"Can't you think of something else about her?" Fred pleaded, a few nights ago when, tired of his books and games, he had seated himself comfortably before the fire. "Yes," I replied, "I have been thinking of another story as I sit here knitting. It is about going to Southampton on a canal-boat." "Oh, that's splendid, I know!" said both boys in a breath. "Hurry up, and count your stitches quick, mamma." I paused a moment to knit to the seam-needle, and then began:-- "My father and mother lived in Westfield, on the banks of the New-Haven and Northampton Canal. My grandmother lived in Southampton, the town next north of ours. She, too, lived near the canal. We children used to think that the trip we often took from our house to hers was like a journey through fairy-land. "The first time I ever went out from under my mother's wing was with my grandmother, who took me from home with her one bright June day. I was a little sober on parting with my mother; but the negro cook, on board the boat a fat, jolly-looking woman, took me under her special care. "I went down in her cabin, and she gave me cookies and great puffy doughnuts, and a pink stick of candy, and I watched her while she cleaned the lamps." "Is that all?" said Ralph, as I paused a moment to secure a dropped stitch in the red stocking. "Oh, no indeed!" I say as I go on,-- "By and by my grandmother's family were all scattered. My grandfather died, and left her sad and lonely; but she still lived in the old homestead. "I can see her room now. There were four windows in it,--two looking east, towards Mounts Tom and Holyoke, and two south, over a lovely old-fashioned garden filled with tulips, hollyhocks, southernwood, thyme, cinnamon-roses, spice-pinks, lavender, white-lilies, and violets. "There was an open Franklin stove in the room; and a little, chubby black teapot always stood on its top. One sunny south window was filled with flowers. Grandmother always carried a bunch of flowers to church with her, and she had a black velvet bag, in which she carried sugar-plums, to give to us drowsy children on Sunday afternoon, when the minister preached one of his long sermons." [Illustration] "Just one story more," said Ralph, as I again paused to observe what progress I was making in my knitting. "Will you promise not to ask for another one to-night?" "We promise certain sure," said Fred. "Only tell a long one for the last." "Very well," said I. "Once my grandmother made a party for a circle of cousins. We counted nine cousins in all when we took our seats at the supper-table." "What did you have for supper?" observed Fred.