrible delusion. I had some thought of that kindin my mind, in fact I had got as far south as New Orleans, when I met aseedy fellow who told me that the natives had rebelled and wouldn't workany more; so I found if I would get any of the precious, I must dig witha shovel with my own dear digits; of course I turned back in disgust, and here I am as good as new--Jehoshaphat!"

It was well that Mr. Tiffany had a fashion of emphasizing his discoursewith a reference to this ancient person, whom he supposed to have beenan exquisite of the first water, which happily furnished a cover underwhich the entire Peabody family exploded with laughter at Mr. Carrack'sannouncement of the sudden termination of his grand expedition to theGold Region. Without an exception they all went off in an enormousburst, the Captain, little Sam, and Mopsey leading. 

"Every word true, 'pon my honor, " repeated Mr. Carrack. 

The great burst was renewed. 

"It was a capital idea, wasn't it?" he said again, supposing he had madea great hit. 

The explosion for the third time, but softened a little by pity in thefemale section of the chorus. 

Mrs. Carrack had sat stately and aloof, with an inkling in her brainthat all this mirthful tumult was not entirely in the nature of acomplimentary tribute to her son. 

"I think, " she said, with haughty severity of aspect, "my son wasperfectly right. It was a sinful and a wicked adventure at the best, asthe Reverend Strawbery Hyson clearly showed from the fourth Revelations, in his last annual discourse to the young ladies of the church. "

"He did, so he did, " said Mr. Tiffany, stroking his chin, "I rememberperfectly: it was very prettily stated by Hyson. "

"The Reverend Strawbery Hyson, " said Mrs. Carrack. "Always give thatexcellent man his full title. What would you say, my son, if he shouldappear in the streets without his black coat and white cravat? Would youhave any confidence in his preaching after that?"

"Next to myself, " answered Mr. Tiffany, "I think our parson's thebest-dressed man in Boston. "

"He should be, as an example, " said Mrs. Carrack. "He has a very genteelcongregation. "

Old Sylvester, who had on at that moment an old brown coat and a frayedblack ribbon for a neck-cloth, ordered Mopsey to send the two best piesin the house immediately to the negroes in the Hills. Mrs. Carracksmiled loftily, and drew from her pocket an elegant small silver vial ofthe pure otto of rose, and applied it to her nostrils as thoughsomething disagreeable had just struck upon the air and tainted it. 

"By the way, " said Mr. Tiffany Carrack, adjusting his shirt collar, "howis my little friend Miriam?"

"Melancholy!" was the only answer any one had to make. 

"So I thought, " pursued Mr. Carrack, rolling his eyes and heaving aninfant sigh from his bosom. "Poor thing, no wonder, if she thought I wasgone away so far. She shall be comforted. "

Mopsey looking in at this moment, gave the summons to tea, which wasanswered by Mr. Tiffany Carrack's offering his arm, impressively, to hisexcellent mother, and leading the way to the table. 

It was observed, that in his progress to the tea-table, Mr. Tiffanyadopted a tottering and uncertain step, indicating a dilapidated oldage, only kept together by the clothes he wore, which was altogetherunintelligible to the Peabody family, seeing that Mr. Carrack was in thevery prime of youth, till Mrs. Carrack remarked, with an affectionatesmile of motherly pride:

"You remind me more and more every day, Tiff, of that dear delightfulold Baden-Baden. "

"I wish the glorious old fellow would come over to me for a short lark, "rejoined Mr. Tiffany. "But he couldn't live here long; there's nothingold here. "

"Who's Baden Baden?" asked Sylvester. 

"Only a prince of my acquaintance on the other side of the water, and adevilish clever fellow. But he could'nt stand it here--I'mafraid--everything's so new. "

"I'm rather old, " suggested Sylvester, smiling on the young man. 

"So you are, by Jove--But that aint the thing I want exactly; I want anold castle or two, and a donjon-keep, and that sort of thing. --Youunderstand. "

"Something, " suggested the grandfather, "in the style of the oldrevolutionary fort on Fort Hill?"

"No--no--you don't take exactly. I mean something more in theantique--something or other, you see"--here he began twirling hisforefinger in the air and sketching an amorphous phantom of some sort, of an altogether unattainable character, "in a word--Jehoshaphat!"

The moment the eye of Mrs. Carrack fell upon the blue and whitecrockery, the pewter plates which had been in use time out of mind inthe family, and the plain knives and forks of steel, she cast on her sona significant glance of mingled surprise and contempt. "Thomas, " shesaid, standing before the place assigned to her, her son doing the same, "the napkins!"

The napkins were brought from a great basket which had accompanied theleathern trunk. 

"The other things!"

The other things, consisting of china plates, cups and saucers, andknives and forks of silver for two, were duly laid--Mrs. Carrack and herson having kept the rest of the family waiting the saying of grace byold Sylvester, were good enough to be seated at the old farmer's (Mrs. Carrack's father's) board. 

When old Sylvester unclosed his eyes from the delivery of thanks, hediscovered at the back of Mrs. Carrack and her son's chairs, the twocity servants in livery, with their short cut hair and embroidered coatsof the fashion of those worn in English farces on the stage, standingerect and without the motion of a muscle. There is not a doubt but thatold Sylvester Peabody was a good deal astonished, although he gave noutterance to his feelings. But when the two young men in livery began todive in here and there about the table, snapping up the dishes inexclusive service on Mrs. Carrack and Mr. Tiffany Carrack, he couldremain silent no longer. 

"Boys, " he said, addressing himself to the two fine personages inquestion, "you will oblige me by going into the yard and chopping woodtill we are done supper. We shall need all you can split in an hour tobake the pies with. "

Thunderstruck, as though a bolt had smitten them individually in thehead, this direction, delivered in a quiet voice of command not to beresisted, sent the two servants forth at the back-door. They were nosooner out of view than they addressed each other almost at the samemoment, "My eyes! did you ever see such a queer old fellow as that!"

When Mrs. Carrack and her son turned, and found that the two younggentlemen in livery had actually vanished, the lady smiled a delicatesmile of gentle scorn, and Mr. Tiffany, regarding his aged grandfathersteadily, merely remarked, in a tone of most friendly and familiarcondescension, "Baden-Baden wouldn't have done such a thing!"

The overpowering grandeur of the fashionable lady chilled the household, and there was little conversation till she addressed the widow Margaret. 

"Hadn't you a grown up son, Mrs. Peabody?"

The widow was silent. Presently Mr. Carrack renewed the discourse. 

"By the by, " he said, "I thought I saw that son of yours--wasn't hisname Elbridge, or something of that sort?--in New Orleans. "

"Did you speak to him?" asked the Captain, flushing a little in theface. 

"I observed he was a good deal out at elbows, " Mr. Carrack answered, "and it was broad day-light, in one of the fashionable streets. "

"Is that all you have to tell us of your cousin?" old Sylvesterinquired. 

"He is my cousin--much obliged for the information. I had almostforgotten that! Why ye-es--I couldn't help seeing that he went into amiserable broken-down house in a by-street--but had to get my moustacheoiled for a Creole ball that evening, and couldn't be reasonablyexpected to follow him, could I?--Jehoshaphat!"

If the human countenance, by reason of its clouding up in gusts ofpitchy blackness acquired the power, like darkening skies, ofdischarging thunderbolts, it would have been, I am sure, a hot and heavyone which Mopsey, blackening and blazing, had delivered, as she departedto the kitchen, lowering upon Mr. Tiffany Carrack, --"'_He thought he sawher son Elbridge!_' The vagabone has no more feeling nor de bottom of astone jug. "

The meal over, the evening wore on in friendly chat of old Thanksgivingtimes--of neighbors and early family histories; each one in turnlaunching, so to speak, a little boat upon the current, freighted deepwith many precious stores of old-time remembrance; Mrs. Carrack sittingalone as an iceberg in the very midst of the waters, melting not once, nor contributing a drop or trickle to the friendly flow. And whenbed-time came again, how clearly was it shown, that there is nothingcertain in this changeful world. By some sudden and unforeseeninterruption, nations lose power, communities are shattered, householdswell-constructed fall in pieces at a breath. 

Her sudden appearance in their midst, compelled another consultation tobe taken as to the disposal of the great Mrs. Carrack for the night. Itwould never answer to put that grand person in any secondary lodging; soall the old arrangements were of necessity broken up; the best bed-roomallotted to her; and that her gentle nerves might not be afflicted, theold clock, which adjoined her sleeping-chamber, and which had occupiedhis corner and told the time for the Peabodys for better than a hundredyears from the same spot, was instantly silenced, as impertinent. TheCaptain's high-actioned white horse, which had enjoyed the privilege ofroaming unmolested about the house, was led away like an unhappyconvict, and stabled in the barn; and to complete the arrangements, thetwo servants in livery were put on guard near her window, to drive offthe geese, turkeys, and other talkative birds of the night, that shemight sleep without the slightest disturbance from that noisy oldcreature, Nature. 

Mr. Tiffany Carrack, while these delicate preparations were in progress, was evidently agitated with some extraordinary design, in which MiriamHaven was bearing a part; for, although he did not address a word tothat young maiden, he was as busy as his imitation of the antiquity ofBaden-Baden would allow him, ogling, grimacing, and plucking his tawnybeard at her every minute in the most astonishing manner, closelywatched by Mopsey, the Captain, and old Sylvester, who stronglysuspected the young man of being affected in his wits. 

