370 THE TEA-PARTY. 



ancient make, once the property of my uncle's mother ; thy 

 round ruddy face throwing out, like the fire, an extra glow 

 congenial with the season thy small blue eyes an extra glisten 

 thy flat white curls an extra polish; and all set off by thy 

 best lace-bordered cap the cap of caps with crown like a 

 pyramid of snow new fallen, bound by a broad red ribbon, and 

 faced by a gigantic bow thy fat throat encircled by a band of 

 black velvet, thy ample waist by the string of thy best worked 

 apron. Ah, Dolly Dove ! thou wert then at thy culminating 

 point of honest happiness and pride ! Never again did \\ < 

 thus behold thee, and for that reason have we now retraced 

 thy portrait as imaged in daguerreotype by the morning sun- 

 shine of our youth and the setting beams of thy (till then) 

 most cheerful age. 



AVhen our party of four was finally arranged,- -Mr. Caleb in 

 his arm-chair on one side the fire, Mrs. Dove presiding over 

 her tea-board opposite, we, their guests, in intermediate places 

 by the table, my little cousin began to relate how that we had 

 seen the cricket, and to repeat, with a little of my prompting, 

 a few couplets of his speaking song. Dolly listened with 

 grave attention, and when the rhymes were ended, " I can't 

 say," said she, " that I ever heard a cricket sing as plain as 

 that ; but there's no knowing, they're such wonderful cre- 

 turs in their doings, lapping the milk as nateral as old Tom 

 there, and eating bread and butter as hearty as a Christian. 

 Then to see how they run amongst the red-hot ashes with 



