The north country lay buried in the snow that Christmastime. Here and
there the steam plough had thrown its furrows, on either side of the
railroad, high above the window line. The fences were muffled in long
ridges of snow, their stakes showing like pins in a cushion of white
velvet. Some of the small trees on the edge of the big timber stood
overdrifted to their boughs. I have never seen such a glory of the
morning as when the sun came up, that day we were nearing home, and lit
the splendour of the hills, there in the land I love. The frosty nap of
the snow glowed far and near with pulsing glints of pale sapphire.
We came into Hillsborough at noon the day before Christmas. Father and
Uncle Eb met us at the depot and mother stood waving her handkerchief
at the door as we drove up. And when we were done with our greetings
and were standing, damp eyed, to warm ourselves at the fire, Uncle Eb
brought his palms together with a loud whack and said:
'Look here, Lizbeth Brower! I want to hev ye tell me if ye ever see a
likelier pair o' colts.
She laughed as she looked at us. In a moment she ran her hand down the
side of Hope's gown. Then she lifted a fold of the cloth and felt of it
thoughtfully.
'How much was that a yard?' she asked a dreamy look in her eyes. 'Wy!
w'y!' she continued as Hope told her the sum. 'Terrible steep! but it
does fit splendid! Oughter wear well too! Wish ye'd put that on if ye go
t' church nex' Sunday.
'O mother!' said Hope, laughing, 'I'll wear my blue silk.
'Come boys 'n girls,' said Elizabeth suddenly, 'dinner's all ready in
the other room.
'Beats the world!' said Uncle Eb, as we sat down at the table. 'Ye do
look gran' to me--ree-markable gran', both uv ye. Tek a premium at any
fair--ye would sartin.'
'Has he won yer affections?' said David laughing as he looked over at
Hope.
'He has,' said she solemnly.
'Affections are a sing'lar kind o' prop'ty,' said Uncle Eb. 'Hain't
good fer nuthin till ye've gin em away. Then, like as not, they git very
valyble.
'Good deal that way with money too,' said Elizabeth Brower.
'I recollec' when Hope was a leetle bit uv a girl' said Uncle Eb, 'she
used to say 'et when she got married she was goin' to hev her husban'
rub my back fer me when it was lame.
'I haven't forgotten it,' said Hope, 'and if you will all come you will
make us happier.
'Good many mouths if feed!' Uncle Ebb remarked.
'I could take in sewing and help some,' said Elizabeth Brower, as she
sipped her tea.
There was a little quiver in David's under lip as he looked over at her.
'You ain't able t' do hard work any more, mother,' said he. 'She won't
never hev to nuther,' said Uncle Eb. 'Don't never pay if go bookin' fer
trouble--it stew easy if find. There ain' no sech thing 's trouble 'n
this world 'less ye look for it. Happiness won't hey nuthin if dew
with a man thet likes trouble. Minnit a man stops lookin' fer trouble
happiness 'II look fer him. Things came puny nigh's ye like 'em here 'n
this world--hot er cold er only middlin'. Ye can either laugh er cry er
fight er fish er go if meetin'. If ye don't like erry one you can fin
fault. I'm on the lookout fer happiness--suits me best, someway, an
don't hurt my feelin's a bit.
'Ev'ry day's a kind uv a circus day with you, Holden,' said David
Brower. 'Alwuss hevin' a good time. Ye can hev more fun with yerseif 'n
any man I ever see.'
'If I hev as much hereafter es I've hed here, I ain't a goin'if fin' no
fault,' said Uncle Eb. ''S a reel, splendid world. God's fixed it up so
ev'ry body can hev a good time if they'll only hev it. Once I heard uv a
poor man 'at hed a bushel o' corn give tew him. He looked up kind o' sad
an' ast if they wouldn't please shell it. Then they tuk it away. God's
gin us happiness in the ear, but He ain't a goin' t' shell it fer us.
You n 'Lizabeth oughter be very happy. Look a' them tew childern!
There came a rap at the door then. David put on his cap and went out
with Uncle Eb.
'It's somebody for more money,' Elizabeth whispered, her eyes filling.
'I know 'tis, or he would have asked him in. We're goin't lose our home.
Her lips quivered; she covered her eyes a moment.
'David ain't well,' she continued. 'Worries night 'n day over money
matters. Don't say much, but I can see it's alwuss on his mind. Woke up
in the middle o' the night awhile ago. Found him sittin' by the stove.
“Mother,” he said, “we can't never go back to farmin'. I've ploughed
furrows enough if go 'round the world. Couldn't never go through it
ag'in.” “Well,” said I, “if you think best we could start over see how
we git along. I'm willin' if try it.” “No, we re too old,” he says.
“Thet's out o' the question. I've been thinkin' what'll we do there with
Bill 'n Hope if we go t'live with 'em? Don't suppose they'll hev any
hosses if take care uv er any wood if chop. What we'll hev if do is
more'n I can make out. We can't do nuthin; we've never learnt how.”
'We've thought that all over,' I said. 'We may have a place in the
country with a big garden.
'Well,' said she, 'I'm very well if I am over sixty. I can cook an wash
an' mend an' iron just as well as I ever could.'
Uncle Eb came to the door then.
'Bill,' he said, 'I want you 'n Hope if come out here 'n look at this
young colt o' mine. He's playful 's a kitten.
We put on our wraps and went to the stable. Uncle Eb was there alone.
'If ye brought any Cnssmus presents,' he whispered, 'slip 'em into my
hands. I'm goin' if run the cirkis t'morrow an' if we don't hev fun a
plenty I'll miss my guess.