It was very clear that it was this same Mr. Tiffany Carrack who hadentered in at the door of the sleeping chamber assigned to thatgentleman, but who would have ventured to assert that the figure, which, somewhere about the middle of the night, emerged from the window of thechamber in question, in yellow slippers, red silk cloak trimmed withgold, fez cap, and white muslin turban, and, with folded arms, beganpacing up and down under the casement of Miriam Haven, after the mannerof singers at the opera, preparatory to beginning, was the sameTiffany? And yet, when he returned again, and holding his face up to themoon, which was shining at a convenient angle over the edge of thehouse, the tawny tuft clearly identified it as Tiffany and no one else. And yet, as if to further confuse all recognition, what sound is thatwhich breaks from his throat, articulating:--

 "Dearest, awake--you need not fear; For he--for he--your Troubadour is here!"

The summons passed for some time unanswered, till Mopsey, from thelittle end-window of her lodgement, presented her head in a flaming redand yellow handkerchief, and rolled her eyes about to discover thesource of the tumult; scowling in the belief that it must be no otherthan "one of dem Brundages come to carry off in de dead of night dePeabody punkin. "

A gentle conviction was dawning in the brain of Mr. Carrack that thiswas the fair Miriam happily responding to his challenge in theappropriate character and costume of a Moorish Princess; when, as hebegan to roar again, still more violent and furious in his chanting, theblack head opened and demanded, "what you want dere?" followed by anextraordinary shower of gourd-shells, which, crashing upon his sconce, with a distinct shatter for each shell, could not, for a moment, bemistaken for flowers, signet-rings, or any other ordinarily recognisedlove-tokens. 

It immediately occurred to Mr. Carrack, with the suddenness ofinspiration, that he had better return to his chamber and go to bed; adesign which was checked, as he proceeded in that direction, by thealarming apparition of a great body with a fire-lock thrust out of thewindow of the apartment, next to his own, occupied by the Captain, presented directly at his head, with a cry "Avast, there!" and amovement on the part of the body, to follow the gun out at the window. Fearfully harassed in that quarter, Mr. Carrack wheeled rapidly about, encountering as he turned, the two servants in livery, still making thecircuit of the homestead--who in alarm of their lives from this singularfigure in the red cloak, fled into the fields and lurked in an oldout-house till daylight. As these scampered away before him, Mr. Tiffany, to relieve himself of the apparition of the gun, would haveturned the corner of the house; when Mopsey appeared, wildlygesticulating, with a great brush-broom reared aloft, and threateninginstant ruin to his person. 

From this double peril, what but the happiest genius could havesuggested to Mr. Tiffany, an instant and straightforward flight from thehouse; in which he immediately engaged, making up the road--the Captainwith his musket, and Mopsey with her hearth-broom, close at his heels. If Mr. Tiffany Carrack had promptly employed his undoubted resources ofyouth and activity, his escape from the necessity of disclosure orsurrender had been perhaps easy; but it so happened that his progresswas a good deal baffled by the conflict constantly kept up in his brain, between the desire to use his legs in the natural manner, and topreserve that antique pace of tottering gentility which he had acquiredfrom that devilish fine old fellow, the Prince of Baden-Baden, so thatat one moment he was in the very hands of the enemy, and at the next, flying like an antelope in the distance. The gun, constantly followinghim with a loud threat, from the Captain, seemed, in the moonlight, likea great finger perpetually pointing at his head; till at last it becamealtogether too dreadful to bear, and making up the road towardBrundage's, which still further inflamed the pursuit, in sheerexhaustion he rushed through an open gate into a neighboring tan-yard, and took refuge in the old bark-mill. There was but a moment's restallowed him even here, for Mopsey and the Captain, furiously threateningall sorts of death and destruction, presently rushed in at the door, andsent him scampering about the ring like a distracted colt, in his firstday's service; a game of short duration, for the Captain and Mopsey, closing in upon him from opposite directions compelled him to retreatagain into the open air. How much longer the chase might have continued, it were hard to tell, for as his pursuers made after him, Mr. TiffanyCarrack suddenly disappeared, like a melted snow-flake, from the surfaceof the earth. In his confused state he had tumbled into a vat, fortunately without the observation of the inexorable enemy, although ashe clung to the side the Captain discharged his musket directly over hishead. 

"I guess that's done his business, " said the Captain. "We'll come andlook for the body in the morning. "

Now it is strongly suspected that both Mopsey and the Captain knew wellenough all along that this was Mr. Tiffany Carrack they had beenpursuing, and that as they watched him from the distance emerge from thevat, return to the homestead, and skulk, dripping in, like a rat ofoutlandish breed, at his chamber-window, they were amply avenged: theCaptain, for the freedom with which the city-exquisite had treated thePeabody family, especially the good old grandfather, and Mopsey, for theslighting manner in which he had referred to absent young Mas'rElbridge. 

When all was peace again within the homestead, there was one who stillwatched the night, and ignorant of the nature of this strange tumult, trembled as at the approach of a long-wished for happiness. It wasMiriam, the orphan dependent, who now sat by the midnight casement. Oh, who of living men can tell how that young heart yearned at thethought--the hope--the thrilling momentary belief--that this was herabsent lover happily returning?

In the wide darkness of the lonesome night, which was it shone brightestand with purest lustre, in view of the all-seeing Mover of theHeavens--the stars glittering far away in space, in all their loftyglory, or the timid eyes of that simple maiden, wet with the dew ofyouth, and bright with the pure hope of honest love! When all was stillagain, and no Elbridge's voice was heard, no form of absent Elbridgethere to cheer her, oh, who can tell how near to breaking, in its silentagony, was that young heart, and with what tremblings of solicitude andfear, the patient Miriam waited for the friendly light to open thegolden-gate of dawn upon another morrow!

CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

THE THANKSGIVING SERMON. 

The morning of the day of Thanksgiving came calm, clear and beautiful. Astillness, as of heaven and not of earth, ruled the wide landscape. TheIndian summer, which had been as a gentle mist or veil upon the beautyof the time, had gone away a little--retired, as it were, into the hillsand back country, to allow the undimmed heaven to shine down upon thehappy festival of families and nations. The cattle stood still in thefields without a low; the trees were quiet as in friendly recognition ofthe spirit of the hour; no reaper's hook or mower's scythe glanced inthe meadow, no rumbling wain was on the road. The birds alone, as beingmore nearly akin to the feeling of the scene, warbled in the boughs. 

But out of the silent gloom of the mist there sprang as by magic, alovely illumination which lit the country far and wide, as with athousand varicolored lamps. As a maiden who has tarried in her chamber, some hour the least expected appears before us, apparelled in all thepomp and hue of brilliant beauty, the fair country, flushed withinnumerable tints of the changed autumn-trees, glided forth upon theIndian summer scene, and taught that when kindly nature seems allforegone and spent, she can rise from her couch fresher and more radiantthan in her very prime. 

What wonder if with the peep of dawn the children leaped from bed, eagerto have on their new clothes reserved for the day, and by times appearedbefore old Sylvester in proud array of little hats, new-brightened shoesand shining locks, span new as though they had just come from the mint;anxious to have his grandfatherly approval of their comeliness? Shortlyafter, the horses caught in the distant pastures, the Captain and FarmerOliver having charge of them, were brought in and tied under the treesin the door-yard. 

Then, breakfast being early dispatched, there was a mighty running toand fro of the grown people through the house, dresses hurried from oldclothes-presses and closets, a loud demand on every hand for pins, ofwhich there seemed to be (as there always is on such occasions) a greatlack. The horses were put to Mrs. Carrack's coach, the Captain's gig, the old house-wagon, with breathless expectation on the part of thechildren; and in brief, after bustling preparation and incessantsummoning of one member of the family and another from the differentparts of the house, all being at last ready and in their seats, thePeabodys set forth for the Thanksgiving Sermon at the countryMeeting-house, a couple of miles away. 

The Captain took the lead with his wife and Peabody Junior somewhere andsomehow between them, followed by the wagon with old Sylvester, stillproud of his dexterity as a driver, Oliver, much pleased with thepopular character of the conveyance and wife, with young Robert; WilliamPeabody and wife; little Sam riding between his grandfather's legs infront, and allowed to hold the end of the reins. Slowly and in greatstate, after all rolled Mrs. Carrack's coach with herself and sonwithin, and footman and coachman without. 

Chanticleer, too, clear of eye and bright of wing, walked the gardenwall, carried his head up, and acted as if he had also put on histhanksgiving suit and expected to take the road presently, accompany thefamily, and join his voice with theirs at the little meeting-house. 

Although the Captain, with his high-actioned white horse kept out ofeye-shot ahead, it was Mrs. Carrack's fine carriage that had the triumphof the road to itself, for as it rolled glittering on, the simplecountry people, belated in their own preparations, or tarrying at hometo provide the dinner, ran to the windows in wonder and admiration. Theplain wagons, bent in the same direction, turned out of the path andgave the great coach the better half of the way, staring a broadside asit passed. 

And when the party reached the little meeting-house, what a peace hungabout it! The air seemed softer, the sunshine brighter, there, as itstood in humble silence among the tall trees which waved with a gentlemurmur before its windows. The people, as they arrived, glidednoiselessly in, in their neat dresses and looks of decent devotion;others as they came made fast their horses under the sheds and treesabout--most of them in wagons and plain chaises, brightened into all ofbeauty they were capable of, by a severe attention to the harness andmountings; others--these were a few bachelors and striplings--trotted inquietly on horseback. Before service a few of the old farmers lingeredoutside discussing the late crops or inquiring after each other'sfamilies, who presently went within, summoning from the grassychurchyard--which lay next to the meeting house--the children who wereloitering there reading the grave-stones. 

