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The children don't get here until Christmas day, ever, ye know, so 't won't interfere a mite with their visit, an' 'twill be all over 'fore they get here. An' we'll make a party of it, too," went on Samuel gleefully. "There's the Hopkinses an' old Mis' Newcomb, an' Uncle Tim, an' Grandpa Gowin' they'll all come an' be glad to." "Samuel, could we?" cried Lydia Ann, incredulous but joyous.
Mis' Hopkins said she never had such a good time in all her life before." "An' Uncle Tim an' Grandpa Gowin' they was as spry as crickets, an' they made old Pete tune up that 'Money Musk' three times 'fore they'd quit" "Yes; an' my grief an' conscience, Samuel! 'tis late, ain't it?" broke off Lydia Ann, anxiously peering at the clock.
Off went his hat with a respectful salutation, but seeing the cloud on his wife's face, he abridged his greeting. The woman's apron was at her eyes in an instant. "Wot's gowin' on?" he asked. John Storm tried to explain, but the woman contented herself with crying. "Well, it's like this, don'cher see, Father. My missis is that fond of childring, and it brikes 'er 'eart "
One of the Alabama's 60-pound Blakely shells passed through the bulwarks of the Kearsarge, and, bursting on the quarter deck, wounded three men, of whom William Gowin was mortally hurt. When carried to the surgeon, the intensely suffering man smiled. "We are whipping the Alabama," he said, "and I am willing to give my life for such a victory."
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