“‘The foe bravely fought, but his arms were all broken,And he fled from his death-wound, aghast and affrighted;But the Wasp darted forward her death-doing sting,And full on his bosom, like lightning, alighted.She pierced through his entrails, she maddened his brain,And he writhed and he groaned as if torn with the colic;And long shall John Bull rue the terrible dayHe met the American Wasp on a Frolic.’
“‘The foe bravely fought, but his arms were all broken,And he fled from his death-wound, aghast and affrighted;But the Wasp darted forward her death-doing sting,And full on his bosom, like lightning, alighted.She pierced through his entrails, she maddened his brain,And he writhed and he groaned as if torn with the colic;And long shall John Bull rue the terrible dayHe met the American Wasp on a Frolic.’
“‘The foe bravely fought, but his arms were all broken,And he fled from his death-wound, aghast and affrighted;But the Wasp darted forward her death-doing sting,And full on his bosom, like lightning, alighted.She pierced through his entrails, she maddened his brain,And he writhed and he groaned as if torn with the colic;And long shall John Bull rue the terrible dayHe met the American Wasp on a Frolic.’
“‘The foe bravely fought, but his arms were all broken,
And he fled from his death-wound, aghast and affrighted;
But the Wasp darted forward her death-doing sting,
And full on his bosom, like lightning, alighted.
She pierced through his entrails, she maddened his brain,
And he writhed and he groaned as if torn with the colic;
And long shall John Bull rue the terrible day
He met the American Wasp on a Frolic.’
“Caricature and satire were pressed into the service of history. A caricature entitled ‘A Wasp on a Frolic; or, A Sting for John Bull,’ was sent out by a Philadelphia publisher.”
“Papa, didn’t Lieutenant Biddle get any presents for his brave deeds on the Wasp against the Frolic?” asked Elsie.
“Yes,” returned the captain; “he shared in the honors of the victory. The Legislature of Pennsylvania voted him a sword, and leading citizens of Philadelphia presented him with a silver urn appropriately ornamented and inscribed.”
The captain paused—there was a moment’s silence.
“That was a very nice story, papa; thank you for telling it,” said Elsie.
“Yes, we are all obliged for it, uncle,” said Eric.
“And perhaps would like another one?” returned the captain inquiringly, and glancing around upon them with his pleasant smile.
He was answered with a chorus of expressions of the great pleasure they would all take in listening to another story of naval doings. So he began.
“Just a week after the Wasp had won her victory a still more important one was gained. In the middle of October, 1812, Commodore Rodgers sailed from Boston on a second cruise. His flagship was the President, forty-four guns, accompanied by the United States, forty-four, Captain Stephen Decatur, and Argus, sixteen, Lieutenant-commanding St. Clair. These vessels soon separated, the United States sailing southward and eastward, hoping to intercept British West India-men.
“At dawn on Sunday morning (October 23), near the Island of Madeira, the watch at the main-top discovered a sail. There was a stiff breeze and heavy sea at the time. The vessel was an English man-of-war under aheavy press of sail, and Decatur resolved to overtake and fight her.
“His vessel was a good sailer, and gained rapidly on the one she was pursuing. Her officers and men were full of enthusiasm, and as their ship drew near the British vessel they sent up shouts from their deck that were heard on board the vessel they were pursuing; that was before they were near enough to bring guns to bear upon each other.
“At about nine o’clock that morning Decatur opened a broadside upon the British ship, but his balls fell short. However, he was soon so near that a second broadside from the United States took effect. The two vessels were on the same track, and now fought desperately with long guns, the distance being so great that carronades and muskets were of no avail.
“The shot of the United States told fearfully on her antagonist, and she presently perceived that the only way to save herself from utter destruction was to come to close quarters with her foe. So when thecontest had lasted half an hour, riddled and torn in hull and rigging, she bore up gallantly for close action.
“Very soon her mizzen-mast was cut by the shot of the United States and fell overboard. Then shortly after, her main-yard was seen hanging in two pieces; her main and foretopmasts were gone; her foremast was tottering, and no colors were seen flying. Her mainmast and bowsprit were also badly shattered.
“The United States was yet unhurt. Decatur tacked and came up under the lee of the English ship. The commander of that vessel was astounded by the movement, for when the American vessel bore away he supposed she was seriously injured and about to fly. The blaze of her cannon had been so incessant that, seen through the smoke, the English captain thought she was on fire. It seems his crew thought so also, for they gave three cheers; but when the United States tacked and came up in a position to do more serious damage the British commander sawthat further resistance was vain, struck his colors and surrendered.
“As the United States crossed the stern of her vanquished foe, Decatur called through his trumpet, ‘What is the name of your ship?’ ‘His Majesty’s frigate Macedonian,’ replied J. S. Carden, her captain.”
“Was she a nice ship, papa?” asked Ned.
“She was before the battle, a new ship and a very fine one of her class. She was rated at thirty-six guns, but carried forty-nine. But in this fight she was terribly bruised and cut up; most of her rigging was gone, all her boats were shattered into uselessness. She had received no less than one hundred round shot in her hull, many of them between wind and water. Of her officers and crew, three hundred in number, many were killed and wounded.”
“What did Decatur do with her, papa?” asked Elsie.
“He gave up his cruise and returned to New England with his prize. He went into the harbor of New London, and LieutenantAllen took the Macedonian into Newport harbor about the same time. Soon afterward both vessels sailed for the harbor of New York, where the Macedonian was first anchored on New Year’s Day, 1813. One of that city’s newspapers said of her, ‘She comes with the compliments of the season from old Neptune.’
“A splendid banquet had just been given in that city to Hull, Decatur and Jones, and all over the Union people were sounding their praises.”
“And what did the English think about it all?” asked Eric.
“They were filled with disappointment and unpleasant forebodings,” replied Captain Raymond, “while all over the United States the people were filled with exultation and hope.”
“Didn’t the Legislatures and Congress make those brave and successful commanders some gifts to testify to the gratitude of the people—their countrymen?” asked Lucilla.
“Yes,” replied her father. “Legislaturesand other bodies gave Decatur thanks and swords; the Corporation of New York gave him the freedom of the city, and asked for his portrait for the picture-gallery in the City Hall, where it still hangs; and Congress thanked him and gave him a gold medal.”
