“We will,” said the teacher, “if you-all will spread the news that it’s to be an un-de-nom-i-na-tional tree and that all the grown-ups are invited to come to-night to the trimming and to bring for the tree whatever gifts they have for their families and their friends, and that young and old are invited to the exercises to-morrow night.”
“Captain Boyce won’t come nor Judge Brevard, ary one; they took a oath never to set foot in that thar meetin’-house.”
“Then we’ll move the tree somewhere else.”
Such was the series of events that transferred the tree and the trimmers to Colonel Ledbetter’s two-room cabin that overlooked the village from a highroad. The log fire blazing wide and high in the chimney place put to shame the candles that swaled and sputtered in turnip candelabra, but could not dim the light that shone from merry eyes as the happy people helped or hindered with equally good intentions. Long before dispersion could be thought of the tree stood full fruited and ready for the morrow’s harvesting.
“They drew up some benches before the fire and gave themselves to rest and reminiscence”
Suddenly the barking of a dog roused the gully behind the cabin.
“That’s my Cæsar; he’s struck a ’possum trail,” exclaimed a swain and with one rush young men and maidens made for the moonlit out-of-doors and joined in a ’possum hunt. Only the serious minded remained, fewer than a score of people and yet they were the metaphorical pillars of five different denominations of Christian churches, each struggling independently to establish the same gospel in that little mountain town. They drew up some benches before the fire and gave themselves to rest and reminiscence. On the road, in the fields, or at his fireside the Junaluskan may address his neighbour as Bill or Jeff or Jack, but in assembly every elderly man is accorded a title, military, civil, or ecclesiastic.
“Gettin’ ’long in years, Colonel Ledbetter,” observed a grizzled mountaineer running his eyes along the blackened rafters of the cabin; “a hundred year old ain’t it?”
“Mighty nigh,” answered the Colonel shooting tobacco juice at a fallen ember before kicking it back into the fire.