But on the morrow, wasn’t that a festive scene? The table was laid in the keeping-room, whose door opened into the kitchen; knives and forks were laid for seven guests: Mr. and Mrs. Higginson, the minister and his good wife; Miss Clorinda Peaseley, a staunch friend of the family; old Widow Tucker and her spinster daughter who went out tailoring, and lived down in the Hollow; not because they would be such pleasant additions to the party, as that Mother Brimmer felt sure that no other invitations would be sent to them, bidding them to a Thanksgiving dinner; and lame Joey Clark and his sister, for the same reason, and because the children had begged to ask them. Rosy’s wood-garden had the place of honor in the centre of the table, and it did seem as if there never was such a number of bright little berries to cast a glow over the neat cloth, done up in Mother Brimmer’s best style! How they shone among their green leaves! And the goose! The cheeks of the little maid who cooked it rivalled her partridge berries in coloring, at all the compliments that were showered upon her; while the chicken pie, and spare-rib, and plum pudding, and pies, were declared the best ever eaten; and the hickory nuts and butter nuts, cracked by the boys, received most honorable mention. And old Widow Tucker’s thin face began to lose some of its worn lines, and she forgot to make any uncharitable remarks about other people, to which she was a little prone, and her daughter, Miss Mary Jane, seeing her ma so happy, came out from behind her spectacles and began to be pleasant, too. And the minister told the most delightful stories! and when he got tired, then there was Miss Clorinda to set the ball of conversation to rolling again. Everybody laughed, even lame Joey Clark, and, altogether, there was no family party in all Cherryfield so merry and festive. And as they at last arose from the table, everybody protesting that they could not eat a bit more, Rosy pulled her mother’s gown and whispered, “I want to send a basketful of goodies down to the Four Corners boys; may I, ma?” DON’T GOSSIP. CHILDREN, avoid this evil. I am pained every day at seeing the work which mischief-makers do. Some one has compared this evil to pin-making. “There is sometimes some truth, which I call the wire. As this passes from hand to hand, one gives it a polish, another a point, others make and put on the head, and at last the pin is done.” The Bible speaks much against mischief-making, and I would advise you to collect all the verses in this book, bearing on this subject, and commit them to memory, and then I do not think you will ever be guilty of this sin. Remember, my little friends, that you can never gather up the mischief you may do by gossip. R. WILD ANIMALS AND THE TELEGRAPH.