“I’d like to see that,” said Elsie. “I wonder if the family have it yet.”
“Very likely,” said Grandma Elsie. “Such a thing would be apt to be highly prized and kept to go down from generation to generation.”
“Ah! whom have we here?” exclaimed the captain, rising to his feet as at that moment Max drew near with Eva on his arm. “Eva, daughter, I am truly glad that you feel able to join us.”
“And I am very glad to be able, and permitted by the doctor to do so, father,” she returned, accepting the seat which he offered.
“Yes, it is high time you were allowed a little liberty,” he said, as he and Max seated themselves with her between them. “Ah!here comes my granddaughter,” as the nurse approached with the babe in her arms.
“Lay her on my lap, please, nurse,” said Eva. “I am quite able to hold her.”
“And if you find her in the least burdensome, pass her over to her father,” said Max.
The children gathered round, Ned saying:
“Now, Brother Max, make her talk.”
“I don’t want to. I’m too young,” came apparently from the baby lips, and all the children laughed.
“It’s rude for big folks like you to laugh at a little one like me,” she seemed to say in a hurt tone.
“No, it isn’t; but I don’t mean to do it again, though I am your aunt,” laughed Elsie.
“Are you? Then you ought to be very good to me,” the baby voice seemed to say.
“Yes, and I intend to be,” returned Elsie. “I love you because you are a dear little soul, and my little niece—your father and mother being my brother and sister.”
“Elsie isn’t your only relation here,though,” said Alie; “there are a good many of us. I’m one of your cousins.”
“And I’m another,” said Eric, “and big Brother Edward is another, and so is little Sister Vi. You have a good many relations; plenty of them—such as they are.”
“I hope to get acquainted with them all after awhile,” returned the baby voice, “but I’m tired talking.”
“Dear me! she gets tired sooner than some other folks,” laughed Edward, turning away. “I guess she’ll not grow up into a gossip about other folks’ matters.”
“I hope not,” said Eva; “but I see she is going to sleep now, so no wonder she’s tired of talking.”
A verygood dinner was served on board the Dolphin that day, and on leaving the table most of her passengers sought the deck again, for it was a lovely evening, warm and clear.
The captain and Violet were sitting side by side on a settee, when Elsie came to them with a wistful, inquiring look on her face that made her father think she wanted something.
“What is it, my little daughter?” he asked, drawing her to a seat upon his knee.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you to tell me about the War of 1812, papa, I should be glad to learn more about it,” she said.
“It will be no trouble for me to give my dear little girl as much information as she may crave about it,” he answered, patting hercheek affectionately. “But if you think the other children will care to hear what I tell you, you may call them here before I begin.”
“Oh, yes, papa, I will,” she answered joyously, and hastened away in search of them.
Her summons was obeyed by one and all, as if in expectation of a great treat. They gathered about the captain and he began.
“We are now at peace with England; the two nations good friends, as I hope and trust they may be always. But between the wars of the Revolution and of 1812 this country was badly treated by that in more ways than one. To tell you all about it would make much too long a story for to-night. Lossing says of England in 1810 that she had seized and confiscated the commercial property of American citizens to an incalculable amount. She had contemptuously disregarded the neutrality of the American territory, and the jurisdiction of the American laws within the waters and harbors of the United States. She had at that time impressed from the crews of American merchant vessels peaceablynavigating the high seas not less than six thousand mariners who claimed to be citizens of the United States, and who were denied all opportunity to verify their claims. I think it was in February, 1811, that a richly laden American vessel bound for France was captured by a British cruiser within thirty miles of New York City; and early in May a British frigate stopped an American brig only eighteen miles from New York and a young man, known to be a native of Maine, was taken from her and impressed into the British service. Other such instances had occurred, and often the men thus shamefully robbed of their freedom were most cruelly treated.”
“How, papa?” asked Ned. “What did they do to them?”
“For refusing to work for their captors, especially after hearing of the declaration of war in 1812; some American sailors were most cruelly used; three who had been impressed on board the British vessel Peacock refused to fight against their country and demandedto be treated as prisoners of war. They were ordered to the quarter-deck, put in irons for twenty-four hours, then taken to the gangway, stripped naked, tied and whipped, each one dozen and a half, and put to duty.
“When the Peacock went into action with the Hornet, they asked the captain to be sent below, that they might not fight against their countrymen. The captain called a midshipman and told him to do his duty, which was to hold a pistol to the head of Thompson and threaten to blow his brains out if he and his companions did not do service.”
“How glad they must have been when the Hornet took the Peacock!” exclaimed Eric.
“Yes, indeed! For they had certainly been very cruelly used by those who had stolen them from American vessels,” said the captain. “And there were others who received still more cruel treatment from them, the robbers of the American seamen. It was no wonder that America was roused to attempta second war with Great Britain in order to stop these dreadful outrages upon her people.”
“The navy did a great deal in that war, didn’t it, uncle?” asked Edward.
“Yes,” replied the captain; “they were more successful than the land forces.”
“Oh, please tell us some of their doings!” cried several children’s voices.
The captain mused a moment, then began.
“I will tell you some of the doings of Commodore Rodgers in his favorite frigate, the President. After some unsuccessful efforts to intercept vessels trading between the West Indies and Halifax, St. Johns and Quebec, but finding none, he determined to try his fortune in the North Sea in search of British merchantmen. But he did not meet with a single vessel until he made the Shetland Islands, and there he found only Danish ships trading to England. His supplies began to fail and he went to North Bergen, in Norway, to replenish his stock. There he was disappointed, too, for there was a greatscarcity of food all over the country and he could procure nothing but water.
“It seems he knew that a fleet of merchantmen were to sail from Archangel in the middle of July. But just as he expected to make some prizes from among them, he fell in with two British ships of war. Knowing that he was not strong enough to battle with both at once, Rodgers with his vessel fled, hotly pursued by the enemy. (At that season in that northern region the sun is several degrees above the horizon at midnight.) That enabled the vessels to keep up the chase more than eighty hours, during which time they were much nearer the President than was at all agreeable to her officers and men.”
