IS there any reason why Episcopalians, Lutherans and Roman Catholics should have a monopoly of Christmas? Is its glorious old patron Saint partial? Has the Christ-child no gifts for us as well as for other folk? Have the December heavens no brightness-the angel host no song for "blue Presbyterians?" May we not come to the sacred manger too? Are our Church festivals so many that we need dread1 to add another? Is our religion so inclined to gayety and money-making that we need curb2 its joyous3 tendencies? The very air of Christmas is marvellous. The heavens are never so blue, the sun never shines with a profuser generosity4. The very earth clothes itself in the spotless white of the heavenly robe, as if to prepare for the coming of its Lord.
Alas5 for him who does not believe in Christmas! May the ghost of Scrooge haunt him into a better mind.
This was what I mentally ejaculated to myself last Saturday afternoon after Mr. Hardcap's protest against our Christmas celebration.
The Sabbath morning previous, Miss Moore came to me mysteriously after church. "I want to walk home with you, Mr. Laicus," said she. I have a wife and children, and I felt safe. "I shall be delighted with the honor," I replied. But Miss Moore's honors are never empty ones. I knew that she wanted something; I wondered what. I had not long to wonder; for we had not crossed the road before she opened the subject.
"We are going to trim the Church for Christmas," said she, "and we want you to superintend getting the evergreens7."
"What?" said I, aghast.
Confidentially8, please not mention it, I have been in the habit for a good many years of taking my wife and my prayer-book to the Episcopal Church on Christmas-day. Dickens converted me to its observance ten years or more ago. But none are so sound as those who are tinged9 with heresy10. And am I not a "blue Presbyterian?" It would not do to lend my countenance11 too readily to indecorous invasions of the sanctuary12 with festivals borrowed from the Roman Catholics. Besides, what would the elders say? I asked Miss Moore as much.
"Deacon Goodsole will lend us his pung," was the reply.
"And the trustees?" said I.
But Miss Moore never leaves a point unguarded.
"Young Wheaton is home from school," said she, "and he will go with you to the woods. He will call to-morrow, right after breakfast."
For a difficult piece of generalship give me a woman. Not fitted for politics! Why, they are born to it. Here was Miss Moore bent13 on trimming the church. And lawyer Laicus was to go in Deacon Goodsole's sleigh with the son of the President of the Board of Trustees to get the "trimmings." He who dares to complain after that enlists14 two dignitaries and one very respectable layman15 against him at the outset.
"Very well," said I, "I will go."
"Go!" said Miss Moore, "of course you'll go. Nobody doubted that. But I want to tell you where to go and what to get."
The next morning I was just finishing my second cup of coffee when I heard the jingle16 of bells, and, looking up, saw Jim Wheaton and the Deacon's sleek17 horse at my door. So, bidding Harry18, who was to go too, "be quick," an exhortation19 that needed no repeating, we were very soon in the pung, armed I with a hatchet20, Harry with a pruning21 knife.
That ride was one to be remembered. The air was crisp and clear. Just snow enough had fallen in the night to cover every black and noisome22 thing, as though all nature's sins were washed away by her Sabbath repentance23, and she had commenced her life afresh. There was luxury in every inhalation of the pure air. The horse, more impatient than we, could scarcely wait for leave to go, and needed no word thereafter to quicken his flying feet. Down the hill, with merry ringing bells, ever and anon showered with flying snow from the horse's hoof24; through the village street with a nod of recognition to Deacon Goodsole, who stood at his door to wave us a cheery recognition; round the corner with a whirl that threatens to deposit us in the soft snow and leave the horse with an empty sleigh; across the bridge, which spans the creek25; up, with unabated speed, the little hill on the other side; across the railroad track, with real commiseration26 for the travelers who are trotting27 up and down the platform waiting for the train, and must exchange the joyous freedom of this day for the treadmill28 of the city, this air for that smoke and gas, this clean pure mantle29 of snow for that fresh accumulation of sooty sloshy filth30; pass the school-house, where the gathering31 scholars stand, snowballs in hand, to see us run merily by, one urchin32, more mischievous33 than the rest, sending a ball whizzing after us; up, up, up the mountain road, for half a mile, past farm-houses whose curling smoke tell of great blazing fires within; past ricks of hay all robed in white, and one ghost of a last summer's scare-crow watching still, though the corn is long since in-gathered and the crows have long since flown to warmer climes; turning off, at last, from the highway into Squire34 Wheaton's wood road, where, since the last fall of snow, nothing has been before us, save a solitary35 rabbit whose track our dog Jip follows excitedly, till he is quite out of sight or even call.
Here we are at last. And here the evergeens are about us in a profusion36 which would make the eyes water of my honest friend the Dutch grocer who supplied me with my family trees so many years in New York. Our smoking nag37 is over his impatience38 now, and, being well blanketed, understands what is wanted of him quite as well as if he were tied, and stands as still as if he were Squire Slowgoes' fat and lazy "family horse." With pants tied snugly39 over our topboots to keep out the intruding40 snow, we plunge41 into the woods. The ringing blows of our hatchets42 on the cedar43-trees bring down a mimic44 shower on our heads and backs. Young Wheaton understands his business, and shows me how the fairest evergreens are hid beneath the snow, and what rare forms of crystalline beauty conceal45 themselves altogether beneath this white counterpane. So, sometimes cutting from above and sometimes grubbing from below, we work an hour or more, till our pung is filled to its brim. Long before we have finished Jip has returned from his useless search, and the neighing horse indicates his impatience to be off again.
