practice of these virtues on the rising generation, till Mr. Frankford archly interrupted him.

"You must then," said he, "abolish your Thanks givings entirely, for who can practice temperance when set down to such a table as this? If you were a hermit, and our meal had been roots and water, I might have listened, much edified, to your discourse; but now, sir, I confess my excellent dinner has totally disqualified mé from receiving any benefit from a homily on temperance; nor can you, while placing me in the midst of temptation, wonder if I fall into the snare."

'Well, well," replied the Squire, laughing, "I may at least recommend industry, for all this variety you have seen before you on the table, excepting the spices and salt, has been furnished from my own farm and procured by our own labor and care."

"If that be the case," returned Frankford, looking around on the various and complicated dishes with a half incredulous stare, "you are privileged to enjoy them. The fruits of his own labor every man may surely partake. You think the indulgence in domestic luxuries perfectly innocent?"

"No; but I think them less dangerous and less apt to be indulged to excess. And the exertion to procure them cherishes a spirit of patriotism, independence, and devotion. We should love our native land were it a sterile rock; but we love it better when to our cultivation it yields an ample increase; and the farmer, instead of sighing for foreign dainties, looks up to heaven, and depends on his own labors; and when they are crowned with a blessing, he thanks God, as tens of thousands throughout our State are doing this day. Let us join our voices with theirs."

"So saying, he arose, and the whole family with him. The thanks of the Romillys were sincere, but the Englishman, who had never, at a dinner party, been accustomed to quitting the table in such an abrupt manner, and had expected-though he knew there was nothing to drink but currant wine and ginger-beer-to sit an

hour or two after the ladies had withdrawn, was too much surprised to listen to thanks. He stood stock still in his place till the family were all in motion rernoving the dishes, Mrs. Romilly all the time hurrying and bidding the girls "make haste and clear away the things and do up the chores, or we shall certainly be late at the

wedding.

Mr. Frankford then walked to a window to conceal the mirth he could not suppress at the unfashionable ending of the feast.

"But," thought he, "they have done as well as they know how, and better than I could have expected in this wild place."

After the removal of the things, coffee was brought in and served round by Oliver and Harvey. This was an innovation-coffee not being usually taken after a Yankee dinner. Mrs. Romilly explained the matter by telling the foreigner, who had taken a seat beside her, that it was done at Sidney's desire: "and really," said she, "I think I shall like the fashion very well, for coffee always settles my head so nicely."

They then began to arrange for the wedding. The distance from Squire Romilly's to the dwelling of Deacon Jones, was about half-a-mile, and the evening being a beautiful one, with a good moon, they all preferred walking. Mrs. Romilly, however, insisted that Mr. Frankford must ride.

"You have been to meeting," said she, "and you look pale, and if you get too fatigued and catch cold, it may bring on a relapse. No, no, you must ride. James, get out the chaise, and Sophia may ride too-she is tired."

Sophia's cheeks were crimson, while she declared she "should walk with Sidney."

"Well, then," replied the good mother, "I'll ride with Mr. Frankford myself, and carry Lydia; the poor child wants to see the wedding as much as any of us."

The Englishman was fain to acquiesce in this arrangement, but the look he directed towards Sophia declared,

unequivocally, that he would willingly have exchanged two for one.

It was dusk when they started. Silas had been gone an hour, and Mrs. Romilly more than once regretted that they were so late. It was not that she feared the ceremony would commence before their arrival, but her habits of industry made her always feel in a hurry to have every thing performed, in which she was at all concerned, immediately.

Such promptness is an excellent thing in a housewife, but when it degenerates into teasing impatience, it is very uncomfortable in a companion.

5

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THE house of Deacon Jones was a tolerably fair specimen of Yankee architecture. A genuine Yankee consults no order save the order of his own will; and to suit himself and build as large a house as possible, is the rule of every New England farmer. Should his means confine him at first to small dimensions, he never fails improving the first favorable opportunity of enlarging his tenement by building what he significantly terms additions they are rarely improvements-till either age or poverty compels him to desist. And it was in this manner the dwelling of Deacon Jones had acquired most of its size, and, in his judgment, all its importance.

It was originally a one story building, with two square rooms in front and several small rooms back, and accommodated his family very well. But when Mr. Jones, as he was then called, found his substance increasing, he could think of no better method of displaying his wealth than by enlarging his dwelling; so he reared what he denominated "a back kitchen," joining his old house, and extending back about forty feet. Here was a capacious dairy room, cheese closet, and every convenience-a significant term, and much better understood by a thrifty New England farmer than the sublime-for his large dairy. Yet still he was not satisfied. Some of his less

wealthy neighbors were already residing in their two story houses, and it galled his pride to see the eyes of strangers who visited the village attracted towards their showy buildings, while his were passed carelessly by, when he numbered so many more head of cattle, and sold so much more butter and cheese than they did. These reasons determined him to erect a wing, or body, rather, to his lowly dwelling.

The new building was of two stories, of course, but to make it appear more elevated, he directed the posts to be made two feet longer than the usual dimensions. The wing was thirty feet by twenty-four; the upper story being divided into two chambers, with ample closets, finished handsomely and designed for his daughters.

The lower story formed but one room, and many were the conjectures of the good and inquisitive people in the neighborhood, concerning the use for which such a huge apartment could be designed. Some guessed Mr. Jones was intending to open a tavern, and designed it for a barroom; others surmised that he was about turning merchant, and would convert it into a store; and the young lads, who hated him for his opposition to their amusements, declared that they knew he was preparing it for a ball-room. One wag actually wrote tickets for a housewarming in Mr. Jones' behalf, inviting all the young ladies and gentlemen in Northwood to meet at his new hall and celebrate its accomplishment.

The worthy proprietor deigned no explanation to any of these surmises. He kept his workmen busily employed in finishing it after the pattern he had shown them, and on the Sabbath following its completion, after the services were closed and a conference appointed at the schoolhouse, he arose in his place and communicated to his brethren, in a solemn tone of voice, the important information, that he had provided a room in which they might for the future hold their conferences!

The circumstance caused quite a sensation in the little community, and many who had formerly accused Mr. Jones of worldly-mindedness, now acknowledged, that if