diff options
Diffstat (limited to '19384-h/19384-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 19384-h/19384-h.htm | 2322 |
1 files changed, 2322 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/19384-h/19384-h.htm b/19384-h/19384-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..768d0f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/19384-h/19384-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2322 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>Christmas Day in the Evening</title> +<meta http-equiv = "Content-Type" content = "text/html; charset=utf-8"> + +<style type = "text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +hr.mid {width: 50%;} +hr.tiny {width: 20%;} + +a.xmas {text-decoration: none;} +a.xmas:link {color: #090; background-color: inherit;} +a.xmas:visited {color: #030; background-color: inherit;} + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; +font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; +margin-bottom: .5em; color: #050; background-color: inherit;} + +h1 {font-size: 200%;} +h2 {font-size: 150%;} +h3 {font-size: 125%;} +h4 {font-size: 115%;} +h5 {font-size: 100%;} +h6 {font-size: 80%;} + +div.maintext {background: url("images/borderleft.gif") repeat-y left; +margin: 0em; padding: 0em;} + +p, blockquote {margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: 0em; line-height: 1.2;} + +.illustration {text-align: center; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +.caption {font-size: .75em; text-align: center;} +.border {margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; padding: 0em;} + +.verse {margin-left: 3em; text-indent: -1em; margin-top: .1em; +margin-bottom: .1em; font-style: italic;} + +/* tables */ + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 1em; +margin-bottom: 1em;} + +td {vertical-align: top; padding: 0em; margin: 0em;} + +td.number {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; +padding-right: 18px; padding-bottom: .5em;} +td.text {padding-left: 18px; padding-bottom: .5em;} + +td.leftborder, td.rightborder {background-repeat: repeat-y; margin: 0em; +padding: 0em;} +td.leftborder {background: url("images/borderleft.gif");} +td.rightborder {background: url("images/borderright.gif");} + +/* conditional */ +div.maintext p {padding-left: 72px;} +table p {margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 1em; +text-indent: -1em;} +table h4 {margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em;} + +/* text formatting */ + +.chapter {margin-top: 4em;} +.section {margin-top: 2em;} +.space {margin-top: 1em;} +.nospace {margin-top: 0em;} + +.tinyroman {font-size: .6em;} +.fancy {font-family: fantasy;} + +ins.correction {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dotted green;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; right: 4%; font-size: 90%; color: #060; +background-color: inherit; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; +text-align: right; text-indent: 0em;} + +.mynote {background-color: #DED; color: #000; padding: .5em; +margin: 1em 5em; font-family: fantasy, sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + + +</style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of On Christmas Day In The Evening, by +Grace Louise Smith Richmond + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: On Christmas Day In The Evening + +Author: Grace Louise Smith Richmond + +Illustrator: Charles M. Relyea + +Release Date: September 26, 2006 [EBook #19384] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE EVENING *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, Mark C. Orton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class = "mynote"> +A few typographical errors have been corrected. They have been +marked in the text with <ins class = "correction" title = +"like this">mouse-hover popups</ins>. +</p> + +<!--png 001--> +<p class = "illustration section"> +<a name = "frontis" id = "frontis"> </a> +<img src = "images/frontis.jpg" width = "392" height = "566" +alt = "color frontispiece" title = "color frontispiece"> +</p> +<p class = "caption"> +“IT’S A GOOD THING TO EXERCISE THE IMAGINATION, NOW AND +THEN. THAT’S THE WAY CHANGES COME”</p> + +<br> + +<!--png 002--> +<p class = "illustration"> +<a name = "titlepage" id = "titlepage"> </a><br> +<img src = "images/titlepage.png" width = "335" height = "537" +alt = "decorative title page" title = "decorative title page"></p> + +<p align = "center" class = "fancy"> +<a class = "xmas" href = "#titletext">full text</a></p> + + +<hr class = "mid section"> + + +<!--png 003--> +<h6 class = "section">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF +TRANSLATION<br> +INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</h6> + +<p class="illustration"> +<img src="images/copyright.gif" width="160" height="65" +alt="Copyright 1910 Doubleday, Page & Company" +title="Copyright 1910 Doubleday, Page & Company"> +</p> + +<h6>COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY</h6> + + +<hr class = "mid section"> + + +<!--png 004--> + + +<table> +<tr> +<td colspan = "4"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "leftborder" width = "52px" rowspan = "7"> </td> +<td> +<h4>ILLUSTRATIONS</h4> +<br> +</td> +<td></td> +<td class = "rightborder" width = "52px" rowspan = "7"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "text"> +<p>“It’s a good thing to exercise the imagination, now and +then. That’s the way changes come”</p> +</td> +<td></td> +<!--<td></td>--> +</tr> +<tr> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "number" colspan = "2"> +<a class = "xmas" href = "#frontis"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +<!--<td></td>--> +</tr> +<tr> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "number tinyroman" colspan = "2"> <br> +FACING PAGE +</td> +<!--<td></td>--> +</tr> +<tr> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "text"> +<p>“Cut it out—cut out the steam calliope!”</p> +</td> +<td class = "number"> +<a class = "xmas" href = "#plate1">22</a></td> +<!--<td></td>--> +</tr> +<tr> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "text"> +<p>“Billy!” His sister Margaret’s voice was anxious. +“Are you sure you’d better?”</p> +</td> +<td class = "number"> +<a class = "xmas" href = "#plate2">32</a></td> +<!--<td></td>--> +</tr> +<tr> +<!--<td></td>--> +<td class = "text"> +<p>There was flesh and blood in the message he gave them, and it was the +message they needed</p> +</td> +<td class = "number"> +<a class = "xmas" href = "#plate3">52</a></td> +<!--<td></td>--> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan = "4"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<!--png 005--> + + +<hr class = "mid section"> + + +<!--png 006--> +<p class = "illustration"> +<img src = "images/page1title.gif" width = "432" height = "38" +alt = "On Christmas Day in the Evening" +title = "On Christmas Day in the Evening"> +<br> +<img src = "images/page1dec.gif" width = "465" height = "103" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> +<!--png 007--> + + +<hr class = "mid section"> + + +<span class = "pagenum">3</span> +<!--png 008--> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<p class = "illustration nospace"> +<img src = "images/page3title.gif" width = "384" height = "281" +alt = "On Christmas Day In The Evening" +title = "On Christmas Day In The Evening"><br> +<img src = "images/page3music.gif" width = "384" height = "64" +alt = "Holy night! peaceful night! Darkness flies, all is light!" +title = "Holy night! peaceful night! Darkness flies, all is light!"> +</p> + +<p class = "space"> +<img src = "images/page3capA.gif" width = "80" height = "90" +align = "left" alt = "A" title = "A">LL the Fernald family go back to +the old home for Christmas, now, every year. Last Christmas was the +third on which Oliver and Edson, Ralph and Guy, Carolyn and Nan, were +all at the familiar fireside, as they used to be in the days before they +were married. The wives and husbands and children go too—when +other family claims can +<span class = "pagenum">4</span> +<!--png 009--> +be compromised with—and no one of them, down to Carolyn’s +youngest baby, who was not a year old last Christmas, has sustained a +particle of harm from the snowy journey to North Estabrook, tucked away +though it is among the hills, where the drifts are deep.</p> + +<p>Taking them all together they are quite a company. And as Father and +Mother Fernald are getting rather well along in years, and such a +house-party means a good deal of preparation, last year their younger +daughter Nan, and her husband, Sam Burnett: and their youngest son, Guy, +and his wife of a year, Margaret: went up to North Estabrook two days +ahead of the rest, to help with the finishing labours. Sam Burnett and +Guy Fernald, being busy young men all the year round, thought it great +sport to get up into the country in the winter, and planned, for a +fortnight beforehand, to be able to +<span class = "pagenum">5</span> +<!--png 010--> +manage this brief vacation. As for Nan and Margaret—they are +always the best of friends. As for Father and Mother Fernald +——</p> + +<p>“I don’t know but this is the best part of the +party,” mused John Fernald, looking from one to another of them, +and then at his wife, as they sat together before the fireplace, on the +evening of the arrival. “It was all over so quick, last year, and +you were all piling back to town, to your offices, in such a hurry, you +boys. Now we can have a spell of quiet talk, before the fun begins. That +suits us to a T —eh, Mother?