Holidays at the Grange | Page 5

would be crowned with the dunce-cap, and must recommence his questions: if, on the contrary, he hit upon the right word, the person whose answer led him to conjecture it must take his place.
"Anna," said Tom, "how do you like it? Now, don't tell me you like it very well, or not at all; give me something descriptive."
"I like it with a large capital."
"You do? Then it may either be a word, a state, a pillar, or a man of business. Cousin Alice, how do you like it?"
"I like it shady and covered with moss."
"And you, Sister Ellen?"
"With vaults secure and well filled."
"What do you say, Gertrude?"
"I like it covered with violets."
"How do you prefer it, Charlie?"
"With a good board of directors."
"And you, Amy?"
"Covered with strong and skilful rowers."
"What is your preference, George?"
"I like it high and picturesque."
"How do you like it, John?"
"With numerous branches."
"It can't be a tree--how do you like it, Mary?"
"Very green."
"And you, Harry?"
"Of red brick or white marble."
"How contradictory! What have you to answer, Cornelia?"
"I like it steep and rocky."
"And you, Louis?"
"I like it warranted not to break."
"When do you like it, Anna?"
"When I have an account in it."
"When do you like it, Alice?"
"When I am in the country, and feel weary."
"And you, Ellen?"
"When I hold a check in my hand."
"And you, Gertrude?"
"In the spring of the year, when I feel languid and sentimental."
"When do you prefer it, Charlie?"
"When I want a loan, and can give good security."
"And you, Amy?"
"When I am in a boat, and becalmed."
"And you, George?"
"When I am at sea, anxiously looking out for land."
"What say you, John?"
"When I am a merchant, engaged in large transactions."
"When do you like it, Mary?"
"When my eye is weary of a flat, dull country."
"And you, Harry?"
"When I am a stockholder."
"So I should think, if it paid a good dividend. And if I were to ask you my third question, 'Where will you put it!' one would place it under an umbrageous tree, another by the sea, a third by a river, and a fourth on a good business street, near the Exchange. My good friends, I would be dull indeed if I did not guess it to be a BANK; and you, Sister Ellen, may take my place; your well-filled vaults first gave me the clue."
After amusing themselves a little longer, they adjourned to the sitting-room, as the tall, old-fashioned clock in the hall gave warning of the rapid flight of time; and Mary, as was her custom, brought to her uncle the large family Bible. When he opened the holy book, the very youngest and wildest of the children listened with reverence to the solemn words, and tried to join in the thanks which the good man offered up to Heaven for bringing them together in health and peace, and granting them so much happiness.
And then kisses and good-nights were exchanged, and the young group was scattered; but not without a parting charge to each from Aunt Lucy, "not to forget to hang up the stocking for Kriss-Kinkle, near the chimney place; and not on any account to lock their doors--for they might easily be taken sick in the night."
CHAPTER II.
CHRISTMAS DAY.--RHYMES.--CENTO.--GENTEEL LADY.--THE FAIRY WOOD.
Sound were the slumbers that night at the Grange, notwithstanding the determination of little Amy to lie awake and catch Kriss-Kinkle for once; although as she said, "I know it must be Cousin Mary." Those happy days of innocence and unsuspecting faith have passed away, when children believed in a literal Kriss-Kinkle, clad in furs, and laden with presents for the good, and sticks of wood for the naughty little urchins who refuse to learn their A, B, C's, and to stand still while mamma combs out their hair. The "infantry" of America have quite given up their old-fashioned credulity, and as, according to the obsolete saying of the older philosophers, "nature abhors a vacuum," and there must be some children in the world, to keep the balance, the spirit-rappers have kindly stepped into their vacant places, and may be regarded as the true and only children on this side the Atlantic. The frightful skepticism of the young ones with regard to Kriss-Kinkle has come to such a pass, that a little girl of three years old, who had been kept, as her relations thought, in all the verdure becoming to her tender years, upon her aunt telling her that she ought not to expect many gifts that season, as it was such stormy weather that poor Kriss-Kinkle could scarcely venture out, replied: "But, Aunty! could he not take grandma's carriage--he would not get wet then!"
If the merry old soul really came down the chimney at the Grange, he shewed great discernment in the gifts he bestowed, for each found in the stocking some article that had been ardently desired. Ellen, who