“Oh, I hope they didn’t catch her!” exclaimed Elsie.
“No,” said her father, “she escaped from them. Her stock of provisions had been replenished from two vessels that had been taken before the war vessels had appeared, and now she turned westward to interceptvessels coming out of and going into the Irish Channel.
“In the next six or seven days he (Rodgers) captured three vessels; then he thought it best to change his course, as the enemy was in that vicinity with a superior force. He made a complete circuit of Ireland, then steered for the banks of Newfoundland, near which he made two more captures. From these he learned that two British vessels, the Bellerophon and Hyperion frigate, were only a few miles from him. However, he did not fall in with them, and soon stood for the coast of the United States.
“Toward evening on the 23d of September the President fell in with the British armed schooner Highflyer, tender to Admiral Warren’s flagship St. Domingo; she was commanded by Lieutenant Hutchinson; was a fine vessel of her class—a fast sailer. When discovered she was six or seven miles distant, but by a stratagem Commodore Rodgers decoyed her alongside and captured her withoutfiring a gun. She did not even discover that the President was her enemy until the stratagem had succeeded.
“Before starting upon this cruise Rodgers had placed in his possession some of the British signals. He had had some made on board his ship, and now he resolved to try their efficacy. He hoisted an English ensign over the President. The Highflyer answered by displaying another, and at the same time a signal from a mast-head.
“To Rodgers’s delight, he discovered that he possessed its complement. He then signalled that his vessel was the Sea Horse, one of the largest of its class known to be then on the American coast. The Highflyer at once bore down, hove to under the stern of the President and received one of Rodgers’s lieutenants on board, who was dressed in British uniform. He bore an order from Rodgers for the commander of the Highflyer to send his signal books on board to be altered, as some of the Yankees, it was alleged, had obtained possession of some of them.
“The unsuspecting lieutenant obeyed, and Rodgers was put in possession of the key to the whole correspondence of the British navy.
“Pretty soon the commander of the Highflyer followed his signal books. He was pleased with everything he saw on board what he believed was the English vessel Sea Horse, and admired even the scarlet uniform of Rodgers’s marines, whom he took for British soldiers. Invited into the cabin, he placed in the commodore’s hands a bundle of dispatches for Admiral Warren, and informed his supposed friend that the main object of the British commander on the American station at that time was the capture or destruction of the President, which had been greatly annoying and destroying British commerce and spreading alarm throughout British waters.
“The commodore asked what kind of a man Rodgers was. ‘An odd fish and hard to catch,’ replied the lieutenant.
“‘Sir,’ said Rodgers most emphatically, ‘do you know what vessel you are on board of?’
“‘Why, yes,’ he replied; ‘on board His Majesty’s ship Sea Horse.’
“‘Then, sir, you labor under a mistake,’ said Rodgers. ‘You are on board the United States frigate President, and I am Commodore Rodgers, at your service.’”
“Oh, how frightened that British man must have been!” exclaimed Elsie. “Wasn’t he, papa?”
“I suppose that at first he thought all the commodore had been saying was merely a joke,” replied her father. “He seemed astounded, and it was difficult to make him believe that he was really on an American vessel. But the band on the President’s quarterdeck was playing ‘Yankee Doodle,’ and over it the American ensign was displayed, while the uniforms of the marines were suddenly changed from red to blue.
“It would seem that Hutchinson might well feel alarmed at finding himself in the hands of Rodgers, for he had been one of Cockburn’s subalterns when that marauder plundered and burned Havre de Grace a fewmonths before; and it is said that Lieutenant Hutchinson had now in his possession a sword which he carried away from Commodore Rodgers’s house on that occasion.
“He had been warned by Captain Oliver, when receiving instructions as commander of the Highflyer, to take care not to be outwitted by the Yankees. ‘Especially be careful,’ said Oliver, ‘not to fall into the hands of Commodore Rodgers, for if he comes across you he will hoist you upon his jib-boom and carry you into Boston.’”
“And did he do it, now he’d got him?” asked Ned.
“No,” said Captain Raymond. “Well was it for him that the enemy into whose hands he had fallen was an American. Rodgers treated him with courtesy such as is due to a prisoner of war, and soon allowed him to go at large on parole.”
“And did Commodore Rodgers get back to his own country, papa?” asked Elsie.
“Yes; three days after the capture of the Highflyer he sailed into Newport harbor,having his prize with him, her commander and fifty-five other prisoners. He said his cruise had not added much lustre to the American navy, but he had rendered his country signal service by harassing the enemy’s commerce, and keeping more than twenty vessels in search of him for several weeks. He had captured eleven merchant vessels and two hundred and seventy-one prisoners.”
“What could he do with so many prisoners, uncle?” asked Eric. “I should hardly think he’d have room for them in his ship.”
“All but those he carried into Newport had been paroled and sent home in the captured vessels,” replied the captain.
“Did he go out catching British ships again, uncle?” asked Edward.
“Yes; on the 5th of December, 1813, he sailed from Newport on another cruise in the President. He expected to fall in with the British squadron, but with a stiff breeze from the north-northwest he got well to sea without falling in with them. The next day he captured the Cornet, which British cruisershad taken from the Americans; then he sailed southward. In the vicinity of the Barbadoes he took, one after another, three British merchantmen. He ran down into the Caribbean Sea and cruised there unsuccessfully for awhile, but finally captured and sunk a British merchantman, then sailed for the coast of Florida.
“Going northward, he was off Charleston Bar on the 11th of February. He did not enter it, however, but continued on up the coast, chasing and being chased, dashing through a vigilant British blockading squadron off Sandy Hook, and sailed into New York harbor on the evening of the eighteenth.”
“Then New York did him honor, didn’t she, father?” said Grace, sitting near, listening to his story.
“Yes,” replied the captain; “many of the citizens did so, and a dinner was given in compliment to him at Tammany Hall. At that dinner, where most of the notables of the city were present, Rodgers gave thistoast: ‘Peace, if it can be obtained without the sacrifice of national honor or the abandonment of maritime rights; otherwise, war until peace shall be secured without the sacrifice of either.’”
