you seek to make sport of me, your governor? Thanksgiving for the
breaking up of school! Out on you for a set of malapert young knaves!
Do you think the world goeth but for your pleasures alone? Why, this
is ribald talk! I made no Thanksgiving for your convenience, rascals,
but because that the Lord in His grace hath relieved the town from
danger----"
"Of which, Heer Governor," broke in the most impolitic Patem, "we did
think the Dominie Curtius and his school were part. And so we have
brought to you this salmagundi as our Thanksgiving offering to you for
thus freeing us of a pest and a sorrow----"
"How now, how now, sirrah!" again came the interruption from the
scandalized Heer Governor when he could recover from his surprise, "do
you then dare to call your schooling a pest and a sorrow? Why, you
graceless young varlets, I do not seek to free you from schooling. I do
even now seek to bring you speedily the teaching you do so much stand
in need of. Even now, within the week forthcoming, the good Dominie
Luyck, the tutor of mine own household, will see to the training and
teaching of this town, and so I will warrant to the flogging, too, of
all you sad young rapscallions who even now by this your wicked talk do
show your need both of teaching and of flogging."
And then, forgetful of the boys' Thanksgiving offering and in high
displeasure at what he deemed their wilful and deliberate ignorance,
the Heer Governor turned the delegation into the street and hastened
back to his waiting dinner.
"_Ach, so_," cried young Teuny Vanderbreets, as the disgusted and
disconsolate six gathered in the roadway and looked at one another
ruefully. "Here is a fine mix-up--a regular salmagundi, Patem
Onderdonk, and no question. And you did say that this Thanksgiving
was all our work. Out upon you, say I! Here are we to be saddled with
a worse master than before. Hermanus Smeeman did tell me that Nick
Stuyvesant did tell him that Dominie Luyck is a most hard and worryful
master."
There was a universal groan of disappointment and disgust, and then
Patem said philosophically:
"Well, lads, what's done is done and what is to be will be. Let us eat
the salmagundi anyhow and cry, 'Confusion to Dominie Luyck.'"
And they did eat it, then and there, for indigestion had no terror to
those lads of hardy stomachs.
But as for the toast of "Confusion to Dominie Luyck," that came
to naught. For Dominie Aegidius Luyck proved a most efficient and
skilful teacher. Under his rule the Latin School of New Amsterdam
became famous throughout the colonies, so that scholars came to it
for instruction from Beaverwyck and South River and even from distant
Virginia.
So the Thanksgiving of the boys of New Amsterdam became a day of
mourning, and Patem's influence as a leader and an oracle suffered
sadly for a while.
Five years after, on a sad Monday morning in September, 1664, the
little city was lost to the Dutch West India Company and, spite of
the efforts and protests of its sturdy Governor, the red, white, and
blue banner of the Netherlands gave place to the flag of England.
And when that day came the young fellows who then saw the defeat and
disappointment of the Heer Governor Stuyvesant were not so certain
that Patem Onderdonk was wrong when he claimed that it was all a just
and righteous judgment on the Heer Governor for his refusal of the
boys' request for no school, and for his treatment of them on that sad
Thanksgiving Day when he so harshly rebuked their display of gratitude
and lost forever his chance to partake of Patem's Salmagundi.
FOOTNOTE:
[10] From "Storied Holidays," Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company.
MRS. NOVEMBER'S DINNER PARTY[11]
BY AGNES CARR.
An amusing allegorical fantasy. All the most
interesting Days, grandchildren of Mother Year, came to
Mrs. November's dinner party, to honour the birthday of
her daughter, Thanksgiving.
THE widow November was very busy indeed this year. What with elections
and harvest homes, her hands were full to overflowing; for she takes
great interest in politics, besides being a social body, without whom
no apple bee or corn husking is complete.
Still, worn out as she was, when her thirty sons and daughters
clustered round, and begged that they might have their usual family
dinner on Thanksgiving Day, she could not find it in her hospitable
heart to refuse, and immediately invitations were sent to her eleven
brothers and sisters, old Father Time, and Mother Year, to come with
all their families and celebrate the great American holiday.
Then what a busy time ensued! What a slaughter of unhappy barnyard
families--turkeys, ducks, and chickens! What a chopping of apples
and boiling of doughnuts! What a picking of raisins and rolling of
pie crust, until every nook and corner of the immense storeroom was
stocked with "savoury mince and toothsome pumpkin pies," while so great
was the confusion that even the stolid red-hued servant, Indian Summer,
lost his head, and smoked so continually he always appeared surrounded
by a blue mist, as he piled logs upon the great bonfires in the yard,
until they lighted up the whole country for miles around.
