now, and Bartholomew, he was first mate in a
sailin' vessel; fine man, Bartholomew was, fine man; he----"

"Wall, thar' now," said Grandma; "you'll never git through namin' on 'em,
pa, if you stop to talk about 'em."

"Yis, yis," continued Grandpa, hopelessly confused, and showing dark
symptoms of smouldering wrath; "there was Bartholomew. That makes a,--le'
me see, Bartholomew,----"

"How many Bartholomews was there?" inquired Grandma, with pitiless
coolness of demeanor.

"Thar', now, ma, ye've put me all out!" cried Grandpa, taking refuge in
loud and desperate reproach; "I was gettin' along first-rate; why
couldn't ye a kept still and let me reckoned 'em through?"

"Yer musn't blame me, pa, 'cause yer can't carry yer own brothers in yer
head." There was a touch of gentle reproach in Grandma's calm voice.
"Why, there was my mother's cousin 'Statia, that was only second cousin
to me, and no relation at all, on my father's side, and she had thirteen
children, three of 'em was twins and one of 'em was thrins, and I could
name 'em all through, and tell you what year they was born, and what day,
and who vaccinated 'em. There was Amelia Day, she was born April ninth,
eighteen hundred and seventeen, Doctor Sweet vaccinated her, and it took
in five days." And so on Grandma went through the entire list, gradually
going more and more into particulars, but always coming out strong on the
main facts.

The effect could not have failed to deepen in Grandpa's bosom a
mortifying sense of his own incompetency.

When I got up from the Keelers' breakfast table there was something
choking me besides the herrin' and golden seal, and it was not
homesickness, either; but as I stepped out of Mrs. Philander's low door
into the light and air, all lesser impulses were forgotten in a glow and
thrill of exultation. I wondered if that far, intense blue was the
natural color of the Cape Cod sky in winter, and if its January sun
always showered down such rich and golden beams. There was no snow on the
ground; the fields presented an almost spring-like aspect, in contrast
with the swarthy green of the cedars. The river ran sparkling in
summer-fashion at the foot of "Eagle Hill." From the bay, the sea air
came up fresh and strong. I drank it with deep inspirations. At that
moment it seemed to me that I had indeed been born to perform a mission.
It was so hopeful to turn over an entire fresh leaf in the book of life,
and I was resolved to do it