"
The delighted mother embraced them all, and observing Ernest's name was
not commemorated by any trophy, thanked him again for her beautiful
bonnet. She then drank some of the delicious water of the fountain, and
returned to seat herself at the repast, which was another surprise for
her. We all made an excellent dinner; and at the dessert, I handed my
Canary wine round in shells; and then Ernest rose and sung us very
prettily, to a familiar air, some little verses he had composed:--
On this festive happy day,
Let us pour our grateful lay;
Since Heaven has hush'd our mother's pain,
And given her to her sons again.
Then from this quiet, lovely home
Never, never, may we roam.
All we love around us smile:
Joyful is our desert isle.
When o'er our mother's couch we bent,
Fervent prayers to Heaven we sent,
And God has spared that mother dear,
To bless her happy children here.
Then from this quiet, lovely home,
Never, never, may we roam;
All we love around us smile,
Joyful is our desert isle.
We all joined in the chorus, and none of us thought of the ship, of
Europe, or of anything that was passing in the world. The island was our
universe, and Tent House was a palace we would not have exchanged for
any the world contained.
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