"Lots of 'em in Russia and Turkey, if we only lived there," observed Bessie. "But there's _always_ plenty of children that _want_ a good time and never get it, just as much as the soldiers' children did. Will you, mamma?" "When Christmas comes again, I will try to make just as many little folks happy as I can," said Mrs. Livingston. "And we'll begin _now_," said Carl, "so as to be all ready. I shall saw all summer, so as to make lots of pretty brackets and things." "And I s'pose I shall have to dress about five hundred dolls to go 'round," sighed Bessie, "there are so many children now-a-days." A DAY AND A NIGHT IN THE OLD PORTER HOUSE. Monday morning, July 5th, 1779, was oppressively warm and sultry in the Naugatuck Valley. Great Hill, that rises so grandly to the northward of Union City, and at whose base the red house still nestles that was built either by Daniel Porter or his son Thomas before or as early as 1735, was bathed in the full sunlight, for it was past eight of the clock. Up the hill had just passed a herd of cows owned by Mr. Thomas Porter and driven by his son Ethel, a lad of fourteen, and Ethel's sister Polly, aged twelve years. "It's awful hot to-day!" said Ethel, as he threw himself on the grass at the hill-top--the cows having been duly cared for. [Illustration: The Old Porter House] "You'd better not lose time lying here," said Polly. "There's altogether too much going on uptown to-day, and there's lots to do before we go up to celebrate." "One thing at a time," replied Ethel, "and this is my time to rest. I never knew a hill to grow so much in one night before." "Well! you can rest, but I'm going to find out what that fellow is riding his poor horse so fast for this hot morning--somebody must be dying! Just see that line of dust a mile away!" and Polly started down Great Hill to meet the rider. The horseman stayed his horse at Fulling Mill Brook to give him a drink, and Polly reached the brook just at the instant the horse buried his nose in the cool stream. "Do you live near here?" questioned the rider. "My father, Mr. Thomas Porter, keeps the inn yonder," said Polly. "I can't stop," said the horseman, "though I've ridden from New Haven without breakfast, and I must get up to the Center; but you tell your father the _British_ are landing at West Haven. They have more that forty vessels! The new president was on the tower of the College when I came by, watching with his spy-glass, and he shouted down that he could see them, landing." At that instant, Ethel reached the brook. "What's going on?" he questioned. "You're a likely looking boy--you'll do!" said the horseman, with a glance at Ethel, cutting off at the same instant the draught his horse was enjoying, by a sudden pull at the bridle lines. "You go tell the news! Get out the militia! Don't lose a minute." "What news? What for?" asked Ethel, but the rider was flying onward.