 | City legends |  |
Scene I.
Christmas morning in an old-fashioned country kitchen. Culinary apparatus is lying about in a semi-orderly manner. Bunches of seed-corn are braided together by the husks over the doors. A Bible and hymn-book are on the mantel. An almanac is hanging near by. The last numbers of the Deacon's own denominational journal and the local paper of a neighboring village, rest upon a table in the corner—a pair of steel-bowed spectacles lying across them. Two cats are camping cozily and contentedly before the large kitchen stove—one of them purring softly in a half slumber, the other silent in absolute sleep.Deacon Kindman.
Trim up the parlors, good-wife, and make them extra gay;
For I'm to have a party, on this cold Christmas Day:
The friends that are invited will be here—do not doubt!
I'll go myself and bring them, unless they'll come without.
For I'm to have a party, on this cold Christmas Day:
The friends that are invited will be here—do not doubt!
I'll go myself and bring them, unless they'll come without.
Oh yes! you've been a-guessing, perhaps a month or two,
About my Christmas party, and what I meant to do;
The first whose invitations have all been left to me:
You're not quite sure concerning the guests you're going to see
About my Christmas party, and what I meant to do;
The first whose invitations have all been left to me:
You're not quite sure concerning the guests you're going to see
Our children?—No, not this time; they've children of their own,
Whose Christmas-trees are bending with presents newly grown;
They've got their life-vines planted, with love-flowers all about—
Just what we worked so hard for, when we first started out.
Whose Christmas-trees are bending with presents newly grown;
They've got their life-vines planted, with love-flowers all about—
Just what we worked so hard for, when we first started out.
Our cousins?—Well, not this time; 'tisn't what the plan intends;
They're all quite earthly-prosperous, with any amount of friends;
The world is always offering success an upward hitch;
But Christmas wasn't invented entirely for the rich.
They're all quite earthly-prosperous, with any amount of friends;
The world is always offering success an upward hitch;
But Christmas wasn't invented entirely for the rich.
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Our preacher and his family?—They're working now, like sin,
A-sorting out the slippers and other gifts sent in;
One turkey that I know of is on their kitchen-blaze;
A cheery, popular preacher has good times, nowadays!
A-sorting out the slippers and other gifts sent in;
One turkey that I know of is on their kitchen-blaze;
A cheery, popular preacher has good times, nowadays!
You don't know who you've cooked for?—Well, that is 'most too bad;
Of course you've no cur'os'ty—no woman ever had!
But still, your hands and heart, wife, have well nigh gone to war?
A woman works much happier, when she knows who it's for? ...
Of course you've no cur'os'ty—no woman ever had!
But still, your hands and heart, wife, have well nigh gone to war?
A woman works much happier, when she knows who it's for? ...
I'll tell you one:—a cripple that you and I both know,
Is living in a small hut, half buried in the snow—
His body bravely struggling to coax his soul to stay;
I'm going to get that cripple, and keep him here all day.
Is living in a small hut, half buried in the snow—
His body bravely struggling to coax his soul to stay;
I'm going to get that cripple, and keep him here all day.
And one's a poor old woman we've never called our friend,
But whose sad life grows heavy while struggling to its end—
Without a merry Christmas for twenty winters drear!
To-day she'll have a picnic to last her all the year.
But whose sad life grows heavy while struggling to its end—
Without a merry Christmas for twenty winters drear!
To-day she'll have a picnic to last her all the year.
And one's an old-style preacher; brimful of heavenly truth,
Whose eloquence lost fashion, or ran off with his youth;
And younger men and prettier, with flowery words came nigh;
And so the various churches have stood the old man by.
Whose eloquence lost fashion, or ran off with his youth;
And younger men and prettier, with flowery words came nigh;
And so the various churches have stood the old man by.
He tried his best to please them and serve Jehovah too—
He toiled each separate Sunday to “get up something new;”
They wanted elocution, and curvey-gestured speech!
And now this grand old preacher can't get a place to preach.
He toiled each separate Sunday to “get up something new;”
They wanted elocution, and curvey-gestured speech!
And now this grand old preacher can't get a place to preach.
But I've a strong opinion, that angels crowd up near
That man-deserted leader, his godlike thoughts to hear;—
We'll have a Bible-chapter made over good as new,
When he to-day talks Gospel, and asks the blessing too!
That man-deserted leader, his godlike thoughts to hear;—
We'll have a Bible-chapter made over good as new,
When he to-day talks Gospel, and asks the blessing too!
“And who else?”—I have sent word to all in my mind's way,
Who can't afford a dinner that's equal to The Day;
And some good prosperous friends, too, will come with smiling face,
To keep those poor from feeling that they're a separate race.
Who can't afford a dinner that's equal to The Day;
And some good prosperous friends, too, will come with smiling face,
To keep those poor from feeling that they're a separate race.
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And one of them's a neighbor; who, though sincere, no doubt,
Once couldn't quite understand me—and so we two fell out;
And every Sunday morning we've passed each other's door,
And have not known each other for fifteen years or more:
Once couldn't quite understand me—and so we two fell out;
And every Sunday morning we've passed each other's door,
And have not known each other for fifteen years or more:
I went to him last evening, and said, “Old friend, see here;
We're both tip-top good fellows: now, doesn't it strike you queer,
That we're assisting Satan to sow the grain of strife?
Come over, sure, to-morrow, and bring along your wife.
We're both tip-top good fellows: now, doesn't it strike you queer,
That we're assisting Satan to sow the grain of strife?
Come over, sure, to-morrow, and bring along your wife.
“Just come and help us, helping some poor ones draw their loads,
Who've stalled upon the side-hills of Life's uneven roads.”
He looked at me in wonder—then stood a moment still—
Then grasped my hands, and whispered, “My dear old friend, I will.”
Who've stalled upon the side-hills of Life's uneven roads.”
He looked at me in wonder—then stood a moment still—
Then grasped my hands, and whispered, “My dear old friend, I will.”
I think you're with me, good-wife, from what your features say;
And that's the kind of comp'ny we're going to have to-day—
Through which I hope a true love for all mankind may roam;
A sort of Christmas party where Christ would feel at home.
And that's the kind of comp'ny we're going to have to-day—
Through which I hope a true love for all mankind may roam;
A sort of Christmas party where Christ would feel at home.
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