CHAPTER V.

by Louisa May Alcott

　　A GOLDEN WEDDING.Hitherto they had been a most decorous crew, but the next morningsomething in the air seemed to cause a general overflow of spirits, andthey went up the river like a party of children on a merry-making.Sylvia decorated herself with garlands till she looked like a mermaid;Mark, as skipper, issued his orders with the true Marblehead twang; Moorkept up a fire of pun-provoking raillery; Warwick sung like a jovialgiant; while the Kelpie danced over the water as if inspired with theuniversal gayety, and the very ripples seemed to laugh as they hurriedby."Mark, there is a boat coming up behind us with three gentlemen in it,who evidently intend to pass us with a great display of skill. Of courseyou won't let it," said Sylvia, welcoming the prospect of a race.Her brother looked over his shoulder, took a critical survey, and noddedapprovingly."They are worth a lesson, and shall have it. Easy, now, till they pass;then hard all, and give them a specimen of high art."A sudden lull ensued on board the Kelpie while the blue shirtsapproached, caught, and passed with a great display of science, asSylvia had prophesied, and as good an imitation of the demeanor ofexperienced watermen as could be assumed by a trio of studious youthsnot yet out of their teens. As the foam of their wake broke against theother boat's side, Mark hailed them--"Good morning, gentlemen! We'll wait for you above there, at the bend.""All serene," returned the rival helmsman, with a bow in honor ofSylvia, while the other two caused a perceptible increase in the speedof the "Juanita," whose sentimental name was not at all in keeping withits rakish appearance."Short-sighted infants, to waste their wind in that style; but they pullwell for their years," observed Mark, paternally, as he waited till theothers had gained sufficient advantage to make the race a more equalone. "Now, then!" he whispered a moment after; and, as if suddenlyendowed with life, the Kelpie shot away with the smooth speed given bystrength and skill. Sylvia watched both boats, yearning to take an oarherself, yet full of admiration for the well-trained rowers, whose swiftstrokes set the river in a foam and made the moment one of pleasure andexcitement. The blue shirts did their best against competitors who hadrowed in many crafts and many waters. They kept the advantage till nearthe bend, then Mark's crew lent their reserved strength to a finaleffort, and bending to their oars with a will, gained steadily, till,with a triumphant stroke, they swept far ahead, and with oars at restwaited in magnanimous silence till the Juanita came up, gracefullyconfessing her defeat by a good-humored cheer from her panting crew.For a moment the two boats floated side by side, while the young meninterchanged compliments and jokes, for a river is a highway where alltravellers may salute each other, and college boys are "Hail fellow!well met" with all the world.Sylvia sat watching the lads, and one among them struck her fancy. Thehelmsman who had bowed to her was slight and swarthy, with Southerneyes, vivacious manners, and a singularly melodious voice. A Spaniard,she thought, and pleased herself with this picturesque figure till atraitorous smile about the young man's mouth betrayed that he was notunconscious of her regard. She colored as she met the glance of mingledmirth and admiration that he gave her, and hastily began to pull off theweedy decorations which she had forgotten. But she paused presently, forshe heard a surprised voice exclaim--"Why, Warwick! is that you or your ghost?"Looking up Sylvia saw Adam lift the hat he had pulled over his brows,and take a slender brown hand extended over the boat-side with somethinglike reluctance, as he answered the question in Spanish. A shortconversation ensued, in which the dark stranger seemed to askinnumerable questions, Warwick to give curt replies, and the namesGabriel and Ottila to occur with familiar frequency. Sylvia knew nothingof the language, but received an impression that Warwick was notoverjoyed at the meeting; that the youth was both pleased and perplexedby finding him there; and that neither parted with much regret as thedistance slowly widened between the boats, and with a farewell saluteparted company, each taking a different branch of the river, whichdivided just there.For the first time Warwick allowed Mark to take his place at the oar,and sat looking into the clear depths below as if some scene lay therewhich other eyes could not discover."Who was the olive-colored party with the fine eyes and foreign accent?"asked Mark, lazily rowing."Gabriel André.""Is he an Italian?""No; a Cuban.""I forgot you had tried that mixture of Spain and Alabama. How was it?""As such climates always are to me,--intoxicating to-day, enervatingto-morrow.""How long were you there?""Three months.""I feel tropically inclined, so tell us about it.""There is nothing to tell.""I'll prove that by a catechism. Where did you stay?""In Havana.""Of course, but with whom?""Gabriel André.""The father of the saffron youth?""Yes.""Of whom did the family consist?""Four persons.""Mark, leave Mr. Warwick alone.""As long as he answers I shall question. Name the four persons, Adam.""Gabriel, sen., Dolores his wife, Gabriel, jun., Catalina, his sister.""Ah! now we progress. Was señorita Catalina as comely as her brother?""More so.""You adored her, of course?""I loved her.""Great heavens! what discoveries we make. He likes it, I know by thesatirical glimmer in his eye; therefore I continue. She adored you, ofcourse?""She loved me.""You will return and marry her?""No.""Your depravity appalls me.""Did I volunteer its discovery?""I demand it now. You left this girl believing that you adored her?""She knew I was fond of her.""The parting was tender?""On her part.""Iceberg! She wept in your arms?""And gave me an orange.""You cherished it, of course?""I ate it immediately.""What want of sentiment! You promised to return?""Yes.""But will never keep the promise?""I never break one.""Yet will not marry her?""By no means.""Ask how old the lady was, Mark?""Age, Warwick?""Seven."Mark caught a crab of the largest size at this reply, and remained wherehe fell, among the ruins of the castle in Spain, which he had erectedwith the scanty materials vouchsafed to him, while Warwick went back tohis meditations.A drop of rain roused Sylvia from the contemplation of an imaginaryportrait of the little Cuban girl, and looking skyward she saw that thefrolicsome wind had prepared a practical joke for them in the shape of athunder-shower. A consultation was held, and it was decided to row ontill a house appeared, in which they would take refuge till the stormwas over. On they went, but the rain was in greater haste than they, anda summary drenching was effected before the toot of a dinner-horn guidedthem to shelter. Landing they marched over the fields, a moist andmirthful company, toward a red farm-house standing under venerable elms,with a patriarchal air which promised hospitable treatment and goodcheer. A promise speedily fulfilled by the lively old woman, whoappeared with an energetic "Shoo!" for the speckled hens congregated inthe porch, and a hearty welcome for the weather-beaten strangers."Sakes alive!" she exclaimed; "you be in a mess, ain't you? Come rightin and make yourselves to home. Abel, take the men folks up chamber, andfit 'em out with anything dry you kin lay hands on. Phebe, see to thispoor little creeter, and bring her down lookin' less like a drowndedkitten. Nat, clear up your wittlin's, so's't they kin toast their feetwhen they come down; and, Cinthy, don't dish up dinner jest yet."These directions were given with such vigorous illustration, and the oldface shone with such friendly zeal, that the four submitted at once,sure that the kind soul was pleasing herself in serving them, andfinding something very attractive in the place, the people, and theirown position. Abel, a staid farmer of forty, obeyed his mother's orderregarding the "men folks;" and Phebe, a buxom girl of sixteen, ledSylvia to her own room, eagerly offering her best.As she dried and redressed herself Sylvia made sundry discoveries,which added to the romance and the enjoyment of the adventure. A smartgown lay on the bed in the low chamber, also various decorations uponchair and table, suggesting that some festival was afloat; and a fewquestions elicited the facts. Grandpa had seven sons and threedaughters, all living, all married, and all blessed with flocks ofchildren. Grandpa's birthday was always celebrated by a familygathering; but to-day, being the fiftieth anniversary of his wedding,the various households had resolved to keep it with unusual pomp; andall were coming for a supper, a dance, and a "sing" at the end. Uponreceipt of which intelligence Sylvia proposed an immediate departure;but the grandmother and daughter cried out at this, pointed to the stillfalling rain, the lowering sky, the wet heap on the floor, and insistedon the strangers all remaining to enjoy the festival, and give an addedinterest by their presence.Half promising what she wholly desired, Sylvia put on Phebe's secondbest blue gingham gown for the preservation of which she added a whiteapron, and completing the whole with a pair of capacious shoes, wentdown to find her party and reveal the