We have some friends who live in the country, a long way from sidewalks and gas and railroads, or at least far enough off to debar the dear souls from many tastes of city pleasures. So, as these friends cannot well go to town for amusement, and as they have a large love of fun and several small children, they try to bring amusements home on all festive occasions.
To this house, with a small party of mutual acquaintances, we went our way on the twenty-fifth of December last. Before starting there were great business operations to be performed, and such a time as we had of it! One item was easily managed, and caused no mental anxiety. We went en masse to Ridley's, and, after waiting in a crowd of crinoline for some time, came away each with his dexter coat-pocket swelled out with a pound package of mixed candies. That, of course, was simple enough; but when it came to buying something else—something of a more durable nature—then our ingenuity was, indeed, put to the test. It will be seen that our task was no ordinary one. There were three of us, and we each wished, according to our annual custom, to present each member of the family with some appropriate gift; and as there were five in the family, namely—papa, mamma, daughter aged eleven, son aged four, and another daughter aged two, and assuming that we each only gave one object to each of the individuals in the country house, it would make—three fives are fifteen—fifteen different objects to be purchased, every one of which ought to differ from the other, besides being unlike anything they would be already likely to possess. When we came to compare notes, we found that we had, to a man, privately and separately resolved to present papa with a meerschaum pipe; two out of the three had thoughts of giving mamma a dressing-case; while the unanimity on the subject of work-boxes, dolls, and jumping-jacks was really marvellous.
But we must not linger around fancy-stores, and over candy counters, and in city streets. We have a long evening before us away off in the country, over miles of snowy roads. It is enough that, by the aid of a steaming locomotive, which whizzed and buzzed and thundered us through the lonely snow-clad cuttings, as though it were saying: "Come along! come along! come along! Hurry up! Pish! phew! Here's another stoppage! Clear the track! Don't keep us waiting!" stopping only now and then, stock still, to brighten up the mean way-station into a glow of mysterious grandeur, with fitful flashes of light, as though it were some monster fire-fly of the season. By means of this lusty bug at first, and afterwards by a rickety, ramshackle, old shandradan of a hack, tortured along by two horses, one of which was balky, we reached the house of our entertainers, where the light streamed out through the red curtains to meet us, and glorified the snow in our path long before we pulled up at the hospitable door.
Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather both greeted us heartily before we had kicked the snow from our boots; while the former, with a celerity equally creditable to his head and legs, dashed into the kitchen, and reappeared with three smoking glasses of hot brandy-punch.
"Here, boys," he cried, "take this. It will keep the cold out. Come, I insist upon it."
Mr. Greeley and other good people tell us that it is all wrong to drink spirituous liquors, and we are not quite clear ourself as to the propriety of the practice. But there was something genial in the thoughtful attention of our friend Merryweather, and something else grateful in the aroma of the brandy-punch, that certainly made us all feel more truly welcome and happy than had we been politely shown up-stairs to wash our hands in a cold bedroom, with the prospect of two doughnuts and a cup of weak tea to follow.
Aunty Delluvian was of the party, being a very old friend of the family. With regard to the company generally, it may be defined as mixed. Some of the children, whose parents were neighbors, betrayed their status by the excess of starch and bright colors which characterized their dresses; while others from the city displayed all the ostentatious simplicity of cultivated taste.
Mr. Merryweather opened the entertainment with an exceedingly well intentioned, though rather transparent, display of prestidigitation (if that is the way to spell the abominable word); but as most of his tricks depended upon the use of a new and complete set of conjuring apparatus he had purchased for the occasion, we will not linger over his magic rings and dice and cups. Two items, however, in his performance being attainable by very simple means, we will describe.
At one stage in the entertainment it seemed absolutely necessary that he should have the aid of a small boy, in order to make six copper cents pass from under a hat to the top of a bird-cage. Making known his want, a red-faced youth with black curly hair volunteered his services. The juvenile, be it observed, had rendered himself somewhat conspicuous by declaring at the end of every trick that he knew how it was done, and by inquisitively desiring to inspect the interior of goblets and the bottoms of boxes. Merryweather's eyes twinkled as this gentleman tendered his assistance.
"Here," he said, producing a small trumpet, "this is my magic horn. Take it in your right hand, till I say: 'Heigh! presto! pass!' Then, if your lungs are strong enough, and you blow with sufficient force, those six cents will pass from under the hat to the top of that cage yonder."