“A good toast. I like the sentiment expressed,” said Grace. “I think I have read that a good many gentlemen were present there at the dinner.”
“Yes, more than three hundred; many of them shipmasters,” said the captain. “A toast was given to the commodore, followed by eighteen cheers, and a song that some one had written in his honor that morning was sung.”
“Papa,” said Elsie, “was it right for him to put the name of a British vessel on his, and British uniform on his marines, to deceive the British on the Highflyer so that they would come to him and be taken prisoners?”
“No, daughter, I do not think it was,” replied the captain, “though, no doubt, the motive of all of them was good—to defend theircountry and countrymen from robbery and oppression. But it is never right to do evil that good may come. My good mother’s teaching was, ‘You should die rather than tell a lie, though it were no more than to deny that two and two make four.’ But, no doubt, Rodgers thought his manœuvres all right and fair; and they certainly inflicted no wrong upon the enemy.”
“Is that all the story about him, papa?” asked Ned.
“Just about,” replied his father. “His good ship, the President, now needed a thorough overhauling, and the Secretary of the Navy offered Commodore Rodgers the command of the Guerriere, the ship which Hull took from Dacres, and which might be made ready for sea much sooner than the President. The commodore went to Philadelphia, where the Guerriere was being put in order, and, finding that she was not so nearly ready as he had supposed, he informed the Secretary that he preferred to retain command of the President. But in the meantimethe President had been offered to Decatur. Rodgers courteously allowed that commander to take his choice of vessels, and he chose the President. Now, my dears, I think we may consider our naval studies ended for to-night.”
Thehomeward trip of the Dolphin was a speedy and successful one. Her passengers, healthy and happy, enjoyed it greatly, yet were rejoiced when she cast anchor, one lovely morning, in the harbor near their homes, where they were wont to leave her, to travel the few remaining miles on land.
They had been expected at about that time, and Edward and Zoe Travilla were there to meet them. Grandma Elsie was the first to step on shore, and Edward caught her in his arms with a glad exclamation:
“Oh, mother, I am so rejoiced to have you at home again! We can’t do without you. We have missed you every day and every hour.”
“And I am very, very glad to be here with you all again,” she returned; “you among them, Zoe. Ah, Herbert, my son,” as at thatmoment he and Dr. Conly appeared on the scene, “your mother is rejoiced to see you also, looking so bright and well. You, too, Cousin Arthur,” giving a hand to him. “Are all the dear ones well?”
“Yes. And, oh! but we are glad to have you home again,” both physicians answered, then turned to welcome the others, who were stepping ashore.
It was a most affectionate greeting all round, even the little newcomer sharing in it. Then Edward said:
“Now, friends and cousins, we want you all at Ion for the rest of the day. A big enough dinner has been prepared, and every one of you will be as welcome as possible.”
“That is certainly very kind and hospitable in you, Brother Ned,” said Mrs. Leland, “but I really think we would better take ourselves and our luggage to our own homes first and visit you later on, a few at a time.”
“No, Elsie, dear,” he returned, “we have made the plans and preparations, and shall feel greatly disappointed if not permitted tocarry out our scheme. Come one, come all, and let us have a jolly time together.”
Just then Chester Dinsmore came hurrying toward them, having just learned in his office of the arrival of the vessel. A joyous, affectionate greeting exchanged between him and Lucilla, his wife, he turned to the other returned travellers. Then Edward renewed his invitation, adding:
“I have been out to each one of your homes and seen that they are all in prime order for you, but told the caretakers that you were to dine with us at Ion first; therefore, they need not expect you until evening, or somewhere near it.”
“You are very kind, indeed, Brother Ned,” said Captain Raymond, “and if my wife and the others are willing to accept your advice—your most hospitable invitation—I shall be happy to do so.”
“I should like to,” said Violet; “but what about the baggage,et cetera?”
“Those things can all be sent out immediately to our homes and safely entrusted tothe caretakers Brother Ned just spoke of,” said the captain.
All now accepted Edward’s invitation, entered the waiting carriages and were driven at once along the good and pleasant road to Ion. There they found a gathering of all the relatives in that region—Dr. Conly’s family, Calhoun’s also, Rose Croly, with her husband and children, the Dinsmores from the Oaks, the Laceys from the Laurels, Cousin Ronald and his Annis, Hugh and his wife and children. It was now nearly a year since Captain Raymond and his party had sailed away in the Dolphin, and the reunion of so many friends and relatives gave much undisguised pleasure.
It was a large company, but with nothing stiff or formal about it; there were many loving embraces and much cheerful, happy, familiar chat, and soon they gathered about the hospitable board to regale themselves with dainty and delicious fare, the meal enlivened by an interchange, suited to the occasion, of thoughts, feelings and experiences. Therewas a feast of reason and a flow of soul, accompanied by no gluttony or gormandizing.
Conversation and many courses kept them long at the table. But at length they left it and gathered in the parlors. They had not been there long when Laurie and Lily came in, bringing the tee-tees—the little monkeys belonging to Elsie and Ned Raymond. They were delighted to see their pets and thought the pleasure was mutual, though the older people had doubts concerning the evidences of pleasure given by the monkeys.
The nurse had had the care of Evelyn’s baby while the dinner was in progress, but now she brought it in and laid it in the mother’s lap while she should go and take her meal. Several of the cousins gathered about to look at the little one, and spoke admiringly of her appearance.
“She is a little beauty,” said more than one.
Then a weak little voice seemed to come from her lips:
“Don’t make me vain.”
“Oh, no, darling. You are too young for that,” laughed Grandma Elsie, “as well as too young to talk so wisely and well.”
“Yes, ma’am; but my papa helps me,” murmured the weak little voice, and everybody looked at Max and laughed.
“What a nice little truth-speaker you are, little niece,” said Lucilla, leaning over the babe and softly touching its cheek.
“I want to be that always, auntie,” replied the same little voice which had spoken before.
“Oh, what a good little thing you are,” laughed Ned. “I’m glad to be your uncle.”
“Tell him he’s too young and small to be of much use as an uncle,” said a voice that seemed to come from some one behind the group about the baby.
Instantly every head was turned to see who the speaker was. But he seemed to be invisible.