But at length all was ready; the happy day had come, and all the little
Novembers, in their best "bib and tucker," were seated in a row,
awaiting the arrival of their uncles, aunts, and cousins, while their
mother, in russet-brown silk trimmed with misty lace, looked them over,
straightening Guy Fawkes's collar, tying Thanksgiving's neck ribbon,
and settling a dispute between two little presidential candidates as to
which should sit at the head of the table.
Soon a merry clashing of bells, blowing of horns, and mingling of
voices were heard outside, sleighs and carriages dashed up to the door,
and in came, "just in season," Grandpa Time, with Grandma Year leaning
on his arm, followed by all their children and grandchildren, and were
warmly welcomed by the hostess and her family.
"Oh, how glad I am we could all come to-day!" said Mr. January, in his
crisp, clear tones, throwing off his great fur coat, and rushing to the
blazing fire. "There is nothing like the happy returns of these days."
"Nothing, indeed," simpered Mrs. February, the poetess. "If I had had
time I should have composed some verses for the occasion; but my son
Valentine has brought a sugar heart, with a sweet sentiment on it, to
his cousin Thanksgiving. I, too, have taken the liberty of bringing a
sort of adopted child of mine, young Leap Year, who makes us a visit
every four years."
"He is very welcome, I am sure," said Mrs. November, patting Leap Year
kindly on the head. "And, Sister March, how have you been since we last
met?"
"Oh! we have had the North, South, East, and West Winds all at our
house, and they have kept things breezy, I assure you. But I really
feared we should not get here to-day; for when we came to dress I found
nearly everything we had was lent; so that must account for our shabby
appearance."
"He! he! he!" tittered little April Fool. "What a sell!" And he shook
until the bells on his cap rang; at which his father ceased for a
moment showering kisses on his nieces and nephews, and boxed his ears
for his rudeness.
"Oh, Aunt May! do tell us a story," clamoured the younger children, and
dragging her into a corner she was soon deep in such a moving tale that
they were all melted to tears, especially the little Aprils, who cry
very easily.
Meanwhile, Mrs. June, assisted by her youngest daughter, a "sweet girl
graduate," just from school, was engaged in decking the apartment with
roses and lilies and other fragrant flowers that she had brought from
her extensive gardens and conservatories, until the room was a perfect
bower of sweetness and beauty; while Mr. July draped the walls with
flags and banners, lighted the candles, and showed off the tricks of
his pet eagle, Yankee Doodle, to the great delight of the little ones.
Madam August, who suffers a great deal with the heat, found a seat on
a comfortable sofa, as far from the fire as possible, and waved a huge
feather fan back and forth, while her thirty-one boys and girls, led by
the two oldest, Holiday and Vacation, ran riot through the long rooms,
picking at their Aunt June's flowers, and playing all sorts of pranks,
regardless of tumbled hair and torn clothes, while they shouted,
"Hurrah for fun!" and behaved like a pack of wild colts let loose in a
green pasture, until their Uncle September called them, together with
his own children, into the library, and persuaded them to read some of
the books with which the shelves were filled, or play quietly with the
game of Authors and the Dissected Maps.
"For," said Mr. September to Mrs. October, "I think Sister August
lets her children romp too much. I always like improving games for
mine, although I have great trouble to make Equinox toe the line as he
should."
"That is because you are a schoolmaster," laughed Mrs. October, shaking
her head, adorned with a wreath of gayly tinted leaves; "but where is
my baby?"
At that moment a cry was heard without, and Indian Summer came running
in to say that little All Hallows had fallen into a tub of water while
trying to catch an apple that was floating on top, and Mrs. October,
rushing off to the kitchen, returned with her youngest in a very wet
and dripping condition, and screaming at the top of his lusty little
lungs, and could only be consoled by a handful of chestnuts, which his
nurse, Miss Frost, cracked open for him.
The little Novembers, meanwhile, were having a charming time with their
favourite cousins, the Decembers, who were always so gay and jolly,
and had such a delightful papa. He came with his pockets stuffed full
of toys and sugarplums, which he drew out from time to time, and gave
to his best-loved child, Merry Christmas, to distribute amongst the
children, who gathered eagerly around their little cousin, saying:
"Christmas comes but once a year,
But when she comes she brings good cheer."
