It was composed of pieces of silk of every pattern that had been worn in the family for two generations, and cut into every form which Madam’s imagination could devise, or her scissors shape. There were squares, triangles, and hexagons; there were stripes perpendicular, horizontal, and diagonal, with stars, double and single; of brocade, watered tabby, paduasoy, damask, satin, and velvet; in short, it was a very grand affair. After having sufficiently enjoyed her niece’s surprise and pleasure, the happy and triumphant aunt took her grand-nephew from his nurse, and laid him on his new couch, then placed the quilt over him, turned down at the head, to display the lining of pink sarsnet; and being quite satisfied with the additional splendor which the _tout ensemble_ gave to the apartment, she took the baby up again, (he was fortunately a very quiet one,) and put him into the lap of his nurse, until visitors should be heard coming, when he was to be reinstated in all the magnificence of his luxurious cradle. He was christened the next Sunday at church. Mr. Fayerweather having consented to stand as one of the godfathers, Madam, feeling some qualms of conscience, sent to Boston privately for a very rich lace, to replace the one which she had abstracted for George. The succeeding summer they received two letters from George; both written in high spirits, and discovering a degree of intelligence and good sense which highly gratified his father. That same season, John, the younger son, entered college. Being of bright parts and fond of study, he bade fair to realize all the expectations his father had formed for his brother. Dark November came again, with its naked trees and sad-colored skies. This gloomy month, in which the inhabitants of _old_ England are said to be most prone to hang themselves, the Puritan fathers of New England, with greater wisdom, enlivened by the only festival they ever instituted—Thanksgiving. On this occasion, after offering up solemn thanks in public to the bountiful Hand, “who had crowned the year with his goodness,” with all the scattered branches of their families gathered under the patriarchal roof, they indulged in Thanksgiving-dinner—the only approach they ever made to merry-making—an abundant feast of every good thing the seasons had afforded; imparting to the poor a liberal portion. It is to be regretted, that abuses, in time, crept in, in the train of this—it might otherwise be truly called—sacred festival—that cruel sports became connected with its celebration, which have since continued almost to form a part of it. It is like associating the bloody rites of paganism with our most pure and holy worship.