“Why, who said that?” exclaimed Ned.
“Oh, I know. It was you, Cousin Ronald.”
“Some people are wonderfully wise,” saidMr. Lilburn. “But really, now, did that sound like my voice?”
“Like one of them, I think,” laughed Ned. “You seem to have a good many; even more than Brother Max has.”
Ned had his tee-tee on his shoulder, and it seemed now to put in its word:
“Is that the way to talk to your old, old cousin?”
“Is that the way you talk to me, you saucy fellow?” laughed Ned, giving the tee-tee a little shake.
“There!” exclaimed Lily Travilla. “That’s the first time he’s spoken since we brought him away from Louisiana in the Dolphin.”
“I can’t talk when there’s nobody by to help me,” was the tee-tee’s next remark.
“And Cousin Ronald is helping you now, isn’t he?” asked Ned.
“Yes; and he’s good help.”
Elsie had Tiny on her shoulder, and she put in her word now:
“I think it’s my turn to talk a little. I’mglad my little mistress has come home, though I’ve had a good time on the yacht and here with these good folks.”
“I’m glad you have had a good time,” laughed Elsie, “and I promise you shall have a fine time at Woodburn, my home, where I’ll take you presently.”
“Will you let me run about on the porches and the grass and climb the trees?”
“Yes, indeed, as much as you like, if you won’t run away from your home,” answered Elsie, hugging and stroking her pet.
“Now, if aunts, uncles and cousins will step aside for a moment, her grandfather would like to take a peep at baby,” said Captain Raymond, coming up behind the group of children.
They all hastily stepped aside and he leaned over the babe and chirruped to it. It looked up into his face and laughed, as if it knew and cared for him.
“Ah, you really seem to know and approve of your grandpa,” he said laughingly. “Evelyn,my dear, she’s a darling, a pretty little pet.”
“So Max and I think, father,” returned the happy young mother.
“And so, I think I may say, do we all,” said old Mr. Dinsmore. “I should not at all object to counting her among my great-great-grandchildren.”
“Nor would we to having you do so, sir,” said Max, coloring and smiling with pleasure, for he was very proud of his little daughter and glad to have her admired by others.
“I am proud and fond of the little dear, call myself her uncle now, and hope to be really such one of these days,” laughed Harold.
“We all hope so,” said Max, “and have no objection to your claiming that relationship at once.”
There had been some alterations and improvements made in house and grounds since the Dolphin and her passengers started on that winter trip, and presently most of thecompany went about viewing them, and that with entire satisfaction and approval.
But the sun was now nearing the horizon, and the Woodburn and Sunnyside folk were growing eager to see and rest in their own loved and comfortable homes. The carriages were brought up, the adieus said, and they went on their way rejoicing. Each family went to its own dwelling at first, but they would not be long apart; that evening would see them all gathered, first at one residence, then at the other, and there would never be a day that would not be spent more or less in each other’s society. This would be true of all excepting Max, who must soon return to his ship. The thought of that was all that marred the happiness of that evening, with its joyful return to their own loved homes. But Evelyn and all of them tried to put away remembrance of it for the present.
“Home, sweet home!” exclaimed Lucilla as their carriage turned into the driveway on that first evening after the Dolphin had come into port. “Home, sweet home! There’s no place like home.”
“Except Woodburn, our dear old home,” returned Max in jesting tone.
“No; Woodburn and Sunnyside-so near together, and their inhabitants so nearly related—seem to make but one home to me.”
“And to us all, I think,” said Evelyn.
“And you are right, I am sure,” said Chester, as the carriage drew up before the entrance. “Ah, here we are at the very threshold of our Sunnyside! Wife, brother and sister, a glad welcome home to you all.” With the last word he threw open the carriage door, sprang out upon the veranda steps,turned and helped Lucilla to alight. Max, his wife and baby followed.
A joyous welcome was given them all by the waiting servants, and they passed in, each couple to their own part of the commodious and beautiful dwelling.
“Welcome home, my darling,” said Max to his wife. “Welcome home, baby dear, papa’s sweet little pet,” taking the infant in his arms as he spoke. “Oh, Eva, my love, how rich we are, with her added to all our other lesser blessings!”
“Indeed, we are! She is a great blessing,” said Eva, caressing the child as he held it in his arms. “To me she seems more than all others taken together-except her father,” she added, smiling up into his face.
“And to me she is the next one to her mother,” responded Max, bestowing a very loverlike caress upon his wife as she stood close at his side. “How good my father has been to provide us with this lovely home, so near to his that we seem to belong to his family still.”
“Yes,” she said with emotion. “And what a dear father he is! I am so glad and thankful that he seems to look upon me as his very own daughter. I had been so hungry for a father after my own was taken to the better land.”
“Yes, dearest, I think I can understand that hunger, though I have been spared the sad experience,” replied Max, his tone speaking even more sympathy than his words.
“And, oh,” he added, “I want my little wife to be the most blessed, happy woman in the world.”
“I ought to be; and I think I am when my husband is with me,” she returned with a smile of love and joy. “What is it, Kitty?” as a servant came in, looking as if she had some pleasant news to impart.
“Why, missus, dere’s sumfin’ jus’ come over from Woodburn. De cap’n he sends it for de baby,” replied the woman, grinning broadly as she spoke.
“Ah, is that so?” asked Max. “Where and what is it?”
“Sumfin’ for de baby to ride in, sah, an’ it’s out on de poach,” she answered, hurriedly leading the way, Eva and Max following, he with the baby still in his arms.
They presently found on the front veranda as handsome a baby carriage as either of them had ever seen, and were both delighted with it. It was ready furnished with pillows, and a beautiful afghan of a most delicate shade of baby-blue silk lined with white silk, covered with white duchess lace, with blue ribbon bows on each corner, to match the umbrella, it being of the same shade, and also covered with duchess lace. On a corner of the afghan was pinned a bit of paper bearing the words: “From Grandmamma Vi to little Mary Raymond.” On the under side of the afghan were the initials “M. R.” in blue embroidery silk.
Max laid the baby in, Evelyn covered her carefully with the afghan, and for some minutes Max drew her back and forth on the veranda, she cooing as if enjoying the ride.