At which Merry laughed gayly, and tossed her golden curls, in which
were twined sprays of holly and clusters of brilliant scarlet berries.
At last the great folding-doors were thrown open. Indian Summer
announced that dinner was served, and a long procession of old and
young being quickly formed, led by Mrs. November and her daughter
Thanksgiving, whose birthday it was, they filed into the spacious
dining-room, where stood the long table groaning beneath its weight of
good things, while four servants ran continually in and out bringing
more substantials and delicacies to grace the board and please the
appetite. Winter staggered beneath great trenchers of meat and
poultry, pies and puddings; Spring brought the earliest and freshest
vegetables; Summer, the richest creams and ices; while Autumn served
the guests with fruit, and poured the sparkling wine.
All were gay and jolly, and many a joke was cracked as the contents of
each plate and dish melted away like snow before the sun; and the great
fires roared in the wide chimneys as though singing a glad Thanksgiving
song.
New Year drank everybody's health, and wished them "many happy returns
of the day," while Twelfth Night ate so much cake he made himself quite
ill, and had to be put to bed.
Valentine sent mottoes to all the little girls, and praised their
bright eyes and glossy curls. "For," said his mother, "he is a sad
flatterer, and not nearly so truthful, I am sorry to say, as his
brother, George Washington, who never told a lie."
At which Grandfather Time gave George a quarter, and said he should
always remember what a good boy he was.
After dinner the fun increased, all trying to do something for the
general amusement. Mrs. March persuaded her son, St. Patrick, to dance
an Irish Jig, which he did to the tune of the "Wearing of the Green,"
which his brothers, Windy and Gusty, blew and whistled on their fingers.
Easter sang a beautiful song, the little Mays "tripped the light
fantastic toe" in a pretty fancy dance, while the Junes sat by so
smiling and sweet it was a pleasure to look at them.
Independence, the fourth child of Mr. July, who is a bold little
fellow, and a fine speaker, gave them an oration he had learned at
school; and the Augusts suggested games of tag and blindman's buff,
which they all enjoyed heartily.
Mr. September tried to read an instructive story aloud, but was
interrupted by Equinox, April Fool, and little All Hallows, who pinned
streamers to his coat tails, covered him with flour, and would not let
him get through a line; at which Mrs. October hugged her tricksy baby,
and laughed until she cried, and Mr. September retired in disgust.
"That is almost too bad," said Mrs. November, as she shook the popper
vigorously in which the corn was popping and snapping merrily; "but,
Thanksgiving, you must not forget to thank your cousins for all they
have done to honour your birthday."
At which the demure little maiden went round to each one, and returned
her thanks in such a charming way it was quite captivating.
Grandmother Year at last began to nod over her teacup in the chimney
corner.
"It is growing late," said Grandpa Time.
"But we must have a Virginia Reel before we go," said Mr. December.
"Oh, yes, yes!" cried all the children.
Merry Christmas played a lively air on the piano, and old and young
took their positions on the polished floor with grandpa and grandma at
the head.
Midsummer danced with Happy New Year, June's Commencement with August's
Holiday, Leap Year with May Day, and all "went merry as a marriage
bell."
The fun was at its height when suddenly the clock in the corner struck
twelve. Grandma Year motioned all to stop, and Grandfather Time, bowing
his head, said softly, "Hark! my children, Thanksgiving Day is ended."
FOOTNOTE:
[11] From _Harper's Young People_, November 23, 1880.
THE VISIT[12]
A STORY OF THE CHILDREN OF THE TOWER
BY MAUD LINDSAY.
The children went back to spend Thanksgiving at
grandfather's farm. They got into some trouble and were
afraid that they would miss their dinner.
EARLY one morning Grandmother Grey got up, opened the windows and doors
of the farmhouse, and soon everybody on the place was stirring. The
cook hurried breakfast, and no sooner was it over than Grandfather Grey
went out to the barn and hitched the two horses to the wagon.
"Get up, Robin and Dobbin!" he said, as he drove through the big gate.
"If you knew who were coming back in this wagon you would not be
stepping so slowly."
The old horses pricked up their ears when they heard this, and trotted
away as fast as they could down the country road until they came to
town. Just as they got to the railway station the train came whizzing
in.
"All off!" cried the conductor, as the train stopped; and out came
a group of children who were, every one of them, Grandfather and
Grandmother Grey's grandchildren. They had come to spend Thanksgiving
Day on the farm.
There was John, who was named for grandfather and looked just like him,
and the twins, Teddie and Pat, who looked like nobody but each other;
their papa was grandfather's oldest son. Then there was Louisa, who
had a baby sister at home, and then Mary Virginia Martin, who was her
mamma's only child.
"I tell you," said grandfather, as he helped them into the wagon, "your
grandmother will be glad to see you!"
And so she was. She was watching at the window for them when they
drove up, and when the children spied her they could scarcely wait for
grandfather to stop the wagon before they scrambled out.
"Dear me, dear me!" said grandmother, as they all tried to kiss her at
the same time, "how you have grown."
"I am in the first grade," said John, hugging her with all his might.
"So am I," cried Louisa.
"We are going to be," chimed in the twins; and then they all talked at
once, till grandmother could not hear herself speak.
Then, after they had told her all about their mammas and papas, and
homes, and cats and dogs, they wanted to go and say "how do you do" to
everything on the place.
"Take care of yourselves," called grandmother, "for I don't want to
send any broken bones home to your mothers."
"I can take care of myself," said John.
"So can we," said the rest; and off they ran.
First they went to the kitchen where Mammy 'Ria was getting ready to
cook the Thanksgiving dinner; then out to the barnyard, where there
were two new red calves, and five little puppies belonging to Juno, the
dog, for them to see. Then they climbed the barnyard fence and made
haste to the pasture where grandfather kept his woolly sheep. "Baa-a!"
said the sheep when they saw the children; but then, they always said
that, no matter what happened.
There were cows in this pasture, too, and Mary Virginia was afraid of
them, even though she knew that they were the mothers of the calves she
had seen in the barnyard.
"Silly Mary Virginia!" said John, and Mary Virginia began to cry.
"Don't cry," said Louisa. "Let's go to the hickory-nut tree."
This pleased them all, and they hurried off; but on the way they
came to the big shed where grandfather kept his plows and reaper and
threshing machine and all his garden tools.
The shed had a long, wide roof, and there was a ladder leaning against
it. When John saw that, he thought he must go up on the roof; and then,
of course, the twins went, too. Then Louisa and Mary Virginia wanted to
go, and although John insisted that girls could not climb, they managed
to scramble up the ladder to where the boys were. And there they all
sat in a row on the roof.
"Grandmother doesn't know how well we can take care of ourselves," said
John. "But I am such a big boy that I can do anything. I can ride a
bicycle and go on errands----"
"So can I," said Louisa.
"We can ride on the trolley!" cried the twins.
"Mamma and I go anywhere by ourselves," said Mary Virginia.
"Moo!" said something down below; and when they looked, there was one
of the cows rubbing her head against the ladder.
"Don't be afraid, Mary Virginia," said Louisa. "Cows can't climb
ladders."
"Don't be afraid, Mary Virginia," said John. "I'll drive her away."
So he kicked his feet against the shed roof and called, "Go away!
go away!" The twins kicked their feet, too, and called, "Go away!
go away!" and somebody, I don't know who, kicked the ladder and it
fell down and lay in the dry grass. And the cow walked peacefully on,
thinking about her little calf.
"There, now!" exclaimed Louisa, "how shall we ever get down?"
"Oh, that's nothing," said John. "All I'll have to do is to stand up on
the roof and call grandfather. Just watch me do it."
So he stood up and called, "Grandfather! Grandfather! Grandfather!"
till he was tired; but no grandfather answered.
Then the twins called, "Grandfather! Grandmother!"
"Baa," said the sheep, as if beginning to think that somebody ought to
answer all that calling.
Then they all called together: "Grandfather! Grandfather! Grandfather!"
and when nobody heard that, they began to feel frightened and lonely.
"I want to go home to my mother! I wish I hadn't come!" wailed Mary
Virginia.
"It's Thanksgiving dinner time, too," said John, "and there's turkey
for dinner, for I saw it in the oven."
"Pie, too," said Louisa.
"Dear, dear!" cried the twins.
And then they all called together once more, but this time with such a
weak little cry that not even the sheep heard it.
The sun grew warmer and the shadows straighter as they sat there, and
grandmother's house seemed miles away when John stood up to look at it.
"They've eaten dinner by this time, I know," he said as he sat down
again; "and grandfather and grandmother have forgotten all about us."
But grandfather and grandmother had not forgotten them, for just about
then grandmother was saying to grandfather: "You had better see where
the children are, for Thanksgiving dinner will soon be ready and I know
that they are hungry."
So grandfather went out to look for them. He did not find them in the
kitchen nor the barnyard, so he called, "Johnnie! Johnnie!" and when
nobody answered he made haste to the pasture.
The children saw him coming, and long before he had reached the
gate they began to call with all their might. This time grandfather
answered, "I'm coming!" and I cannot tell you how glad they were.
In another minute he had set the ladder up again and they all came
down. Mary Virginia came first because she was the youngest girl, and
John came last because he was the biggest boy. Grandfather put his arms
around each one as he helped them down, and carried Mary Virginia home
on his back. When they got to the house dinner was just ready.
The turkey was brown, the potatoes were sweet,
The sauce was so spicy, the biscuits were beat,
The great pumpkin pie was as yellow as gold,
And the apples were red as the roses, I'm told.
It was such a good dinner that I had to tell you about it in rhyme!
And I'm sure you'll agree,
With the children and me,
That there's never a visit so pleasant to pay
As a visit to grandma on Thanksgiving Day.
FOOTNOTE:
[12] From "More Mother Stories," Milton Bradley Company.
THE STORY OF RUTH AND NAOMI[13]
ADAPTED FROM THE BIBLE, BY C. S. BAILEY AND C. M. LEWIS.
Ruth's story is one of the most beautiful ones to be
found in the Old Book. As a tale of the harvest, it
deserves to be included in this collection.
NOW it came to pass, many hundreds of years ago, that there was a good
woman named Naomi who lived in the land of the Moabites. She had once
been very rich and happy, but now her husband was dead and her two sons
also, and she had left only Orpah and Ruth, the wives of her sons.
There was a famine in the land. Naomi could find no grain in the fields
to beat into flour. She and Orpah and Ruth were lonely and sad and very
hungry.
But Naomi heard there was a land where the Lord had visited His people
and given them bread; so she went forth from the place where she was,
and her two daughters with her, to the land called Judah. It was a
long, hard way to go. There were rough roads to travel and steep hills
to climb. Their feet grew so weary they could scarcely walk, and at
last Naomi said:
"Go, return each to your father's house. The Lord deal kindly with you
as you have dealt with me. The Lord grant you that you may find rest."
Then she kissed them, and Orpah kissed her and left her, but Ruth would
not leave Naomi. And Naomi said to Ruth:
"Behold, thy sister is gone back unto her own people; return thou!"
But Ruth clung to Naomi more closely, as she said:
"Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee:
for whither thou goest, there will I go; and where thou lodgest, there
will I lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God."
When Naomi saw that Ruth loved her so much, she forgot how tired and
hungry she was, and the two journeyed on together until they came to
Bethlehem in Judah in the beginning of the barley harvest. There was
no famine in Bethlehem. The fields were full of waving grain, and busy
servants were reaping it and gathering it up to bind into sheaves.
Above all were the fields of the rich man, Boaz, shining with barley
and corn.
Naomi and Ruth came to the edge of the fields and watched the busy
reapers. They saw that after each sheaf was bound, and each pile of
corn was stacked, a little grain fell, unnoticed, to the ground. Ruth
said to Naomi: "Let me go to the field and glean the ears of corn after
them." And Naomi said to her, "Go, my daughter." And she went, and came
and gleaned in the field after the reapers.
And Boaz came from Bethlehem, and said to his reapers: "Whose damsel is
this?" for he saw how very beautiful Ruth was, and how busily she was
gleaning. The reapers said: "It is the damsel that came back with Naomi
out of the land of the Moabites."
And Ruth ran up to Boaz, crying: "I pray you, let me glean and gather
after the reapers among the sheaves."
And Boaz, who was good and kind, said to Ruth:
"Hearest thou not, my daughter? Go not to glean in any other field, but
abide here."
Then Ruth bowed herself to the ground, and said: "Why have I found such
favour in thine eyes, seeing I am a stranger?"
And Boaz answered her: "It hath been showed me all that thou hast done
to thy mother."
So, all day, Ruth gleaned in Boaz's fields. At noon she ate bread and
parched corn with the others. Boaz commanded his reapers to let fall
large handfuls of grain, as they worked, for Ruth to gather, and at
night she took it all home to Naomi.
"Where hast thou gleaned to-day?" asked Naomi, when she saw the food
that Ruth had brought to her.
"The man's name with whom I wrought to-day is Boaz," said Ruth. And
Naomi said: "Blessed be he of the Lord--the man is near of kin unto us."