ELIZABETH ELIZA.--It does begin with a “C”--only he was a boy. AMANDA.--That’s a pity, for it might be “We are seven,” only that is a girl. Some of them were boys. ELIZABETH ELIZA.--It begins about a boy--if I could only think where he was. I can’t remember. AMANDA.--Perhaps he “stood upon the burning deck?” ELIZABETH ELIZA.--That’s just it; I knew he stood somewhere. AMANDA.--Casablanca! Now begin--go ahead. ELIZABETH ELIZA.--“The boy stood on the burning deck, When--When--” I can’t think who stood there with him. JULIA.--If the deck was burning, it must have been on fire. I guess the rest ran away, or jumped into boats. AMANDA.--That’s just it:--“Whence all but him had fled.” ELIZABETH ELIZA.--I think I can say it now. “The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled---” [She hesitates. ] Then I think he went-- JULIA.--Of course, he fled after the rest. AMANDA.--Dear, no! That’s the point. He didn’t. “The flames rolled on, he would not go Without his father’s word.” ELIZABETH ELIZA.--O yes. Now I can say it. “The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flames rolled on, he would not go Without his father’s word.” But it used to rhyme. I don’t know what has happened to it. MRS. PETERKIN.--Elizabeth Eliza is very particular about the rhymes. ELIZABETH ELIZA.--It must be “without his father’s head,” or, perhaps, “without his father said” he should. JULIA.--I think you must have omitted something. AMANDA.--She has left out ever so much! MOTHER.--Perhaps it’s as well to omit some, for the ice-cream has come, and you must all come down. AMANDA.--And here are the rest of the girls; and let us all unite in a song! [Exeunt omnes, singing. ] THE PETERKINS CELEBRATE THE FOURTH OF JULY. THE day began early. A compact had been made with the little boys the evening before. They were to be allowed to usher in the glorious day by the blowing of horns exactly at sunrise. But they were to blow them for precisely five minutes only, and no sound of the horns should be heard afterward till the family were downstairs. It was thought that a peace might thus be bought by a short, though crowded, period of noise. The morning came. Even before the morning, at half-past three o’clock, a terrible blast of the horns aroused the whole family. Mrs. Peterkin clasped her hands to her head and exclaimed: “I am thankful the lady from Philadelphia is not here!” For she had been invited to stay a week, but had declined to come before the Fourth of July, as she was not well, and her doctor had prescribed quiet. And the number of the horns was most remarkable! It was as though every cow in the place had arisen and was blowing through both her own horns!