King, Madame."
Here mamma gave up in despair and let the rulers of the household have
their way without further resistance.
Christian delivered the invitations to the party in his most formal
manner. The Hingleberg boys, Emile Haagensen, Alma Pretorius, Ingeborg
Hjerm, Nita Gomez, Achille Anduze, and several other boys and girls
accepted promptly.
During the next few days there was so much excitement in the household,
so much disagreement between Christian and Nana, and Tom was so
vociferous, mamma said nothing would ever induce her to give a party
for children again.
In Tom's good moments you would be sure to see him standing with his
hands behind him, while Nana trained him in what he should say and do.
"Sissy," he whispered to me, "Nana says if I ain't very, very dood
she'll gie me a _fatoi_ before evelly body."
(We never knew what this mysterious punishment was, and now we think
it must be Creole for something that never happens. We were often
threatened with it and as often escaped it.)
At last the day came, and Tom was to be allowed to haul up the flag
that morning. (We always kept the American flag floating over our
house.) When the Danish soldiers fired the sunrise cannon from the
fort, Tom pulled on the ropes with all his strength, his dear little
face as red as it could be, and when the flag reached the top of the
tall staff he gave a long sigh of satisfaction.
We were not to see the parlors till just before the guests were to
come, about twelve o'clock. When we did go in we screamed with delight.
The rooms were filled with flowers. The pillars were hidden by long
ferns and the Mexican vine which has long wreaths of tiny pink flowers,
such as you may have seen in the dress caps of babies. Tall vases of
pink and white oleander filled the alcove, and everywhere were white
carnations, jasmine, frangipanni, and doodle-doo blossoms. All this had
been done by the servants as a surprise.
In the middle of the room was the table. The gorgeous birthday cake,
bristling with knights, ladies, angels and all kinds of figures, was in
the centre, and the Kranse Kage and Krone Kage were at either end of
it; in the former a small silk American flag, in the latter a Danish
one, were placed; between them were all sorts of good things, just
such as you have at your parties. At each plate was the queerest wee
glass imaginable.
Tom received many presents. One of them, a gun with a bayonet, gave
almost too much bliss. He sat and hugged it, evidently thinking it was
"the party."
Christian, dressed in white, met every one at the street gate. To the
guests he said, "Mr. and Mrs. Alger presents deir complements and are
glad to see you;" and to the Nanas he said politely, "How you so far
dis mawning?"
To get to our house, one had to mount three or four steps from the
street, then there was a high iron fence and gate. On each side of
this were the only trees I ever disliked. We called them the "Boiled
Huckleberry Pudding" trees. They had large poisonous-looking leaves,
and bore pale lumpish fruit about as large as a quart measure, with
small black seeds here and there through them. There were no other
trees like them on the island and we had a tradition that they came
from Otaheite and would kill any one instantly who tasted the fruit.
There were beautiful trees and flowers on this terrace and on all;
then came a wall covered with vines, and fifteen stone steps leading
to another terrace and another wall. In this second wall, near the
pepper-tree, was the home of our two monkeys Jack and Jill. On the
third terrace was the house.
Tom received his friends nicely, Nana standing just behind him dressed
in her new gown and beautiful apron. We could see she was very anxious
lest he should disgrace her before the other Nanas. Often we heard her
whisper "Say howdy wid de odder hand, My Heart," or "Mind what I tole
you, Son." She escorted the Nanas to the court, where the bowl of punch
was standing, and they drank Tom's health with many good wishes.
As soon as all the children had arrived they were seated at table, each
Nana standing behind her charge. Daintily and prettily the little ones
ate, and when Christian passed the cake around the "sugar babies" were
drawn out with much ceremony. Then the other large cakes were cut and
served and Christian put a drop of champagne in each little glass. As
soon as this was done, quick as thought Carl Hingleberg stood up and
said:
"_Lienge leve Kongen!_"
Would you believe it? Every little tot lifted his or her glass and
drank this solemnly. Christian filled the glasses again and we saw Bebé
Anduze was being nudged and pushed by her Nana; at last she put her
finger in her mouth and hung her head but said very sweetly, "I wiss
Tom Alger have many nice birfdays and be a dood boy!"