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fernald nodded, smiling. Her hand, held fast in Guy’s, +rested on his knee; Nan’s charming head, with its modish dressing, +lay against her shoulder. What more could a mother ask? Across the +fireplace, Sam Burnett, most satisfactory of sons-in-law, and Margaret, +Guy’s best beloved, who had made the year +<span class = "pagenum">6</span> +<!--png 011--> +one long honeymoon to him—so he declared—completed the +little circle.</p> + +<p>There was much to talk about. To begin with, there was everybody in +North Estabrook to inquire after; and though North Estabrook is but a +very small village, it takes time to inquire after everybody. Quite +suddenly, having asked <ins class = "correction" +title = "text reads 'solicitiously'">solicitously</ins> +concerning a very old woman, who had +nursed most of the Fernald children in their infancy and was always +remembered by them with affection, it occurred to Nan to put a question +which had been on her mind ever since she had come into town on the +afternoon stage.</p> + +<p>“Speaking of Aunt Eliza, Mother, makes me think of the old +church. She used to talk so much about liking to hear the bell ring, +right up over her head, next door. <i>Does</i> the bell ever ring, these +days—or have cobwebs grown over the clapper?”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">7</span> +<!--png 012--> +A shadow dropped upon Mrs. Fernald’s bright face, but before she +could speak her husband answered for her. He was more than a little +deaf, but he was listening closely, and he caught the question.</p> + +<p>“It’s a miserable shame, Nancy, but that church +hasn’t had a door open since a year ago last July, when the +trouble burst out. We haven’t had a service there since. Mother +and I drive over to Estabrook when we feel like getting out—but +that’s not often, come winter-time. Being the only church building +in this end of the township, it’s pretty bad having it closed up. +But there’s the fuss. Folks can’t agree what to do, and +nobody dares get a preacher here and try to start things up, on their +own responsibility. But we feel it—we sure do. I don’t +like to look at the old meeting-house, going by, I declare I +don’t. It looks lonesome to me. And there’s where +<span class = "pagenum">8</span> +<!--png 013--> +every one of you children grew up, too, sitting there in the old family +pew, with your legs dangling. It’s too bad—it’s too +bad!”</p> + +<p>“It’s barbarous!” Guy exclaimed, in a tone of +disgust.</p> + +<p>“And all over nothing of any real consequence,” sighed +Mrs. Fernald, in her gentle way. “We would have given up our ideas +gladly, for the sake of harmony. But—there were so many who felt +it necessary to fight to have their own way.”</p> + +<p>“And feel that way still, I suppose?” suggested Sam +Burnett, cheerfully. “There’s a whole lot of that +feeling-it-necessary-to-fight, in the world. I’ve experienced it +myself, at times.”</p> + +<p>They talked about it for a few minutes, the younger men rather +enjoying the details of the quarrel, as those may who are outside of an +affair sufficiently far to see its inconsistencies and humours. But it +<span class = "pagenum">9</span> +<!--png 014--> +was clearly a subject which gave pain to the older people, and Guy, +perceiving this, was about to divert the talk into pleasanter channels +when Nan gave a little cry. Her eyes were fixed upon the fire, as if she +saw there something startling.</p> + +<p>“People! —Let’s open the +church—ourselves—and have a Christmas Day service +there!”</p> + +<p>They stared at her for a moment, thinking her half dreaming. But her +face was radiant with the light of an idea which was not an idle +dream.</p> + +<p>Guy began to laugh. “And expect the rival factions to come +flocking peaceably in, like lambs to the fold? I think I see +them!”</p> + +<p>“Ignore the rival factions. Have a service for everybody. A +real Christmas service, with holly, and ropes of greens, and a star, and +music—and—a sermon,” she ended, a little more +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“The sermon, by all means,” quoth +<span class = "pagenum">10</span> +<!--png 015--> +Sam Burnett. “Preach at ‘em, when once you’ve caught +‘em. They’ll enjoy that. We all do.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s really a beautiful idea,” said Margaret, +her young face catching the glow from Nan’s. +“I don’t see why it couldn’t be carried +out.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you don’t.” Guy spoke decidedly. +“If people were all like you there wouldn’t be any quarrels. +But unfortunately they are not. And when I think of the Tomlinsons and +the Frasers and the Hills and the Pollocks, all going in at the same +door for a Christmas Day service under that +roof—well——” he gave a soft, long whistle— +“it rather strains my imagination. Not that they aren’t all +good people, you know. Oh, yes! If they weren’t, they’d +knock each other down in the street and have it over with—and a +splendid thing it would be, too. But, I tell you, it strains my +imagination to——”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">11</span> +<!--png 016--> +“Let it strain it. It’s a good thing to exercise the +imagination, now and then. That’s the way changes come. +I don’t think the idea’s such a bad one, myself.” +Sam Burnett spoke seriously, and Nan gave him a grateful glance. She was +pretty sure of Sam’s backing, in most reasonable things—and +a substantial backing it was to have, too.</p> + +<p>“Who would conduct such a service?” Mrs. Fernald asked +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t get anybody out to church on Christmas +morning,” broke in Mr. Fernald, chuckling. “Every +mother’s daughter of ’em will be basting her Christmas +turkey.”</p> + +<p>“Then have it Christmas evening. Why not? The day isn’t +over. Nobody knows what to do Christmas evening—except go to +dances—and there’s never a dance in North Estabrook. Whom +can we get to lead it? Well——” Nan paused, thinking +<span class = "pagenum">12</span> +<!--png 017--> +it out. Her eyes roamed from Sam’s to her fathers, and from there +on around the circle, while they all waited for her to have an +inspiration. Nobody else had one. Presently, as they expected—for +Nan was a resourceful young person—her face lighted up again. She +gazed at Margaret, smiling, and her idea seemed to communicate itself to +Guy’s wife. Together they cried, in one breath:</p> + +<p>“Billy!”</p> + +<p>“Billy! Whoop-ee!” Guy threw back his head and roared +with delight at the notion. “The Reverend Billy, of St. Johns, +coming up to North Estabrook to take charge of a Christmas-evening +service! Why, Billy’ll be dining in purple and fine linen at the +home of one of his millionaire parishioners—the Edgecombs’, +most likely. I think they adore him most. <i>Billy!</i> —Why +don’t you ask the Bishop himself?”</p> + +<p>Margaret flushed brightly. The +<span class = "pagenum">13</span> +<!--png 018--> +Reverend William Sewall was her brother. He might be the very manly and +dignified young rector of a fashionable city church, but no man who +answers to the name of Billy in his own family can be a really +formidable personage, and he and his sister Margaret were undeniably +great chums.</p> + +<p>“Of course Billy would,” cried Margaret. “You know +perfectly well he would, Guy, dear. He doesn’t care a straw about +millionaires’ dinners—he’d rather have an evening with +his newsboys’ club, any time. He has his own service Christmas +morning, of course, but in the evening—<ins class = "correction" +title = "so in original: error for 'he'?">He</ins> could come up on the +afternoon train—he’d love to. Why, Billy’s a +bachelor—he’s nothing in the world to keep him. I’ll +telephone him, first thing in the morning.”</p> + +<p>From this point on there was no lack of enthusiasm. If Billy Sewall +was coming to North Estabrook, as +<span class = "pagenum">14</span> +<!--png 019--> +Sam Burnett remarked, it was time to get interested—and busy. They +discussed everything, excitement mounting—the music, the trimming +of the church—then, more prosaically, the cleaning and warming and +lighting of it. Finally, the making known to North Estabrook the news of +the coming event—for nothing less than an event it was sure to be +to North Estabrook.</p> + +<p>“Put a notice in the post office,” advised Guy, +comfortably crossing his legs and grinning at his father, “and +tell Aunt Eliza and Miss Jane Pollock, and the thing is done. Sam, +I think I see you spending the next two days at the top of ladders, +hanging greens. I have a dim and hazy vision of you on your knees +before that stove that always used to smoke when the wind was +east—the one in the left corner—praying to it to quit +fussing and draw. A nice, restful Christmas vacation you’ll +have!”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">15</span> +<!--png 020--> +Sam Burnett looked at his wife. “She’s captain,” said +he. “If she wants to play with the old meeting-house, play she +shall—so long as she doesn’t ask me to preach the +sermon.”</p> + +<p>“You old dear!” murmured Nan, jumping up to stand behind +his chair, her two pretty arms encircling his stout neck from the rear. +“You <i>could</i> preach a better sermon than lots of ministers, +if you are only an upright old bank cashier.”</p> + +<p>“Doubtless, Nancy, doubtless,” murmured Sam, pleasantly. +“But as it will take the wisdom of a Solomon, the tact of a Paul, +and the eloquence of the Almighty Himself to preach a sermon on the +present occasion that will divert the Tomlinsons and the Frasers, the +Hills and the Pollocks from glaring at each other across the pews, +I don’t think I’ll apply for the job. Let Billy Sewall +tackle it. There’s one +<span class = "pagenum">16</span> +<!