ion--the letter was read--in which Mr. Tiffany
Carrack professed his weariness of civilized life--spoke keenly of
misspent hours--a determination to rally and do something important,
intimating that that was a great country for enterprising young men,
and, in a familiar phrase, closed with a settled resolution to do or
die.

"I have a letter to the same effect," said the Captain.

"And so have I," said William Peabody, "word for word."

"He means to do something very grand," said the Captain. Something very
grand--the women all agreed--for Mr. Tiffany Carrack was a nice young
man, and had a prospect of inheriting a hundred thousand dollars, to say
nothing of the large sums he was to bring from the Gold Regions. It was
evident to all that he was going into the business with a rush. They, of
course, would'nt see Mr. Tiffany Carrack at this Thanksgiving
gathering--he had better business on hand--Mr. Tiffany Carrack was
clearly the promising young man of the family, and was carrying the
fortunes of the Peabodys into the remotest quarters of the land.

"In a word," said Mr. Oliver Peabody, developing the Declaration of
Independence on his pocket-handkerchief. "He is going to do wonders in
every point of view. He'll carry the principles of Free Government
everywhere!"

The consideration of the extraordinary talents and enterprise of the son
imparted a new interest to the question of the coming of Mrs. Carrack;
which was rediscussed in all its bearings; and it was almost unanimously
concluded--that, one day now only intervening to Thanksgiving--it was
too late to look for her. There had been a general disposition, secretly
opposed only by Mrs. Jane Peabody, to yield to that fashionable person
the best bed-chamber, which was always accounted a great prize and
distinguished honor among the family. But now there was scarcely any
need of reserving it longer--and who was to have it? Alas! that is a
question often raised in rural households, often shakes them to the very
base, and spreads through whole families a bitterness and strength and
length of strife, which frequently ends only with life itself.

To bring the matter to an issue, various whispered conversations were
held in the small room, lying next to the sitting-room, at first
between Mrs. Margaret Peabody and Mopsey, to which one by one were
summoned, Mrs. Jane Peabody, the Captain's wife, and Mrs. Hannah
Peabody. The more it was discussed the farther off seemed any