And after all, as every one said, everything went off so beautifully that people need not have been disturbed. The Processional Festival Jubilee was given up (really, I think, to Mr. Pindar's relief as well as that of every one else,—except Miss Luella Slocum), and a reception substituted for it; not a Pink Tea, but a dignified and really charming occasion. Mrs. Bliss and Will Jaquith planned it, and the whole village helped to carry it out. The day was perfection, the very crown jewel of the summer: the house was thrown open, and the guests were met in the hall by a Reception Committee, consisting of the Messrs. Hollopeter, Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, Miss Wax and Mrs. Ware, and Dr. Geoffrey Strong. First, Doctor Strong made a brief address of welcome, which put every one into a holiday humor of twinkling anticipation; and then there were tableaux, framed in the wide low arch of the dining-room door, illustrating the history of the village since the first Darracott, Timothy Philo, settled here in 1680. The First Service, the Indian Massacre (Mr. Pindar superb as King Philip, in full war-paint and feathers, flourishing a real tomahawk from the Collection over the prostrate form of Tommy Candy), the departure of the Quahaug Company of Patriot Militia for Lexington, the women of Quahaug praying for the success of Washington's arms, and so on down to the last, when the Guardian Spirit of the village was represented as mourning for the death of Mrs. Tree. This was dear Miss Wax's idea, and she besought the Committee so earnestly to carry it out, "as a token of respect for Her we honor," that they had not the heart to refuse. Mrs. Bliss was secretly afraid that it might make people smile; and so it might have done if Annie Lizzie had not looked so sweet, in her white dress and drooping wings (she got them, after all!), that everybody cried instead.
Between the scenes the band, stationed in the garden, "discoursed acceptable strains," as the paper said next day; and, after the final scene, Mr. Homer made a little speech. He had been most unwilling to speak, but everybody insisted that he, and no one else, must actually open the Museum. So the dear gentleman got up, very pink and fluttering, and said that joy and sorrow had woven a mingled wreath to crown this day, but that it was the proudest one of his life, and that the proudest action of that life was to open the Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree Museum of Quahaug.
And then—then every one sang the Ode. Mr. Homer had written the words, and Mr. Pindar set them to music, and words and music were printed on white silk and distributed as souvenirs. The two brothers did not know that, when the music began, they took hold of hands, and stood so all through, waving their free arms and bowing their heads in time to the melody, and opening and shutting their mouths; but the rest of the company knew it, and cried so that they could hardly sing.
These are the words:
ODE
FOR THE OPENING OF THE CAPTAIN AND MRS.
ETHAN TREE MUSEUM OF QUAHAUG
As smooth the bivalve opes its jaws,
Admitting crystal flood,
So opes our own Museum its doors
To all of native blood.
On honored bier we drop the tear,
And then, with joy agog,
Our village proud doth cry aloud,
Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
Our patroness we fondly bless,
And likewise honor him
Who filled so free this treasury,
Then sought the cherubim.
Of objects fair, so rich and rare,
Description would but clog;
So let us sing till welkin ring,
Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
Captain and Mrs. Ethan Tree
We honor so this day,
As Muses nine, with fire divine,
Alone could fitly say.
Yet still each heart would bear its part,
With this for epilogue:
While life remains we'll praise thy plains,
Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug! (bang!) Quahaug!
(The "bangs" were not printed on the souvenirs, but without them one does not get the effect of the cymbals, which really were superb.)