How we all laughed! And how surprised we were when Tom bowed and said,
"Tak," but he spoiled it all by pounding on the table and shouting
"Hurrah for Grant!"
When all had done, Nana lifted Tom down from his chair and turned him
to the right. Each child he took by the hand and said, "_Velbekomme_;"
and the answer given to him was "_Fak for mad_." Then Tom scampered
off, and came back with his gun and singing with all his might "_Den
tapre land soldat_;" and where he did not know the Danish words, he
sang "Good Night, my brudder Ben!" which Nana proudly explained "he
composed hes-sef." All the children joined in the chorus and were
pleased at his singing something they all knew.
Now came the great event of the day. We went down to the wharf, where
papa had boats ready to take us off to the American man-of-war in the
harbor. We were kindly taken all over it and Tom was allowed to fire
off a large cannon. This consoled him for the loss of his bayonet,
which fell overboard on our way to the ship, by mamma's special request.
We had a delightful afternoon, and, when we returned home, Tom shook
hands with all and said,
"Farvel Kom igjen."
NOTE.--_Kranse Kage_, Wreath Cake; _Krone Kage_, Crown
Cake; _Tak_, Thanks; _Den tapre land soldat_, The brave
land soldier; _Velbekomme_, Welcome; _Fak for mad_,
Thanks for bread, or the food; _Lienge leve Kongen_,
Long live the King; _Farvel Kom igjen_, Farewell, come
again.
IX.
A SIAMESE HAIR-CUTTING.
ALL the little Siamese children, both boys and girls, have the entire
head, except a place on the very top, closely shaved. There a long lock
of hair is allowed to grow, and this they wear twisted into a knot and
fastened with a jeweled pin.
The cutting of this top-knot, as it is called, is an occasion of great
ceremony. All the friends and relatives are invited to attend, and the
festivities continue three days. On the third day the hair is cut by
a priest, and a lock is preserved in the family. The cutting of the
top-knot is equivalent to our coming of age, though the children are
generally between eleven and fourteen, and sometimes even younger than
that.
The hair-cutting of the King's eldest daughter, Princess Civili, was
a most magnificent affair. We went to the palace at ten in the morning
for the purpose of seeing the procession. After passing through the
outer and inner courts which were thronged with people of almost
every Eastern nationality, we were shown into a building reserved for
Europeans. Soon we heard the band playing the National Anthem, and
then, preceded by the royal body-guard, His Majesty appeared and took
his seat near the private entrance to the Temple. Then the procession
commenced to file past us. It was headed by a number of men with
hatchets, and attired in odd-looking garments. Some of these men wore
horrible masks and wigs of long, tangled hair. They looked much like
apes, and represented wild men. Next followed two rows of "angels" as
they are called, these being men dressed in long loose robes of thin
white muslin bordered with gold-embroidered bands. On their heads were
tall conical hats of white and gold. These "angels" carried a cord
which was attached to the Princess' chair. Between these two rows
of angels walked a dozen men in loose red jackets, and short red
trousers, with flat caps to match. They held in their hands long reed
instruments on which they blew, making a shrill, strange sound.
This was the signal of the approach of the Princess who soon appeared,
carried in a high chair, and surrounded by nobles and relatives. She
sat as immovable as an image, and looked neither to the right nor the
left. With a little more expression, she would have been a very pretty
child.
Behind Her Royal Highness' chair were her favorite slaves carrying all
the beautiful presents that had been given her.
_Apropos_ of presents, here is a short account of one of them. The
United States ship _Ashuelot_ was at that time anchored in the river
Chow Phya Miniam, on which river Bangkok is situated. There is a custom
in Siam of giving a present in return for one received, though the
present given in return is always one of less value. The paymaster of
the _Ashuelot_, hearing of this custom, presented Her Royal Highness
with a diamond ring, and received in return a handsome gold betel-box
of native workmanship. The captain of the _Ashuelot_ who was much
annoyed that a subordinate should receive so handsome a gift while he
himself received nothing, had the paymaster court-martialed on the
ground that an officer in the United States employ had no right to
receive a gift from a foreign nation.