--png 021--> +thing about it—if they get to fighting in the aisles +Billy’ll leap down from the pulpit, roll up his sleeves, and pull +the combatants apart. A virile religion is Billy’s, and I rather +think he’s the man for the hour.”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">II</h4> + + +<p>“Hi, there, Ol—why not get something doing with that +hammer? Don’t you see the edge of that pulpit stair-carpeting is +all frazzled? The preacher’ll catch his toes in it, and then +where’ll his ecclesiastical dignity be?”</p> + +<p>The slave-driver was Guy, shouting down from the top of a tall +step-ladder, where he was busy screwing into place the freshly cleaned +oil-lamps whose radiance was to be depended upon to illumine the ancient +interior of the North Estabrook church. He addressed his eldest +<span class = "pagenum">17</span> +<!--png 022--> +brother, Oliver, who, in his newness to the situation and his consequent +lack of sympathy with the occasion, was proving but an indifferent +worker. This may have been partly due to the influence of Oliver’s +wife, Marian, who, sitting—in Russian sables—in one of the +middle pews, was doing what she could to depress the labourers. The +number of these, by the way, had been reinforced by the arrival of the +entire Fernald clan, to spend Christmas.</p> + +<p>“Your motive is undoubtedly a good one,” Mrs. Oliver +conceded. She spoke to Nan, busy near her, and she gazed critically +about the shabby old walls, now rapidly assuming a quite different +aspect as the great ropes of laurel leaves swung into place under the +direction of Sam Burnett. That young man now had Edson Fernald and +Charles Wetmore—Carolyn’s husband—to assist him, and +he was making the +<span class = "pagenum">18</span> +<!--png 023--> +most of his opportunity to order about two gentlemen who had shown +considerable reluctance to remove their coats, but who were now—to +his satisfaction—perspiring so freely that they had some time +since reached the point of casting aside still other articles of +apparel. “But I shall be much surprised,” Mrs. Oliver +continued, “if you attain your object. Nobody can be more +obstinate in their prejudice than the people of such a little place as +this. You may get them out—though I doubt even that—but you +are quite as likely as not to set them by the ears and simply make +matters worse.”</p> + +<p>“It’s Christmas,” replied Nan. Her cheeks were the +colour of the holly berries in the great wreaths she was arranging to +place on either side of the wall behind the pulpit. “They +can’t quarrel at Christmas—not with Billy Sewall preaching +peace on earth, good will to men, to them. +<span class = "pagenum">19</span> +<!--png 024--> +—Jessica, please hand me that wire—and come and hold this +wreath a minute, will you?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody expects Marian to be on any side but the other +one,” consolingly whispered merry-faced Jessica, Edson’s +wife—lucky fellow!—as she held the wreath for Nan to affix +the wire.</p> + +<p>“What’s that about Sewall?” Oliver inquired. +“I hadn’t heard of that. You don’t mean to say +<ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads 'Sewell’s'">Sewall’s</ins> coming up for this +service?”</p> + +<p>“Of course he is. Margaret telephoned him this morning, and he +said he’d never had a Christmas present equal to this one. He said +it interested him a lot more than his morning service in town, and +he’d be up, loaded. Isn’t that fine of Billy?” Nan +beamed triumphantly at her oldest brother, over her holly wreath.</p> + +<p>“That puts a different light on it.” And Mr. Oliver +Fernald, president +<span class = "pagenum">20</span> +<!--png 025--> +of the great city bank of which Sam Burnett was cashier, got promptly +down on the knees of his freshly pressed trousers, and proceeded to tack +the frazzled edge of the pulpit stair-carpet with interest and skill. +That stair-carpet had been tacked by a good many people before him, but +doubtless it had never been stretched into place by a man whose +eye-glasses sat astride of a nose of the impressive, presidential mould +of this one.</p> + +<p>“Do I understand that you mean to attempt music?” Mrs. +Oliver seemed grieved at the thought. “There are several good +voices in the family, of course, but you haven’t had time to +practise any Christmas music together. You will have merely to sing +hymns.”</p> + +<p>“Fortunately, some of the old hymns are Christmas music, of the +most exquisite sort,” began Nan, trying hard to keep her +temper—a +<span class = "pagenum">21</span> +<!--png 026--> +feat which was apt to give her trouble when Marian was about. But, at +the moment, as if to help her, up in the old organ-loft, at the back of +the church, Margaret began to sing. Everybody looked up in delight, for +Margaret’s voice was the pride of the family, and with reason. +Somebody was at the organ—the little reed organ. It proved to be +Carolyn—Mrs. Charles Wetmore. For a moment the notes rose +harmoniously. Then came an interval—and the organ wailed. There +was a shout of protest, from the top of Guy’s step-ladder:</p> + +<p>“Cut it out—cut out the steam calliope!—unless you +want a burlesque. That organ hasn’t been tuned since the +deluge—and they didn’t get all the water out +then.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t hit that key again,” called Carolyn. +“Listen, you people.”</p> + +<p>“Listen! You can’t help listening +<span class = "pagenum">22</span> +<!--png 027--> +when a cat yowls on the back fence,” retorted Guy. “Go it +alone; Margaret, girl.”</p> + +<p>But the next instant nobody was jeering, for Margaret’s voice +had never seemed sweeter than from the old choir-loft.</p> + +<p class = "verse space"> +“Over the hills of Bethlehem,</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Lighted by a star,</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Wise men came with offerings,</p> +<p class = "verse"> +From the East afar....”</p> + +<p>It took them all, working until late on Christmas Eve, to do all that +needed to be done. Once their interest was aroused, nothing short of the +best possible would content them. But when, at last, Nan and Sam, +lingering behind the others, promising to see that the fires were safe, +stood together at the back of the church for a final survey, they felt +that their work had been well worth while. All the lights were out but +one on either side, and the dim interior, with its ropes and wreaths of +<span class = "pagenum">23</span> +<!--png 030--> +green, fragrant with the woodsy smell which veiled the musty one +inevitable in a place so long closed, seemed to have grown beautiful +with a touch other than that of human hands.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you believe, Sammy,” questioned Nan, with +her tired cheek against her husband’s broad shoulder, “the +poor old ‘meeting-house’ is happier to-night than it has +been for a long, long while?”</p> + +<p>“I think I should be,” returned Sam Burnett, falling +in with his wife’s mood, “if after a year and a half of cold +starvation somebody had suddenly warmed me and fed me and made me hold +up my head again. It does look pretty well—much better than I +should have thought it could, when I first saw it in its barrenness. +—I wonder what the North Estabrook people are thinking about +this—that’s what I wonder. Do you suppose the Tomlinsons and +the +<span class = "pagenum">24</span> +<!--png 031--> +Pollocks and the rest of them have talked about anything else +to-day?”</p> + +<p>“Not much else.” Nan smiled contentedly. Then suddenly: +“O Sam—the presents aren’t all tied up! We must hurry +back. This is the first Christmas Eve I can remember when the rattling +of tissue paper wasn’t the chief sound on the air.”</p> + +<p>“If this thing goes off all right,” mused Burnett, as he +examined the stoves once more, before putting out the lights, +“it’ll be the biggest Christmas present North Estabrook ever +had. Peace and good will—Jove, but they need it! And so do we +all—so do we all.”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<!--png 028--> +<!--png 029--> +<p class = "illustration chapter"> +<a name = "plate1" id = "plate1"> </a> +<img src = "images/plate1.jpg" width = "406" height = "637" +alt = "color painting" title = "color painting"> +</p> +<p class = "caption"> +“CUT IT OUT—CUT OUT THE STEAM CALLIOPE!”</p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">III</h4> + +<p>“There go pretty near every one of the Fernalds, down to the +station. Land, but there’s a lot of ’em, counting the +children. I suppose they’re +<span class = "pagenum">25</span> +<!--png 032--> +going to meet Guy’s wife’s brother, that they’ve got +up here to lead these Christmas doings to-night. Queer idea, it strikes +me.”</p> + +<p>Miss Jane Pollock, <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads 'ensconsed'">ensconced</ins> behind the thick “lace +curtains” of her “best parlour,” addressed her sister, +who lay on the couch in the sitting-room behind, an invalid who could +seldom get out, but to whom Miss Jane was accustomed faithfully to +report every particle of current news.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they think,” Miss Jane went on, with +asperity, “they’re going to fix up the fuss in that church, +with their greens and their city minister preaching brotherly love. +I can tell him he’ll have to preach a pretty powerful sermon +to reach old George Tomlinson and Asa Fraser, and make ’em notice +each other as they pass by. And when I see Maria Hill coming toward me +with a smile on her face and her hand out I’ll know +something’s happened.”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">26</span> +<!