state of affairs. They werebestowed in the prim, best parlor, and greeted her with a peal oflaughter, for all were _en costume_. Abel was a stout man, and hisgarments hung upon Moor with a melancholy air; Mark had disdained them,and with an eye to effect laid hands on an old uniform, in which helooked like a volunteer of 1812; while Warwick's superior height placedAbel's wardrobe out of the question; and grandpa, taller than any of hisseven goodly sons, supplied him with a sober suit,--roomy,square-flapped, and venerable,--which became him, and with his beardproduced the curious effect of a youthful patriarch. To Sylvia's reliefit was unanimously decided to remain, trusting to their own penetrationto discover the most agreeable method of returning the favor; andregarding the adventure as a welcome change, after two days' solitude,all went out to dinner prepared to enact their parts with spirit.The meal being despatched, Mark and Warwick went to help Abel with someout-door arrangements; and begging grandma to consider him one of herown boys, Moor tied on an apron and fell to work with Sylvia, laying thelong table which was to receive the coming stores. True breeding isoften as soon felt by the uncultivated as by the cultivated; and thezeal with which the strangers threw themselves into the business of thehour won the family, and placed them all in friendly relations at once.The old lady let them do what they would, admiring everything, anddeclaring over and over again that her new assistants "beat her boys andgirls to nothin' with their tastiness and smartness." Sylvia trimmed thetable with common flowers till it was an inviting sight before a viandappeared upon it, and hung green boughs about the room, with candleshere and there to lend a festal light. Moor trundled a great cheese infrom the dairy, brought milk-pans without mishap, disposed dishes, andcaused Nat to cleave to him by the administration of surreptitioustitbits and jocular suggestions; while Phebe tumbled about in everyone's way, quite wild with excitement; and grandma stood in her pantrylike a culinary general, swaying a big knife for a baton, as she issuedorders and marshalled her forces, the busiest and merriest of them all.When the last touch was given, Moor discarded his apron and went to joinMark. Sylvia presided over Phebe's toilet, and then sat herself down tosupport Nat through the trying half hour before, as he expressed it,"the party came in." The twelve years' boy was a cripple, one of thosehousehold blessings which, in the guise of an affliction, keep manyhearts tenderly united by a common love and pity. A cheerful creature,always chirping like a cricket on the hearth as he sat carving orturning bits of wood into useful or ornamental shapes for such as caredto buy them of him, and hoarding up the proceeds like a little miser forone more helpless than himself."What are these, Nat?" asked Sylvia, with the interest that always wonsmall people, because their quick instincts felt that it was sincere."Them are spoons--'postle spoons, they call 'em. You see I've got acousin what reads a sight, and one day he says to me, 'Nat, in a book Isee somethin' about a set of spoons with a 'postle's head on each of'em; you make some and they'll sell, I bet.' So I got gramper's Bible,found the picters of the 'postles, and worked and worked till I got thefaces good; and now it's fun, for they do sell, and I'm savin' up a lot.It ain't for me, you know, but mother, 'cause she's wuss'n I be.""Is she sick, Nat?""Oh, ain't she! Why she hasn't stood up this nine year. We was smashedin a wagon that tipped over when I was three years old. It donesomethin' to my legs, but it broke her back, and made her no use, onlyjest to pet me, and keep us all kind of stiddy, you know. Ain't you seenher? Don't you want to?""Would she like it?""She admires to see folks, and asked about you at dinner; so I guessyou'd better go see her. Look ahere, you like them spoons, and I'magoin' to give you one; I'd give you all on 'em if they wasn't promised.I can make one more in time, so you jest take your pick, 'cause I likeyou, and want you not to forgit me."Sylvia chose Saint John, because it resembled Moor, she thought; bespokeand paid for a whole set, and privately resolved to send tools and rarewoods to the little artist that he might serve his mother in his ownpretty way. Then Nat took up his crutches and hopped nimbly before herto the room, where a plain, serene-faced woman lay knitting, with herbest cap on, her clean handkerchief and large green fan laid out uponthe coverlet. This was evidently the best room of the house; and asSylvia sat talking to the invalid her eye