'Tis human nature to review again The stirring incidents of joy or pain; So on the eve of the succeeding day, When four-and-twenty hours had passed away, The party grouped around the blazing light Which from the fireplace streamed into the night, And in its glow, so comfortable and warm, Recounted the disasters of the storm. Like some informal gathering, at first All spoke at once, as with a common burst; Then as the intermittent tempest wailed, The talk subsided and a calm prevailed. All watched the pitch ooze from the knots and burn, Or smoked their pipes in silent unconcern. Some moments passed, when Uncle Jim arose, Nudged Dad McGuire, who seemed inclined to doze, And as he started up and rubbed his eyes Addressed him and the Russian in this wise: "Two days ago the three of us confessed The reasons, that impelled us to come West; Now if it please your brethren to relate The strange caprice of fortune or of fate, Which led them hither,--after all these years, The boys will listen with attentive ears." VII. THE BLIGHT OF WAR All eyes now sought the brother of McGuire, Who sat apart, some distance from the fire Smoking in silence, while the flickering light Mingled its crimson with his locks of white; He, with his flowing, patriarchal beard, A sage, from some forgotten age, appeared, Or wrinkled seer from some enchanted clime, Whose eye could pierce the veil of future time. There in the ever thickening haze of smoke, He, being three times importuned,--awoke. As from his corncob pipe and nostrils broke The spiral wreaths of blue tobacco smoke, Which formed a smoky halo, as they spread A foot above his venerable head, Resembling halos which the artist paints O'er angel heads, or mediæval saints, This man of years, so calm and circumspect, Stroked his long beard, yawned twice and stood erect.