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The last Sabbath of the year 18— was far spent, and the little band of worshippers who had assembled in the village church of ——, were preparing to return to their respective homes, and digest the homily of their worthy pastor; when deacon Gravely advanced toward the altar, with all the dignity of official-bearing in his step, where pausing in the measured tones of one who is in authority, he requested the congregation to “tarry a moment.” There was a sudden revolution of faces—a quick rustling of cloaks, and rattling of foot-stools, and then all was so still, one might have heard a pin drop, and every eye bent with eager curiosity on the speaker; who only wished to remind them that the annual visit to their “beloved pastor” would take place as usual on January first, and it was hoped there would be a general attendance on the occasion.
An instantaneous gleam of pleasure ran over the faces of the audience, followed by a motion for the door, which was obstructed here and there by the meeting of female friends, who kept impatient footsteps in the rear, whilst in audible whispers, they exchanged opinions touching the sermon, the proposed visit, and their various domestic grievances. But the little church was at length empty, and the sexton proceeded to extinguish the fire in the stove, and close its sacred doors against any week-day intruders. It would be detracting from the solemnising-powers of the respected dominie, to say that the few words spoken by the deacon, had been more effectual than his well-written discourse on the departure of the year, and uncharitable to suppose that the church-going villagers thought more and talked more on their way home, of visiting their minister, than of attending to the admonitions he had that day given them; and though I am telling a true story, it does not follow that the whole truth must be told; so let me pass on to the following Monday, which dawned without a cloud.
There was an earlier stirring than usual in the village, particularly among the farmers’ wives, who must needs get their week’s-washing out of the way as soon as possible, that preparations might commence for the anticipated visit, which was to take place on Wednesday. The city-reader may not be aware that it is a custom in country villages throughout many of the older states, to atone somewhat for the meagre salaries allotted to the ministerial department, by donations from those whose hearts are opened to give of such things as they have, to him who breaks the “Bread of Life” to their souls. Furthermore, it is so arranged by the considerate deacons’ wives, that these donations shall be sweetened on the part of the donors, by a social cup of tea at the parsonage; which certainly cannot be considered as among “The multitude of Sins” which need the mantle of charity for a covering.
By the hasty moving to and fro of the villagers through Monday and Tuesday, it was evident that until their memories were jogged by deacon Gravely, they had thought nothing of, nor made any reservations for the annual gathering: but to their credit be it said, that they were not slow to act on this occasion, and designed having everything in “apple-pie order.” The farmer unlocked the rich treasures of his granary, corn-crib and fruitery: wheat in “good measures, pressed down” and overflowing, was laid aside; the best of the yellow corn was selected; the golden pippins packed systematically, and even the more solid wealth of the pork barrel gave of its abundance to complete the New Year’s offering. The axe too of the woodman resounded through the neighboring forests, and many a sturdy hickory and oak bowed the willing head, at the bright promise of adding cheerfulness and comfort to the parsonage hearth. Nor was the ambitious house-wife to be out-done by her lord: from the “wool and the flax,” which she had sought and worked “willingly with her hands,” a worthy portion was chosen for the pastor’s wife and her nursery-flock. And the store-room held out its donation of butter and cheese; not forgetting that weightier matter of economy, ycleped “black-butter”—so indispensable to the farmer’s table! (being a mixture of quinces and apples, boiled down to sauce in sweet cider, and eaten on bread by the children, instead of butter.) Nor was this all: Doughnuts and twisted cakes were soon dancing merrily over the fire, plumcakes swelling in the oven, and many a little delicacy contrived by the inventive geniuses that were busy on the occasion;—for it is understood that these gatherings are to be no source of trouble or expense to the minister’s wife. One of the neighboring house-wives is appointed to the high office of mistress of ceremonies, and some half dozen others move at her beck and call through the parsonage-house, making all needful arrangements, while the lady herself is but an admiring spectator of the scene, and has only to dress and receive her profitable visiters.
