[to be continued.]
[A CHARLES LAMB PARTY.]
BY EMMA J. GRAY.
ho started the thing, I don't remember. Oh yes, I do—it was Edith Worster; you know she's a member of the Cozy Club; and I tell you it was just splendid, a capital idea, and so pretty in all its arrangements that I am willing to risk anything that you would like me to tell you all about it."
At these words the dear old lady laughed aloud, for how could she "keep still any longer," she roguishly asked, "eaten up with curiosity, as I always am about young folks and their doings." And then Maud's long chestnut-brown hair, tied with a ribbon to match, fell over her grandmother's face in the endeavor to kiss her. For grandma sat in a large arm-chair, which her portly figure filled from arm to arm, while Maud stood at her back looking taller than ever this morning, on account of the long red stripes in her dark brown cashmere morning gown.
Grandma had a square of a silk crazy-quilt in her hand, on which she was about to embroider her initials on a field of lustrous yellow silk, and Maud having now drawn up a rocker, seated herself for work also, directly in front, and as close to her grandmother as room could allow.
"Heigh ho! I suppose I must sew on these tiresome napkins, or they'll never be done." And then spreading one smoothly over her lap, she continued: "Isn't it a torment, to have to stitch these things all around to keep the fringe from fraying? Don't you think fringed napkins a nuisance anyway?"
"Yes," was the slowly given monosyllable; and then grandma, who had been energetic all her life, added, "but, child, think how pretty they are."
At these words Maud made a dive into her apple-green silk work-bag, as if on business bent, and rapidly drew out needle, thread, scissors, and thimble. While she was threading her needle, grandma said, "Really, I can't wait any longer, child; let me hear all about it."
"That's a dear. I thought you'd be dying to know. You'll admit I understand something about your inquisitiveness," and then Maud's laughing baby-blue eyes were lifted lovingly towards her grandmother's face.
"Well, while you were away off West visiting Aunt Maria, I gave Charles Lamb's party."
"Charles Lamb! Well, I'll believe you're the crazy one now, for he's been dead many a year."
"Oh, grandma," and Maud laughingly shook her head, "you are funny! Didn't I tell you that Edith Worster is a member of the Cozy Club? And they are all owlish sort of people—the owl is the bird of wisdom, you know. Well, while you were gone she came to call on me, and I'm sixteen and she's twenty-three."
"What of that?"
"Oh, she's seven years older than I am, and awfully wise, and I didn't know what to say to her exactly; and so, as I've been told to entertain people by asking them questions about themselves, I asked Edith what the Club was reading now. 'Charles Lamb,' and then you should have seen her face change; it was so eager, and looked so full of joy as I thought it had before looked full of misery. I'm sure her call on me was a duty one, one of the good-child kind, and then she asked me if I—I remember"—and Maud stretched her left arm out at full length, and, raising the index-finger, pointed to herself—"had lately read the essay of Elia, entitled, 'Rejoicings Upon the New Year's Coming of Age!'
"I shrunk into almost nothingness before her, no doubt, when I impulsively answered, 'Oh my, no! I don't even know who Elia is—any relation to Elias?' and then I laughed.
"But, grandma, she was awfully nice. She wasn't the least bit proud and horrid, hadn't any of that drawn-up lofty air some people would have put on, and she explained all about it, and told me Elia was the name Charles Lamb sometimes used for himself, and she made me so interested in him, telling me of his love for his sister Mary and his father, and that in writing to the poet Coleridge, who was Charles Lamb's greatest friend, he told him, 'I am wedded to the fortunes of my sister and my poor old father.' Did you know, grandma, Mary Lamb was out of her mind at times? Oh, it was such a grief to her brother!
"Well, no sooner was Edith Worster the other side of our hall door than I rushed to the library and pulled down book after book in my hunt for these same essays of Elia. I knew they were around somewhere, but whether the book was big or little, thick or thin, I didn't know. But after a while I found it, and then I got into that big sleepy hollow down there and read the essay Edith spoke about. Read it all through, remember; just put that to my credit."
"I will, Maud; but what's that got to do with your party?"
