Winnowing house for preparation of seed rice.
All the grown servants have gone to the "setting up," which is one of the strongest articles of their creed and is very impressive, I think—the feeling that they must not be found in their beds on this mysterious night when the King of the world was born and laid in a manger. A feeble old woman with whom I remonstrated, telling her she was not strong enough to sit up all night, turned on me in indignation, saying: "Miss, yo' t'ink I 'ood let de Lawd ketch me in baid to-night w'en de bery cow fall on dey knee! No, ma'am, dis night is fer pray, en shout, en rej'ice."
My packages yesterday contained six boxes of candy, four of them the most delicious home-made nut candy of different kinds. I had two pounds of common stick candy in the house, and after getting up some ancient silk things, I found five boxes to fill, one for each servant; the stick candy in the bottom, and some of my delicious things out of my recent presents to fill up.
I was so in earnest searching in the garret for empty boxes by the light of a dim lantern that I did not notice what labels they bore until I had filled the five and put a Christmas card on top of each and put the covers on. Then I laughed until I cried. The largest, which I had put particularly nice things in, was labelled "Finest mourning paper" and had great black bands all around. The next was labelled "Best carbolic soap," and the others were also soap boxes. It was too late to take out all the carefully arranged contents and begin over, so I tied them up with ribbon and put two apples on each so that they would be on hand when I heard the call: "Merry Christmas!" at my door in the early morning.
In the olden time there used to be such crowds coming in to the upstairs hall to wish the Merry Christmas, and one must have a gift for each. Long after the war they kept it up, and I used to have a hamper of little gifts all wrapped to pitch out of the door as I heard each voice. Now I had only Chloe, Dab, Betty, Bonaparte, and Gibbie to provide for. I put up little packages for old Katie and all the old darkies who come to the yard to wish us Merry Christmas and bring an egg or two and receive their Christmas.
This is a survival of the past, when every negro on the plantation came soon after daylight Christmas morning, to give their good wishes and to receive substantial gifts themselves. They always had three days of entire holiday, during which they amused themselves, always ending the day by two hours' dancing on the piazza of the "big house" to the music of fiddle, tambourine, bones, drum, and sticks. My father sent off young lads to learn to play the violin every year, so that there were always one or two capable of leading.
The way in which they mark time with the sticks has always been a wonder to me. They beat them in syncopated time, the accent always being on the second beat. I have tried in vain to get the motion, and yet very little children do it in perfect time.
I drove to church thinking of all the nice things I would like to be carrying to my friends in the dear little settlement who all sent me some charming token of affection and goodwill. Only three or four assembled and the holly filled font was the only sign of the great festival. Our organist was not there, so that I knew I would have to "raise" the hymn—that means stand up in your pew and sing it without accompaniment.
What was my dismay when "Shout the Glad Tidings, Exultingly Sing," was given out. There is but one tune that I ever heard to it, and that is most elaborate. However, it is the forlorn hope that rouses and appeals to me. I rose to my feet and the occasion, and the glad tidings were shouted most enthusiastically by one feeble voice. Only at the chorus Miss Pandora gave the support of her voice. It is pleasant to remember that the Good Maker of all, does not have to listen; he looks within and sees the spirit which impels those inadequate sounds.
I came away from the simple service in high spirits, all my depression and discouragement floated upward in the quavering shouts of glad tidings.