Chester and Lucilla had quite a good dealto tell each other of their experiences during the past weeks of separation, and were chatting and laughing merrily in her pretty boudoir, when some slight sounds made by the baby and its parents and carriage excited their curiosity and brought them hurrying downstairs to learn what was going on there.
“Oh, how pretty!” cried Lucilla, as she caught sight of the little vehicle. “How fine for our darling baby! Where did it come from?”
“It is father’s gift,” answered Max; “the dear, kind father who always thinks of everything he can possibly do to add to the happiness of his children.”
“He does, indeed!” exclaimed Evelyn. “Nobody could have a better, kinder father.”
“We are all going over to Woodburn this evening,” said Max, “and we will take baby in her carriage.”
“She, as queen of the party, will ride, and the rest of us will walk,” laughed Lucilla. “Oh, you little darling, auntie hopesyou will always be able to ride when you want to.”
“Doubtless she will if it is best for her,” said Max. “It looks now as if she were born for easy times, but no one can tell what may be in store for either us or her in the future.”
“Father would say, ‘Don’t allow yourself to be troubled with anxiety in regard to the future; remember the teaching of the Thirty-seventh Psalm, Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed,’” said Lucilla.
“Yes,” agreed Evelyn, “if we all had perfect trust in Him, I am sure we should be free from anxiety and very happy.”
“I am sure you are right about that,” said Chester, “and if we practise it—that teaching—we shall be a happy set.”
“I hear our call to supper,” said Lucilla. “Eva, won’t you and Max come in and sup with us?”
“Do, friends and relatives; we will be very glad to have you partake with us,” said Chester.
“Thank you both,” said Max. “I think our supper is just about ready, but if you will allow its dishes to be added to yours we may share with each other, and probably enjoy doing so.”
All agreed that that was a good idea, and the plan was immediately carried out.
The Sunnyside folks were not more glad to see their home than were the Woodburn people to reach theirs. The captain’s carriage contained, not his own family only, but his future son-in-law also. Harold was bidding an affectionate good-bye to Grace on the veranda at Ion when her father said laughingly:
“Don’t indulge in adieus just here and now, Harold, but come with us to Woodburn. Who can tell but there may be a patient there longing for a sight of Dr. Harold Travilla’s face?”
“Thank you, captain; a kind invitation, and flattering to my medical and surgical skill and supposed desire to be helpful to others; but I should be sorry to crowd you.”
He and her father were helping Grace into the vehicle as he spoke.
“There’s abundance of room, Harold,” said Violet; “get right in and take that seat beside Grace.”
“Yes, obey that lady’s orders as I do,” laughed the captain.
“I thought I had outgrown that business,” laughed Harold; “but I will obey in a moment, when I have said good-night to mother and the rest.”
That did not take long, and the captain’s “Plenty of time for that” seemed to afford satisfactory permission. In five minutes the carriage was on its way down the avenue.
“Now, Tiny, you are on your way to that pretty home I’ve been telling you about,” said Elsie, stroking and patting her little pet monkey.
“What are you telling her for, Elsie?” asked Ned. “Why don’t you wait and let her be surprised when she gets there? Surprises are nice. I always like to be surprised.”
“Something of a mistake, Ned,” said his uncle. “Some surprises are far from agreeable.”
“What kind, uncle? please tell me about some.”
“Well, I have heard of it happening to a man to learn that all of a sudden he had lost all his money.”
“Oh, that’s not so bad. He could earn more.”
“Maybe he could; but if so, he’d a good deal rather add that to what he had before than have only that.”
“There must be a good many kinds of surprises,” returned the little fellow thoughtfully, “and I’d rather have some other kind than that. When papa gave me my pony, that was a very pleasant surprise. Oh, I was just delighted.”
“And these tee-tees were a very, very agreeable surprise to both of us,” said Elsie, patting and stroking hers, seated in her lap.
“And I’m thinking Eva and Max will soonhave a very agreeable surprise,” said Grace, smiling up into her father’s face.
“I hope so,” he said, returning the smile.
“Oh, what about?” queried Ned, with tone and look of curiosity and excitement.
“No doubt you will learn when they—your brothers and sisters—come over to Woodburn this evening,” answered his father.
“Will I?” cried Ned. “Oh, I hope they’ll come early; at least, before Elsie and I have to go to bed.”
At that everybody laughed, and his mother quietly remarked that she was surprised to find him exhibiting so much curiosity, as it seemed to be understood that that quality belonged rather to women and girls than to men and boys.
“Quite a mistake and slander, my dear,” laughed her husband, then changed the subject of conversation by calling attention to a new building going up on a neighboring plantation.
A few minutes later their carriage turned into the Woodburn driveway, and presentlythey were leaving it for the veranda of the spacious and lordly dwelling where the servants were assembled, Christine, their lady-like housekeeper, at their head, to welcome the returned travellers to their home. Everybody seemed full of joy over it; and the children were delighted with the curiosity shown in regard to their new pets and the to-do made over them.
A bountiful and most appetizing repast had been prepared for their reception, and they presently seated themselves about the table. A blessing was asked, and the captain began carving a fine turkey, Violet pouring the tea. The table was charmingly furnished with beautiful china, cut-glass, silver, flowers, and dishes of most appetizing-looking food.
“It is really very pleasant to be at home and at one’s own table again,” remarked the captain, after an appreciative glance over the board.
“Whose table was it that you sat down to on the Dolphin?” laughed Violet.
“My own, I believe,” smiled the captain; “but, somehow, I feel more at home here.”
“It is delightful to be here; but I miss Lu,” sighed Grace.
“Well, daughter, she is not far off. Keep up your spirits; she will probably be here in the course of an hour.”
“Husband, brother, sister, baby and all with her, I presume,” added Harold sportively. “And baby will probably come in her own coach, like the grand lady she is,” laughed Violet. “I shall enjoy seeing her in it.”
“Resting on and covered by the beautiful furnishings provided by your generosity and taste, mamma,” said Grace, with a loving, appreciative look at her young stepmother.
“Are we going to have a party to-night?” asked Ned.
“Not exactly,” said his father; “at least, it will be only a home party of what I call our own immediate family—my children and grandchild.”