But to return to the procession. Following the slaves, came a number
of little Siamese girls dressed in white, and wearing a profusion of
jewelry. After them, came girls from the provinces all decked in their
gayest attire; then two rows of little Chinese girls with painted
cheeks and lips, and having artificial flowers in their hair. Closely
following came rows upon rows of native women (slaves of the Princess)
who walked sedately on with their bright fluttering scarves of red,
yellow and green, their hands folded as if in prayer.
Then came a great many little native boys; after these, Chinese boys,
and, finally the procession was ended by a company of Hindoostani
children followed by a detachment of men servants.
The next two days the procession was exactly the same, except that on
the third day the "angels" and the little Siamese girls wore pink
robes instead of white.
The cutting of the hair, the praying of the priests, and the bathing of
the Princess in various waters, all took place in a large artificial
mountain built for the occasion opposite the Temple. None but the King,
the ex-Regent and a few other favored individuals were allowed to be
present.
On the green, in front of the mountain, we saw a large company of
actors. On inquiry we found they were members of His Majesty's _loken_
or theatre, and formed part of the religious ceremony.
After the cutting of the top-knot all Siamese girls of high rank are
kept in the greatest seclusion. Some are sent into the palace and
placed under His Majesty's protection. There they remain until married
or until Death claims them.
X.
OLD ENGLISH HARVEST CUSTOMS.
Hoaky is brought
Home with hallowin'
Boys with plumb cake,
The cart followin'.
--_From Poore Robin_, 1676.
IN one of the fine old Homes of England, the tapestry lining the
Withdrawing Room represents a scene which must have been very familiar
to the ladies whose diligent fingers accomplished this large piece of
handiwork. It is a "Harvest Home" of more than a hundred years ago; and
as the light from the huge logs burning on the hearth flickers on the
figures it almost seems as if the gayly decorated horses are drawing
on the cart laden with sheaves, as if the girl enthroned on the top of
the corn is waving the small sheaf she holds overhead, and as if the
harvesters are really dancing around; that in another moment the lad
riding the leader must sound his pipe, and the old man following the
dancers make a merry tune come out of his fiddle-strings. The Harvest
is over, and the "last neck" is being carried home in triumph, held
on high by the Queen of the Harvest, until it can be deposited in the
centre of the supper-table in the big farmhouse kitchen.
This tapestry hangs in a house in Cornwall, a county in which, from its
remote southerly position, many traditions have lingered. Among such
traditions those connected with the harvest are probably some of the
most ancient; handed down from generation to generation from the days
when the Romans first brought civilization to England and left their
stamp on the harvest as well as on the language, laws, numerals and the
roads of this county.
Until the beginning of this century, Ceres was the name given as a
matter of course to the queen of the harvest; and in Bedfordshire two
figures made of straw were formerly carried in the harvest procession,
which the laborers called Jack and Jill, but which were supposed to
represent Apollo, the Sun God, and the beneficent Ceres, to whom the
Romans made their offerings before reaping began.
The merry queen of the harvest, worked in the tapestry, had no doubt
been chosen after the usual Cornish fashion. The women reaped in
Cornwall, while the men bound, and whoever reaped the last lock of corn
was proclaimed queen. As all were ambitious of this honor, the women
used to hide away an unreaped lock under a sheaf, and when all the
field seemed cut they would run off to their hidden treasures, in hopes
of being the lucky last. When a girl's sweetheart came into the field
at the end of the day, he would try to take her sickle away to finish
her work. If this was allowed, it was a sign that she also consented to
the wedding taking place before the next harvest.
The last lock of corn being cut, it was bound with straw at the
neck, just under the ears, and carried to the highest part of the
field, where one of the men swung it round over his head, crying in a
stentorian voice, "I have it, I have it, I have it!" And the next man
answered, "What hav-ee, what hav-ee, what hav-ee?" Then the first man
shouted again, "A neck, a neck, a neck, hurrah!" This was the signal
for the queen to mount the "hoaky cart," as it was called, and the
procession started for the farmhouse.
