Holidays at the Grange | Page 6

was deeply interested in the study of Italian, found a beautiful copy of Dante's "Divina Commedia;" Mary, who possessed a fine talent for drawing, and frequently sketched from nature, discovered that a complete set of artist's colors and brushes had fallen to her lot; George, who was devoted to skating, found a pair of skates, "real beauties," as he said, appended to his stocking; all plainly saw that their individual tastes and peculiarities had been consulted in a very gratifying manner. Of course they did not neglect to express their pleasure and gratitude to their kind friends, requesting them to inform that very worthy old gentleman, Mr. Kriss-Kinkle, of their delight at his selection. Nor were Uncle John and Aunt Lucy forgotten: their nephews and nieces had all provided some little gifts, as expressions of love. Mrs. Wyndham declared that she was quite set up in crochet bags and purses, for a year to come; and tastefully worked book-markers, with appropriate sentiments, were very plentiful. Tom Green made himself exceedingly agreeable to the whole party, by presenting to each some pretty little box, thimble-case, or other ingenious trifle, which he had made at his leisure with the aid of his turning-lathe; whereupon Charlie Bolton assumed an irresistibly ludicrous air of dejection, and asserted that he felt quite crushed by Tom's superior gallantry. "Really, a fellow is not much thought of now-a-days, unless he can do something in the pretty line. I must get a turning-lathe at once, or else learn to carve brooches out of marbles, and rings out of peach-stones, and baskets out of cherry and apricot stones. If I can't get up that much artistic talent, I might as well resign myself to complete insignificance all my life." Cornelia Wyndham highly approved of his intentions, and told him that when he had come to perfection in the fancy business, she hoped he would remember her devoted and perfectly disinterested friendship; her cousinly affection was of the warmest and truest quality, especially when there were any hopes of cherry-stone baskets.
Full of enjoyment as they were, none were too intent upon fun and frolic to neglect accompanying their kind relatives to the pretty little country church, for it was their uncle's habit to begin the day with religious exercises: he said it seemed to him ungrateful to spend it in unbroken jollity, and to forget entirely the original motive of its institution. It was a very pleasant custom, and very conducive to mutual attachment, for friends and relations to give and to receive presents: but this should be subordinate to the remembrance of God's Great Gift to the children of men, which was celebrated on that happy day. So the young people passed a unanimous vote that church-going was as regular a part of keeping Christmas as presents or mince-pie, and gladly set off to walk through the frosty air to the ivy-covered church, shaded by ancient trees. It was situated on a hill, and was approached by numerous paths running across the fields; and as Ellen gazed upon its spire, standing in relief against the deep blue sky, she thought of that beautiful line of Wordsworth,
"Pointing its taper finger up to heaven!"
The chime of bells, too, joyfully pealing out, appeared to be the voice of the church calling upon all who heard it, to return thanks to Him who blesses the families of men; it seemed to say, "Both young men and maidens, old men and children, let them praise the name of the Lord." What a mistake it is, to think of religion only as a refuge from sorrow, and a solace for the disappointments of the world! It is that, truly, but it is also the sanctifier of joy: the happy young heart should be laid upon God's altar, as well as the stricken spirit, and the eye moistened with tears. That the services of the church had not a depressing effect upon the minds of any, was very evident from the heart-felt greetings and warm shakes of the hand which were exchanged by all, as they left the house of prayer. 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