"Do? It did the party, that's all. Only listen, for my party was splendid. Didn't it have a go, though! It was simply delicious!" and Maud smacked her lips over the remembrance. "Oh, you ought to have seen it for yourself, grandma! You'll hear lots of talk about it yet, though, you'll see if you don't," and Maud wagged her head sagely.
"Well, I'm listening and impatient," and grandma's work was dropped in her lap, while her eager face glowed with the one word "more"—for grandma, as she herself expressed it, was very fond of young folks' doings, and, moreover, Maud was her only grandchild.
"It must have been a good fairy that whispered it to me, for no sooner had I finished the essay than the thought came, why not try that scheme for a party? I knew I was promised a party for my sixteenth birthday, and I had heard mamma say, only that very morning, the invitations must soon go out; and then poor mamma sighed, while she said: 'I wish we could think of something new, Maud. Parties are so hackneyed nowadays—the same old things given over and over.' So when the good fairy whispered, I tripped away to mamma, book in hand, as fast as my feet would take me. And then such a scene of excitement as I made! Mamma begged of me to sit down and talk understandingly if I could. For her part, she didn't know what I was trying to get at. And I don't wonder, for she never had heard me mention The Essays of Elia before in all my life. I think poor mamma thought I had gone quite mad. Oh, grandma, such fun!" and Maud laughed heartily over the remembrance of it.
"However, after awhile I calmed down, as grandpa advises me sometimes, and I explained to mamma about Edith Worster's call, and how I happened to hear of this particular thing; and then, because it was the easiest way, I read mamma the essay, adding, 'Now that would make me a brand-new party.' To this idea mamma instantly agreed, and we sent out the invitations so worded that each one knew perfectly he was to wear a costume that would represent a day in the year. And in order that I wouldn't have too many of one kind and too few of the other, each invitation suggested the kind of a day that was meant. In this way I had June Days, Rainy Days, Lenten Days, etc., etc."
"But, my dear grandchild, my brain is all befogged. I can see by what you have said that you had a sort of a masquerade, but your old grandmother knows no more about that essay than you did. You know, I never was much of a scholar, had to work too hard in my young days to find time for an education, and I've been sorry and ashamed over my lack of knowledge many's the time," and at the remembrance the old lady's eyes filled with tears.
This was too much for impulsive Maud, who in a trice had both her arms around her grandmother's neck, sternly saying: "Take those words back or I'll never kiss you again. No education indeed! You had the education which comes from hard work and denial. Where would all our comforts have been to-day—what would papa have known, I'd like to ask, had it not been for you? What sort of an education would I have had? It's a burning shame," and the hot blood reddened Maud's cheeks, "that I have not made better use of my advantages! But 'it's never too late to mend' are the old words, which I shall apply to myself hereafter; and there, now, dearest grandma," and Maud kissed her, saying aloud: "One, two, three; that's our seal to the bargain. And remember, you are not to say another word against yourself, and I am to study harder than ever before. Who knows, I may be a second Edith Worster, if I try."
"If you try, you can do all things, Maud," and then grandma felt around for her handkerchief, and slowly wiped away the moisture which had dimmed her gold-rimmed spectacles.
"Now I'll run away for a second, and get the book to read you the opening of the essay. You will understand it better than my wordy jargon"; and then off Maud flew, napkins, scissors, and all the rest of her sewing paraphernalia dropping at her feet in a hurry to be gone; however, she stopped for a second, and gathering them up, threw them hastily on the table while she rushed on. In a minute she returned, and though all out of breath, at once found the place and commenced:
"'Rejoicings over the New Year's Coming of Age.'
"'The Old Year being dead, the New Year coming of age, which he does by Calendar Law as soon as the breath is out of the old man's body, nothing would serve the young spark but that he must give a dinner upon the occasion, to which all the Days in the year were invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as his stewards, were mightily taken with the notion. They had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in providing mirth and good cheer for mortals below, and it was time they should have a taste of their own bounty. It was stiffly debated whether the Fasts should be admitted. Some said the appearance of such starved guests, with mortified faces, would pervert the ends of the meeting. But the objection was overruled by Christmas Day, who had a design upon Ash Wednesday (as you shall hear), and a mighty desire to see how the old domine would behave himself in his cups. Only the Vigils were requested to come with their lanterns to light the gentlefolks home at night.
