The poultry, fed as never since they were born, stand wondering at the farmer's generosity.

The markets are full of massacred barnyards.

The great table will be spread and crowded with two, or three, or four generations.

Plant the fork astride the breast bone, and with skillful twitch, that we could never learn, give to all the hungry lookers-on a specimen of holiday anatomy.

Mary is disposed to soar, give her the wing.