up and proceeded to dress hastily enough, wondering to hear no
signs of life in the house.

I went noiselessly down the stairs. All was silent below, except for the
peaceful snoring of Mrs. Philander and the little Keelers, which was
responded to from some remote western corner of the Ark by the triumphant
snores of Grandma and Grandpa Keeler.

I attempted to kindle a fire in the stove, but it sizzled a little while,
spitefully, as much as to say, "What, Sunday morning? Not I!" and went
out. So I concluded to put on some wraps and go out and warm myself in
the sun.

I climbed the long hill back of the Ark, descended, and walked along the
bank of the river. It was a beautiful morning. The air was--everything
that could be desired in the way of air, but I felt a desperate need of
something more substantial.

Standing alone with nature, on the bank of the lovely liver, I thought,
with tears in my eyes, of the delicious breakfast already recuperating
the exhausted energies of my far-away home friends.

When I got back to the house, Mrs. Philander, in simple and unaffected
attire, was bustling busily about the stove.

The snores from Grandma and Grandpa's quarter had ceased, signifying that
they, also, had advanced a stage in the grand processes of Sunday
morning.

The children came teasing me to dress them, so I fastened for them a
variety of small articles which I flattered myself on having combined in
a very ingenious and artistic manner, though I believe those infant
Keelers went weeping to Grandma afterwards, and were remodeled by her
all-comforting hand with much skill and patience.

In the midst of her preparations for breakfast, Madeline abruptly assumed
her hat and shawl, and was seen from the window, walking leisurely across
the fields in the direction of the woods. She returned in due time,
bearing an armful of fresh evergreens, which she twisted around the
family register.

When the ancient couple made their appearance, I remarked silently, in
regard to Grandma Keeler's hair, what proved afterward to be its usual
holiday morning arrangement. It was confined in six infinitesimal braids
which appeared to be sprouting out, perpendicularly, in all directions
from her head. The effect of redundancy and expansiveness thus heightened
and increased on Grandma's features was striking in the extreme.

While we were eating breakfast, that good soul observed to Grandpa
Keeler: "Wall, pa, I suppose you'll be all r