“Speak softly, softly, noble stranger,” they implored, in a whispering chorus, shrinking from him in affright, with their hands on their ears. “Thy voice is like a thunder-clap.”
It was certainly one of the prettiest spectacular dramas imaginable, with its innocent, droll plot; and to see a good old-fashioned fairy-tale put on the stage so well, and to see it with hundreds of blissful, ecstatic children, was thoroughly enjoyable.
Through the holidays social life here seems to resolve itself chiefly into great family gatherings, and the custom of watching the old year out is very general. One party of between thirty and forty persons, being only brothers and sisters with their children, was a charming affair. The dignified played whist, and the frivolous sang and were merry in other rooms. Tea and light cakes were served frequently during the evening, from the arrival of the guests until the supper at eleven, when the long table was brilliant with choice glass and silver and flowers; and fresh young faces and sweet, benign elderly ones were gathered around. A family party can be a dismal, dreary assembling of incongruous elements that make one soul-sick and weary of the world, or it can be a tender, cheery, blessed thing. There are, indeed, many varieties of family parties. Most of the large ones are perhaps no better than they ought to be; but this gathering of a clan happened to possess the intangible something that cheers and charms.
There were jests and toasts and laughter and blushes, and there was a wonderful punch, brewed by the eldest son of the house in an enormous crimson glass punch-bowl,—which, like the “Luck of Edenhall,” “made a purple light shine over all,”—and dipped out with a gold ladle; and its remarkably intoxicating ingredients, particularly the number of bottles of champagne poured in at the last, I shall never divulge.
The host rose just before midnight, and alluded briefly to certain losses, and causes for sadness experienced by the family during the year; yet they were still, he said very simply, united, loving, and hopeful; he then gave the toast to the New Year, and they all drank it heartily, standing, as the clock was striking twelve, after which was a general movement through the room, warm greetings, hand-pressures and kisses, and suspicious moisture about many eyes, though lips were smiling bravely.
Then came a walk home through the great city, whose streets were crowded full at two o'clock in the morning. “Prosit Neujahr! Prosit Neujahr!” sounded everywhere, far and near. A band of workmen, arm in arm, tramp along in great jollity, pushing their way and greeting the whole world. “Prosit Neujahr!” they cry to the young aristocrat; “Prosit Neujahr!” is the hearty response. For an hour all men are brothers, and everybody turns away from the sad old year, and gives an eager welcome to the new young thing, whom we trust, though we know him not. Above the surging multitude, and the hoarse, loud voices and impetuous hearts, and wild welcoming of the unknown, the starlit night seems strangely still, and the quiet moon shines down on the great frozen Alster basin, around which reaches the twinkling line of city lights. Beyond are the city spires. “Round our restlessness His rest,” says some one softly; and so
Prosit Neujahr!
Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.
NOTICES OF “ONE SUMMER.”
“No more charming story than this has appeared since Howells's ‘Chance Acquaintance.’ ‘One Summer’ is a delightful, and withal sensible, love-story, which one will be loath to stop reading until the conclusion is reached. The characters are exceedingly attractive, without anything of the superhuman or sensational about them, but full of life, vigor, and common-sense; and a tinge of genuine romance spreads over every chapter.”—New Haven Journal and Courier.
“A delightfully fresh and spirited little romance. The style is graceful and spirited to an eminently pleasing degree; and the plot is charmingly simple and interesting. The hero and heroine are drawn with rare skill and naturalness. Their acquaintance begins by an untoward accident, which sets them at loggerheads; and the means by which their misunderstanding is cleared up, and they gradually begin to esteem each other, form the substance of the story, which has a heartiness of tone, and an apparent freedom from effort in its telling, that make it peculiarly attractive.”—Boston Gazette.
“One of the most charming stories of the season.”—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
“A bright, happy story, delightfully natural and easy. It is just suited for a pleasant afternoon in a hammock, or lying in a breezy shade.”—Boston Traveller.
“It is one of those fresh and breezy love-stories one meets with but twice or thrice in a lifetime. Altogether for charm of style, simpleness of diction, and pleasantness of plot, the book is quite inimitable.”—Rocky Mountain News.
“A story of great merit, both as a novel and a work of art. In reading it, one meets on nearly every page some delicate touch of Nature, or dainty bit of humor, or pleasant piece of description.”—The Independent (New York).
“One of the best of summer novels. If we are not mistaken, it will be borrowed and lent around, and laughed over, and possibly cried over, and hugely enjoyed, by all who get a chance to read it.”—The Liberal Christian.
“This little book is one of the most delightful we ever read. It has made us laugh until we cried; and, if it has not made us cry out of pure sadness, it is because our heart is very hard.”—Christian Register (Boston).
“The story is charmingly told. The fragrant breath of a rural atmosphere pervades its scenes; much of the character-painting is admirably well done; there is a freshness and vivacity about the style that is singularly attractive; and the whole action of the play comprised within the limits of ‘One Summer' has a flavor of originality that commands the unflagging attention of the reader.”—Boston Transcript.
“It is a dainty little love-story, full of bright, witty things, which are related in a charmingly fascinating manner.”—Christian at Work.
“Fresh, airy, sparkling, abounding in delicious bits of description. Its dialogues brimming with a fun which seems to drop from the lips of the speakers without the slightest premeditation, its interest sustained throughout: it is just the book to read under the trees these lazy June days, or to take in the pocket or satchel when starting upon a journey.”—Newark Courier.
“It is a clean-cut, healthy story, with no theology and no superfluous characters. The hero is a manly fellow, and the heroine a sweet and womanly girl, with no nonsense about her.”—Boston Globe.
“It is a woman's book,—bright, fresh, and attractive, and more than ordinarily interesting. There is a decided dash of fun running through the story, and plenty of good, healthy romance, which never degenerates into sentimentality. There is an engaging simplicity about the style, and a refreshing lack of the modern sensational.”—Portland Transcript.