“Many thanks, my dear captain, that Iseem to be included in the number forming that happy family,” said Harold, with a bow and pleased smile.
“Yes,” laughed Violet, “but don’t imagine that I am going to permit you to call me mamma, considering that you are my younger brother.”
“So I am, Mrs. Raymond; but by no means young enough to be an obedient son to you,” Harold returned in playful tone, “or, indeed, any son at all. It will be well enough to bear that relationship to your husband, but fairly ludicrous to pretend to bear it to so young and fair a lady as yourself.”
“I should think the fairness would make it a trifle less objectionable, if anything could,” returned Violet with mischievous look and smile.
“Really, those mutual relationships make small difference, except as they may affect your docility when you are the patient and I the physician,” returned Harold gravely.
“All of us obey your orders when you are the doctor, uncle,” remarked Elsie. “SisterGrace never will do a thing that you tell her not to.”
“Of course not,” laughed Grace. “Where would be the use of employing a physician, if you didn’t follow his directions?”
At the conclusion of the meal all repaired to the veranda to await the coming of the Sunnyside folk. It was a warm October evening, the grounds looking beautiful in their autumn robes, and there seemed no pleasanter place to lounge in than that, with its abundance of most comfortable settees and chairs.
“It is very nice to be at home again,” said Grace with a happy sigh. “I wouldn’t be willing to give up this dear home for any of the beautiful places I have been in.”
“I am glad you are so well satisfied, daughter,” the captain responded in a pleased tone, “and I hope you will never have less love for your father’s house.”
“Oh, good, good! There they come!” cried Ned, springing to his feet and clapping his hands as the little group was seen approaching from the direction of Sunnyside.
“Yes, children and grandchild,” said the captain, as he and Harold hurried to meet them.
“Many, many thanks, father, for this beautiful and useful gift to our baby daughter,” said Max almost before they had fairly met.
“And not from baby’s father only, but from her mother also,” said Evelyn; “many, many thanks to you and Mamma Vi for both the carriage and its lovely furnishings.”
“Ah, those last are gifts especially from my wife,” returned the captain.
“Yes, oh yes, I know and appreciate it; but, no doubt, they were given with your approval. Ah, Mamma Vi,” as Violet approached, “I hardly know how to thank you enough for your lovely gifts to my baby daughter.”
“Then don’t try,” returned Violet in mirthful tones. “I assure you, the pleasure I found in doing it was reward enough. How is the little dear this evening? Ah, I see she is sound asleep. How nicely her papa musthave rolled the little coach along to get her in that condition.”
“She does more sleeping than anything else so far in her life,” laughed Max, looking down admiringly into the sweet, fair baby face resting so quietly on the soft pillow.
The children, following their parents, had met them now.
“Oh, we want to see the dear baby!” they said in excited, but rather hushed, voices. “Let us look at her, Brother Max.”
“Not yet,” he answered. “Let us keep her asleep as long as we can; then when she wakes of herself she will probably be in a pleasant mood. I don’t like to hear a baby cry. Do you?”
They had reached the house, and the gentlemen lifted the coach up into the veranda without waking the young sleeper.
Lucilla was on the veranda, gazing about from side to side.
“Oh, how sweet the dear old home does look!” she cried. “I want to go all over this story and the next just now. May I, father?”
“Certainly, my child. It is your own home now quite as much as it ever was; because you are as much as ever my own dear daughter.”
“Thank you for those kind, loving words, father dear,” she returned with emotion, laying a hand on his shoulder as she stood at his side and giving him a look of ardent affection.
At that he bent his head and kissed her on forehead, cheek and lips.
“It is my turn now, papa,” said Grace sportively, coming up to his other side.
“So it is, my darling,” he returned, repeating for her exactly what he had done to Lucilla.
Elsie had noted it all with interest.
“Now, papa, isn’t it my turn?” she asked, her eyes shining, her lips curling with a smile of love and entreaty.
“Yes, little daughter, yes, indeed! You are no less dear than your older sisters. Come and give and take the caresses papa loves to exchange with you.”
Violet and Evelyn preferred to keep watch over the sleeping babe, but all the others joined in making the circuit of the rooms Lucilla had expressed a desire to see. They found them all in good order, Christine being an excellent housekeeper, and having good and competent servants under her.
“It is delightful to come home to houses so well ordered and neat as this and Sunnyside have proved on this occasion, Mamma Vi,” Lucilla remarked on her return to the veranda.
“Yes, and I think I fully appreciate it,” replied Violet. “You found yours in good order?”
“Perfect. It could not have looked better if I had been there to oversee the work.”
“And I can say just the same of mine,” said Evelyn.
Overat Ion the family were left alone, all the guests having now departed to their own homes. Zoe was seeing her children in their nests for the night; Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore were chatting together on the front veranda, while Grandma Elsie and her sons, Edward and Herbert, a little removed from the older couple, were engaged in a similar manner—her sons asking questions in regard to their mother’s experiences during the summer and fall, and she telling a pleasant and interesting tale in regard to them.
Just then a hack came rolling up the avenue.
“Who’s that now, I wonder,” growled Edward, “coming to interrupt our first private chat with our long absent mother?”
“Probably somebody wanting the doctor,”sighed Herbert, rising and moving toward the entrance.
At that moment the vehicle came to a standstill at the veranda steps, and instantly out sprang a manly form and came quickly up them.
“Walter!” exclaimed Herbert, reaching out his hand, which the other grasped and shook heartily.
“Yes, brother mine, it is I. Where’s mother? Mother! mother, dear! Oh, how glad I am to have you in my arms once more!” as she sprang forward with a cry of joy.
“Walter, my dear, dear youngest son!” and he caught her in his arms. “My baby boy,” she laughed the next moment; “my baby boy grown taller than his mother. Oh, why wasn’t he here to meet and greet me when I got home?”
“A little business matter, and a misunderstanding as to the probable time of my mother’s arrival,” he answered, repeating his caresses.
Then they released each other, and joyous and affectionate greetings were exchanged with the remaining members of the family.
“You should have been here sooner, Walter,” said Herbert when all were seated again, with his mother in the midst. “She has been telling Ed and me some very interesting things about her recent visit to California.”