When we got back to the Church we found it warm with a blazing fire in the great stove, and bright with a bevy46 of laughing girls, who emptied our sleigh of its contents almost before we were aware what had happened, and were impatiently demanding more. Miss Moore had proposed just to trim the pulpit-oh! but she is a shrewd manager-and we had brought evergreens enough to make two or three. But the plans had grown faster by far than we could work. One young lady had remarked how beautiful the chandelier would look with an evergreen6 wreath; a second had pointed47 out that there ought to be large festoons draping the windows; a third, the soprano, had declared that the choir48 had as good a right to trimming as the pulpit; a fourth, a graduate of Mount Holyoke, had proposed some mottoes, and had agreed to cut the letters, and Mr. Leacock, the store keeper, had been foraged49 on for pasteboard, and an extemporized50 table contrived51 on which to cut and trim them. So off we were driven again, with barely time to thaw52 out our half-frozen toes; and, in short, my half morning's job lengthened53 out to a long days hard but joyous work, before the pile of evergreens in the hall was large enough to supply the energies of the Christmas workers.
Of course, we must trim the Sunday school-room as well as the Church, for the children must have their Christmas; and trimmed it was, so luxuriantly that it seemed as though the woods had laid siege to and taken possession of the sanctuary, and that nature was preparing to join on this glad day her voice with that of man in singing praise to Him who brings life to a winter-wrapped earth, and whose fittest symbol, therefore, is the tree whose greenness not even the frosts of the coldest winter have power to diminish.
Of course Christmas itself passed without recognition. I went, as is my wont54, with my wife and my prayer-book, to the Episcopal Church. Our Christmas waited till Sunday. A glorious day it was. The sun never shone more brightly. The crisp keenness was gone from the air. The balmy breath of spring was in it. The Church never was so full before and never has been since. The story of its decorations had been spread far and wide, and all Wheathedge flocked to see what the Presbyterians would make of Christmas. The pulpit, the walls, the gallery, the chandelier were festooned with wreaths of living green. A cross-O tempora! O mores55!-of cedar and immortelles, stood on the communion table. Over the pulpit were those sublime56 words of the sublimest57 of all books, "He shall save His people from their sins." Opposite it, emblazoned on the gallery, was heaven and earth's fitting response to this sublime revelation, "Glory be to God on high." Miss Moore was better than her word. She managed both choir and minister. Both were in the spirit of the occasion. The parson never preached a better sermon than his Christmas meditation58. The choir never sung a more joyous song of praise than their Christmas anthem59. And before the influence of that morning's service I think the last objection to observing Christmas faded out.
For there had been some objections. I heard of two.
One came from Mr. Wheaton. Monday afternoon, going by the Church, he saw the door open, went in, found it full of busy workers; ceiling, aisles60, pulpit, and gallery, strewed61 with evergreens, and the clatter62 of merry voices keeping pace with the busy fingers. It was his first intimation of what was going on.
"Heyday63!" said he. "What is all this? Who authorized64 it, I should like to know?"
The chatter65 of merry voices ceased. The young ladies were in awe66. Miss Moore was not there to answer for them. No one dared act as spoksman. Young Jim Wheaton was on a step-ladder rather dangerously resting on the backs of two pews. He was tacking67 the letter G to the gallery. He noticed the silence and discerned the cause.
"Father," said he, "I wish you would hold this ladder for me a minute. It is rather ticklish68."
"Ah, Jim, is that you?" said the old man. Pride in Jim is the father's weak point. The ladder was held. Then his advice was asked about the placing of the mottoes; and it was given, and that was the last of Mr. Wheaton's objection.
The other objection came from Mr. Hardcap, the carpenter. I met him at the door of the church Saturday afternoon, just as the last rubbish had been swept out and we were closing the door.
"Looks beautiful, doesn't it Mr. Hardcap?" said I.
"They'd better have spent their time on their knees than with these fixins," growled69 Mr. Hardcap; "'twould ha' done the Church more good, a deal sight."
"Did you spend your time on your knees?" I could not refrain from asking.
But Mr. Hardcap did not answer.
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1
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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evergreens
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| n.常青树，常绿植物，万年青( evergreen的名词复数 ) | |
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8
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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13
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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14
enlists
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| v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的第三人称单数 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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15
layman
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| n.俗人，门外汉，凡人 | |
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16
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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17
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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18
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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exhortation
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| n.劝告，规劝 | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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pruning
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| n.修枝，剪枝，修剪v.修剪（树木等）( prune的现在分词 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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22
noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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28
treadmill
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| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
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29
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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40
intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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41
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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42
hatchets
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| n.短柄小斧( hatchet的名词复数 )；恶毒攻击；诽谤；休战 | |
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43
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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44
mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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45
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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46
bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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47
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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48
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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49
foraged
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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50
extemporized
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| v.即兴创作，即席演奏( extemporize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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52
thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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53
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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55
mores
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| n.风俗，习惯，民德，道德观念 | |
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56
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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57
sublimest
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| 伟大的( sublime的最高级 )； 令人赞叹的； 极端的； 不顾后果的 | |
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58
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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59
anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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60
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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61
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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62
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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63
heyday
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| n.全盛时期，青春期 | |
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64
authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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65
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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66
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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67
tacking
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| （帆船）抢风行驶，定位焊[铆]紧钉 | |
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68
ticklish
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| adj.怕痒的；问题棘手的；adv.怕痒地；n.怕痒，小心处理 | |
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69
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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