discovered many traces of thatrefinement which comes through the affections. Nothing seemed too goodfor "daughter Patience;" birds, books, flowers, and pictures wereplentiful here though visible nowhere else. Two easy-chairs beside thebed showed where the old folks oftenest sat; Abel's home corner wasthere by the antique desk covered with farmers' literature and samplesof seeds; Phebe's work-basket stood in the window; Nat's lathe in thesunniest corner; and from the speckless carpet to the canary's clearwater-glass all was exquisitely neat, for love and labor were thehandmaids who served the helpless woman and asked no wages but hercomfort.Sylvia amused her new friends mightily, for finding that neither mothernor son had any complaints to make, any sympathy to ask, she exertedherself to give them what both needed, and kept them laughing by alively recital of her voyage and its mishaps."Ain't she prime, mother?" was Nat's candid commentary when the storyended, and he emerged red and shiny from the pillows where he hadburrowed with boyish explosions of delight."She's very kind, dear, to amuse two stay-at-home folks like you and me,who seldom see what's going on outside four walls. You have a merryheart, miss, and I hope will keep it all your days, for it's a blessedthing to own.""I think you have something better, a contented one," said Sylvia, asthe woman regarded her with no sign of envy or regret."I ought to have; nine years on a body's back can teach a sight ofthings that are wuth knowin'. I've learnt patience pretty well I guess,and contentedness ain't fur away, for though it sometimes seems rutherlong to look forward to, perhaps nine more years layin' here, I jestremember it might have been wuss, and if I don't do much now there's alleternity to come."Something in the woman's manner struck Sylvia as she watched her softlybeating some tune on the sheet with her quiet eyes turned toward thelight. Many sermons had been less eloquent to the girl than the look,the tone, the cheerful resignation of that plain face. She stooped andkissed it, saying gently--"I shall remember this.""Hooray! There they be; I hear Ben!"And away clattered Nat to be immediately absorbed into the embraces of aswarm of relatives who now began to arrive in a steady stream. Old andyoung, large and small, rich and poor, with overflowing hands or trifleshumbly given, all were received alike, all hugged by grandpa, kissed bygrandma, shaken half breathless by Uncle Abel, welcomed by AuntPatience, and danced round by Phebe and Nat till the house seemed agreat hive of hilarious and affectionate bees. At first the strangersstood apart, but Phebe spread their story with such complimentaryadditions of her own that the family circle opened wide and took them inat once.Sylvia was enraptured with the wilderness of babies, and leaving theothers to their own devices followed the matrons to "Patience's room,"and gave herself up to the pleasant tyranny of the small potentates, whoswarmed over her as she sat on the floor, tugging at her hair, exploringher eyes, covering her with moist kisses, and keeping up a babble oflittle voices more delightful to her than the discourse of the flatteredmammas who benignly surveyed her admiration and their offspring'sprowess.The young people went to romp in the barn; the men, armed withumbrellas, turned out _en masse_ to inspect the farm and stock, andcompare notes over pig pens and garden gates. But Sylvia lingered whereshe was, enjoying a scene which filled her with a tender pain andpleasure, for each baby was laid on grandma's knee, its small virtues,vices, ailments, and accomplishments rehearsed, its beauties examined,its strength tested, and the verdict of the family oracle pronouncedupon it as it was cradled, kissed, and blessed on the kind old heartwhich had room for every care and joy of those who called her mother. Itwas a sight the girl never forgot, because just then she was ready toreceive it. Her best lessons did not come from books, and she learnedone then as she saw the fairest success of a woman's life while watchingthis happy grandmother with fresh faces framing her withered one,daughterly voices chorusing good wishes, and the harvest of half acentury of wedded life beautifully garnered in her arms.The fragrance of coffee and recollections of Cynthia's joyfulaberrations at such periods caused a breaking up of the maternalconclave. The babies were borne away to simmer between blankets untilcalled for. The women unpacked baskets, brooded over teapots, and keptup an harmonious clack as the table was spread with pyramids of cake,regiments of pies, quagmires of jelly, snow-banks of bread, and goldmines