“Perhaps mother will repeat her story to me one of these days,” said Walter. “At present it seems almost enough to see her dear face, without hearing anything but the sound of her sweet voice.”
“That sounds very much as if my youngest son had been licking the blarney stone,” laughed his mother.
“Not a bit of it, mother,” he returned. “You know I wasn’t brought up to do such things.”
“I hope you were not,” she said, “but you have been under other teachers than your mother for years past.”
“True, my mother dear, but I hope I havenot forgotten your teachings. Now what is the latest news about uncles, aunts, cousins and friends in this neighborhood?”
“I really think but little has taken place which would be new to you, Walter,” replied his mother.
“I doubt,” laughed Edward, “if he has heard of the good fortune of Eva and Max.”
“Money or estate?” queried Walter.
“Something better than either,” remarked his mother, with a pleased smile.
“Oh, I suppose Max has been promoted. Good for him! He’s very happy over it, I dare say.”
“But it isn’t that. You’re wide of the mark,” laughed Edward.
“You may as well tell me. I don’t seem to be Yankee enough to be good at guessing.”
“A little daughter, as pretty a baby as ever was seen—of course, excepting Zoe’s and mine.”
“Oh, is that it?” laughed Walter. “Well, I’ll congratulate them when I see them. Am I uncle to it, mother?”
“No,” she replied with a smile; “you are not really related at all to either parent, so of course not to the child.”
“Yet both the parents and I have been in the habit of calling each other cousin, so I think I’ll claim kin with the little beauty you tell me of.”
“And I don’t think any one will object,” said his mother.
Zoe now joined them, welcomed Walter heartily, and the talk went on, principally about the various relatives and connections, but with never an unkind or uncharitable word in regard to any of them.
“And you had them all here to-day,” Walter said at length. “I wish I had reached home a few hours sooner.”
“We would all have been glad to see you then, as we are now, my son,” said his mother. “But don’t feel too much disappointed. I have an idea that there will be a number of other family gatherings before Max is ordered away again.”
“Yes,” said Grandma Dinsmore, “I heardseveral of to-day’s guests express an intention to have such a family gathering themselves before very long.”
“And they are the most agreeable kind to have,” said Zoe.
“I think I shall go to-morrow and have a peep at that new relative, as well as a chat with her parents,” said Walter. “I dare say they feel quite rich. But how funny to think of the captain and Vi as grandpa and grandma. But, of course, Vi isn’t really that, and nobody will think of calling her so.”
“She called herself that,” said Zoe, “but certainly it seems quite ridiculous. They will all be sorry, as we are, that you were not here to-day to take part in our reception,” she added; “but if you would like to speak to any of them now, you know you can use the ’phone.”
“Thanks,” returned Walter, “but I believe I should prefer to give them a rousing surprise to-morrow by just walking in on them.”
“I think that the better plan,” said his grandfather approvingly.
“And perhaps I can persuade my mother to go along,” added Walter, looking smilingly at her.
“If you get Herbert or Harold to prescribe the ride—or walk; which is it to be?—I will go, expecting benefit from so doing,” she responded in mirthful tone.
“Harold!” exclaimed Walter. “By the way, where is he? Visiting some desperately sick patient? I know that’s often the case when he fails to adorn the family circle.”
“No,” said Herbert; “at present he is dancing attendance on Grace Raymond, his adored ladylove.”
Walter laughed and said: “Ah, yes, that’s all right; Grace is a dear, sweet girl—a beauty, too; and except for the odd mixing up of relationships and the fact that she is delicate, I should be delighted with the prospective match.”
“I also,” said his mother. “I am very fond of Grace; have loved her ever since my first sight of her sweet face. I can see that she loves Harold dearly, yet is perfectly submissiveto her father’s will in regard to the time of their marriage. Nor does Harold rebel, though it is plain to be seen that he longs for the time when he may claim her as his very own.”
“Yes, mother. Well, I hope he will prescribe early retirement for his ladylove to-night and hasten home to greet his youngest brother, whom he has not seen for nearly a year.”
“I presume he has done so; for here he comes now, walking up the avenue,” exclaimed Herbert, glancing in that direction.
At that Walter sprang to his feet and hastened forward to meet Harold as he came up the veranda steps.
“Howdy’do, doctor?” he cried with a pleasant laugh. “I hope you’ve left that pretty patient of yours doing well.”
“Why, Walter, my man, I’m glad to see you and know that, young as you are, you’ve travelled home safely by yourself,” responded Harold, reaching the top step and grasping heartily the hand held out to him.
“How do you know that I travelled by myself?” laughed Walter. “Are you quite sure I may not have a ladylove and future father-in-law as well as yourself?”
“Yes, my little man; for if you had I should certainly have learned it before this, since my youngest brother has always been communicative to me.”
“Don’t be too sure of that, laddie,” laughed Walter. “But come along now and join the family circle, which, with you in it, will be quite complete.”
“So you are here again, Harold,” said his grandfather, as they seated themselves. “How did you and the Raymonds find matters at Woodburn?”
“Everything in perfect order, sir; at least, so far as I could tell, and all seemed entirely satisfied and full of delight that they had at last reached their home.”
“That is pleasant news. I suppose you didn’t go on to Sunnyside?”
“No, sir; I reserved that pleasant visit for to-morrow.”
“Oh,” said Walter, “Chester and Lu, Max and Eva are at home now, I suppose; and I’m told the latter couple rejoice in owning a beauty of a baby.”
“Yes, she is a beauty, I think,” said Harold; “as sweet a little creature as ever I saw.”
“That’s pretty strong, coming from an old bach, isn’t it?” laughed Walter.
“Hardly at an age to be reasonably called old, Walter,” remonstrated their mother gently, and with a smile.
“It seems quite well, from a business point of view, for a doctor to be considered old—or at least not very young, mother,” said Harold pleasantly, and with a smile.
“Most people are more ready to trust themselves and dear ones to the treatment of a physician who has had some experience in the practice of his profession, than to one whose youth proves him to be but a beginner.”
“Quite true, Harold, and very sensible in those who act upon that principle,” remarked his grandfather.