--png 033--> +“I don’t suppose,” said the invalid sister rather +timidly, from her couch, “you would feel, Sister, as if you could +put out your hand to her first?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t,” retorted Miss Jane, very +positively. “And I don’t see how you can think it, Deborah. +You know perfectly well it was Maria Hill that started the whole +thing—and then talked about me as if I was the one. How that woman +did talk—and talks yet! Don’t get me thinking about it. +It’s Christmas Day, and I want to keep my mind off such +disgraceful things as church quarrels—if the Fernald +family’ll let me. A pretty bold thing to do, I call +it—open up that church on their own responsibility, and expect +folks to come, and forget the past. —Debby, I wish you could +see Oliver’s wife, in those furs of hers. She holds her head as +high as ever—but she’s the only one of ’em that does +it disagreeably—I’ll say that for +<span class = "pagenum">27</span> +<!--png 034--> +’em, if they <i>are</i> all city folks now. And of course she +isn’t a Fernald. —Here comes Nancy and her husband. That +girl don’t look a minute older’n when she was married, five +years ago. My, but she’s got a lot of style! I must say her +skirts don’t hang like any North Estabrook dressmaker can make +’em. They’re walking—hurrying up to catch the rest. +Sam Burnett’s a good-looking man, but he’s getting a little +stout.”</p> + +<p>“Jane,” said the invalid sister, wistfully, +“I wish I could go to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I wish you could. That is—if I go. +I haven’t just made up my mind. I wonder if +folks’ll sit in their old pews. You know the Hills’ is just +in front of ours. But as to your going, Deborah, of course that’s +out of the question. I suppose I shall go. I shouldn’t +like to offend the Fernalds, and they do say Guy’s wife’s +brother is worth hearing. There’s to be music, too.”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">28</span> +<!--png 035--> +“I wish I could go,” sighed poor Deborah, under her +breath. “To be able to go—and to wonder whether you will! +—<i>O Lord</i>—” she closed her patient eyes and +whispered it— “<i>make them all choose to go—to Thy +house—this Christmas Day. And to thank Thee that the doors are +open—and that they have strength to go. And help me to bear +it—to stay home!</i>”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">IV</h4> + + +<p>“The problem is—” said the Reverend William Sewall, +standing at the back of the church with his sister Margaret, and Guy +Fernald, her husband, and Nan and Sam Burnett—the four who had, as +yet, no children, and so could best take time, on Christmas afternoon, +to make the final arrangements for the evening— “the problem +is—to do the right thing, to-night. It would +<span class = "pagenum">29</span> +<!--png 036--> +be so mighty easy to do the wrong one. Am I the only man to stand in +that pulpit—and is it all up to me?”</p> + +<p>He regarded the pulpit as he spoke, richly hung with Christmas greens +and seeming eagerly to invite an occupant.</p> + +<p>“I should say,” observed his brother-in-law, Guy, +his face full of affection and esteem for the very admirable figure of a +young man who stood before him, “that a fellow who’s just +pulled off the sort of service we know you had at St. John’s this +morning, wouldn’t consider this one much of a stunt.”</p> + +<p>Sewall smiled. “Somehow this strikes me as the bigger +one,” said he. “The wisest of my old professors used to say +that the further you got into the country the less it mattered about +your clothes but the more about your sermon. I’ve been wondering, +all the way up, if I knew enough to preach that sermon. Isn’t +there any minister in town, not even a visiting one?”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">30</span> +<!--png 037--> +“Not a one. You can’t get out of it, Billy Sewall, if you +have got an attack of stage-fright—which we don’t +believe.”</p> + +<p>“There <i>is</i> one minister,” Nan admitted. “But +I’d forgotten all about him, till Father mentioned him last night. +But he doesn’t really count at all. He’s old—very +old—and infirm.”</p> + +<p>“Superannuated, they call it,” added Sam Burnett. +“Poor old chap. I’ve seen him—I met him at the +post-office this morning. He has a peaceful face. He’s a good man. +He must have been a strong one—in his time.”</p> + +<p>“Had he anything to do with the church trouble?” Sewall +demanded, his keen brown eyes eager.</p> + +<p>Nan and Guy laughed.</p> + +<p>“Old ‘Elder Blake’?—not except as he was on +his knees, alone at home, praying for the fighters—both +sides,” was Guy’s explanation. “So Father +<span class = "pagenum">31</span> +<!--png 038--> +says, and nobody knows better what side people were on.”</p> + +<p>“If I can get hold of a man whose part in the quarrel was +praying for both sides, I’m off to find him,” said Sewall, +decidedly. He picked up his hat as he spoke. “Tell me where he +lives, please.”</p> + +<p>“Billy!” His sister Margaret’s voice was anxious. +“Are you sure you’d better? Perhaps it would be kind to ask +him to make a prayer. But you won’t——”</p> + +<p>“You won’t ask him to preach the sermon, Billy +Sewall—promise us that,” cried Guy. “An old man in his +dotage!”</p> + +<p>Sewall smiled again, starting toward the door. Somehow he did not +look like the sort of fellow who could be easily swayed from an +intention once he had formed it—or be forced to make promises +until he was ready. “You’ve got me up here,“ said he, +”now you’ll have to take the consequences. +<span class = "pagenum">32</span> +<!--png 039--> +Where did you say ‘Elder Blake’ lives?”</p> + +<p>And he departed. Those left behind stared at one another, in +dismay.</p> + +<p>“Keep cool,” advised Sam Burnett. “He wants the old +man’s advice—that’s all. I don’t blame him. +He wants to understand the situation thoroughly. Nothing like putting +your head into a thing before you put your foot in. It saves +complications. Sewall’s head’s level—trust +him.”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<!--png 040--> +<!--png 041--> +<p class = "illustration chapter"> +<a name = "plate2" id = "plate2"> </a> +<img src = "images/plate2.jpg" width = "393" height = "565" +alt = "color painting" title = "color painting"> +</p> +<p class = "caption"> +“BILLY!” HIS SISTER MARGARET’S VOICE WAS ANXIOUS. +“ARE YOU SURE YOU’D BETTER?”</p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">V</h4> + +<p>“I can’t—” said a very old man with a +peaceful face—now wearing a somewhat startled expression— +“I can’t quite believe you are serious, Mr. Sewall. The +people are all expecting you—they will come out to hear you. +I have not preached for—“ he hesitated— +”for many years. I will not say that it would not be—a +<span class = "pagenum">33</span> +<!--png 042--> +happiness. If I thought I were fit. But——”</p> + +<p>“If I were half as fit,” answered Sewall, gently, +“I should be very proud. But I’m—why, I’m +barely seasoned, yet. I’m liable to warp, if I’m exposed to +the weather. But you—with all the benefit of your long +experience—you’re the sort of timber that needs to be built +into this strange Christmas service. I hadn’t thought much +about it, Mr. Blake, till I was on my way here. I accepted the +invitation too readily. But when I did begin to think, I felt the +need of help. I believe you can give it. It’s a critical +situation. You know these people, root and branch. I may say the +wrong thing. You will know how to say the right one.”</p> + +<p>“If I should consent,” the other man said, after a +silence during which, with bent white head, he studied the matter, +“what would be your part? Should you attempt—” +<span class = "pagenum">34</span> +<!--png 043--> +he glanced at the clerical dress of his caller— “to carry +through the service of your—Church?”</p> + +<p>Sewall’s face, which had been grave, relaxed. “No, Mr. +Blake,” said he. “It wouldn’t be possible, and it +wouldn’t be—suitable. This is a community which would +probably prefer any other service, and it should have its preference +respected. A simple form, as nearly as possible like what it has been +used to, will be best—don’t you think so? I believe +there is to be considerable music. I will read the Story of the +Birth, and will try to make a prayer. The rest I will leave to +you.”</p> + +<p>“And Him,” added the old man.</p> + +<p>“And Him,” agreed the young man, reverently. Then a +bright smile broke over his face, and he held out his hand. +“I’m no end grateful to you, sir,” he said, +a certain attractive boyishness of manner suddenly coming uppermost +and putting +<span class = "pagenum">35</span> +<!--png 044--> +to flight the dignity which was at times a heavier weight than he could +carry. “No end. Don’t you remember how it used to be, when +you first went into the work, and tackled a job now and then that seemed +too big for you? Then you caught sight of a pair of shoulders that +looked to you broader than yours—the muscles developed by years of +exercise—and you were pretty thankful to shift the load on to +them? You didn’t want to shirk—Heaven forbid!—but you +just felt you didn’t know enough to deal with the situation. +Don’t you remember?”</p> + +<p>The old man, with a gently humorous look, glanced down at his own +thin, bent shoulders, then at the stalwart ones which towered above +him.</p> + +<p>“You speak metaphorically, my dear lad,” he said +quaintly, with a kindly twinkle in his faded blue eyes. He laid his left +hand on the firm young arm whose hand held his shrunken +<span class = "pagenum">36</span> +<!--png 045--> +right. “But I do remember—yes, yes—I remember +plainly enough. And though it seems to me now as if the strength were +all with the young and vigorous in body, it may be that I should be glad +of the years that have brought me experience.”