of butter; every possible article of food, from baked beans towedding cake, finding a place on that sacrificial altar.Fearing to be in the way, Sylvia departed to the barn, where she foundher party in a chaotic Babel; for the offshoots had been as fruitful asthe parent tree, and some four dozen young immortals were in full riot.The bashful roosting with the hens on remote lofts and beams; the boldflirting or playing in the full light of day; the boys whooping, thegirls screaming, all effervescing as if their spirits had reached theexplosive point and must find vent in noise. Mark was in his element,introducing all manner of new games, the liveliest of the old andkeeping the revel at its height; for rosy, bright-eyed girls wereplenty, and the ancient uniform universally approved. Warwick had aflock of lads about him absorbed in the marvels he was producing withknife, stick, and string; and Moor a rival flock of little lassesbreathless with interest in the tales he told. One on each knee, two ateach side, four in a row on the hay at his feet, and the boldest of allwith an arm about his neck and a curly head upon his shoulder, for UncleAbel's clothes seemed to invest the wearer with a passport to theirconfidence at once. Sylvia joined this group and partook of a quietentertainment with as childlike a relish as any of them, while the merrytumult went on about her.The toot of the horn sent the whole barnful streaming into the houselike a flock of hungry chickens, where, by some process known only tothe mothers of large families, every one was wedged close about thetable, and the feast began. This was none of your stand-up, wafery,bread and butter teas, but a thorough-going, sit-down supper, and allsettled themselves with a smiling satisfaction, prophetic of greatpowers and an equal willingness to employ them. A detachment ofhalf-grown girls was drawn up behind grandma, as waiters; Sylviainsisted on being one of them, and proved herself a neat-handed Phillis,though for a time slightly bewildered by the gastronomic performancesshe beheld. Babies ate pickles, small boys sequestered pie with avelocity that made her wink, women swam in the tea, and the men,metaphorically speaking, swept over the table like a swarm of locusts,while the host and hostess beamed upon one another and their robustdescendants with an honest pride, which was beautiful to see."That Mr. Wackett ain't eat scursely nothin', he jest sets lookin' roundkinder 'mazed like. Do go and make him fall to on somethin', or I shan'ttake a mite of comfort in my vittles," said grandma, as the girl camewith an empty cup."He is enjoying it with all his heart and eyes, ma'am, for we don't seesuch fine spectacles every day. I'll take him something that he likesand make him eat it.""Sakes alive! be you to be Mis' Wackett? I'd no idee of it, you look soyoung.""Nor I; we are only friends, ma'am.""Oh!" and the monosyllable was immensely expressive, as the old ladyconfided a knowing nod to the teapot, into whose depths she was justthen peering. Sylvia walked away wondering why persons were alwaysthinking and saying such things.As she paused behind Warwick's chair with a glass of cream and a roundof brown bread, he looked up at her with his blandest expression, thougha touch of something like regret was in his voice."This is a sight worth living eighty hard years to see, and I envy thatold couple as I never envied any one before. To rear ten virtuouschildren, put ten useful men and women into the world, and give themhealth and courage to work out their own salvation as these honest soulswill do, is a better job done for the Lord, than winning a battle, orruling a State. Here is all honor to them. Drink it with me."He put the glass to her lips, drank what she left, and rising, placedher in his seat with the decisive air which few resisted."You take no thought for yourself and are doing too much; sit here alittle, and let me take a few steps where you have taken many."He served her, and standing at her back, bent now and then to speak,still with that softened look upon the face so seldom stirred by thegentler emotions that lay far down in that deep heart of his; for neverhad he felt so solitary.All things must have an end, even a family feast, and by the time thelast boy's buttons peremptorily announced, 'Thus far shalt thou go and nofarther,' all professed themselves satisfied, and a general uprisingtook place. The surplus population were herded in parlor and chambers,while a few energetic hands cleared away, and with much clattering ofdishes and wafting of towels, left grandma's spandy clean premises asimmaculate as ever. It was dark when all was done, so the