e as you
could be till I came here, and you never had such pleasant times in
your life as you've had since I've been here. You're a couple of old
beauties, both of you, and know just how to get along with me. But
come, boys, let's take our raisins and go up into the garret and play
Thanksgiving."

In the corner of the great kitchen, during all these days, the jolly
old oven roared and crackled in great volcanic billows of flame,
snapping and gurgling as if the old fellow entered with joyful
sympathy into the frolic of the hour; and then, his great heart being
once warmed up, he brooded over successive generations of pies and
cakes, which went in raw and came out cooked, till butteries and
dressers and shelves and pantries were literally crowded with a
jostling abundance.

A great cold northern chamber, where the sun never shone, and where in
winter the snow sifted in at the window cracks, and ice and frost
reigned with undisputed sway, was fitted up to be the storehouse of
these surplus treasures. There, frozen solid, and thus well preserved
in their icy fetters, they formed a great repository for all the
winter months; and the pies baked at Thanksgiving often came out fresh
and good with the violets of April.

During this eventful preparation week all the female part of my
grandmother's household, as I have before remarked, were at a height
above any ordinary state of mind; they moved about the house rapt in a
species of prophetic frenzy. It seemed to be considered a necessary
feature of such festivals that everybody should be in a hurry, and
everything in the house should be turned bottom upwards with
enthusiasm--so at least we children understood it, and we certainly
did our part to keep the ball rolling.

At this period the constitutional activity of Uncle Fliakim increased
to a degree that might fairly be called preternatural. Thanksgiving
time was the time for errands of mercy and beneficence through the
country; and Uncle Fliakim's immortal old rubber horse and rattling
wagon were on the full jump in tours of investigation into everybody's
affairs in the region around. On returning, he would fly through our
kitchen like the wind, leaving open the doors, upsetting whatever came
in his way--now a pan of milk, and now a basin of mince--talking
rapidly, and forgetting only the point in every case that gave it
significance, or enabled any one to put it to any sort of use. When
Aunt Lois checked his benevolent ef