</p> + +<p>“And tolerance,” added William Sewall, pressing the hand, +his eyes held fast by Elder Blake’s.</p> + +<p>“And love,” yet added the other. “Love. +That’s the great thing—that’s the great thing. +I do love this community—these dear people. They are good +people at heart—only misled as to what is worth standing out for. +I would see them at peace. Maybe I can speak to them. God +knows—I will try.”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">VI</h4> + + +<p>“The Fernald family alone will fill the church,” observed +the bachelor son of the house, Ralph. He leaned +<span class = "pagenum">37</span> +<!--png 046--> +out from his place at the tail of the procession to look ahead down the +line, where the dark figures showed clearly against the snow. By either +hand he held a child—his sister Carolyn’s oldest, his +brother Edson’s youngest. “So it won’t matter much if +nobody else comes out. We’re all here—‘some in rags, +and some in tags, and some in velvet gowns’.”</p> + +<p>“I can discern the velvet gowns,” conceded Edson, +from his place just in front, where his substantial figure supported his +mother’s frail one. “But I fail to make out any rags. Take +us by and large, we seem to put up rather a prosperous front. +I never noticed it quite so decidedly as this year.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing at all ostentatious about the +girls’ dressing, dear,” said his mother’s voice in his +ear. “And I noticed they all put on their simplest clothes for +to-night—as they should.”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">38</span> +<!--png 047--> +“Oh, yes,” Edson chuckled. “That’s precisely why +they look so prosperous. That elegant simplicity—gad!—you +should see the bills that come in for it. Jess isn’t an +extravagant dresser, as women go—not by a long +shot—<i>but!</i>” He whistled a bar or two of ragtime. +“I can see myself now, as a lad, sitting on that fence over +there—” he indicated a line of rails, half buried in snow, +which outlined the borders of an old apple orchard— +“counting the quarters in my trousers pockets, earned by hard +labour in the strawberry patch. I thought it quite a sum, but it +wouldn’t have bought——”</p> + +<p>“A box of the cigars you smoke now,” interjected Ralph +unexpectedly, from behind. “Hullo—there’s the church! +Jolly, but the old building looks bright, doesn’t it? +I didn’t know oil lamps could put up such +<span class = "pagenum">39</span> +<!--png 048--> +an illumination. —And see the folks going in!”</p> + +<p>“See them coming—from all directions.” Nan, farther +down the line, clutched Sam Burnett’s arm. “Oh, I knew +they’d come out—I knew they would!”</p> + +<p>“Of course they’ll come out.” This was Mrs. Oliver. +“Locks and bars couldn’t keep a country community at home, +when there is anything going on. But as to the <i>feeling</i>—that +is a different matter. —Oliver, do take my muff. I want to +take off my veil. There will be no chance once I am inside the door. Nan +is walking twice as fast now as when we started. She will have us all up +the aisle before——”</p> + +<p>“Where’s Billy Sewall bolting to?” Guy sent back +this stage-whisper from the front of the procession, to Margaret, his +wife, who was walking with Father Fernald, her hand on his gallant arm. +In John Fernald’s +<span class = "pagenum">40</span> +<!--png 049--> +day a man always offered his arm to the lady he escorted.</p> + +<p>“He caught sight of Mr. Blake, across the road. They’re +going in together,” Margaret replied. “I think Mr. +Blake is to have a part in the service.”</p> + +<p>“Old Ebenezer Blake? You don’t say!” Father Fernald +ejaculated in astonishment. He had not been told of Sewall’s visit +to the aged minister. “Well—well—that is thoughtful of +William Sewall. I don’t suppose Elder Blake has taken part in a +service in fifteen years—twenty, maybe. He used to be a great +preacher, too, in his day. I used to listen to him, when I was a +young man, and think he could put things in about as interesting a way +as any preacher I ever heard. Good man, too, he was—and is. But +nobody’s thought of asking him to make a prayer in public +since—I don’t know when. +<span class = "pagenum">41</span> +<!--png 050--> +—Well, well—look at the people going in! I guess +we’d better be getting right along to our seats, or there +won’t be any left.”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">VII</h4> + + +<p>The organ was playing—very softly. Carolyn was a skilful +manipulator of keyboards, and she had discovered that by carefully +refraining from the use of certain keys—discreetly marked by +postage stamps—she could produce a not unmusical effect of subdued +harmony. This unquestionably added very much to the impression of a +churchly atmosphere, carried out to the eye by the Christmas wreathing +and twining of the heavy ropes of shining laurel leaves, and by the +massing of the whole pulpit-front in the soft, dark green of hemlock +boughs and holly. To the people who entered the +<span class = "pagenum">42</span> +<!--png 051--> +house with vivid memories of the burning July day when words hardly less +burning had seemed to scorch the barren walls, this lamp-lit interior, +clothed with the garments of the woods and fragrant with their breath, +seemed a place so different that it could hardly be the same.</p> + +<p>But the faces were the same—the faces. And George Tomlinson did +not look at Asa Fraser, though he passed him in the aisle, beard to +beard. Miss Jane Pollock stared hard at the back of Mrs. Maria +Hill’s bonnet, in the pew in front of her, but when Mrs. Hill +turned about to glance up at the organ-loft, to discover who was there, +Miss Pollock’s face became as adamant, and her eyes remained fixed +on her folded hands until Mrs. Hill had twisted about again, and there +was no danger of their glances encountering. All over the church, +likewise, +<span class = "pagenum">43</span> +<!--png 052--> +were people who avoided seeing each other, though conscious, all down +their rigid backbones, that those with whom they had fallen out on that +unhappy July day were present.</p> + +<p>There was no vestry in the old meeting-house; no retiring place of +any sort where the presiding minister might stay until the moment came +for him to make his quiet and impressive entrance through a softly +opening pulpit door. So when the Reverend William Sewall of St. +John’s, of the neighbouring city, came into the North Estabrook +sanctuary, it was as his congregation had entered, through the front +door and up the aisle.</p> + +<p>There was a turning of heads to see him come, but there was a staring +of eyes, indeed, when it was seen by whom he was accompanied. The erect +figure of the young man, in his unexceptionable attire, walked slowly, +<span class = "pagenum">44</span> +<!--png 053--> +to keep pace with the feeble footsteps of the very old man in his +threadbare garments of the cut of half a century ago, and the sight of +the two together was one of the most strangely touching things that had +ever met the eyes of the people of North Estabrook. It may be said, +therefore, that from that first moment there was an unexpected and +unreckoned-with influence abroad in the place.</p> + +<p>Now, to the subdued notes of the organ, which had been occupied with +one theme, built upon with varying harmonies but ever +appearing—though perhaps no ear but a trained one would have +recognized it through the veil—was added the breath of voices. It +was only an old Christmas carol, the music that of a German folk song, +but dear to generations of Christmas singers everywhere. The North +Estabrook people recognized it—yet did not recognize it. They +<span class = "pagenum">45</span> +<!--png 054--> +had never heard it sung like that before.</p> + +<p class = "verse space"> +“Holy night! peaceful night!</p> +<p class = "verse"> +All is dark, save the light</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Yonder where they sweet vigils keep</p> +<p class = "verse"> +O’er the Babe, who in silent sleep</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Rests in heavenly peace.”</p> + +<p>It was the presence of Margaret Sewall Fernald which had made it +possible to attempt music at this service—the music which it +seemed impossible to do without. Her voice was one of rare beauty, her +leadership that of training. Her husband, Guy, possessed a reliable, if +uncultivated, bass. Edson had sung a fair tenor in his college +glee-club. By the use of all her arts of persuasion Nan had provided an +alto singer, from the ranks of the choir which had once occupied this +organ-loft—the daughter of Asa Fraser. Whether the quartette thus +formed would have passed muster—as a quartette—with the +choir-master of St. John’s, +<span class = "pagenum">46</span> +<!--png 055--> +may have been a question, but it is certain the music they produced was +so far above that which the old church had ever heard before within its +walls that had the singers been a detachment from the choir celestial +those who heard them could hardly have listened with ears more +charmed.</p> + +<p>As “Holy Night” came down to him, William Sewall bent his +head. But Ebenezer Blake lifted his. His dim blue eyes looked +up—up and up—quite through the old meeting-house +roof—to the starry skies where it seemed to him angels sang again. +He forgot the people assembled in front of him—he forgot the +responsibilities upon his shoulders—those bent shoulders which had +long ago laid down such responsibilities. He saw visions. It is the old +men who see visions. The young men dream dreams.