When the Captain arrived with his gig, under such extraordinary headwaythat he was near driving across the grave-yard into the next county--thecountry people scampered aside, like scared fowl; Mrs. Carrack's greatcoach, with its liveried outriders, set them staring as if they did notor could not believe their own eyes. With the arrival of old Sylvesterthey re-gathered, and, almost in a body, proffered their aid to hold thehorses--to help the old Patriarch to the ground--in a word, to showtheir regard and affection in every way in their power. He tarried but amoment at the door, to speak a word with one or two of the oldest of hisneighbors, and passed in, followed by all of his family save Mrs. Carrack and her son, who under color of hunting up the grave of someold relation, delay in order to make their appearance in themeeting-house by themselves, and independently of the Peabodyconnection. 

Will you pardon me, reader, if I fail to tell you whether this house ofworship was of the Methodist, Episcopal, or Baptist creed, whether ithad a chancel or altar, or painted windows? Whether the pews had doorsto them and were cushioned or not? Whether the minister wore a gown andbands, or plain suit of black, or was undistinguished in his dress? Willit not suffice if I tell you, as the very belief of my soul, that it wasa christian house, that there were seats for all, that things were wellintended and decently ordered, and that with a hymn sung with suchpurity of heart that its praises naturally joined in with the chiming ofthe trees and the carols of the birds without and floated on without astop to Heaven, when a meek man rose up:

"Some two hundred years ago, our ancestors (he said, ) finding themselvesmore comfortable in the wilderness of the new world, than they couldhave reasonably looked for, set apart a day of Thanksgiving to AlmightyGod for his manifold mercies. That day, God be praised, has beensteadily observed throughout this happy land, by cheerful gatherings offamilies, and other festive and devotional observances, down to thepresent time. Our fathers covenanted, in the love of Christ, to cleavetogether, as brethren, however hard the brunt of fortune might be. Thatbond still continues. We may not live (he went on, in the very spiritand letter of the first Thanksgiving discourse ever delivered amongstus, ) as retired hermits, each in our cell apart, nor inquire, likeDavid, how liveth such a man? How is he clad? How is he fed? He is mybrother, we are in league together, we must stand and fall by oneanother. Is his labor harder than mine? Surely I will ease him. Hath heno bed to lie on? I have two--I will lend him one. Hath he no apparel? Ihave two suits--I will give him one of them. Eats he coarse food, breadand water, and have I better? Surely we will part stakes. He is as gooda man as I, and we are bound each to other; so that his wants must be mywants; his sorrows, my sorrows; his sickness my sickness; and hiswelfare my welfare; for I am as he is; such a sweet sympathy wereexcellent, comfortable, nay, heavenly, and is the only maker andconserver of churches and commonwealths. "

To such as looked upon old Sylvester there seemed a glow and halo abouthis aged brow and whitened locks, for this was the very spirit of hislife. 

As though he knew the very secrets of their souls, and touched theirvery heart-strings with a gentle hand, the preacher glanced from onemember of the Peabody household to another, as he proceeded, somethingin this manner. (For William Peabody:) do I find on this holy day that Ilove God in all his glorious universe, more than the image even ofLiberty, which hath ensnared and enslaved the soul of many a man on thecoin of this world? (For buxom Mrs. Jane, in her vandyke:) Do I stiflethe vanity of good looks and comfortable circumstances under a plaingarb? (For the jovial Captain:) Am I not over hasty in pursuit of carnalenjoyment? (For Mr. Oliver: who was wiping his brow with the Declarationof Independence, ) and eager over much for the good opinion of men, whenI should be quietly serving them without report? (For Mrs. Carrack andher son:) And what are pomp and fashion, but the painted signs of goodliving where there is no life? These (he continued, ) are all outward, mere pretences to put off our duty, and the care of our souls. Yea, wemay have churches, schools, hospitals abounding--but these are mere lathand mortar, if we have not also within our own hearts, a church wherethe pure worship ever goeth on, a school where the true knowledge istaught, a hospital, the door whereof standeth constantly open, intowhich our fellow-creatures are welcomed and where their infirmities arefirst cared for with all kindness and tenderness. If these be ourinclinings this day, let us be reasonably thankful on this Thanksgivingmorning. Let such as are in health be thankful for their good case; andsuch as are out of health be thankful that they are no worse. Let suchas are rich be thankful for their wealth, (if it hath been honestly comeby;) and let such as are poor be thankful that they have no such chargeupon their souls. Let old folks be thankful for their wisdom in knowingthat young folks are fools; and let young ones be thankful that they maylive to see the time when they may use the same privilege. Let leanfolks be thankful for their spare ribs, which are not a burthen in theharvest-field; fat folks may laugh at lean ones, and grow fatter everyday. Let married folks be thankful for blessings both little and great;let bachelors and old maids be thankful for the privilege of kissingother folks' babies, and great good may it do them. 

With what a glow of mutual friendship the quaint preacher was warmingthe plain old meeting-house on that thanksgiving day!

Finally, and to conclude, (he went on in the language of a chronicle ofthe time:)--Let no man look upon a turkey to-day, and say, 'This also isvanity. ' What is the life of man without creature-comforts, and thestomach of the son of man with no aid from the tin kitchen? Despise notthe day of small things, while there are pullets on the spit, and letevery fowl have fair play, between the jaws of thy philosophy. Are notpuddings made to be sliced, and pie-crust to be broken? Go thy ways, then, according to good sense, good cheer, good appetite, the Governor'sproclamation, and every other good thing under the sun;--render thanksfor all the good things of this life, and good cookery among the rest;eat, drink, and be merry; make not a lean laudation of the bounties ofProvidence, but let a lively gusto follow a long grace. Feastthankfully, and feast hopingly; feast in good will to all mankind, Grahamites included; feast in the full and joyous persuasion, that whilethe earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, dinner-time, pudding-time, and supper-time, are not likely to go out of fashion;--feast withexulting confidence in the continuance of cooks, kitchens, and orthodoxexpounders of Scripture and the constitution in our ancient, blessed, and fat-sided commonwealth--feast, in short, like a good Christian, proving all things, relishing all things, hoping all things, expectingall things, and enjoying all things. Let a good stomach for dinner gohand in hand with a good mind for sound doctrine. Let us all be thankfulthat a gracious Providence hath furnished each and all with a wholesomeand bountiful dinner this day; and, if there be none so furnished, lethim now make it known, and we will instantly contribute thereto of ourseparate abundance. There are none who murmur--we all, therefore, have athanksgiving dinner waiting for us; let us hie home cheerily, and in abecoming spirit of mirth and devotion partake thereof. 

The windows of the little meeting-house were up to let in the pleasantsunshine; and the very horses who were within hearing of his voice, seemed by the pricking up of their brown ears to relish and approve ofhis discourse. The Captain's city nag, as wide awake as any, seemed toaddress himself to an acquaintance of a heavy bay plougher, who stood atthe same post, and laying their heads together for the better part ofthe sermon, they appeared to regard it, as far as they caught itsmeaning, as sound doctrine, particularly acknowledging that this was asfine a thanksgiving morning as they (who had been old friends and hadspent their youth together, being in some way related, in a farm-housein that neighborhood) had ever known; and when they had said as much asthis, they laughed out in very merriness of spirit, with a great winnow, as the happy audience came streaming forth at the meeting-house door. There were no cold, haughty, or distrustful faces now, as when they hadentered in an hour ago; the genial air of the little meeting-house hadmelted away all frosts of that kind; and as they mingled under the soberautumn-trees, loitering for conversation, inquiring after neighbors, oldfolks whose infirmities kept them at home, the young children; theyseemed indeed, much more a company of brethren, embarked (as sailorssay) on a common bottom for happiness and enjoyment. The children werethe first to set out for home through the fields on foot; Peabody theyounger, little Sam and Robert being attended by the footman in livery, whom Mrs. Carrack relieved from attendance at the rear of the coach. 

If the quaint preacher had urged the rational enjoyment of theThanksgiving cheer from the pulpit, Mopsey labored with equal zeal athome to have it worthy of enjoyment. At an early hour she had cleareddecks, and taken possession of the kitchen: kindling, with dawn, a greatfire in the oven for the pies, and another on the hearth for the turkey. But it was from the oven, heaping it to the top with fresh relays of drywood, that she expected the Thanksgiving angel to walk in all his beautyand majesty. In performance of her duty, and from a sense only thatthere could be no thanksgiving without a turkey, she planted the tinoven on the hearth, spitted the gobbler, and from time to time, merelyas a matter of absolute necessity, gave it a turn; but about the mouthof the great oven she hovered constantly, like a spirit--had her head inand out at the opening every other minute; and, when at last the pieswere slided in upon the warm bottom, she lingered there regarding thechange they were undergoing with the fond admiration with which aconnoisseur in sunsets hangs upon the changing colors of the eveningsky. The leisure this double duty allowed her was employed by Mopsey inscaring away the poultry and idle young chickens which rushed in at theback entrance of the kitchen in swarms, and hopped with yellow legsabout the floor with the racket of constant falling showers of corn. Upon the half door opening on the front the red rooster had mounted, andwith his head on one side observed with a knowing eye all that wentforward; showing perhaps most interest in the turning of the spit, theimpalement of the turkey thereon having been with him an object ofspecial consideration. 

The highly colored picture of Warren at Bunker-Hill, writhing in hisdeath-agony on one wall of the kitchen, and General Marion feasting froma potato, in his tent, on the other, did not in the least attract theattention of Mopsey. She saw nothing on the whole horizon of the glowingapartment but the pies and the turkey, and even for the moment neglectedto puzzle herself, as she was accustomed to in the pauses of her dailylabors, with the wonders and mysteries of an ancient dog-earedspelling-book which lay upon the smoky mantel. 