Over the borders in Devonshire, the custom of "crying the neck" varied
a little. The men did the reaping and the women the binding. As the
evening closed in, the oldest man present collected a bunch of the
finest ears of corn and, plaiting them together, placed himself in the
middle of a circle of reapers and binders. Then he stooped and held it
near the ground, while all the men took off their hats and held them
also near the ground, and as they rose slowly they sung in a prolonged
harmonious tone, "A neck, a neck, a neck!" until their hats were high
over their heads. This was repeated three times; after which the words
changed to "We have-'en, we have-'en, we have-'en!" sung to the same
monotonous cadence. The crying of the neck, as it echoed from field to
field, and from hill to hill, on a fine evening, produced a beautiful
effect, and might be heard at a great distance.
A musical cry of this sort was also common in Norfolk, Suffolk and
Gloucestershire; but the words sung were "Hallo, largess!" One of
the men was chosen lord of the evening and appointed to approach
any lookers-on with respect, and ask a largess, or money, which was
afterwards spent in drink. Meanwhile the other men stood round with
their hooks pointed to the sky, singing:
[Illustration: Music]
Hallo!
Largess!
In Gloucestershire, Ceres rode the leader of the Hoaky Cart, dressed in
white, with a yellow ribbon round her waist.
The last in-gathering of the crop,
Is loaded and they climb the top;
And then huzza with all their force,
While Ceres mounts the foremost horse.
"Gee-up," the rustic goddess cries,
And shouts more long and loud arise,
The swagging cart, with motion slow,
Reels careless on, and off they go.
Stevenson in his _Twelve Moneths_, date 1661, goes on to describe the
arrival of the procession at the farmhouse:
The frumenty pot welcomes home the harvest cart, and
the garland of flowers crowns the Captain of the
reapers. The battle of the field is now stoutly fought.
The pipe and tabor are now briskly set to work, and the
lad and lass will have no lead on their heels. O! 'tis
the merry time when honest neighbours make good cheer,
and God is glorified in His blessings on the earth.
In Herefordshire "crying the neck" is called "crying the maze;" the
maze being a knot of ears of corn tied together, and the reapers stood
at some distance, and threw their sickles at it. The man who succeeded
in cutting the knot won a prize and was made Harvest King for that
year. In the same county there was a rough custom of the last load
being driven home by the farmer himself at a furious rate, while the
laborers chased the wagon with bowls of water which they tried to throw
over it. In the more stately processions the horses that drew the Hoaky
cart were draped with white, which Herrick, the Devonshire parson-poet,
describes in his poem of Hesperides, 1646:
Come, sons of summer, by whose toil
We are the lords of wine and oil;
By whose tough labours and rough hands
We rip up first, then reap our lands.
Crowned with the ears of corn now come
And to the pipe ring Harvest Home.
Come forth, my lord, and see the cart
Dressed up with all the country art.
See here a maukin, there a sheet
As spotless pure as it is sweet;
The horses, mares, and frisking fillies
(Clad all in linen, white as lilies:)
The harvest swains and wenches bound
For joy to see the hock-cart crown'd.
About the cart hear how the rout
Of rural younglings raise the shout;
Pressing before, some coming after--
Those with a shout, and these with laughter.
Well, on, brave boys, to your lord's hearth
Glittering with fire, where for your mirth
You shall see, first, the large and chief
Foundation of your feast, fat beef;
With upper stories, mutton, veal,
And bacon (which makes full the meal;)
With sev'ral dishes standing by,
And here a custard, there a pie,
And here all tempting frumenty.
The harvest supper in Northumberland was called the "Kern Supper,"
from a large figure dressed and crowned with flowers, holding a sickle
and sheaf, which was named the "Kern Baby," and, being carried by the
harvesters on a high pole with singing and shouting, was placed in the
centre of the supper table, like the Devonshire and Cornish Neck. Rich
cream was served on bread at the Kern Supper, instead of meal; a custom
which was reversed in a sister northern county, where the new meal was
thought more of than cream, and the feast was called the "Neck Supper,"
in its honor.
There was one more quaint ceremony for the laborers to accomplish,
after the feasting was over, connected with the completion of the
rick or stack. This was formed in the shape of a house with a sloping
roof, and as the man placed the last sheaf in the point of the gable
he shouted, "He's in, he's in, he's in!" The laborers below in the
stackyard, then sang out, "What's in?" and the rickmaker answered with
a long harmonious sound, "The cro' sheaf," meaning the cross sheaf.
