in the direction of the kitchen; the children are
hanging forward with their bodies and outstretched necks half way in at
the door; Miriam and the widow stand breathless and statue-like at
either side of the room; when, as if rising out of some mysterious cave
in the very ground, a dark figure is discerned in the distance, about
the centre of the kitchen, (into which Mopsey has made, to secure an
impressive effect, a grand circuit,) head erect, and bearing before it a
huge platter; all their eyes tell them, every sense vividly reports what
it is the platter supports; she advances with slow and solemn step; she
has crossed the sill; she has entered the sitting-room; and, with a full
sense of her awful responsibility, Mopsey delivers on the table, in a
cleared place left for its careful deposit, the Thanksgiving turkey.

There is no need now to sound a gong, or to ring an alarm-bell to make
known to that household that dinner is ready; the brown turkey speaks a
summons as with the voice of a thousand living gobblers, and Sylvester
rising, the whole Peabody family flock in. To every one his place is
considerately assigned, the Captain in the centre directly opposite the
turkey, Mrs. Carrack on the other side, the widow at one end, old
Sylvester at the head. The children too, a special exception being made
in their favor to-day, are allowed seats with the grown folks, little
Sam disposing himself in great comfort in his old grandsire's arms.

Another hush--for everything to-day moves on through these constantly
shut and opened gates of silence, in which they all sit tranquil and
speechless, when the old patriarch lifts up his aged hands over the
board and repeats his customary grace:

"May we all be Christian people the day we die--God bless us."

The Captain, the great knife and fork in hand, was ready to advance.

"Stop a moment, Charley," old Sylvester spoke up, "give us a moment to
contemplate the turkey."

"I would there were just such a dish, grandfather," the Captain
rejoined, "on every table in the land this day, and if I had my way
there would be."

"No, no, Charley," the grandfather answered, "if there should be, there
would be. There is One who is wiser than you or I."

"It would make the man who would do it," Oliver suggested, "immensely
popular: he might get to be elected President of the United States."

"It would cost a large sum," remarked William Peabody, the merchant.

"Let us leave off consideri