Meanwhile, in obedience to the spirit of the day, the widow Margaret andMiriam, having each diligently disposed of their separate charge in thepreparations, making a church of the homestead, conducted a worship intheir own simple way. Opposite to each other in the little sitting-room, Miriam opened the old Family Bible, and at the widow Margaret's requestread from that chapter which gives the story of the prodigal son. It waswith a clear and pensive voice that she read, but not without a strugglewith herself. Where the story told that the young man had gone into afar country; that he had wasted his substance in riotous living; that hewas abased to the feeding of swine; that he craved in his hunger thevery husks; that he lamented the plenty of his father's house--a cloudcame upon her countenance, and the simplest eye could have interpretedthe thoughts that troubled her. And how the fair young face brightened, when she read that the young man resolved to arise and return to thehouse of his father; the dear encounter; the rejoicing over his return, and the glad proclamation, "This, my son, was dead and is alive again;he was lost and is found. "

"If he would come back even so, " said the widow when the book wasclosed, "in sorrow, in poverty, in crime even, I would thank God and begrateful. "

"He is not guilty, mother, " Miriam pleaded, casting her head upon thewidow's bosom and clinging close about her neck. 

"I will not think that he is, " Margaret answered, lifting up her head. "Guilty or innocent, he is my son--my son. " Clasping the young orphan'shand, after a pause of tender silence, she gave utterance to herfeelings in a Thanksgiving hymn. These were the words:--

 Father! protect the wanderer on his way; Bright be for him thy stars and calm thy seas-- Thanksgiving live upon his lips to-day, And in his heart the good man's summer ease. 

 Almighty! Thou canst bring the pilgrim back, With a clear brow to this his childish home; Guide him, dear Father, o'er a blameless track, No more to stray from us, no more to roam. 

At this moment a tumult of children's voices was heard in the door-yard, and as the widow turned, young William Peabody was seen struggling withRobert and little Sam, who were holding him back with all their force. As he dragged them forward, being their elder and superior in strength, Peabody Junior stretched his throat and called towards the house--"I'veseen him--I've seen him!"

"Who have you seen?" asked the widow, rising and approaching the door. 

"Mr. Barbary. " When Peabody Junior made this answer the widow advancedwith a gleam on her countenance, and gently releasing him, said, "Come, William, and tell us all about it. "

"Aunt Margaret, " said Robert, thrusting himself between, "don't listento a word he has to say. I'll tell you all about it. You see we werecoming home from meeting, and little Sam got tired, and William and Imade a cradle of our hands and were carrying him along very nice. "

"Not so very nice, either, " Peabody Junior interrupted, "for I wasplaguy tired. "

"That's what I was going to tell you, Aunt Margaret. Bill did get tired, and as we came through the Locust Wood, he made believe to seesomething, and run away to get clear of carrying little Sam anyfurther. "

"I did see him!" said Peabody Junior, firmly. 

"Where was he?" the widow asked. 

"Behind the hazel-bush, with his head just looking out at the top, allturned white as dead folks do. "

Mopsey was in immediately with her dark head, crying out, "Don't beliefa word of it. "

"I guess you saw nothing but the hazel-bush, William, " said the widow. 

"That was it, Aunt; it was the hazel-bush with a great mop of moss onit, " Robert added. 

Miriam sat looking on and listening, pale and trembling. 

"If your cousin Elbridge and Mr. Barbary should ever come back, " saidthe widow, addressing Peabody Junior, "you would be sorry for what youhave said, William. "

"So he would, Aunt, " echoed Robert. 

Mopsey was in again from the kitchen; this time she advanced severalsteps from the door-sill into the room, lifted up both her arms andaddressed the assembled company. 

"One ting I know, " said Mopsey, "dere's a big pie baking in dat ereoven, and if Mas'r Elbridge don't eat that pie it'll haf to sour, dat Iknow. "

"What is it, Mopsey, " asked Margaret, "that gives you such a faith in myson?"

"I tell you what it is, Missus, " Mopsey answered promptly, "dasttanksgivin when I tumbled down on dis ere sef-same floor bringin' in deturkey, every body laugh but Mas'r Elbridge, and he come from his placeand pick me up. He murder any body! I'll eat de whole tanksgivin dinnermyself if he touch a hair of de old preacher's head to hurt it. "Suddenly changing her tone, she added, "Dey're comin' from meetin', Ihear de old wagon. "

CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

THE DINNER. 

As the Peabodys approached the homestead, the smoke of the kitchenchimney was visible, circling upward and winding about in the sunshineas though it had been a delicate corkscrew uncorking a great bottle orsquare old flask of a delicious vintage. The Captain averred a quarterof a mile away, the moment they had come upon the brow of the hill, thathe had a distinct savor of the fragrance of the turkey, and that it wasquite as refreshing as the first odor of the land breeze coming in fromsea, and he snuffed it up with a zeal and relish which gave the gig aneager appetite for dinner. The Captain's conjecture was stronglyconfirmed in the appearance of Mopsey, darting, with a dark face of dewyradiance at the wood-pile and shuffling back with bustling speed to thekitchen with a handful of delicate splinters. "She's giving him the lastturn, " said the Captain. 

The shadow of the little meeting-house was still over the Captain, evenso far away, for he conducted the procession homeward at a pace muchless furious than that with which he had advanced in the morning; andMrs. Carrack too, observed now, with a strange pleasure, what she hadgiven no heed to before when the fine coach was rolling in triumph alongthe road, --birds twittering in the sunny air by the wayside, and cattleroving like figures in a beautiful picture, upon the slopes of thedistant hills. Oliver, the politician, more than once had out the greatcotton pocket-handkerchief, and holding it spread before himcontemplating the fatherly signers, was evidently acquiring some newlights on the subject of independence. 

A change, in fine, of some sort or other, had passed over every memberof the Peabody family save old Sylvester, returning as going, calm, plain-spoken, straightforward and patriarchal. When they reached thegate of the homestead, William Peabody gave his hand to his wife andhelped her, with some show of attention, to alight; and then there couldbe no doubt that it was in very truth Thanksgiving day, for the glory ofthe door-yard itself had paled and disappeared in the gorgeous festallight. There was no majestic gobbler in the door-yard now, with hisgreat outspread tail, which in the proud moments of his life he wouldhave expanded as if to shut the very light of the sun from all meanercreatures of the mansion. 

Within doors there was that bustling preparation, with brief lulls ofominous silence which precede and usher a great event. The widowMargaret, with noiseless step, glided to and fro, Miriam daintilyhovering in the suburbs of the sitting-room, which is evidently thegrand centre of interest, and Mopsey toils like a swart goblin in herlaboratory of the kitchen in a high glow, scowling fearfully ifaddressed with a word which calls her attention for a moment away fromher critical labors. 

As the family entered the homestead on their return, the combined forceswere just at the point of pitching their tent on the ground of theforthcoming engagement, in the shape of the ancient four-legged andwide-leaved table, with a cover of snowy whiteness, ornamented as withshields and weapons of quaint device, in the old plates of pewter andthe horn-handled knives and forks burnished to such a polish as to makethe little room fairly glitter. Dishes streamed in one after the otherin a long and rapid procession, piles of home-made bread, basins ofapple-sauce, pickles, potatoes of vast proportion and mealy beauty. Whenthe ancient and lordly pitcher of blue and white (whether freighted withnew cider or old cold water need not be told) crowned the board, thefirst stage of preparation was complete, and another portentous pauseensued. The whole Peabody connection arranged in stately silence in thefront parlor, looked on through the open door in wonder and expectationof what was to follow. The children loitered about the door-ways withwatering eyes and open mouths, like so many innocent little dragonslying in wait to rush in at an opportune moment and bear off their prey. 

And now, all at once there comes a deeper hush--a still more portentouspause--all eyes are in the direction of the kitchen; the children arehanging forward with their bodies and outstretched necks half way in atthe door; Miriam and the widow stand breathless and statue-like ateither side of the room; when, as if rising out of some mysterious cavein the very ground, a dark figure is discerned in the distance, aboutthe centre of the kitchen, (into which Mopsey has made, to secure animpressive effect, a grand circuit, ) head erect, and bearing before it ahuge platter; all their eyes tell them, every sense vividly reports whatit is the platter supports; she advances with slow and solemn step; shehas crossed the sill; she has entered the sitting-room; and, with a fullsense of her awful responsibility, Mopsey delivers on the table, in acleared place left for its careful deposit, the Thanksgiving turkey. 

There is no need now to sound a gong, or to ring an alarm-bell to makeknown to that household that dinner is ready; the brown turkey speaks asummons as with the voice of a thousand living gobblers, and Sylvesterrising, the whole Peabody family flock in. To every one his place isconsiderately assigned, the Captain in the centre directly opposite theturkey, Mrs. Carrack on the other side, the widow at one end, oldSylvester at the head. The children too, a special exception being madein their favor to-day, are allowed seats with the grown folks, littleSam disposing himself in great comfort in his old grandsire's arms. 

Another hush--for everything to-day moves on through these constantlyshut and opened gates of silence, in which they all sit tranquil andspeechless, when the old patriarch lifts up his aged hands over theboard and repeats his customary grace:

"May we all be Christian people the day we die--God bless us. "

The Captain, the great knife and fork in hand, was ready to advance. 