It has been thought that there used to be one universal harvest song
used throughout England, but the words and music are not preserved as
such. Some curious songs are performed by the laborers, where harvest
suppers are kept up. A very popular one has a chorus ending with:
And neither Kings, Lords, nor Dukes
Can do without the husbandman.
The majority are drinking songs, and there is reason to fear that the
ale and cider that flowed at harvest-time, conduced in no small degree
towards the unbounded revelry of these old celebrations.
At the same time the country people of England in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries were for the most part very simple and ignorant,
and their childish exuberance of spirits may have been but the natural
expression of life in a perfectly unartificial state. They were men and
women who could live for the hour while the sun shone, who could laugh
and dance like children who have no fear, and, as George Eliot says,
who "cared not for inquiring into the senses of things, being satisfied
with the things themselves."
But the change was coming. The old women of Cornwall lamented loudly
when their sickles were taken away, and the corn was "round-hewed" by
the men with a kind of rounded saw.
"There was nothing about it in the Bible," they said; "it was all
_reaping_ there."
The round-hewing was but a step, to be speedily followed by the scythe,
and then by the steam reaper. And it often happens that the steam
engines do not leave the field until the corn is carried to a temporary
rick in the corner and threshed on the spot.
Farewell to the Hoaky Cart, the crowns of flowers, the Kern Baby, and
the Cro' Sheaf!
With the puffing snort, the whirr and smoke of the engine, came the
downfall of the ancient ceremonies. If the corn is threshed in the
field and carried away in sacks, there is no time for the triumph of
Ceres, or the decking of "Necks."
The laborers are no longer "satisfied with the things themselves." They
are keen for the shilling they will earn for overhour work, and in
some counties prefer it to the gathering of master and men round the
harvest board; and the drink makes them envious instead of merry.
Times are hard. The great iron rakes clear the fields and there are
some farmers who no longer say with Boaz:
Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her
not, and let fall also some of the handfuls of purpose
for her, and leave them that she may glean them, and
rebuke her not.
It seems as though the old happy gleaning days were also numbered.
Those days to which the villagers look forward from one year's end to
another! The hour at which gleaning may begin is made known in some
parishes by the church bell tolling at eight o'clock, after which the
children troop off with their mothers to the wide fields. The sun may
shine with fierce August fervor, the children's arms and the mothers'
backs be weary to breaking, and the corn gathered be only enough for
two half-peck loaves--yet there are charms in the long days in the
fields, in the strawberries picked in the hedge, and the potato pasties
eaten under the rick, and when the church bell tolls again at nine
o'clock there are still many lingerers in the fields.
The world is growing grave and old, and it is sad to think that many
of the simple old-fashioned enjoyments of past years are fading away.
Still there is another side to the inevitable law of change; for out
of the relics of the worship of Ceres, out of the ashes of the ancient
customs of revelry, a phœnix has arisen, grand and hope-inspiring,
and that carries back our memories to days before the Romans were
conquerors of the world, and when the most ancient of all nations, the
Jews, used to celebrate their yearly feast of Ingathering.
When first Harvest Festivals in Churches were proposed they were looked
on with suspicion, for somewhat similar services had been swept away
by the iron hand of the Reformation. But thankful hearts and good
common-sense have worn out the suspicion, and the day comes now in each
year, when every Church in England is decked with sheaves of corn,
grapes, torch lilies, dahlias, sunflowers, and all the splendors of
autumn, and when glorious Te Deums, and hearty Harvest Hymns rise in
thanksgiving for the blessings on the fields.
Once more the ancient cry of "Largess" is, as it were, revived. But
now it is largess for the poor, beloved by God, it is largess for the
suffering ones, who watch in pain, it is largess for home and foreign
missions, that all may be safely gathered in to the great final Harvest.
It is also customary for a Festival to be held in the Cathedrals of the
principal county towns. And there are few nobler sights than to see the
Nave of one of these magnificent old buildings, on a market day, so
full of men and women of every position in life, that they are sitting
on the bases of the pillars, and standing in the aisles; and there are
few nobler sounds than to hear that mighty congregation burst into
singing:
Come, ye thankful people, come!
Raise the song of Harvest Home!
XI.
EASTER AT JERUSALEM.
AT no time is there more to be seen and done in Jerusalem than during
the Easter season.