forward; and as week after week passed
away, slowly indeed, he rejoiced in the certainty that that
long-looked-for period was getting nearer and nearer, and _would_
come at last.

CHAPTER II.

THANKSGIVING.

Thanksgiving! dear, delightful Thanksgiving! What a happy sound in all
childish ears! What visions of roast turkeys, plum puddings, and pumpkin
pies rise before us at the name! What hosts of rosy cheeks, sparkling
eyes, nicely-combed little heads, and bounding feet; what blazing fires
and warm parlors; what large stuffed rocking-chairs, with
comfortable-looking grandpapas and grandmamas in them; what huge bundles
of flannel, out of which, plump blue-eyed babies roll; what stuffed
hoods and cloaks, from which little boys and girls emerge; and better
than all, what warm hearts brimming with affection; what sweet songs of
joyful praise; what untold depths of "sacred and home-felt delight,"
belong to thee, dear, glad, Thanksgiving-day!

Let us look in at Mrs. Hamilton's on Thanksgiving eve. Every thing in
her little sitting-room is just as clean as it can possibly be; the fire
burns brightly, and the blaze goes dancing and leaping merrily up the
chimney, diffusing throughout the room an aspect of cheerfulness. Henry,
"the student," as John calls him, is at home; for of course it is
vacation in his school; and his mother looks with pride on the manly
form and handsome face of this her favorite boy, who has certainly grown
taller and handsomer since his last visit at home, in her eyes at least;
and who is now entertaining himself by teaching his pet, Emma, (a little
girl of four,) to repeat the Greek alphabet, and whose funny
pronunciation of Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, &c., is received with peals
of laughter by the other children.

"We will make a famous Greek scholar of you yet," said Harry, "who
knows, darling Em, but you may be a great poetess before you die? But
you won't be a blue stocking, I hope!"

"My stockings are _red_," said the unconscious Emma; "mother don't
make me _blue_ stockings," sticking out her little feet by way of
confirming the fact.

Charlie, the baby, as he is called, now almost three years old, has
donned his new red flannel dress, and white apron, in honor of the day.
James is cracking butternuts in one corner, and a well-heaped milk-pan
is the trophy of his persevering toil. Lucy, the eldest sister, has come
home, and she and Mary are deep in some confidential conversation th