Before they went to sleep, I could hear my boys whispering among themselves, about “father's mysterious allusions” to next day's festival and rejoicings; but I offered no explanation, and went to sleep, little guessing that the rogues had laid a counter-plot, far more surprising than my simple plan for their diversion.
Nothing less than a roar of artillery startled me from sleep at day-break next morning. I sprang up and found my wife as much alarmed as I was by the noise, otherwise I should have been inclined to believe it fancy.
“Fritz! dress quickly and come with me!” cried I, turning to his hammock. Lo, it was empty! neither he nor Jack were to be seen.
Altogether bewildered, I was hastily dressing, when their voices were heard, and they rushed in shouting:—
“Hurrah! didn't we rouse you with a right good thundering salute?”
But perceiving at a glance that we had been seriously alarmed, Fritz hastened to apologise for the thoughtless way in which they had sought to do honour to the Day of Thanksgiving, without considering that an unexpected cannon-shot would startle us unpleasantly from our slumbers.
We readily forgave the authors of our alarm, in consideration of the good intention which had prompted the deed, and, satisfied that the day had at least been duly inaugurated, we all went quietly to breakfast.
Afterwards we sat together for a long time, enjoying the calm beauty of the morning, and talking of all that had taken place on the memorable days of the storm a year ago; for I desired that the awful events of that time should live in the remembrance of my children with a deepening sense of gratitude for our deliverance. Therefore I read aloud passages from my journal, as well as many beautiful verses from the Psalms, expressive of joyful praise and thanksgiving, so that even the youngest among us was
