randpa' and Grandma', aunts, uncles and cousins;
And at night we'll all play blind-man's-buff.

"Perhaps we'll get Grandpa' to tell us some stories
About the old times, with their _Whigs_ and their _Tories_;
And what sort of men they could be;
When some spread their tables without any cloth,
With basins and spoons, and the fuming bean-broth,
Which they took for their coffee and tea.

"They'd queer kind of sights, I have heard Grandma' say,
About in their streets; for, if not every day,
At least it was nothing uncommon,
To see them pile on the poor back of one horse
A saddle and _pillion_; and what was still worse,
Up mounted a man and a woman!

"The lady held on by the driver; and so,
Away about town at full trot would they go;
Or perhaps to a great country marriage,--
To Thanksgiving-supper--to husking, or ball;
Or quilting; for thus did they take nearly all
Their rides, on an _animal_ carriage!

"I know not what _huskings_ and _quiltings_ maybe;
But Grandma' will tell; and perhaps let us see
Some things she has long laid away:--
That stiff damask gown, with its sharp-pointed waist,
The hoop, the craped, cushion, and buckles of paste,
Which they wore in her grandparent's day.

"She says they had buttons as large as our dollars,
To wear on their coats with their square, standing collars;
And then, there's a droll sort of hat,
Which Mary once fixed me one like, out of paper,
And said she believed 'twas called _three-cornered scraper_;
Perhaps, too, she'll let us see that.

"Oh! a glorious time we shall have! If they knew
At the south, what it is, I guess they'd have one too;
But I have heard somebody say,
That, there, they call all the New England folks _Bumpkins,_
Because we eat puddings, and pies made of pumpkins,
And have our good Thanksgiving-day."

"I think, brother Charles," returned Edward "at least,
That they might go to church, if they don't like the feast;
For to me it is much the best part,
To hear the sweet anthems of praise, that we give
To Him, on whose bounty we constantly live:--
It is feasting the ear and the heart.

"From Him, who has brought us another year round,
Who gives every blessing, wherewith we are crowned,
Their gratitude who can withhold?
And now how I wish I could know all the poor
Their Thanksgiving-stores had already secure,
Their fuel, and clothes for the cold!"

"I'm glad," said their father, "to hear such a wish;
But wishes alone,