"'All the Days came to their day. Covers were provided for 365 guests at the principal table, with an occasional knife and fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February.
"I should have told you that cards of invitation had been issued. The carriers were the Hours, twelve little merry whirligig foot-pages, as you should desire to see, that went all around and found out the persons invited well enough, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, and a few such movables who had lately shifted their quarters.
"'Well, they all met at last—foul Days, fine Days, all sorts of Days—and a rare din they made of it.'
"Now, grandma," exclaimed Maud, slamming the book together, "that's enough to give you the idea. Our cards of invitation were decorated, some with hour-glasses, others with clocks or watches, and all stating the day the receiver was to represent. Example: Costume, May Day. Those who didn't understand asked me what was meant; others again told each other, and some did not need any information, as the invitation was called 'A Charles Lamb Party.' From what I have read, you will understand that no masks were worn.
"Oh, it was so unique and so pretty, and mamma and I had lots of fun selecting the days for each guest! Of course we couldn't have 365 people—our house isn't big enough—so we only had a few Lenten Days, and while all the months were represented, we didn't have every day of the month.
"April-fools' Day was so funny! Oh, grandma, how you would have laughed had you but seen her! She came prepared with all sorts of jokes; one of them was some bits of wood covered with chocolate, which she passed off on her friends as chocolate caramels."
"How was she dressed, Maud?"
"She wore a brown domino, and a blue paper fool's-cap; and such a sight! Why, it nearly reached the ceiling, it was so tall! I don't see how she managed to balance it. And on her back, in big letters cut out of red calico, were the words, 'April Fool.' Oh, she made lots of fun, I tell you!
"At supper-time she played a most unexpected joke, for she threw aside cap and domino, and was just the sweetest thing I ever saw, dressed in pale pink silk embroidered with forget-me-nots. You know she is sweet anyway, grandma."
"I don't know who you are talking about."
"That's true; why, Alice Douglass!"
"Yes, she is sweet, and pretty too. She has such beautiful hair. What Day were you, Maud?"
"I was St. Valentine's Day. I wore rose color, because it is love's own color, and I had several tiny valentines basted on my dress. We had a game during the evening, and I used them as prizes. They were considered valuable souvenirs too, I can assure you. There was no one in the room but who would like to have gotten one.
"Mitchell Morgan was Christmas Day, and he did it to perfection. You know he has the same jolly face that Santa Claus has, and he copied him to the smallest detail, even to the bells, sled, and pack of presents. Of course these were cheap toys. I cannot help being sorry, though, we had such good times, and you weren't in them. Maybe some vacation I'll have one again. Papa thinks it would be just the thing to give in a barn in summer-time.
"The longest boy I knew I had represent the 21st day of June, and the shortest one the 22d of December.
"Rainy Days came in with water-proofs and umbrellas, and would even pretend they were dripping wet and shaking the drops off, while Sunshiny Days looked merry and jolly, and were dressed in all the colors imaginable; some of the girls carried summer flowers as wreaths or garlands, while others had their frocks trimmed with them.
"But you should have seen the Wedding Day. She was the youngest girl invited. Her mother made her a white satin gown with a long train, embroidered with beads and flounced with lace. She wore a white veil which trained with her dress, and carried a big bouquet fastened with white satin ribbon with flowing streamers, exactly the same as a bride would have. I tell you we all clapped when she entered.
"One boy represented Pay Day, who came late, as he always does; another was May the 1st, and he pretended to be moving all the while, and besides all the Days who came to my party, there came lots of goodies to eat—some very old-fashioned refreshments, such as mamma used to have when she gave a party, she said; and we played games, danced, and sung, and had the jolliest time. No one wanted to go home. It wasn't one bit like an ordinary party.
"Was it anything like what you had when you was a girl, grandma?"