ones, and one ambitious lad
who confided to her his burning desire to work a sawmill, and marry a
girl with black eyes and yellow hair. While, perched aloft, Nat bowed
away till his pale face glowed, till all hearts warmed, all feet beat
responsive to the good old tunes which have put so much health into
human bodies, and so much happiness into human souls.

At the stroke of nine the last dance came. All down the long kitchen
stretched two breathless rows; grandpa and grandma at the top, the
youngest pair of grandchildren at the bottom, and all between fathers,
mothers, uncles, aunts, and cousins, while such of the babies as were
still extant, bobbed with unabated vigor, as Nat struck up the Virginia
Reel, and the sturdy old couple led off as gallantly as the young one
who came tearing up to meet them. Away they went, grandpa's white hair
flying in the wind, grandma's impressive cap awry with excitement, as
they ambled down the middle, and finished with a kiss when their tuneful
journey was done, amid immense applause from those who regarded this as
the crowning event of the day.

When all had had their turn, and twirled till they were dizzy, a short
lull took place, with refreshments for such as still possessed the power
of enjoying them. Then Phebe appeared with an armful of books, and all
settled themselves for the family "sing."

Sylvia had heard much fine music, but never any that touched her like
this, for, though often discordant, it was hearty, with that
under-current of feeling which adds sweetness to the rudest lay, and is
often more attractive than the most florid ornament or faultless
execution. Every one sang as every one had danced, with all their might;
shrill children, soft-voiced girls, lullaby-singing mothers, gruff boys,
and strong-lunged men; the old pair quavered, and still a few
indefatigable babies crowed behind their little coops. Songs, ballads,
comic airs, popular melodies, and hymns, came in rapid succession. And
when they ended with that song which should be classed with sacred
music for association's sake, and standing hand in hand about the room
with the golden bride and bridegroom in their midst, sang "Home," Sylvia
leaned against her brother with dim eyes and a heart too full to sing.

Still standing thus when the last note had soared up and died, the old
man folded his hands and began to pray. It was an old-fashioned prayer,
such as the girl had never heard from the Bishop's lips; ung