'I'll lay them out in my room,' said Hope.
'Be sure 'n put the names on 'em,' Uncle Eb whispered, as Hope went
away.
'What have ye done with the “bilers”?' I enquired.
'Sold 'em,' said he, laughing. 'Barker never kep' his promise. Heard
they'd gone over t' the 'Burg an' was tryin' t' sell more territory.
I says if Dave, “You let me manage 'em an' I'll put 'em out o business
here 'n this part o' the country.” So I writ out an advertisement fer
the paper. Read about this way: “Fer sale. Twelve hunderd patented
suction Wash Bilers. Anyone at can't stan' prosperity an' is learnin' if
swear 'll find 'em a great help. If he don't he's a bigger fool 'n I am.
Nuthin' in 'em but tin--that's wuth somethin'. Warranted t' hold water.”
'Wall ye know how that editor talks? 'Twant a day 'fore the head man o'
the biler business come 'n bought 'em. An' the advertisement was never
put in. Guess he wan't hankerin' to hev his business spilt.
Uncle Eb was not at the supper table that evening.
'Where's Holden?' said Elizabeth Brower.
'Dunno,' said David. 'Goin' after Santa Claus he tol' me.
'Never see the beat o' that man!' was the remark of Elizabeth, as she
poured the tea. 'Jes' like a boy ev'ry Crissmus time. Been so excited
fer a week couldn't hardly contain himself.'
'Ketched him out 'n the barn t'other day laffin' like a fool,' said
David. 'Thought he was crazy.'
We sat by the fire after the supper dishes were put away, talking of
all the Christmas Days we could remember. Hope and I thought our last in
Faraway best of all and no wonder, for we had got then the first promise
of the great gift that now made us happy. Elizabeth, sitting in her
easy-chair, told of Christmas in the olden time when her father had gone
to the war with the British.
David sat near me, his face in the firelight--the broad brow wrinkled
into furrows and framed in locks of iron-grey. He was looking
thoughtfully at the fire. Uncle Eb came soon, stamping and shaking the
snow out of his great fur coat.
'Col'night,' he said, warming his hands.
Then he carried his coat and cap away, returning shortly, with a little
box in his hand.
'Jes' thought I'd buy this fer fun,' said he, holding it down to the
firelight. 'Dummed if I ever see the like uv it. Whoa!' he shouted, as
the cover flew open, releasing a jumping-jack. 'Quicker n a grasshopper!
D'ye ever see sech a sassy little critter?
Then he handed it to Elizabeth.
'Wish ye Merry Christmas, Dave Brower!' said he.
'Ain't as merry as I might be,' said David.
'Know what's the matter with ye,' said Uncle Eb. 'Searchin' after
trouble--thet's what ye're doin'. Findin' lots uv it right there 'n
the fire. Trouble 's goiti' t' git mighty scurce 'round here this very
selfsame night. Ain't goin' t' be nobody lookin' fer it--thet's why.
Fer years ye've been takin' care o' somebody et I'll take care 'o you,
long's ye live--sartin sure. Folks they said ye was fools when ye
took 'em in. Man said I was a fool once. Alwuss hed a purty fair idee
o'myself sence then. When some folks call ye a fool 's a ruther good
sign ye ain't. Ye've waited a long time fer yer pay--ain't much longer
to wait now.'
There was a little quaver in his voice, We all looked at him in silence.
Uncle Eb drew out his wallet with trembling hands, his fine old face lit
with a deep emotion. David looked up at him as he wondered what joke was
coming, until he saw his excitement.
'Here's twenty thousan' dollars,' said Uncle Eb, 'a reel, genuwine bank
check! Jist as good as gold. Here 'tis! A Crissmus present fer you 'n
Elizabeth. An' may God bless ye both!'
David looked up incredulously. Then he took the bit of paper. A big tear
rolled down his cheek.
'Why, Holden! What does this mean?' he asked.
''At the Lord pays His debts,' said Uncle Eb. 'Read it.'
Hope had lighted the lamp.
David rose and put on his spectacles. One eyebrow had lifted above the
level of the other. He held the check to the lamplight. Elizabeth stood
at his elbow.
'Why, mother!' said he. 'Is this from our boy? From Nehemiah? Why,
Nehemiah is dead!' he added, looking over his spectacles at Uncle Eb.
'Nehemiah is not dead,' said the latter.
'Nehemiah not dead!' he repeated, looking down at the draft. They turned
it in the light, reading over and over again the happy tidings pinned to
one corner of it. Then they looked into each other's eyes.
Elizabeth put her arms about David's neck and laid her head upon his
shoulder and not one of us dare trust himself to speak for a little.
Uncle Eb broke the silence.
'Got another present,' he said. 'S a good deal better 'n gold er
silver.' A tall, bearded man came in.
'Mr Trumbull!' Hope exclaimed, rising.
'David an' Elizabeth Brower,' said Uncle Eb, 'the dead hes come to life.
I give ye back yer son--Nehemiah.'
Then he swung his cap high above his head, shouting in a loud voice:
'Merry Crissmus! Merry Crissmus!'
The scene that followed I shall not try to picture. It was so full of
happiness that every day of our lives since then has been blessed with
it and with a peace that has lightened every sorrow; of it, I can truly
say that it passeth all understanding.
'Look here, folks!' said Uncle Eb, after awhile, as he got his flute,
'my feelin's hev been teched hard. If I don't hev some jollification
I'll bust. Bill Brower, limber up yer leather a leetle bit.'