Holidays at the Grange | Page 7

It was a very pleasant
sight to behold young and old, rich and poor, joined together in one
common feeling of brotherhood, under the genial influences of the
season. "A merry Christmas" seemed not only to spring from every
tongue, but to sparkle in every eye.
If I were to attempt to describe the varied pleasures of that day, which
was declared by Charlie Bolton to be the most glorious one he had ever
spent, I should be obliged to dip my pen, not in ink, but in a solution of
rainbow, or dancing sun-beams, or in any thing else that is proved to be
the most joyful thing in nature. At dinner-table, after being helped the
second time to a slice of "splendid" turkey with oyster sauce, little
Louis Green, the youngest of the party, occasioned a general burst of
laughter by laying down his knife and fork, which certainly deserved a
little rest if activity ever can earn it, and leaning back in his chair,
saying with the greatest earnestness: "Uncle, if I were asked to point
out the very happiest time of the whole year, I would fix upon
Christmas day, at exactly this hour--the dinner hour--as the thing for
me!"
"O you gormandizer!" said his sister Ellen, "you don't really think the
dinner the best part of the day?"
"Indeed I do, though," replied Louis; "and I rather guess a good many
people are of the same opinion. And, sister Ellen, if you were a boy,
and just come home from boarding-school, where they always want
you to eat potatoes, I think you'd value turkey and mince-pie as much
as I do! Hurra for Christmas, I say!"
There was some conversation at the dinner-table about the origin of the
different modes of keeping Christmas day in our country. Mr.
Wyndham remarked, that probably the reason why it was so universally
kept in Philadelphia, was from the large mixture of the German element
in the population of Pennsylvania: perhaps the little Swedish colony

which Penn found already settled on the ground when he came over,
may have had some influence, as the nations in the middle and north of
Europe have always celebrated the day, making it a sort of festival of
home, and fireside pleasures. He said that when he was a young man he
had passed a winter in Germany, and was spending some time in the
house of a friend, in the month of December: being very intimate with
all the family, he had been admitted into numerous little secrets, both
by young and old. He had seen beforehand the drawings and the
ornamental needle-work which were intended as a surprise to the
parents, and were executed after they had retired to rest; and he had
been allowed to hear the new songs and pieces of instrumental music,
learnt by stealth during their absence from home; and had even been
privileged to hear the little boy of eight, the pet of the family, recite the
verses composed in honor of the joyful occasion, by his oldest sister.
And the parents, also, had their own mysteries: for a fortnight before
the eventful day, the blooming, comfortable mamma rode out regularly,
and returned laden with bundles, which were immediately transferred
to a certain large parlor, the windows of which were carefully bolted,
the door locked, and the very key-hole stopped up, so that nothing was
visible. The children were sent out of the way, and then there were raps
at the door, and the carrying of heavy articles along the hall, into the
mysterious chamber--Blue Beard's room of horrors was not more
eagerly gazed at, than was this parlor, but its blank walls told no
secrets.
At length the long-expected day arrived; on Christmas Eve all were
assembled in a dark room adjacent--you see I have taken a few hints
from my German friends--and at last the doors being thrown open, the
mystery was revealed. The room was ornamented with evergreens and
colored lamps, very much in the style of our hall, and a large tree
blazed with light and sparkled with candied fruits and gilded
cornucopias; I made up my mind then, that if ever I had a house of my
own, I would keep Christmas Eve in the same way. The little children
stood a while, awe-struck by the grandeur of the spectacle: for I can tell
you, young people, that the German children are kept in a state of
innocence--what you would call greenness--that would amaze you. The
good mother then came forward, and took them by the hand: "Come in,

Carl; come in, Hermann; fear nothing, little Ida; come in and see if
there is any thing here for you." Encouraged by this invitation, all
entered, and the room was found to be lined