</p> + +<p>The young city rector read the Christmas Story—out of the worn +<span class = "pagenum">47</span> +<!--png 056--> +copy of the Scriptures which had served this pulpit almost from the +beginning. He read it in the rich and cultivated voice of his training, +but quite simply. Then Margaret sang, to the slender accompaniment of +the little organ, the same solo which a famous soprano had sung that +morning at the service at St. John’s—and her brother +William, listening from the pulpit, thought she sang it better. There +was the quality in Margaret’s voice which reaches hearts—a +quality which somehow the famous soprano’s notes had lacked. And +every word could be heard, too—the quiet throughout the house was +so absolute—except when Asa Fraser cleared his throat loudly in +the midst of one of the singer’s most beautiful notes. At the +sound Mrs. George Tomlinson gave him a glance which ought to have +annihilated him—but it did not. She could not know that the +throat-clearing was a high tribute +<span class = "pagenum">48</span> +<!--png 057--> +to the song—coming from Asa Fraser.</p> + +<p class = "verse space"> +“How silently, how silently,</p> +<p class = "verse"> +The wondrous gift is given;</p> +<p class = "verse"> +So God imparts to human hearts</p> +<p class = "verse"> +The blessing of His heaven....</p> +<p class = "verse"> +O Holy Child of Bethlehem!</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Descend to us, we pray;</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Cast out our sin, and enter in,</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Be born in us to-day.”</p> + +<p>Then William Sewall made a prayer. Those who had been looking to see +old Elder Blake take this part in the service began to wonder if he had +been asked into the pulpit simply as a courtesy. They supposed he could +pray, at least. They knew he had never ceased doing it—and for +them. Elder Blake had not an enemy in the village. It seemed strange +that he couldn’t be given some part, in spite of his extreme age. +To be sure, it was many years since anybody had asked him to take part +in any service whatsoever, even a funeral service—for which, as is +well +<span class = "pagenum">49</span> +<!--png 058--> +understood, a man retains efficiency long after he has ceased to be +of use in the pulpit, no matter how devastating may be the weather. But +that fact did not seem to bear upon the present situation.</p> + +<p>A number of people, among them Miss Jane Pollock, were beginning to +feel more than a little indignant about it, and so lost the most of +Sewall’s prayer, which was a good one, and not out of the +prayer-book, though there were phrases in it which suggested that +source, as was quite natural. The city man meant to do it all, then. +Doubtless he thought nobody from the country knew how to do more than to +pronounce the benediction. Doubtless that was to be Elder Blake’s +insignificant part—to pronounce the——</p> + +<p>Miss Jane Pollock looked up quickly. She had been staring steadily at +the back of Maria Hill’s +<span class = "pagenum">50</span> +<!--png 059--> +mink collar, in front of her, through the closing sentences of the +prayer. But what was this? Elder Blake had risen and was coming forward. +Was he going to read a hymn? But he had no book. And he had taken off +his spectacles. He could see better, as was known, without his +spectacles, when looking at a distance.</p> + +<p>William Sewall’s prayer was not ended. He could no longer be +heard by the people, but in his seat, behind the drooping figure of the +old man, he was asking things of the Lord as it seemed to him he had +never asked anything before. Could His poor, feeble, +“superannuated” old servant ever speak the message that +needed to be spoken that night? William Sewall felt more than ever that +he himself could not have done it. Could Ebenezer Blake?</p> + +<p>“<i>Make him strong, O God,—make +<span class = "pagenum">51</span> +<!--png 060--> +him strong</i>,” requested William Sewall, fervently. Then, +forgetting even a likeness to prayer-book phrase, he added, with fists +unconsciously tight-clenched, in the language of the athletic field +where a few years back he himself had taken part in many a hard-fought +battle— “<i>Help him to buck up!</i>”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<!--png 062--> +<!--png 063--> +<p class = "illustration chapter"> +<a name = "plate3" id = "plate3"> </a> +<img src = "images/plate3.jpg" width = "394" height = "565" +alt = "color painting" title = "color painting"> +</p> +<p class = "caption"> +THERE WAS FLESH AND BLOOD IN THE MESSAGE HE GAVE THEM, AND IT WAS THE +MESSAGE THEY NEEDED</p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">VIII</h4> + +<p>They talk about it yet, in North Estabrook, though it happened a year +ago. Nobody knew how it was that from a frail old man with a trembling +voice, which, in its first sentences, the people back of the middle of +the church could hardly hear, there came to stand before them a fiery +messenger from the skies. But such was the miracle—for it seemed +no less. The bent figure straightened, the trembling +<span class = "pagenum">52</span> +<!--png 061--> +voice grew clear and strong, the dim eyes brightened, into the withered +cheeks flowed colour—into the whole aged personality came slowly +but surely back the fires of youth. And once more in a public place +Ebenezer Blake became the mouthpiece of the Master he served.</p> + +<p>Peace and good will? Oh, yes—he preached it—no doubt of +that. But it was no milk-and-water peace, no sugar-and-spice good will. +There was flesh and blood in the message he gave them, and it was the +message they needed. Even his text was not the gentle part of the +Christmas prophecy, it was the militant part— “<i>And the +government shall be upon His shoulder.</i>” They were not bidden +to lie down together like lambs, they were summoned to march together +like lions—the lions of the Lord. As William Sewall looked down +into the faces of the people and watched the changing expressions there, +he felt +<span class = "pagenum">53</span> +<!--png 064--> +that the strange, strong, challenging words were going home. He saw +stooping shoulders straighten even as the preacher’s had +straightened; he saw heads come up, and eyes grow light;—most of +all, he saw that at last the people had forgotten one another and were +remembering—God.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the sermon ended. As preachers of a later day have learned +the art of stopping abruptly with a striking climax, so this preacher +from an earlier generation, his message delivered, ceased to speak. He +left his hearers breathless. But after a moment’s pause, during +which the silence was a thing to be felt, the voice spoke again. It no +longer rang—it sank into a low pleading, in words out of the Book +upon which the clasped old hands rested:</p> + +<p>“<i>Now, therefore, O our God, hear the prayer of Thy servant +and his +<span class = "pagenum">54</span> +<!--png 065--> +supplications, and cause Thy face to shine upon Thy sanctuary that is +desolate, for the Lord’s sake.</i>”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">IX</h4> + + +<p>Up in the choir-loft, chokily Guy whispered to Margaret, +“Can’t we end with ‘Holy Night,’ again? Nothing +else seems to fit, after that.”</p> + +<p>She nodded, her eyes wet. It had not been thought best to ask the +congregation to sing. There was no knowing whether anybody would sing if +they were asked. Now, it seemed fortunate that it had been so arranged, +for somehow the congregation did not look exactly as if it could sing. +Certainly not George Tomlinson, for he had a large frog in his throat. +Not Asa Fraser, for he had a furious cold in his head. Not Maria Hill, +for though she hunted vigorously, high and low, for her handkerchief, +<span class = "pagenum">55</span> +<!--png 066--> +she was unable to locate it, and the front of her best black silk was +rapidly becoming shiny in spots—a fact calculated to upset +anybody’s singing. Not even Miss Jane Pollock, for though no tears +bedewed her bright black eyes, there was a peculiar heaving quality in +her breathing, which suggested an impediment of some sort not to be +readily overcome. And it may be safely said that there was not a +baker’s dozen of people left in the church who could have carried +through the most familiar hymn without breaking down.</p> + +<p>So the four in the organ loft sang “Holy Night” again. +They could not have done a better thing. It is a holy night, indeed, +when a messenger from heaven comes down to this world of ours, though he +take the form of an old, old man with a peaceful face—but with +eyes which can flash once more with a light which is not of earth, and +with lips upon +<span class = "pagenum">56</span> +<!--png 067--> +which, for one last mighty effort, has been laid a coal from off the +altar of the great High Priest.</p> + +<p class = "verse space"> +“Silent Night! Holy night!</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Darkness flies, all is light!</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Shepherds hear the angels sing—</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Hallelujah! hail the king!</p> +<p class = "verse"> +Jesus Christ is here!”</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">X</h4> + + +<p>George Tomlinson came heavily out of his pew. He had at last +succeeded in getting rid of the frog in his throat—or thought he +had. It had occurred to him that perhaps he ought to go up and speak to +Elder Blake—now sitting quietly in his chair, with William Sewall +bending over him—though he didn’t know exactly what to say +that would seem adequate to the occasion.