"Stop a moment, Charley, " old Sylvester spoke up, "give us a moment tocontemplate the turkey. "

"I would there were just such a dish, grandfather, " the Captainrejoined, "on every table in the land this day, and if I had my waythere would be. "

"No, no, Charley, " the grandfather answered, "if there should be, therewould be. There is One who is wiser than you or I. "

"It would make the man who would do it, " Oliver suggested, "immenselypopular: he might get to be elected President of the United States. "

"It would cost a large sum, " remarked William Peabody, the merchant. 

"Let us leave off considering imaginary turkeys, and discuss the onebefore us, " said old Sylvester, "but I must first put a question, and ifit's answered with satisfaction, we'll proceed. Now tell me, " he said, addressing himself to Mr. Carrack, who sat in a sort of dream, as if hehad lost his identity, as he had ever since the night-adventure in thefez-cap and red silk cloak: "Now tell me, Tiffany, although you havedoubtless seen a great many grand things, such as the Alps, and St. Peter's church at Rome, has your eye fallen in with anything whereveryou travelled over the world, grander than that Thanksgiving turkey?"

Mr. Carrack, either from excessive modesty or total abstraction, hesitated, looked about him hastily, and not till the Captain calledacross the table, "Why don't you speak, my boy?" and then, as ifsuddenly coming to, and realizing where he was, answered at last, withgreat deliberation, "It is a fine bird. "

"Enough said, " spoke up old Sylvester cheerfully; "you were the lastPeabody I expected to acknowledge the merits of the turkey;" and, looking towards the Captain with encouragement, added, "now, knife andfork, do your duty. "

It was short work the jovial Captain made with the prize turkey; inrapid succession plates were forwarded, heaped, sent around; and with akeen relish of the Thanksgiving dinner, every head was busy. Straighton, as people who have an allotted task before them, the Peabodys movedthrough the dinner, --a powerful, steady-going caravan of cheerfultravellers, over hill, over dale, up the valleys, along the stream-side, cropping their way like a nimble-toothed flock of grazing sheep, keenlyenjoying herbage and beverage by the way. 

What though, while they were at the height of its enjoyment a suddenstorm, at that changeful season, arose without, and dashed its heavydrops against the doors and window-panes; that only, by the contrast ofsecurity and fire-side comfort, heightened the zest within, while theywere engaged with the many good dishes at least, but when another pausecame, did not the pelting shower and the chiding wind talk with them, each one in turn, of the absent, and oh! some there will not believeit--the lost? It was no doubt some thought of this kind that promptedold Sylvester to speak:

"My children, " said the patriarch, glancing with a calm eye around thecircle of glowing faces at the table "you are bound together with goodcheer and in comfortable circumstances; and even as you, who are herefrom east and west, from the north and the south, by each one yielding alittle of his individual whim or inclination, can thus sit togetherprosperously and in peace at one board, so can our glorious family offriendly States, on this and every other day, join hands, and like happychildren in the fields, lead a far-lengthening dance of festive peaceamong the mountains and among the vales, from the soft-glimmering eastfar on to the bright and ruddy west. If others still seek to joinin----"

"Ay, father, " said Oliver, "there is a great danger. "

"Even as by making a little way, " answered the patriarch, "we could findroom at this table for one or two or three more, so may another Stateand still another join us, if it will, and even as our natural progenyincreaseth to the third, fourth, tenth generation, let us trust forcenturies to come this happy Union still shall live to lead her sons topeace, prosperity, and rightful glory. "

"But, " interposed Oliver, the politician, again, with a double referencein his thoughts, it would almost seem, to an erring State or an absentchild, "one may break away in wilfulness or crime--what then?"

"Let us lure it back, " was old Sylvester's reply, "with gentle appeals. Remember we are all brethren, and that our alliance is one not merely ofworldly interest, but also of family affection. Let us, on this hallowedday, " he added, "cherish none but kindly thoughts toward all ourkindred, and if him we have least esteemed offer the hand, let us takeit in brotherly regard. "

There was a pause of silence once again, which was broken by a knock atthe door. Old Sylvester, having spoken his mind, had fallen into areverie, and the Peabodys glancing one to the other, the question arose, shall the strangers (Mopsey reported them to be two) whoever they maybe, be admitted?

"This is strictly a family festival, " it was suggested, "where nostrangers can be rightly allowed. "

"May be thieves!" the merchant added. 

"Vagabonds, perhaps!" Mrs. Carrack suggested. 

"Strangers, anyhow!" said Mrs. Jane Peabody. 

The widow Margaret and Miriam were silent and gave utterance to noopinion. 

In the midst of the discussion old Sylvester suddenly awakening, andrearing his white locks aloft, in the voice of a trumpet of silversound, cried out:--"If they be human, let 'em in!"

As he delivered this emphatic order there was a deep moan at the door, as of one in great pain, or suffering keenly from anguish of spirit, andwhen it was opened to admit the new-comers, the voice of Chanticleer, raised for the second time, broke in, clear and shrilly, from the outerdarkness. 

CHAPTER NINTH. 

THE NEW-COMERS. 

It was old Sylvester himself who opened the door and admitted thestrangers; one of them, the younger, wore a slouched hat which did notallow his features to be distinctly observed, further than that his eyeswere bright with a strange lustre, and that his face was deadly pale. Hewas partly supported by the elder man, whose person was clad in a longcoat, reaching nearly to the ground. They were invited to the table, butrefusing, asked permission to sit at the fire, which being granted, theytook their station on either side of the hearth; the younger staggeredfeebly to his seat, and kept his gaze closely fixed on the other. 

"He had better take something, " said old Sylvester, looking toward theyoung man and addressing the other. "Is your young friend ill?"

"With an ailment food cannot relieve, I fear, " the elder man answered. 

"Will you not remove your hats?" old Sylvester asked again. 

Turning slowly at this question, the young man answered, "We may notprove fit company for such as you, and if so the event shall prove, wewill pass on and trouble you no further. If every thread were dry assummer flax, " he added, in a tone of deep feeling, "I for one, am notfit to sit among honest people. "

"You should not say so, my son, " said old Sylvester; "let us hope thatall men may on a day like this sit together; that, remembering God'smany mercies to us all, in the preservation of our lives, in his blessedchange of seasons, in hours of holy meditation allowed to us, every manin very gratitude to the Giver of all Good, for this one day in the yearat least, may suspend all evil thoughts and be at peace with all hisfellow-creatures. "

The young man turned toward the company at the table, but not so farthat his whole face could be seen. 

"Have all who sit about you at that table, " he asked, glancing slowlyaround, "performed the duty to which you refer, and purged their bosomsof unkindness toward their fellow-men? Is there none who grasps thewidow's substance? who cherishes scorn and hatred of kindred? Who judgesharshly of the absent?"

There was a movement in different members of the company, but oldSylvester hushed them with a look, and took upon himself the business ofreply. 

"It may be, " said old Sylvester, "that some of us are disquieted, for beit known to you that one of the children of this household is absentfrom among us for causes which may well disturb our thoughts. "

"I have heard the story, " the young man continued, "and if I know itaright, these are the truths of that history: There were two men, friends, once in this neighborhood, Mr. Barbary the preacher, and yourgrandson Elbridge Peabody. Something like a year ago the preachersuddenly disappeared from this region, and the report arose andconstantly spread that he had fallen by the hand of his friend, thatgrandchild of yours. It began in a cloudy whisper, afar off, but swelledfrom day to day, from hour to hour, till it overshadowed this wholeregion, and not the least of the darkness it caused was on this spot, where this ancient homestead stands, and where the young man had grownand lived from the hour of his birth. He saw coldness and avoidance onthe highway; he was shrunk from on sabbath-mornings, and by children;but this was little and could be borne--the world was against him: butwhen he saw an aged face averted, " he looked at old Sylvester steadily, "and a mother's countenance sad and hostile--"

"Sad--but not hostile, " the widow murmured. 

"Sorrowful and troubled, at least, " the young man rejoined, "his life, for all of happiness, was at an end. He must cease to live or he mustrestore the ancient sunshine which had lighted the windows of the homeof his boyhood. He knew that his friend had _not_ fallen by his hand;that he still lived, but in a far distant place which none but a longand weary journey could reach. "

"He should have declared as much, " interposed the old patriarch. 

"No, sir; his word would have been but as the frail leaf blown idly fromthe autumn-bough; nothing but the living presence of his friend couldsilence the voice of the accuser. He rose up and departed, withoutcounsel of any, trusting only in God and his own strength; he bore withhim neither bag nor baggage, scrip nor scrippage--not even a change ofraiment; but with a handful of fruit and the humble provision which hisgood mother had furnished for the harvest-field, he set forth; day andnight he journeyed on the truck he knew his friend had taken to that farcountry, toiling in the fields to secure food and lodging for the night, and some scant aids to carry him from place to place. Pushing on fastand far through the western country, in hunger and distress, passing bythe very door of prosperous kinsfolk, but not tarrying a moment to seekrelief. "

At this point Mrs. Jane Peabody glanced at her husband. 

"And so by one stage and another, hastening on, he reached that greatcity in the south, the metropolis of New Orleans; often, as he hoped, onthe very steps of his friend, but never overtaking him, with fortune atso low an ebb that there he was well-nigh wasted in strength, hunger-stricken, and tattered in dress; driven to live in hovels tillsome chance restored him the little means to advance; so mean of personthat his dearest friend, his nearest kinsman, even his old playfellowthere, " pointing to Mr. Tiffany Carrack, "who had wrestled with him inthe hayfield, who had sat with him in childish talk often and many atime by summer stream-sides, would have passed him by as one unknown. "

The glance which, in speaking this, he directed at Mr. Carrack, kindledon that young gentleman's countenance a ruby glow, so intense and fierythat it would seem as if it must have burned up the tawny tufts beforetheir very eyes, like so much dry stubble. There was a glow of anotherkind in the Captain's broad face, which shone like another sun as hecontemplated the two young men, glancing from one to the other. 

