On that same day came the finish which all had wished but scarcely dared hoped for, a fleecy fall of snow that drifted in feathery particles down through the still atmosphere, and covered the ground with an inch-deep carpet of white. I well remember old Delmar, with his wrinkled, kindly face and abundant white hair, and his "By Jove, isn't that just the thing!" as he stood on the porch and looked with boyish glee at the fast-falling flakes. And I remember as well his sweet-faced wife, small, delicate, yet still pretty in her old age, and placidly sharing his enjoyment of the spectacle, rare enough in that climate, in spite of the tradition that a freeze and a snow-fall always came with the Christmas season.
Christmas Eve! That was a time indeed! Parlor and hall, porch and wood-shed, all were well enough in their way, but out in the kitchen busy things were going on without which the whole festival would have been sadly incomplete. The stoves were heaped with hickory and glowing with ardent heat, their ovens crammed full of toothsome preparations, while about the tables and shelves clustered the mistress of the place and her regiment of special assistants, many of them famous for their skill in some branch of culinary art, their glistening faces and shining teeth testifying to their pride in their one special talent.
Pies and puddings, cakes and tarts, everything that could be got ready in advance, were being drawn from the ovens and heaped on awaiting shelves, while a dozen hands busied themselves in getting ready the turkey and game and the other essentials of the coming feast that had to wait till the next day for their turn at the heated ovens.
As the day moved on the excitement grew. Visitors were expected: the boys from college with their invited chums; sons and grandsons, aunts and cousins, and invited guests, from near and far. And not only these, but "hired out" servants from neighboring towns, whose terms were fixed from New Year to Christmas, so that they could spend the holiday week at home, made their appearance and were greeted with as much hilarious welcome in the cabins as were the white guests in the mansion. In the manor house itself they were welcomed like home-coming members of the family, as, already wearing their presents of new winter clothes, they came to pay their "respecs to massa and mistis."
As the day went on the carriages were sent to the railroad station for the expected visitors, old and young, and a growing impatience testified to the warmth of welcome with which their arrival would be greeted. They are late—to be late seems a fixed feature of the situation, especially when the roads are heavy with unwonted snow. Night has fallen, the stars are out in the skies, before the listening ears on the porch first catch the distant creak of wheels and axles. The glow of the wood-fires on the hearths and of candles on table and mantel is shining out far over the snow when at length the carriages come in sight, laden outside and in with trunks and passengers, whose cheery voices and gay calls have already heralded their approach.
What a time there is when they arrive, the boys and girls tumbling and leaping out and flying up the steps, to be met with warm embraces or genial welcomes; the elders coming more sedately, to be received with earnest handclasps and cordial greetings, Never was there a happier man than the old major when he saw his house filled with guests, and bade the strangers welcome with a dignified, but earnest, courtesy. But when the younger comers stormed him, with their glad shouts of "uncle" or "grandpa" or other titles of relationship, and their jovial echo of "Merry Christmas," the warm-hearted old fellow seemed fairly transformed into a boy again. Guest as I was, I felt quite taken off my feet by the flood of greetings, and was swept into the general overflow of high spirits and joyful welcomes.
The frosty poll of the major and the silvery hair of his good wife were significant of venerable age, but there were younger people in the family, and with them a fair sprinkling of children. Of these the diminutive stockings were duly hung in a row over the big fireplace, waiting for the expected coming of Santa Claus, while their late wearers were soon huddled in bed, though with little hope of sleep in the excitement and sense of enchantment that surrounded them. Their disappearance made little void in the crowd that filled the parlor, a gay and merry throng, full of the spirit of fun and hearty enjoyment, and thoroughly genuine in their mirth, not a grain of airiness or ostentation marring their pleasure, though in its way it was as refined as in more showy circles.
Morning dawned,—Christmas morning. Little chance was there for sleepy-heads to indulge themselves that sunny Yule-tide morn. The stir began long before the late sun had risen, that of the children first of all; stealing about like tiny, white-clad spectres, with bulging stockings clasped tightly in their arms; craftily opening bedroom doors and shouting "Christmas gift!" at drowsy slumberers, then scurrying away and seeking the hearth-side, whose embers yielded light enough for a first glance at their treasures.
Soon the opening and closing of doors was heard, and one by one the older inmates of the mansion appeared, with warm "Merry Christmas" greetings, and all so merry-hearted that the breakfast-table was a constant round of quips and jokes, and of stories of pranks played in the night by representatives of Santa Claus. Where all are bent on having a good time, it is wonderful how little will serve to kindle laughter and set joy afloat.