ubject; and with many a lingering regret, we began to put away our
fish-hooks, and hang our hoops over our arm, preparatory to trudging
homeward.

"O Henry, don't you wish that Saturday afternoons lasted longer?" said
little John to me.

"I do," says Cousin Bill, who was never the boy to mince matters in
giving his sentiments; "and I wouldn't care if Sunday didn't come but
once a year."

"O Bill, that's wicked, I'm afraid," says little conscientious Susan,
who, with her doll in hand, was coming home from a Saturday afternoon
visit.

"Can't help it," says Bill, catching Susan's bag, and tossing it in the
air; "I never did like to sit still, and that's why I hate Sundays."

"Hate Sundays! O Bill! Why, Aunt Kezzy says heaven is an _eternal_
Sabbath--only think of that!"

"Well, I know I must be pretty different from what I am now before I
could sit still forever," said Bill, in a lower and somewhat
disconcerted tone, as if admitting the force of the consideration.

The rest of us began to look very grave, and to think that we must get
to liking Sunday some time or other, or it would be a very bad thing for
us. As we drew near the dwelling, the compact and business-like form of
Aunt Kezzy was seen emerging from the house to hasten our approach.

"How often have I told you, young ones, not to stay out after sundown on
Saturday night? Don't you know it's the same as Sunday, you wicked
children, you? Come right into the house, every one of you, and never
let me hear of such a thing again."

This was Aunt Kezzy's regular exordium every Saturday night; for we
children, being blinded, as she supposed, by natural depravity, always
made strange mistakes in reckoning time on Saturday afternoons. After
being duly suppered and scrubbed, we were enjoined to go to bed, and
remember that to-morrow was Sunday, and that we must not laugh and play
in the morning. With many a sorrowful look did Susan deposit her doll in
the chest, and give one lingering glance at the patchwork she was
piecing for dolly's bed, while William, John, and myself emptied our
pockets of all superfluous fish-hooks, bits of twine, popguns, slices of
potato, marbles, and all the various items of boy property, which, to
keep us from temptation, were taken into Aunt Kezzy's safe keeping over
Sunday.

My Uncle Phineas was a man of great exactness, and Sunday was the centre
of his whole worldly and religious system. Every thing with regard to
his worldly busi