"The young man, bent on that one purpose as on life itself, " hecontinued, silencing his companion, who seemed eager to speak, with amotion of his finger, "through towns, over waters, upon deserts, stillpursued his way; and, to be brief in a weary history, there, in the veryheart of that great region of gold, among diggers and searchers, and mendistracted in a thousand ways in that perilous hunt, to find hissimple-hearted friend, the preacher, in an out-of-the-way wildernessamong the mountains, exhorting the living, comforting the sick, consoling the dying--and then, for the first time he learned, what hisfriend had carefully concealed before, the motive of his self-banishmentto this distant country. "

His companion would have spoken, but the young man hurrying on, allowedhim not a word. 

"You who know his history, " he continued, addressing the company at thetable--"know what calamity had once come upon the household of Mr. Barbary, by the unlawful thirst for gold; that he held its love as thecurse of curses; he thought if he could but once throw himself in itsmidst, where that passion raged the most, he would be doing his Master'sservice most faithfully, more than in this quiet country-place ofpeaceful households, but when he learned the peril and the sore distressof his young friend, he tarried not a moment. 'To restore peace to oneinjured mind, ' he said; 'to bring back harmony to one household is aclear and certain duty which will outweigh the vague chances of the goodI may do here. ' The young man cherished but one wish; through storm andtrial and distress of every name and hue, if he could but reach home onthe day of Thanksgiving, and stand up there before his assembled kindreda vindicated man, he would be requited fully for all his toil. He tookship; in tempest, and with many risks of perishing far awayunvindicated, in the middle of the wild sea--"

The widowed mother could restrain herself no longer, but rushingforward, she removed the young man's hat from his brow, parted hislocks, and casting herself upon his neck, gave utterance to her feelingsin the affecting language of Scripture, which she had listened to in themorning: "My son was dead and is alive again--he was lost and is found!"

Miriam timidly grasped his offered hand and was silent. The company hadrisen from the table and gathered around. 

"Now, " said William Peabody, "I could believe, --be glad to believe allthis, if he had but brought Mr. Barbary with him. "

The elder stranger cast back his coat, removed his hat, and standingforth, said, "I am here, and testify to the truth, in every word, of allmy young friend has declared to you. "

On this declaration the Peabodys, without an exception, hastened towelcome and address the returned Elbridge, and closed upon him in asolid group of affectionate acknowledgment. Old Sylvester stood lookingloftily down over all from the outer edge of the circle, and while theywere busiest in congratulations and well-wishes, he went forward. 

"Stand back!" cried the old man, waving the company aside with outspreadarms, and advancing with extended hand toward his grandson. "I have anatonement to render here, which I call you all to witness. "

"I take your hand, grandfather, " Elbridge interposed, "but not inacknowledgment of any wrong on your part. You have lived an hundredblameless years, and I am not the one this day to breathe a reproach forthe first time on your spotless age. "

Tears filled the old patriarch's eyes, and with a gentle hand he led hisgrandson silently to the table, to which the whole company returned, there being room for Mr. Barbary as well. 

At this crisis of triumphant explanation, Mopsey, who had under onepretext and another, evaded the bringing in of the pie to the lastmoment, appeared at the kitchen-door bearing before her, with that airof extraordinary importance peculiar to the negro countenance oneventful occasions, a huge brown dish with which she advanced to thehead of the table, and with an emphatic bump, answering to the pithyspeeches of warriors and statesmen at critical moments, deposited thegreat Thanksgiving pumpkin pie. Looking proudly around, she simply said, "Dere!"

It was the blossom and crown of Mopsey's life, the setting down and fulldelivery to the family of that, the greatest pumpkin-pie ever baked inthat house from the greatest pumpkin ever reared among the Peabodys inall her long backward recollection of past Thanksgivings, and her mannerof setting it down, was, in its most defiant form, a clincher and achallenge to all makers and bakers of pumpkin-pies, to all cutters andcarvers, to all diners and eaters, to all friends and enemies ofpumpkin-pie, in the thirty or forty United States. The Brundages too, might come and look at it if they had a mind to!

The Peabody family, familiar with the pie from earliest infancy, werestruck dumb, and sat silent for the space of a minute, contemplating itsvastness and beauty. Old Sylvester even, with his hundred years ofpumpkin-pie experience, was staggered, and little Sam jumped up andclapped his hands in his old grandfather's arms, and struggled tostretch himself across as if he would appropriate it, by actualpossession, to himself. The joy of the Peabodys was complete, for thelost grandson had returned, and the Thanksgiving-pie was a glorious one, and if it was the largest share that was allotted to the returnedElbridge, will any one complain? And yet at times a cloud came upon theyoung man's brow, --when dinner was passed with pleasant family talk, questionings and experiences, as they sat about the old homesteadhearth, --which even the playful gambols of the children who sportedabout him like so many friendly spirits, could not drive away. The heartof cousin Elbridge was not in their childish freaks and fancies as ithad been in other days. The shining solitude looking in at the windowsseemed to call him without. 

As though it had caught something of the genial spirit that glowedwithin the house, the wind was laid without, and the night softened withthe beauty of the rising moon. With a sadness on his brow which neitherthe old homestead nor the pure heavens cast there, Elbridge went forthinto the calm night, and sitting for a while by the road beneath anancient locust-tree, where he had often read his book in thesummer-times of boyhood, he communed with himself. He was happy--whatmortal man could be happier?--in all his wishes come to pass; his verydreams had taken life and proved to be realities and friends, and yet asadness he could not drive away followed his steps. Why was this? Thatmoment, if his voice or any honorable and sinless motion of his handcould have ordained it, he would have dismissed himself from life andceased to be a living partaker in the scenes about him. Even then--forhappy as he was, he dreaded in prophetic fear, the chances which besetour mortal path. The weight of mortality was heavy upon the young man'sspirit. 

Thinking over all the way he had passed, oh, who could answer that he, with the thronging company of busy passions and desires, could ever hopeto reach an old age and never go astray? Oh, blessed is he (he thought)who can lie down in death, can close his account with this world, havingsafely escaped the temptations, the crimes, the trials, which make ofgood men even, in moments of weakness and misjudgment, the falsespeaker, the evil-doer, the slanderer, the coward, the hasty assailant, and, (oh, dreadful perchance, ) the seeming-guilty-murderer himself. Strange thoughts for a prosperous lover's night, but earth is notheaven. With the sweat of anguish on his brow he bowed his head as onewhose trouble is heavy to be borne. Yet even then the thought of thesweet heaven over him, with all its glorious promises, came upon him, and as he lifted up his eyes from the earth, the moon sailing forth fromthe clouds, and flooding the region with silver light, disclosed afigure so gentle and delicate, and in its features so pure of all ourcommon passions, it seemed as if his troubled thoughts had summoned aspirit before him from the better world. As he stood regarding it inmelancholy calmness, it extended towards him a hand. 

"No, no, " he said, declining the gentle salutation and retiring a pace, "touch me not, Miriam, I am not worthy of your pure companionship. Ifyou knew what passed and is passing in my breast, you would loathe me asa leper. "

She was silent and dropped her eyes before him. 

"Think not, my gentle mistress, " he added presently, "my heart ischanged towards you. The glow is only too bright and warm. "

"If you love me not, Elbridge, " she interposed quickly, "fear not tosay so, even now. I will bear the pang as best I can. "

"You have suffered too much already, " he rejoined, touched to the heart. "My long silence must have been as death to one so kind and gentle. "

"I have suffered, " was all she said. "One word from you in your longabsence would have made me happy. "

"It would, I know it would, and yet I could not speak it, " Elbridgereplied. "When, with a blight upon my name I left those halls, " pointingto the old homestead standing in shadow of the autumn trees, "I vowed toknow them no more, that my step should never cross their threshold, thatmy voice should never be heard again in those ancient chambers, that nobeing of all that household should have a word from these lips or handstill I could come back a vindicated man; that I would perish in distantlands, find a silent grave among strangers, far from mother and her Iloved, or that I would come back with my lost friend, in his livingform, to avouch and testify my truth and innocence. "

"And had you no thought of me in that cruel absence, dear Elbridge?"asked Miriam. 

"Of you!" he echoed, now taking her hand, "of you! When in all these mywanderings, in weary nights, in lonely days, on seas and deserts faraway, sore of foot and sick at heart, making my couch beneath the stars, in the tents of savage men, in the shadow of steeples that know not ourholy faith, was it not my religion and my only solace, that one like youthought of me as I of her, and though all the world abandoned anddistrusted the wanderer, there was one star in the distant horizon whichyet shone true, and trembled with a hopeful light upon my path. "

"Are we not each other's now?" she whispered softly as she lay hergentle head upon his bosom; "and if we have erred, and repent but truly, will not He forgive us?"

As she lifted up her innocent face to heaven, did not those gentle tearswhich fell unheard by mortal ear, from those fair eyes, drop in hearingof Him who hears and acknowledges the faintest sound of true affection, through all the boundless universe, musically as the chime of holySabbath-bells?

"You are my dear wife, " he answered, folding her close to his heart, "and if you forgive and still cherish me, happiness may still be ours;and although no formal voice has yet called us one, by all that's sacredin the stillness of the night, and by every honest beating of thisheart, dear Miriam, you are mine, to watch, to tend, to love, toreverence, in sickness, in sorrow, in care, in joy; by all that belongsof gaiety to youth, in manhood and in age, we will have one home, onecouch, one fireside, one grave, one God, and one hereafter. "

An old familiar instrument, swept as he well knew by his mother'sfingers, sounded at that moment from the homestead, and hand in hand, blending their steps, they returned to the Thanksgiving householdwithin. 