The farmers were not alone in their “labors of love,” for the enterprising shop-keepers were as busy on their part in preparation. “Dry-goods and Groceries,” read their signs, and “the signs of the times,” were read in the liberal offerings that were made ready for the day, each having the savor of their trade withal.
And the day at length arrived! A New Year’s sun enlivened the spirits of the villagers, (albeit, they knew nothing of fashionable “calls” on Time’s natal day,) and threw open the gates of the parsonage. At an early hour might be seen gliding over the polished surface of a late fallen snow, the farmer’s sled, bearing its ponderous load of wood; here and there, wheel-barrows and hand-barrows, groaning with the burden of such variety as would puzzle any head to remember, all wending their way to the pastor’s dwelling. Two o’clock, P. M. found the elder portion of his congregation, having sent their gifts as a passport, preparing to appear in person before their minister. For once, the “Sunday suit” of true blue and shining gilt, was put in requisition on a work-day; and the buxom dame came forth from her toilet in her “best” gown and cap, and when in addition, the “meeting-bonnet” and hat were donned, away trudged the farmer and his “better half,” leaving the care of the homestead to the young folks, who were to take their turn at candle-light; when it was understood that the old folks were to return, and give them a chance by themselves.
Ye who love the cheerful, unostentatious scene, peep with me in imagination into the minister’s parlor:—see that weather-beaten group of farmers in the corner, animated by the light of each other’s countenances, while the crops of the late season are compared, and the improvements in modern husbandry denounced as “innovations,” and hostile to the wisdom and practice of their respected fore-fathers. Or if you would hear of broken banks and money-matters in general, listen to that trio, which comprises the chief of the village merchants: and then pass to those social wives and spinsters who are rocking, knitting and gossiping, all most industriously at the same moment. The latter accomplishment they evidently excel in; as can be proved by their remarks on the domestic qualifications of Mrs. Tidifield; the lax government of Mrs. Gadabroad; the inferior household management of Mrs. Carelittle, and the “high notions” of Mrs. Citybred, (a late comer among them,) which they “guess will have to come down, after she has lived in the country awhile,” &c. &c. But as these industrious ladies had no ill meaning in this species of detraction, and would do “a good turn” for any of their erring neighbors before mentioned, we must attribute this propensity for scandal, to the “original sin” which is inherent to their sex. The tea “goes off” in old presbyterian style, and each discovers something of her own handiwork amid the variety spread before them. * * * But alas! all earthly pleasures must terminate. As the evening shades gather without, there is a breaking up of the gathering within, and the afternoon visiters disperse to the “quickstep” of “Homeward bound.”
The first light that gleamed through the parsonage-windows was a signal, that seemed well understood by the belles and beaux of the village; who light of heart and light of step, hurried in blooming clusters to the evening gathering, evidently reckoning on a merry-making of no common order. But after the excitement of arriving was over, and the last guest had been ushered into the presence of the company, there arose a question in the minds of some, as to what they had met together for; and in sooth no one seemed exactly to know. On one side of the ample apartment, in bright array, were seated all the fair of the neighborhood, in blushing, simpering silence! While opposite, in formidable rows, sat the young farmers and shop-keepers of the village, as “slick” as pomatum and starch could make them, twisting their thumbs one way for lack of thought, and the other way, for lack of talk; but not daring to cross the dividing-line, into “fairer realms beyond.”
“The awful pause” was at length broken by a proposition which came from some unknown source, to “get up a play,” and many were the bright smiles that responded to it. Every one knows, that when the young folks of a village once throw off the stiffness of distance, and mingle in the unrestrained mirth of a rustic game, they are the happiest of the happy! On this New Year’s evening, they would have had a regular “jollification,” but for the timely caution of deacon Gravely, who remained to sustain the dignity of his office, by keeping the lambs of the flock within due bounds; reminding them that they were at the minister’s house: a fact which they seemed quite willing to forget.