kitchen wascleared, the candles lighted, Patience's door set open, and little Natestablished in an impromptu orchestra, composed of a table and a chair,whence the first squeak of his fiddle proclaimed that the ball hadbegun.Everybody danced; the babies stacked on Patience's bed, or penned behindchairs, sprawled and pranced in unsteady mimicry of their elders.Ungainly farmers, stiff with labor, recalled their early days andtramped briskly as they swung their wives about with a kindly pressureof the hard hands that had worked so long together. Little pairs toddledgravely through the figures, or frisked promiscuously in a grandconglomeration of arms and legs. Gallant cousins kissed pretty cousinsat exciting periods, and were not rebuked. Mark wrought several of theseincipient lovers to a pitch of despair, by his devotion to the comeliestdamsels, and the skill with which he executed unheard-of evolutionsbefore their admiring eyes; Moor led out the poorest and the plainestwith a respect that caused their homely faces to shine, and their scantskirts to be forgotten. Warwick skimmed his five years partner throughthe air in a way that rendered her speechless with delight; and Sylviadanced as she never danced before. With sticky-fingered boys, sleepywith repletion, but bound to last it out; with rough-faced men who paidher paternal compliments; with smart youths who turned sheepish withthat white lady's hand in their big brown ones, and one ambitious ladwho confided to her his burning desire to work a sawmill, and marry agirl with black eyes and yellow hair. While, perched aloft, Nat bowedaway till his pale face glowed, till all hearts warmed, all feet beatresponsive to the good old tunes which have put so much health intohuman bodies, and so much happiness into human souls.At the stroke of nine the last dance came. All down the long kitchenstretched two breathless rows; grandpa and grandma at the top, theyoungest pair of grandchildren at the bottom, and all between fathers,mothers, uncles, aunts, and cousins, while such of the babies as werestill extant, bobbed with unabated vigor, as Nat struck up the VirginiaReel, and the sturdy old couple led off as gallantly as the young onewho came tearing up to meet them. Away they went, grandpa's white hairflying in the wind, grandma's impressive cap awry with excitement, asthey ambled down the middle, and finished with a kiss when their tunefuljourney was done, amid immense applause from those who regarded this asthe crowning event of the day.When all had had their turn, and twirled till they were dizzy, a shortlull took place, with refreshments for such as still possessed the powerof enjoying them. Then Phebe appeared with an armful of books, and allsettled themselves for the family "sing."Sylvia had heard much fine music, but never any that touched her likethis, for, though often discordant, it was hearty, with thatunder-current of feeling which adds sweetness to the rudest lay, and isoften more attractive than the most florid ornament or faultlessexecution. Every one sang as every one had danced, with all their might;shrill children, soft-voiced girls, lullaby-singing mothers, gruff boys,and strong-lunged men; the old pair quavered, and still a fewindefatigable babies crowed behind their little coops. Songs, ballads,comic airs, popular melodies, and hymns, came in rapid succession. Andwhen they ended with that song which should be classed with sacredmusic for association's sake, and standing hand in hand about the roomwith the golden bride and bridegroom in their midst, sang "Home," Sylvialeaned against her brother with dim eyes and a heart too full to sing.Still standing thus when the last note had soared up and died, the oldman folded his hands and began to pray. It was an old-fashioned prayer,such as the girl had never heard from the Bishop's lips; ungrammatical,inelegant, and long. A quiet talk with God, manly in its straightforwardconfession of short-comings, childlike in its appeal for guidance,fervent in its gratitude for all good gifts, and the crowning one ofloving children. As if close intercourse had made the two familiar, thishuman father turned to the Divine, as these sons and daughters turned tohim, as free to ask, as confident of a reply, as all afflictions,blessings, cares, and crosses, were laid down before him, and the workof eighty years submitted to his hand. There were no sounds in the roombut the one voice often tremulous with emotion and with age, the coo ofsome dreaming baby, or the low sob of some mother whose arms were empty,as the old man stood there, rugged and white atop as the granite hills,with the old wife at his side, a circle of sons and daughters girdlingthem round, and in all hearts the thought that as the former wedding hadbeen made for time, this golden one at eighty must be for eternity.While Sylvia looked and listened a sense of genuine devotion stole overher; the beauty and the worth of prayer grew clear to her through theearnest speech of that unlettered man, and for the first time she fullyfelt the nearness and the dearness of the Universal Father, whom she hadbeen taught to fear, yet longed to love."Now, my children, you must go before the little folks are tuckeredout," said Grandpa, heartily. "Mother and me can't say enough toe thankyou for the presents you have fetched us, the dutiful wishes you havegive us, the pride and comfort you have allers ben toe us. I ain't nohand at speeches, so I shan't make none, but jest say ef any 'flictionfalls on any on you, remember mother's here toe help you bear it; ef anyworldly loss comes toe you, remember father's house is yourn while itstans, and so the Lord bless and keep us all.""Three cheers for gramper and grammer!" roared a six-foot scion as asafety valve for sundry unmasculine emotions, and three rousing hurrasmade the rafters ring, struck terror to the heart of the oldestinhabitant of the rat-haunted garret, and summarily woke all the babies.Then the good-byes began, the flurry of wrong baskets, pails and bundlesin wrong places; the sorting out of small folk too sleepy to know orcare what became of them; the maternal cluckings, and paternal shoutsfor Kitty, Cy, Ben, Bill, or Mary Ann; the piling into vehicles withmuch ramping of indignant horses unused to such late hours; the lastfarewells, the roll of wheels, as one by one the happy loads departed,and peace fell upon the household for another year."I declare for't, I never had sech an out an out good time sense I wasborn intoe the world. Ab'ram, you are fit to drop, and so be I; nowlet's set and talk it over along of Patience fore we go toe bed."The old couple got into their chairs, and as they sat there side byside, remembering that she had given no gift, Sylvia crept behind them,and lending the magic of her voice to the simple air, sang the fittestsong for time and place--"John Anderson my Jo." It was too much forgrandma, the old heart overflowed, and reckless of the cherished capshe laid her head on her "John's" shoulder, exclaiming through hertears--"That's the cap sheaf of the hull, and I can't bear no more to-night.Ab'ram, lend me your hankchif, for I dunno where mine is, and my face isall of a drip."Before the red bandana had gently performed its work in grandpa's hand,Sylvia beckoned her party from the room, and showing them the clearmoonlight night which followed the storm, suggested that they shouldboth save appearances and enjoy a novel pleasure by floating homewardinstead of sleeping. The tide against which they had pulled in coming upwould sweep them rapidly along, and make it easy to retrace in a fewhours the way they had loitered over for three days.The pleasant excitement of the evening had not yet subsided, and allapplauded the plan as a fit finale to their voyage. The old ladystrongly objected, but the young people overruled her, and beingre-equipped in their damaged garments they bade the friendly family agrateful adieu, left their more solid thanks under Nat's pillow, andre-embarked upon their shining road.All night Sylvia lay under the canopy of boughs her brother made toshield her from the dew, listening to the soft sounds about her, thetwitter of a restless bird, the bleat of some belated lamb, the rippleof a brook babbling like a baby in its sleep. All night she watched thechanging shores, silvery green or dark with slumberous shadow, andfollowed the moon in its tranquil journey through the sky. When it set,she drew her cloak about her, and, pillowing her head upon her arm,exchanged the waking for a sleeping dream.A thick mist encompassed her when she awoke. Above the sun shone dimly,below rose and fell the billows of the sea, before her sounded thecity's fitful hum, and far behind her lay the green wilderness where shehad lived and learned so much. Slowly the fog lifted, the sun camedazzling down upon the sea, and out into the open bay they sailed withthe pennon streaming in the morning wind. But still with backward glancethe girl watched the misty wall that rose between her and the charmedriver, and still with yearning heart confessed how sweet that briefexperience had been, for though she had not yet discovered it, like"The fairy Lady of Shalott,

　　She had left the web and left the loom,

　　Had seen the water lilies bloom,

　　Had seen the helmet and the plume,

　　And had looked down to Camelot."