bellows its expectant victims to their meals; the family repast,
where one so often feels gratified with the delicate compliment of
a mother, a sister, or a wife, in placing some favorite dish or
flower near his plate; the annual gatherings of jolly alumni; the
delightful concourse of relatives and friends; the gleesome picnic
lunch, with its grassy carpet and log seats; the luxurious
oyster-supper, with its temptations 'to carry the thing too far;'
the festival at the donation-party, which, in common parlance,
would be called a dish of 'all sorts;' the self-boarding student's
desolate corn-cake, baked in a pan of multifarious use: all these
are so many modifications under their respective species.

Let me remark, in conclusion, that there are some meals from which
I pray to be delivered. There is the noisy dinner of the
country-town _tavern_ or railroad station, where each individual
seems particularly anxious that number _one_ should be provided
for, and where, in truth, he is obliged often to make pretty
vigorous efforts, if he succeeds. Again, have you ever observed how
gloomy is the look of those who for the first time gather around
the table, after the departure of a friend? The breakfast was
earlier than usual, and the dishes were suffered to stand and the
beds to go unmade, and housemaid, chamber-maid, cook, and
seamstress, all engaged in the _melee_ of packing up, and of course
came in for their share of 'good-bys.' After the guests were fairly
off, 'things took a stand-still' for a while. All hands sat down
and rested, and looked very blank, and didn't know just where to
begin. Slowly, confusion began to relax _his_ hold, and order, by
degrees, resumed _her_ sway; (for the life of me, I can't bring
myself to determine the genders in any other way.) But when, at
last, the dinner-hour came, how strangely silent were the eaters!
Ah! if the departed one have gone to his long home, how _solemn_ is
this first meeting of the family, after their return to their
lonely home! It may be the sire whose place at the head of the
table is now vacant, and whose silvery voice we no longer hear
humbly invoking the divine blessing; or perhaps the mother, and how
studiously we keep our eye away from the seat where her generous
hand was wont to pour our t