</p> + +<p>At the same moment, Asa Fraser, still struggling with the cold in his +head, emerged from his pew, directly +<span class = "pagenum">57</span> +<!--png 068--> +opposite. The two men did not look at each other. But as they had been +accustomed to allow their meeting glances to clash with the cutting +quality of implacable resentment, this dropping of the eyes on the part +of each might have been interpreted to register a distinct advance +toward peace.</p> + +<p>As each stood momentarily at the opening of his pew, neither quite +determined whether to turn his face pulpit-ward or door-ward, Samuel +Burnett, coming eagerly up to them from the door-ward side, laid a +friendly hand on either black-clad arm. Whether Sam was inspired by +Heaven, or only by his own strong common-sense and knowledge of men, +will never be known. But he had been a popular man in North Estabrook, +ever since he had first begun to come there to see Nancy Fernald, and +both Tomlinson and Fraser heartily liked and respected him—a fact +he understood and was counting on now.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">58</span> +<!--png 069--> +“Wasn’t it great, Mr. Tomlinson?” said Sam, +enthusiastically. “Great—Mr. Fraser?” He looked, +smiling, into first one austere face and then the other. Then he gazed +straight ahead of him, up at Elder Blake. “Going up to tell him +so? So am I!” He pressed the two arms, continuing in his friendly +way to retain his hold on both. “In all the years I’ve gone +to church, I’ve never heard preaching like that. It warmed up my +heart till I thought it would burst—and it made me want to go to +work.”</p> + +<p>Almost without their own volition Tomlinson and Fraser found +themselves proceeding toward the pulpit—yet Sam’s hands did +not seem to be exerting any force. The force came from his own vigorous +personality, which was one that invariably inspired confidence. If +Burnett was going up to speak to the Elder, it seemed only proper that +they, the +<span class = "pagenum">59</span> +<!--png 070--> +leading men of the church, should go too.</p> + +<p>William Sewall, having assured himself that his venerable associate +was not suffering from a more than natural exhaustion after his supreme +effort, stood still by his side, looking out over the congregation. He +now observed an interesting trio approaching the platform, composed of +his valued friend, Samuel Burnett—his fine face alight with his +purpose—and two gray-bearded men of somewhat unpromising exterior, +but plainly of prominence in the church, by the indefinable look of +them. He watched the three climb the pulpit stairs, and come up to the +figure in the chair—Sam, with tact, falling behind.</p> + +<p>“You did well, Elder—you did well,” said George +Tomlinson, struggling to express himself, and finding only this +time-worn phrase. He stood awkwardly on one foot, before +<span class = "pagenum">60</span> +<!--png 071--> +Ebenezer Blake, like an embarrassed schoolboy, but his tone was +sincere—and a trifle husky, on account of the untimely +reappearance of the frog in his throat.</p> + +<p>Elder Blake looked up—and William Sewall thought he had never +seen a sweeter smile on a human face, young or old. “You are kind +to come and tell me so, George,” said he. “I had +thought never to preach again. It did me good.”</p> + +<p>“It did us good, sir,” said Sam Burnett. He had waited an +instant for Fraser to speak, but saw that the cold in the head was in +the ascendancy again. “It did me so much good that I can hardly +wait till I get back to town to hunt up a man I know, and tell him I +think he was in the right in a little disagreement we had a good while +ago. I’ve always been positive he was wrong. I suppose the +facts in the case haven’t changed—” he smiled into the +dim +<span class = "pagenum">61</span> +<!--png 072--> +blue eyes— “but somehow I seem to see them differently. It +doesn’t look to me worth while to let them stand between us any +longer.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, it’s not worth while,” agreed the old man +quickly. “It’s not worth while for any of us to be hard on +one another, no matter what the facts. Life is pretty difficult, at its +best—we can’t afford to make it more difficult for any human +soul. Go back to town and make it right with your friend, Mr. Burnett. +I take it he was your friend, or you wouldn’t think of him +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Was—and is!” declared Sam, with conviction. +“He’s got to be, whether he wants to or not. But he’ll +want to—I know that well enough. We’ve been friends +from boyhood—we’d just forgotten it, that’s +all.”</p> + +<p>There was a little pause. The old man sat with his white head leaning +against the high back of his chair, +<span class = "pagenum">62</span> +<!--png 073--> +his face upturned, his eyes—with an appeal in them—resting +first upon the face of Asa Fraser, then upon that of George Tomlinson. +With a common impulse, William Sewall and Samuel Burnett moved aside +together, turning their backs upon the three.</p> + +<p>Asa Fraser lifted his eyes and met those of George Tomlinson. With a +palpable effort—for he was a man of few words—he spoke.</p> + +<p>“George,” said he, “I guess I made a mistake, +thinking as I did.”</p> + +<p>“Asey,” responded Tomlinson quickly, “I guess +you weren’t the only one that’s made a mistake.” And +he held out his hand.</p> + +<p>Fraser grasped it. With his other hand he raised his handkerchief and +blew his nose once more, violently—and finally. From this point +the smile in his eyes usurped the place of the moisture which had +bothered him so unwontedly, and put it quite to rout.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">63</span> +<!--png 074--> +If you imagine that this little drama had escaped the attention of the +departing congregation, headed the other way, you are much mistaken. The +congregation was not headed the other way. From the moment when Burnett, +Fraser and Tomlinson had started toward the pulpit, the congregation, to +a man, had paused, and was staring directly toward them. It continued to +stare, up to the moment when the handshaking took place. But +then—eyes turned and met other eyes. Hearts beat fast, lips +trembled, feet moved. Unquestionably something had happened to the +people of North Estabrook.</p> + +<p>Do you know how sometimes the ice goes out of a river? From shore to +shore it has been frozen, cold and hard. For many months it has grown +solid, deepening and thickening until it seems as if there could be no +life left beneath. Then, at last, comes +<span class = "pagenum">64</span> +<!--png 075--> +sunshine and rain and warmth. The huge mass looks as impenetrable as +ever, but all at once, some day—crack!—the first thin, dark +line spreads across the surface. Then—<i>crack, +crack!</i>—<i>crack, crack!</i>—in every direction the ice +is breaking up. Look quickly, now, if you would see that frozen surface +stretching seamless between shore and shore—for suddenly dark +lanes of water open up, which widen while you watch—and soon, +incredibly soon, the river has burst its bonds and is rushing freely +once more between its banks, with only the ever-diminishing blocks of +melting ice upon its surface to tell the story of its long +imprisonment.</p> + +<p>Even so, on that memorable Christmas night, did the ice in the North +Estabrook church break up. <i>Crack!</i>—George Tomlinson and Asa +Fraser, old friends but sworn foes, had shaken hands. <i>Crack!</i> Mrs. +Tomlinson +<span class = "pagenum">65</span> +<!--png 076--> +and Mrs. Fraser, tears running frankly down their cheeks, had followed +the example of their husbands—and glad enough to do it, for their +homes lay side by side, and each had had a hard time of it getting along +without the other. Miss Jane Pollock, seeing Mrs. Maria Hill’s +fruitless search for her handkerchief, had long since drawn out one of +her own—she always carried two—and had held it in her hand, +ready to offer it, if she could just get to the point. But when she saw, +upon the pulpit platform, those two gripping hands, somehow she suddenly +reached the point. <i>Crack!</i> —With no difficulty whatever Miss +Pollock slipped the handkerchief into Mrs. Hill’s hand, whispering +commiseratingly: “I presume you’ve got one somewhere, +Maria, but you just can’t lay your hand on it. Don’t take +the trouble to return it—it isn’t of any value.”</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Hill, accepting the handkerchief, +<span class = "pagenum">66</span> +<!--png 077--> +wiped away the unmanageable tears, and turning round answered fervently; +“I guess I <i>will</i> return it, Jane, if it’s only +so’s to come to your house again—if you’ll let me in, +after all I’ve said.”</p> + +<p>Even as they smiled, shamefacedly but happily, at each other, similar +scenes were being enacted. All about them spread the breaking ice. +Incredible, that it should happen in a night? Not so. The forces of +Nature are mighty, but they are as weakness beside the spiritual forces +of Nature’s God.</p> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<p class = "border chapter"> +<img src = "images/bordertop.gif" width = "543" height = "71" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"> +</p> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<h4 class = "nospace">XI</h4> + + +<p>“Well, Billy Sewall, have you taken your young friend home and +put him to bed?”</p> + +<p>The questioner was Ralph Fernald, sitting with the rest of the +family—or those members of it who were not +<span class = "pagenum">67</span> +<!