"Since then," I added, "I have counted thirty-one days. This is the 1st of February. We landed on the 2d, therefore to-morrow is the anniversary of the day of our escape. As my bookseller has not sent me an almanac for the present year, we must henceforth reckon for ourselves." "Oh, that will be good fun for us," said Ernest. "We must have a long stick, like Robinson Crusoe, and cut a notch in it every day, and count them up every now and then, to see how the weeks and months and years go by." "That is all very well, if you know for certain the number of days in each month, and in the year. What do you say, Ernest?" "The year contains 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, and 45 seconds," returned he promptly. "Perfectly correct!" said I, smiling; "but you would get in a mess with those spare hours, minutes, and seconds in a year or two, wouldn't you?" "Not at all! Every four years I would add them all together, make a day, stick it into February, and call that year leap year." "Well done, Professor Ernest! We must elect you astronomer royal in this our kingdom, and let you superintend and regulate everything connected with the lapse of time, clocks and watches included." Before they went to sleep, I could hear my boys whispering among themselves, about "father's mysterious allusions" to next day's festival and rejoicings; but I offered no explanations, and went to sleep, little guessing that the rogues had laid a counter-plot, far more surprising than my simple plan for their diversion. Nothing less than roar of artillery startled me from sleep at daybreak next morning. I sprang up and found my wife as much alarmed as I was by the noise, otherwise I should have been inclined to believe it fancy. "Fritz! dress quickly and come with me!" cried I, turning to his hammock. Lo, it was empty! neither he nor Jack were to be seen. Altogether bewildered, I was hastily dressing, when their voices were heard, and they rushed in shouting: "Hurrah! didn't we rouse you with a right good thundering salute?" But perceiving at a glance that we had been seriously alarmed, Fritz hastened to apologize for the thoughtless way in which they had sought to do honor to the Day of Thanksgiving, without considering that an unexpected cannon-shot would startle us unpleasantly from our slumbers. We readily forgave the authors of our alarm, in consideration of the good intention which had prompted the deed, and, satisfied that the day had at least been duly inaugurated, we all went quietly to breakfast.