Celebration of Washington's Birthday.
You may be sure I got all the letters to read; and every scrap of news about my dear boy, that the little mother and her children could glean. We knew that he had won the warm approbation of his superior officers for his coolness and bravery in the battle; but not a word did we hear from him in praise of himself.
A few evenings after this letter, all the mittens were gathered together for the last time; for, as spring approached, no more could be needed, at least this winter; and all prayed, that when another cold season came round, it would be bright with peace restored all over our beloved land.
There were just twenty-one pairs. George's birthday would come on the 8th of March, when he would be of age, and they hoped that a box containing these mittens and a loving gift from each and every member of his family, would reach him in time.
"Twenty-one years old!" cried Harry. "Why, George can vote! I think that is the very best of being a man."
"So do I," said a voice at the door.
"Oh, Aunt Fanny! you little darling; come help us count up our mittens."
Down we sat, with pencils and paper, and did dreadful hard sums, the smaller ones thought, casting up the long column of mittens which had been sent to the brave soldiers. Poor Mary O'Reilly had rubbed her red bags off at last, and was sitting close to Pet, comfortably washing her face, while the "tremendous dog" winked lazily at us, to let us know that he was all right, and on our side.