Christmas Dinner.
The ten Hanson boys and a Mr. Van Dyke dined with us. The table was twenty feet long, covered with a snow-white cloth, and lighted by two candelabra of eight candles each.
These beautiful articles of use and ornament were made by Clyde from a many branched birch, and the effect in lighting our large cabin was brilliant. The menu was gotten up by Rivers. It was a sketch of the landscape around our cabin artistically done in India ink on thin leaves of birch bark, and would have graced any table in New York.
I never sat at a table in New York, but I just know they never had a handsomer menu card. The toasts were classic, and included a poem by Dr. Coffin, which was also of a classical character. I cannot refrain from quoting one or two stanzas of the latter, on account of their sentiment as well as literary merit. The verses were well received and delivered with startling effect.
Now just a few things I would like to say
To make us remember this Christmas Day—
It isn't very often you dine with a Coffin,
When the cook and baker is an undertaker.
Now and again on a bill of choice fare
You find such a dish as roasted black bear;