CHAPTER TENTH. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

When Elbridge and Miriam re-entered the homestead they found the bestparlor, which they had left in humble dependence on the light of asingle home-made wick, now in full glow, and wide awake in every corner, with a perfect illumination of lamps and candles; and every thing in theroom had waked up with them. The old brass andirons stood shining like acouple of bald-headed little grandfathers by the hearth; the letters inthe sampler over the mantel, narrating the ages of the family, hadrenewed their color; the tall old clock, allowed to speak again, stoodlike an overgrown schoolboy with his face newly washed, stretchinghimself up in a corner; the painted robins and partridges on the wall, now in full feather, strutting and flying about in all the glory of anunfading plumage; and at the rear of all the huge back-log on the hearthglowed and rolled in his place as happy as an alderman at a city feast. The Peabodys too, partook of the new illumination, and were there intheir best looks, scattered about the room in cheerful groups, while inthe midst of all the widow Margaret, her face lighted with a smile whichcame there from far-off years, holding in her hand as we see an angel inthe sunny clouds in old pictures, the ancient harpsichord, which tillnow had been laid away and out of use for many a long day of sadness. 

While Elbridge and Miriam stood still in wonder at the sudden change ofthis living pageant, old Sylvester, his white head carried proudlyaloft, appeared from the sitting-room with Mr. Barbary, a quaint figure, freed now of his long coat, and bearing no trace of travel on his neatapparel and face of cheerful gravity. Leaving the preacher in the centreof the apartment, the patriarch advanced quietly toward the youngcouple, and, addressing himself to Elbridge, said, "My children, I havea favor to ask of you. "

"Anything, grandfather!" Elbridge answered promptly. 

"You are sure?" Old Sylvester's eyes twinkled as he spoke. 

"It would be the pleasure and glory of my young days, " Elbridge answeredagain, "to crown your noble old age, grandfather, with any worthy wreaththese hands could fashion, and not call it a favor either. "

Old Sylvester, smiling from one to the other, said, "You are to bemarried immediately. "

The young couple fell back and dropped each the other's hand, which theyhad been holding. Miriam trembled and shrunk the farthest away. 

"You will not deny me?" the grandfather said again. "You are theyoungest and the last whom I can hope to see joined in that bond whichis to continue our name and race; it is my last request on earth. "

At these simple words, turning, and with a fond regard which spoke alltheir thoughts, Miriam and Elbridge took again each the other's hand, and drew close side to side. The company rose, and Mr. Barbary was onthe point of speaking when there emerged upon the family scene, from aninner chamber, as though he had been a foreigner entering a fashionabledrawing-room, Mr. Tiffany Carrack, in the very blossom of full dress;his hair in glossy curl, with white neckcloth and waistcoat of thelatest cut and tie, coat and pants of the purest model, pumps and silkstockings; bearing in his hand a gossamer pocket-handkerchief, which heshook daintily as he advanced, and filled the room with a strangefragrance. With mincing step, just dotting the ground, his whole bodyshaking like a delicate structure in danger every moment of tumbling tothe ground, he advanced to where Miriam and Elbridge stood before Mr. Barbary. 

"Why really, 'pon my life and honor, Miriam, you are looking quitecharming this evening!"

"She should look so now if ever, Tiffany, " said old Sylvester, "for sheis just about to be married to your cousin Elbridge. "

"Now you don't mean that?" said Mr. Tiffany, touching the tawny tuftstenderly with his perfumed pocket-handkerchief, "Oh, woman! woman! whatis your name?" He hesitated for a reply. 

"Perfidy?" suggested Mr. Oliver Peabody. 

"Yes, that's it. Have I lived to look on this, " Mr. Tiffany continued;"to have my young hopes blighted, the rose of my existence cropped, andall that. Is it for this, " addressing Miriam directly: he had beentalking before to the air: "Is it for this I went blackberrying with youin my tender infancy! Is it for this that in the heyday of youth Iwalked with you to the school-house down the road! Was it for this thatin the prime of manhood I breathed soft music in your ear at thewitching time of night!"

As he arrived at this last question, Mopsey, in her new gown of gorgeouspattern, and, having laid aside her customary broad-bordered cap, with ahigh crowned turban of red, and yellow cotton handkerchief on her head, appeared at the parlor door. Mr. Tiffany paused: he saw the Moorishprincess before him; rallying, however, he was proceeding to describehimself as a friendly troubadour, whose affection had been responded to, when the Captain placing his mouth to his ear, as in confidence, utteredin a portentous whisper, "THE VAT!"

Mr. Tiffany immediately lost all joint and strength, subsided into achair at a distance, and from that moment looked upon the scene like onein a trance. 

"After all, " said Mr. Oliver, glancing at him, "I don't see just nowthat, in any point of view, this young gentleman _is_ destined to carrythe principles of free government--anywhere. "

The family being now all gathered, Mr. Barbary proceeded, employing asimple and impressive form in use in that family from its earliesthistory:

"You, the Bridegroom and the Bride, who now present yourselvescandidates of the covenant of God and of your marriage before him, intoken of your consenting affections and united hearts, please to giveyour hands to one another. 

"Mr. Bridegroom, the person whom you now take by the hand, you receiveto be your married wife: you promise to love her, to honor her, tosupport her, and in all things to treat her as you are now, or shallhereafter be convinced is by the laws of Christ made your duty, --atender husband, with unspotted fidelity till death shall separate you. 

"Mrs. Bride, the person whom you now hold by the hand you accept to beyour married husband; you promise to love him, to honor him, to submitto him, and in all things to treat him as you are now or shall hereafterbe convinced, is by the laws of Christ made your duty, --an affectionatewife, with inviolable loyalty till death shall separate you. 

"This solemn covenant you make, and in this sacred oath bind your soulsin the presence of the Great God, and before these witnesses. 

"I then declare you to be husband and wife regularly married accordingto the laws of God and the Commonwealth: therefore what God hath thusjoined together let no man put asunder. "

When these words had been solemnly spoken the widow Margaret struck herancient harpsichord in an old familiar tune of plaintive tenderness, andthe young bridegroom holding Miriam's hand in an affectionate clasp, answered the music with a little hymn or carol, often used before amongthe Peabodys on a like occasion:

 Entreat me not--I ne'er will leave thee, Ne'er loose this hand in bower or hall; This heart, this heart shall ne'er deceive thee, This voice shall answer ever to thy call. 

To which Miriam, after a brief pause of hesitation, in that tone ofchanting lament familiar to her, answered--

 Thy God is mine, where'er thou rovest, Where'er thou dwellest there too will I dwell; In the same grave shall she thou lovest Lie down with him she loves so well. 

Like a cheerful voice answering to these, and wishing, out of themysterious darkness of night, all happiness and prosperity to the youngcouple, the silver call of Chanticleer arose without, renewed andrenewed again, as if he could never tire of announcing the happy unionto all the country round. 

And now enjoyment was at its height among the Peabodys, helped byPlenty, who, with Mopsey for chief assistant, hurried in, with plates ofshining pippins, baskets of nuts, brown jugs of new cider of home-madevintage; Mrs. Carrack, who had selected the simplest garment in herwardrobe, moving about in aid of black Mopsey, tendering refreshment toher old father first, and Mrs. Jane Peabody insisting on being allowedto distribute the walnuts with her own hand. 

The children, never at rest for a moment, frisked to and fro, like somany merry dolphins, disporting in the unaccustomed candle-light, towhich they were commonly strangers. They were listened to in all theirchildish prattle kindly, by every one, indulged in all their littlefoolish ways, as if the grown-up Peabodys for this night at least, believed that they were indeed little citizens of the kingdom of heaven, straying about this wicked world on parole. Uncle Oliver, once, spreading his great Declaration-of-Independence pocket-handkerchief onhis knees, attempted to put them to the question as to their learning. They all recognised Dr. Franklin, with his spectacles thrown up on hisbrow, among the signers, but denying all knowledge of anything more, ranaway to the Captain, who was busy building, a dozen at a time, paperpacket ships, and launching them upon the table for a sea. 

In the very midst of the mirthful hubbub old Sylvester called Robert andWilliam to his side, and was heard to whisper, "Bring 'em in. " Williamand Robert were gone a moment and returned, bearing under heavyhead-way, tumbling and pitching on one side constantly, two ancientspinning wheels, Mopsey following with snowy flocks of wool and spinningsticks. Old Sylvester arose, and delivering a stick and flock to Mrs. Carrack and Mrs. Jane Peabody, requested them, in a mild voice and as amatter of course already settled, "to begin. " A spinning-match!

"Yes, anything you choose to-night, father. "

Rolling back their sleeves, adjusting their gowns, the wheels beingplanted on either side of the fireplace, Mrs. Jane and Mrs. Carrack, stick in hand, seized each on her allotment of wool, and sent the wheelswhirling. It was a cheerful sight to see the two matrons closing in uponthe wheel, retiring, closing in again--whose wheel is swiftest, whosethread truest? Now Mrs. Jane--now Mrs. Carrack. If either, Mrs. Carrackputs the most heart in her work. 

"_Now_ she looks like my Nancy, " said old Sylvester in a glow, "as whenshe used to spin and sing, in the old upper chamber. "

Away they go--whose wheel is swiftest, whose thread the truest now?

