At the clambakes bivalves and fish were roasted on heated stones under rock-weed, sea-weed, and a covering of sail-cloth, the latter to keep down the steam.
The people gathered for the corn-roast, bringing luscious corn in the green husks, new potatoes, apples, and fruit. The women brought pandowdy, or pot-pies, made of apples baked in dough, which candied in baking, and also brown bread, and rye and Indian bread, and perhaps “no cake,” all of which was to be eaten on the carpet of the dry needles of the great pines that mingled among the cedars.
This was to be a lively gathering, for a report had gone abroad that Dennis had seen a prophet and had received great news from a young French officer, and that he would tell his story among the speeches on that day.
It was in the serene and sunny days of September. The locusts made a silvery, continuous music in the trees. The birds were gathering for migrations. The fields were full of goldenrod and wild asters, and the oaks by the wayside were here and there loaded with purple grapes.
The people came to the cedar grove from near and from far, and every one seemed interested in Dennis.
The Irishman towered above them all, bringing deadwood for the fires.
The feast was eaten on the ground, and the people were merry, all wondering what story Dennis, who had been to the army and seen the great Washington himself, would have to tell.
The people watched him as he brought great logs on his shoulders to feed the fire where the corn was roasted.
Brother Jonathan and his good wife came to the goodly gathering. The people arose to greet him, and the children gathered around him, and looked up to him as a patriarch. He was then some sixty-seven years old.
After the feast he lifted his hands and spoke to the people. The cedar birds gathered around him in the trees, and one adventurous crow came near and cawed. Dennis threw a stick at the crow, and said: