CHRISTMAS AT OLD BLUFF.
ONE of the handsomest evergreens in the Townsend woods was chopped
off close by the roots, and dragged to Camp Comfort by Preston Gray
and James Hunnicut. The Old Bluff children had thought and dreamed of
nothing else for three weeks but that mysterious Christmas Tree. If it
were to be placed in a church they would have shrunk from approaching
it, for they were afraid of churches, and none of the Pancakes, except
Pecielena, and none of the Pecks, except Charlie, had as yet been drawn
inside a Sunday school. Or if the Tree were to be in some elegant house
at Laurel Grove, in a cold parlor with high walls and solemn marble
fireplaces, where rich children congregate, what would these little
savages have cared for it then?
But this Tree, _their_ Tree, was to be at Camp Comfort, a place they
knew all about; and the doorkeeper, Mr. Hunnicut, was to let in every
child big enough to walk. As for the grown people, they would be let in
also, but merely that they might take care of the children; for that is
all that is wanted of grown people at Christmas time!
Mary Gray, Ethel, Blanche Jones, and Fanny Townsend watched the clouds
for the whole three weeks. At one time it rained, and there were fears
of “a green Christmas;” then it grew cold, and the first snow came; but
before there was much time to be glad of the snow, the wind hastened
along and heaped it into drifts.
“It isn’t likely they’ll have a Tree if it keeps on drifting like
this,” said Dora, who was apt to grow melancholy when she baked for
“two days running;” and surely the turkeys, pies, puddings, and cakes
that had gone through her hands were enough to drag her spirits very
low. Mary did not know then of her own new piano that was to be given
her on Christmas, and Dora’s prediction seemed to spoil all her holiday
joy; but her father reassured her.
“Why, my child, we’ll have the Tree if the drifts are as high as your
head.”
Ethel said there were to be “three Christmases this year; one at Laurel
Grove, one at Rosewood, and one at Old Bluff.” Yes, and the wind held
its breath, and the sun and moon shone for every one of the three!
When the night came for “Old Bluff Christmas,” a rose-blue sky bent
above the white splendor of the world. The Pecks, Browns, and Pancakes
arrived in wild haste at Camp Comfort before Mr. Hunnicut was ready to
let them in. They would have thought him very unfeeling if they had
known that he was finishing his turkey supper while they waited in the
entry.
But they did not wait long. There was a loud jingling of sleigh-bells,
the blowing of a cornet, and the eight campers and lame Sadie Stockwell
appeared in a boat-sleigh drawn by two horses adorned with about twenty
strings of bells. Behind this imposing equipage glided the modest
sleighs containing meek parents and friends.
Then the warm, cheerful parlor was thrown open at last, with its dozen
lamps, blazing and twinkling as if they knew it was Christmas; and
the beautiful tree was seen shining like all the stars in the sky.
Aloft, on the topmost part, stood a little waxen image called the
Christ-child; and if it had been alive it could hardly have smiled more
benignly.
Dr. Gray, stepping forward, told the delighted little guests to look
up at it and think of it as the image of the little child Jesus, the
good Lord, who loved little children while on earth, and who loves them
still in heaven.
Then Mr. Lee made a short prayer, so very simple that the youngest ones
could understand; but they scarcely listened for looking at the Tree.
Ah, you that have seen Trees ever since you can remember, they are an
old story to you; but if you were a poor little child, and this were
your first vision of one, can you fancy what it would be to you then?
Pecielena Pancake, with hair neatly braided and falling down the
back of her new frock, stood gazing at it in amazement. To her it was
a beautiful marvel. Her mother would not come, but had sent all the
children, and they were dragging and tugging at her skirts.
Mrs. Peck and Mrs. Brown were there, women who could not “behave” much
better than Pecy, but they were quiet and smiling, and they and all the
poor rough little children stood looking at the shining Tree with lips
far apart and very wide eyes.
Some of the children were trembling between smiles and tears, so
eagerly hoping they had presents coming, so sadly afraid they hadn’t!
The Quintette and the Trio looked around benevolently. Mary Gray felt
little thrills of joy at seeing the children so happy now, and knowing
they would be happier still when the presents were given out. She
was glad Sadie Stockwell was there and enjoying it; but it had not
occurred to her to be proud because she herself was the one who had
thought of inviting Sadie. Neither was Mary conscious this evening of
her own looks and appearance. Her tresses “of crisped gold” floated
unheeded, and she never once looked down at her new dress to admire the
color. Her thoughts were not of herself but of others.
“Dr. Gray,” said Miss Pike in a low tone, “don’t you agree with me that
this last year has been the best year of Mary’s life? I believe she
will grow up to be a thoughtful, unselfish woman.”
“_Flaxie Growing Up!_” said Dr. Gray, blinking and rubbing his eyes.
“Why, Doctor, she is thirteen,” laughed Miss Pike. “But, there, they
are beginning to sing, and we must go over and join them.”
After the Christmas songs, Dr. Gray and General Townsend took off the
presents.
There was a joyous scream from Pecy Pancake when she received her new
cloak of gray beaver cloth, with buttons to match, and a collar that
would turn down or up. The name of the giver was not mentioned, and the
studied look of innocence on Mary’s face was edifying to behold.
Preston’s expression was equally innocent when Charlie Peck bounded
forward and seized his brave sled, “Clipper,” and when little Bobby
Brown shouted over his first pair of skates.
And every time a present was taken off the Tree, the little candles
on the branches seemed to twinkle more gayly, and the Christ-child to
smile more benevolently than ever.
“Susy Peck,” called Dr. Gray from the right, and a wee girl stepped
forward with fingers in her mouth, and snatched—snatched is the
word—the pretty doll which Julia Gray had dressed in a scarlet frock,
with fashionable hood, fur tippet, and muff. Like most of the others,
Susy forgot to say “Thank you;” but I suppose it was the proudest
moment of her life.
“Baby Peck,” called out General Townsend from the left; and another wee
girl toddled up, holding on by her mother’s finger, and got a handsome
box so full of sugarplums that the cover would hardly stay on. And
then the overjoyed baby had to be taken in her mother’s arm, lest, in
running about to show the box, she should get under everybody’s feet.
“Johnny Brown,” called Dr. Gray. And Johnny’s chin dropped on his
little ragged necktie with delight at receiving a pretty jacket with
linen collar and cuffs, while the “Electric Light” was suddenly
extinguished behind the parlor door.
But why enumerate the presents which fell like ripe fruit from that
bountiful Tree? The pretty dresses, the modest needle-books, the
painted drums, beautiful books and pictures, and all manner of gay toys?
And why describe the long table which the ladies had spread with
every dainty that these children had ever sighed for; real turkey
with genuine “stuffing;” cakes of all sorts and sizes, with fruit and
without; some as yellow as gold, and some buried under snow-drifts of
frosting; and best of all, perhaps, to them, large mounds of candy,
oranges, nuts, and raisins!
“Worth while, isn’t it?” said the “Electric Light,” nodding his head,
which was nearly as bright as a Christmas candle.
“Our coming out to Camp Comfort was a great thing for the neighbors,”
remarked Bert Abbott to James Hunnicut, who wished _he_ had been one of
the immortal three!
And Preston took off his spectacles and wiped them, remarking that the
glass was apt to grow dim in a warm room.
“Now strike up your cornet, Jack; take your harmonica, Sadie, and let’s
have another Christmas song.”
“Merry, merry Christmas everywhere!
Cheerily it ringeth through the air;
Christmas bells, Christmas trees,
Christmas odors on the breeze;
Merry, merry Christmas everywhere!
Cheerily it ringeth through the air.
Deeds of Faith and Charity;
These our offerings be,
Leading every soul to sing,
Christ was born for me!”
The poor, little, happy, wondering children listened in delight, as the
music seemed to hover and float on wings over the heads of the people,
losing itself at last in the upper air.
And, all the while, the beautiful Christmas Tree stood glittering with
its little candles, its green branches stripped of everything but their
straight pine needles.
Miss Pike looked up from the children’s happy faces to the Christmas
Tree, and her soul was stirred with awe. For the Christ-child on the
topmost bough seemed alive; and behold how large he grew, how grand and
beautiful! It was as if the heaven of heavens could not contain him:
yet he was there in that very room, and she beheld him! His arms were
extended in blessing, his lips moved, and in a still, small voice, as
if it fell from the sky, she heard him say once more: “_Suffer little
children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the
kingdom of heaven._”
SOPHIE MAY’S “LITTLE-FOLK’S” BOOKS.
[Illustration: PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE.
“‘Oh, what a fascinating creature,’ said the Man in the Moon, making
an eye-glass with his thumb and fore-finger, and gazing at the lady
boarder. ‘Are you a widow, mam?’”]
SPECIMEN CUT TO “LITTLE PRUDY’S FLYAWAY SERIES”
LITTLE GRANDMOTHER.
“Grandmother Parlen when a little girl is the subject. Of course that
was ever so long ago, when there were no lucifer matches, and steel and
tinder were used to light fires; when soda and saleratus had never been
heard of, but people made their pearl ash by soaking burnt crackers
in water; when the dressmaker and the tailor and the shoemaker went
from house to house twice a year to make the dresses and coats of the
family.”—_Transcript._
LITTLE GRANDFATHER.
“The story of Grandfather Parlen’s little boy life, of the days of
knee breeches and cocked hats, full of odd incidents, queer and quaint
sayings, and the customs of ‘ye olden time.’ These stories of SOPHIE
MAY’S are so charmingly written that older folks may well amuse
themselves by reading them. The same warm sympathy with childhood, the
earnest naturalness, the novel charm of the preceding volumes will be
found in this.”—_Christian Messenger._
MISS THISTLEDOWN.
“One of the queerest of the Prudy family. Read the chapter heads and
you will see just how much fun there must be in it. ‘Fly’s Heart,’
‘Taking a Nap,’ ‘Going to the Fair,’ ‘The Dimple Dot,’ ‘The Hole in
the Home,’ ‘The Little Bachelor,’ ‘Fly’s Bluebeard,’ ‘Playing Mamma,’
‘Butter Spots,’ ‘Polly’s Secret,’ ‘The Snow Man,’ ‘The Owl and the
Humming-Bird,’ ‘Talks of Hunting Deer,’ and ‘The Parlen Patchwork.’”
[Illustration: LITTLE GRANDMOTHER.
“She played in the old garret, with Dr. Moses to attend her dolls when
they were sick.”]
ILLUSTRATION TO “LITTLE PRUDY’S FLYAWAY SERIES”
[Illustration]
FLAXIE FRIZZLE.
DOCTOR PAPA.
LITTLE PITCHERS.
TWIN COUSINS.
FLAXIE’S KITTYLEEN.
FLAXIE GROWING UP.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Note: Obvious punctuation errors repaired.