While swift and free the contest wages, the parlor-door standing open, and beyond that the door of the sitting-room, look down the longperspective! Do you not see in the twilight of the kitchen fire a darkhead, lighting up, as in flashes, with a glittering row of teeth, with aviolent agitation of the body, with gusty ha-ha's, and fragments of anuproarious chant flying through the door something to this effect--

 Oh, de fine ladies, how dey do spin--spin--spin, Like de gals long ago--long ago! I bet to'der one don't win--win--win, Kase de diamond-flowers on her fingers grow. Lay down your white gloves, take up de wool, Round about de whirly wheel go; Back'ard and for'ard nimble feet pull, Like de nice gals long--long ago!

Silence follows, in which nothing is observable from that quarter morethan a great pair of white eyes rolling about in the partial darkness. Who was other than pleased that in spite of Mopsey's decision, oldSylvester determined that if either, Mrs. Carrack's work was done alittle the soonest, and that her thread was a little the truest?

During the contest the old merchant and his wife had conversed closely, apart; the green shade had lost its terrors, and he could look on itsteadily, now; and at the close William Peabody approaching thefireplace, drew from his bosom the old parchment deed, which in hishunger for money had so often disquieted his visits to the homestead, and thrust it into the very heart of the flame, which soon shrivelled itup, and, conveying it out at the chimney, before the night was pastspread it in peaceful ashes over the very grounds which it had so longdisturbed. 

"So much for that!" said the old merchant, as the last flake vanished;"and now, nephew, " he addressed himself to Elbridge, "fulfilling anengagement connected with your return, I resign to you all charge ofyour father's property. "

"Did you bring anything with you from the Gold Region?" Mrs. Carrackinterposed. 

"Not one cent, Aunt, " Elbridge answered promptly. 

"You may add, William, " pursued Mrs. Carrack, "the sums of mine you havein hand. "

William Peabody was pausing on this proposition, the sums in questionbeing at that very moment embarked in a most profitable speculation. 

Upon the very height of the festivity, when it glowed the brightest andwas most musical with mirthful voices, there had come to the casement amoaning sound as if borne upon the wind from a distance, a wailing ofanguish, at the same time like and unlike that of human suffering. Byslow advances it approached nearer and nearer to the homestead, andwhenever it arose it brought the family enjoyment to a momentary pause. It had drawn so near that it sounded now again, as if in mournfullamentation, at the very door, when Mopsey, her dark face almost white, and her brow wrinkled with anxiety, rushed in. "Grandfather, " she said, addressing old Sylvester, "blind Sorrel's dying in the door-yard. "

There was not one in all that company whom the announcement did notcause to start; led by old Sylvester, they hastily rose, and conductedby Mopsey, followed to the scene. Blind Sorrel was lying by themoss-grown horse-trough, at the gate. 

"I noticed her through the day, " said Oliver, "wandering up the lane asif she was seeking the house. "

"The death-agony must have been upon her then, " said William Peabody, shading his eyes with his hand. 

"She remembered, perhaps, her young days, " old Sylvester added, "whenshe used to crop the door-yard grass. "

Mopsey, in her solicitude to have the death-bed of poor blind Sorrelproperly attended, had brought with her, in the event of the paling orobscuration of the moon, a dark lantern, which she held tenderly asideas though the poor old creature still possessed her sight; immoveableherself as though she had been a swarthy image in stone, while, on theother side, William Peabody, near her head, stood gazing upon the animalwith a fixed intensity, breathing hard and watching her dying strugglewith a rigid steadiness of feature almost painful to behold. 

"Has carried me to mill many a day, " he said; "some pleasantest hours ofmy life spent upon her back, sauntering along at early day. "

"Your mother rode her to meeting, " Sylvester addressed his second son, "on your wedding-day, Oliver. Sorrel was of a long-lived race. "

"She was the gentlest horse-creature you ever owned, father, " added Mrs. Carrack, turning affectionately toward old Sylvester, "and humored usgirls when we rode her as though she had been a blood-relation. "

"I'm not so sure of that, " Mr. Tiffany Carrack rejoined, "for she hasdumped me in a ditch more than once. "

"That was your own careless riding, Tiffany, " said the Captain, "I don'tbelieve she had the least ill-will towards any living creature, man orbeast. "

It was observed that whenever William Peabody spoke, blind Sorrel turnedher feeble head in that direction, as if she recognised and singled outhis voice from all the others. 

"She knows your voice, father, even in her darkness, " said the Captain, "as the sailor tells his old captain's step on deck at night. "

"Well she may, Charles, " the merchant replied, "for she was foaled thesame day I was born. "

The old creature moaned and heaved her side fainter and fainter. 

"Speak to her, William, " said the old grandfather. 

William Peabody bent down, and in a tremulous voice said, "Sorrel, doyou know me?"

The poor blind creature lifted up her aged head feebly towards him, heaved her weary side, gasped once and was gone. The moon, which hadbeen shining with a clear and level light upon the group of faces, dipped at that moment behind the orchard-trees, and at the same instantthe light in the lantern flickering feebly, was extinguished. 

"What do you mean by putting the light out, Mopsey, " old Sylvesterasked. 

"I knew de old lamp would be goin' out, Massa, soon as ever blind Sorreldie; I tremble so I do' no what I'm saying. " It was poor Mopsey'sagitation which had shaken out the light. 

"Never shall we know a more faithful servant, a truer friend, than poorblind Sorrel, " they all agreed; and bound still closer together by sosimple a bond as common sympathy in the death of the poor old blindfamily horse, they returned within the homestead. 

They were scarcely seated again when William Peabody, turning to Mrs. Carrack, said, "Certainly!" referring to the transfer of the money ofhers in his hands on loan, to Elbridge, "he will need some ready moneyto begin the world with. "

All was cheerful friendship now; the family, reconciled in all itsmembers, sitting about their aged father's hearth on this gloriousThanksgiving night; the gayer mood subsiding, a sudden stillness fellupon the whole house, such as precedes some new turn in the discourse. 

Old Sylvester Peabody sat in the centre of the family, moving his bodyto and fro gently, and lifting his white head up and down upon hisbreast; his whole look and manner strongly arresting the attention ofall; of the children not the least. After a while the old man paused, and looking mildly about, addressed the household. 

"This is a happy day, my children, " he said, "but the seeds of it weresown, you must allow an old man to say, long, long ago. If one goodBeing had not died in a far country and a very distant time, we couldnot have this comfort now. "

The children watched the old grandfather more closely. 

"I am an old man, and shall be with you, I feel, but for a little whileyet; as one who stands at the gate of the world to come, lookingthrough, and through which he is soon to pass, will you not allow me tobelieve that I thought of the hopes of your immortal spirits in youryouth?"

As being the eldest, and answering for the rest, William Peabodyreplied, "We will. "

"Did I not teach you then, or strive my best to teach, that there wasbut one Holy God?"

"You did, father--you did!" the widow Margaret answered. 

"That his only Son died for us?"

"Often--often!" said Mrs. Carrack. 

"That we must love one another as brethren?"

"At morning and night, in winter and summer; by the hearth and in thefield, you did, " Oliver rejoined. 

"That there is but one path to happiness and peace here and hereafter, "he continued, "through the performance of our duty towards our Maker, and our fellow men of every name, and tongue, and clime, and color? tolove your dear Native Land, as she sits happy among the nations, but toremember this, our natural home, is but the ground-nest and cradle fromwhich we spread our wings to fly through all the earth with hope andkindly wishes for all men. If the air is cheerful here, and thesun-light pleasant, let no barrier or wall shut it in, but pray God, with reverent hope, it spread hence to the farthest lands and seas, tillall the people of the earth are lighted up and made glad in the commonfellowship of our blessed Saviour, who is, was, and will be evermore--toall men guide, protector, and ensample. May He be so to us and ours, toour beloved home and happy Fatherland, in all the time to come!"

The old man bowed his head in presence of his reconciled household, andfell into a sweet slumber; not one of all that company but echoed theold man's prayer--"May he be so to us and ours, to our beloved Home andhappy Fatherland in all the time to come!"

On this, on every day of Thanksgiving and Praise, be that old man'sblessed prayer in all quarters, among all classes and kindred, everywhere repeated: "May He be so to us and ours, to our beloved Homeand happy Fatherland in all the time to come!"

And when, like that good old man, we come to bow our heads at the closeof a long, long life, may we, like him, fall into a gentle sleep, conscious that we have done the work of charity, and spread about ourpath, wherever it lead, peace and good-will among men!

THE END. 

Transcriber's Notes:

Author's name is not given in the text but other editions give it asCornelius Mathews. 

Contents Page. In the original text, some chapter titles were wrong;these have been corrected as follows:

 Chapter IV. Title was "The Children. " Corrected to "The Fortunes of the Family Considered. "

 Chapter V. Title was "The Fashionable Lady and Her Son. " Corrected to "The Children. "

 Chapter VI. Title was "The Fortunes of the Family Considered. " Corrected to "The Fashionable Lady and Her Son. "

Inconsistent hyphenation of words in original text has been retained(daylight, day-light; fireside, fire-side; headway head-way; andneck-cloth, neckcloth). 

Inconsistent spelling of contractions in the original text has beenretained. 

Page 27, added missing quote mark. ("Three, all of brick)

Page 33, changed comma to fullstop. (speech. "Expect to see)

Page 35, changed comma to fullstop. (said old Sylvester. "Out of)

Page 36, unusual spelling of "ricketty" retained. (landed from itsricketty and bespattered bosom)

Page 39, "thoughtf" has been changed to "though" (watched over asthough it had been my own)

Page 96, added missing quote mark. ("Some two hundred)