etings, after a twelve months' separation, and to hear their
expressions of mingled surprise and delight on being introduced to
the strange _little_ cousins, whose presence increased the number
considerably above the preceding census. But the culminating point
was yet to come. That was attained when all the brothers and
sisters had gathered around the great long table, just as they did
when they were children, with their dear mother at the head,
surveying the scene in quiet enjoyment, and one of the 'older boys'
at the foot, to ask a blessing. There were the waffle-cakes, baked
in the irons which had furnished every cake for that table for the
last quarter of a century. There was the roast-turkey, which
grandma had been putting through a generous system of dietetics for
weeks, preparatory to this occasion. It rested on the same old
turkey-plate, with its two great birds sitting on a rose-bush, and
by its side was the great old carving-knife, which had from time
immemorial been the instrument of dissection on such occasions. And
there was maple-molasses from Uncle D----'s 'sugar-camp,' and
cheese from Aunt N----'s press, and honey from Uncle T----'s hives,
and oranges which Aunt I----, who lived in the city, had provided,
and all contained in the old-fashioned plates and dishes of a
preceding generation.

I discover I am treating my subject in a very desultory manner.
Perhaps I should have stated that under the head of the complete
genus, _meal_, there are three distinct species, public, social,
and private. That the grand banquet, celebrating some great man's
birth, or the success of some noble public enterprise, with its
assemblages of the great and the good from every part of the
country; the Fourth of July festival, in honor of our nation's
independence, with its speeches, its drums, its toasts, and its
cannon; the '_table d'hote_,' or in plain English, the hotel
dinner-table, so remarkable for the multitude of its dishes and the
meagreness of their contents; the harvest-feast, the exact opposite
of the last-named, even to the mellow thirds and fifths that come
floating over the valleys from the old-fashioned dinner-horn,
calling in the tired laborers; its musical invitation in such
striking contrast with the unimagined horrors of the gong that