--png 078--> +still attending to the wants of little children—before the +fireplace, talking things over. They had been there for nearly an hour, +since the service, but Sewall had only just come in.</p> + +<p>“I’ve taken him home,” Sewall replied. “But +there was no putting him to bed. I think he’ll sit up till +morning—too happy to sleep, the fine old man.”</p> + +<p>They had saved the big armchair for him, in the very centre of the +circle, but he would have none of it. He went over to a corner of the +inglenook, and dropped upon the floor at his sister Margaret’s +feet, with his arm upon her knee. When somebody protested Guy interfered +in his defence.</p> + +<p>“Let him alone,” said he. “He gets enough of +prominent positions. If he wants to sit on the fence and kick his heels +a while, let him. He’s certainly earned the right to do as he +<span class = "pagenum">68</span> +<!--png 079--> +pleases to-night. By George!—talk about magnificent team-work! If +ever I saw a sacrifice play I saw it to-night.”</p> + +<p>Sewall shook his head. “You may have seen team-work,” +said he, “though Mr. Blake was the most of the team. But there was +no sacrifice play on my part. It was simply a matter of passing the ball +to the man who could run. I should have been down in four +yards—if I ever got away at all.”</p> + +<p>John Fernald looked at his wife with a puzzled smile. “What +sort o’ talk is that?” he queried. Then he went on: +“I suppose you boys are giving the credit to Elder +Blake—who ought to have it. But I give a good deal to William +Sewall, whose eyes were sharp enough to see what we’ve been too +blind to find out—that the old man was the one who could deal with +us and make us see light on our quarrel. He did make +<span class = "pagenum">69</span> +<!--png 080--> +us see it! Here I’ve been standing off, pluming myself on being +too wise to mix up in the fuss, when I ought to have been doing my best +to bring folks together. What a difference it does make, the way you see +a thing!”</p> + +<p>He looked round upon the group, scanning one stirred face after +another as the ruddy firelight illumined them. His glance finally rested +on his daughter Nan. She too sat upon the floor, on a plump red cushion, +with her back against her husband’s knee. Somehow Nan and Sam were +never far apart, at times like these. The youngest of the house of +Fernald had made perhaps the happiest marriage of them all, and the +knowledge of this gave her father and mother great satisfaction. The +sight of the pair, returning his scrutiny, with bright faces, gave John +Fernald his next comment.</p> + +<p>“After the preachers, I guess +<span class = "pagenum">70</span> +<!--png 081--> +Nancy and Samuel deserve about the most credit,” he went on. +“It was the little girl’s idea, and Sam stood by her, right +through.” He began to chuckle. “I can see Sam now, +towing those two old fellows up to the pulpit. I don’t +believe they’d ever have got there without him. There certainly is +a time when a man’s hand on your arm makes it a good deal easier +to go where you know you ought to go.”</p> + +<p>“It would have taken more than my hand to tow them away,” +said Sam Burnett, “after they found out how it felt to be friends +again. Nobody could come between them now, with an axe.”</p> + +<p>“The music helped,” cried Nan, “the music helped +more than anything, except the sermon. Think how Margaret worked over +that!—and Carolyn over that crazy little old organ! And Guy and Ed +and Charles hung all those greens——”</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">71</span> +<!--png 082--> +“I tacked the pulpit stair-carpet,” put in Oliver, +gravely. “While you’re assigning credit, don’t forget +that.”</p> + +<p>“I stoked those stoves,” asserted Ralph. “That +left-hand one—Christopher! —I never saw a stove like +that to hand out smoke in your face. But the church was warm when I got +through with ’em.”</p> + +<p>“You all did wonderfully well,” came Mother +Fernald’s proud and happy declaration.</p> + +<p>“All but me,” said a voice, from the centre of the group. +It was a voice which nobody had ever expected to hear in an +acknowledgment of failure of any sort whatsoever, and all ears listened +in amazement.</p> + +<p>“I did nothing but discourage everybody,” went on +the voice, not quite evenly. “I believe I’m apt to do +that, though I never realized it before. But when that wonderful old man +was speaking it came to me, +<span class = "pagenum">72</span> +<!--png 083--> +quite suddenly, that the reason my husband’s family don’t +like me better—is—because—it is my nature always to +see the objections to a thing, and to discourage people about it, if I +can. I—want to tell you all that—I’m going to try to +help, not hinder, from now on.”</p> + +<p>There was never a deeper sincerity than breathed in these astonishing +words from Marian, Oliver’s wife. Astonishing, because they all +understood, knowing her as they did—Oliver was oldest, and had +been first to marry—what a tremendous effort the little speech had +cost her, a proud woman of the world, who had never seemed to care +whether her husband’s family loved her or not, so that they +deferred to her.</p> + +<p>For a moment they were all too surprised and touched—for there +is nothing more touching than humility, where it is least +expected—to speak. Then Ralph, who sat next Marian, +<span class = "pagenum">73</span> +<!--png 084--> +brought his fist down on his knee with a thud.</p> + +<p>“Bully for you!” said he.</p> + +<p>Upon Marian’s other side her husband’s mother slipped a +warm, delicate hand into hers. Nan, leaning past Sam’s knee, +reached up and patted her sister-in-law’s lap. Everybody else +smiled, in his or her most friendly way, at Oliver’s wife; and +Oliver himself, though he said nothing, and merely continued to stare +fixedly into the fire, looked as if he would be willing to tack pulpit +stair-carpets for a living, if it would help to bring about such results +as these.</p> + +<p>“Marian’s right in calling him a ‘wonderful old +man.’” Guy spoke thoughtfully. “He got us +all—Fernalds as well as Tomlinsons and Frasers. He hit me, square +between the eyes, good and hard—but I’m glad he did,” +he owned, with characteristic frankness.</p> + +<p>They all sat gazing into the fire in +<span class = "pagenum">74</span> +<!--png 085--> +silence, for a little, after that, in the musing way of those who have +much to think about. And by and by Father Fernald pulled out his watch +and scanned it by the wavering light.</p> + +<p>“Bless my soul!” he cried. “It’s close on to +twelve o’clock! <ins class = "correction" title = +"text has extra quotation mark">You</ins> children ought to be in +bed—oughtn’t they, Mother?”</p> + +<p>There was a murmur of laughter round the group, for John Fernald was +looking at his wife over his spectacles in just the quizzical way his +sons and daughters well remembered.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they ought, John,” she responded, smiling +at him. “But you might let them sit up a little longer—just +this once.”</p> + +<p>He looked them over once more—it was the hundredth time his +eyes had gone round the circle that night. It was a goodly array of +manhood and womanhood for a father to look at and call his +own—even William Sewall, the brother of his son’s wife, +<span class = "pagenum">75</span> +<!--png 086--> +seemed to belong to him to-night. They gave him back his proud and +tender glance, every one of them, and his heart was very full. As for +their mother—but her eyes had gone down.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, leaning over to clasp her hand in his +own, as she sat next him, “I guess maybe, just this once, it +won’t do any harm to let ’em stay up a little late, +They’re getting pretty big, now.... And it’s Christmas +Night.”</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">76</span> +<!--png 087--> + +<p class = "illustration"> +<img src = "images/fullmusic.png" width = "500" height = "469" +alt = "piano or choral arrangement of Silent Night" +title = "piano or choral arrangement of Silent Night"> +</p> + +<p class = "fancy" align = "right"> +<a class = "xmas" href = "images/fullmusic.midi">MIDI file (music)</a> +</p> + +<h5 class = "chapter">THE END</h5> + +<br> + +</div> + +<p class = "border"> +<img src = "images/borderbottom.gif" width = "543" height = "117" +alt = "decoration" title = "decoration"></p> + +<!--png 088--> + +<p class = "illustration chapter"> +<img src = "images/backlogo.gif" width = "98" height = "96" +alt = "publisher's logo"> +</p> + +<h6>THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS GARDEN CITY, N.Y.</h6> + +<hr class = "section mid"> + +<h4 class = "fancy"> +<a class = "xmas" name = "titletext" id = "titletext" +href = "#titlepage">Title Page</a></h4> + +<p align = "center">On Christmas Day<br> +In The Evening<br> +<br> +by Grace S. Richmond<br> +Illustrated by Charles M. Relyea<br> +<br> +A. L. Burt Company<br> +Publishers New York</p> + +<hr class = "tiny"> + +<p class = "mynote"> +In the original text, each individual page was surrounded by a +decorative border:</p> + +<p class = "illustration"> +<img src = "images/thumbnail.png" width = "180" height = "286" +alt = "sample page" title = "sample page"> +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On Christmas Day In The Evening, by +Grace Louise Smith Richmond + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE EVENING *** + +***** This file should be named 19384-h.htm or 19384-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/8/19384/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, Mark C. Orton and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + |