Holidays at the Grange; or, A Week's Delight: Games and Stories for Parlor and Fireside — John Shaqi
Holidays at the Grange; or, A Week's Delight: Games and Stories for Parlor and FiresideHiggins, Emily Mayer
General
Holidays at the Grange; or, A Week's Delight: Games and Stories for Parlor and Fireside
Higgins, Emily Mayer
Amusements -- Juvenile literature; Children's stories; Indoor games -- Juvenile literature
Not many miles from Philadelphia, in a beautifully wooded and hilly
country, may be seen a large rambling mansion, whose substantial walls
show that it was built at a time when more attention was paid to the
durability of dwellings than at present. It is, indeed, quite an ancient
house for this part of the world, having been erected by a certain John
Wyndham, a hundred years ago; and it has remained in the family ever
since, the owner of it generally inheriting the name of John, a taste
for rural life, and the old homestead together. It was constructed in
good taste, and with great regard for comfort; the broad hall, the
favorite resort in summer, was ornamented with family portraits of many
ages back, and a complete suit of armor, visor and all, struck awe into
the hearts of young visitors, who almost expected its former occupant to
resume possession, with his gauntleted hand to draw the sword from its
scabbard, and, seizing the flag over his head, to drive the modern
usurpers from the house. Large antlers, bows and arrows, and rusty
fowling-pieces against the wall, intimated that the descendants of the
grim warrior had exercised their valor in the chase; while a guitar with
blue ribbon, in the corner, told that gentler days had come, and spoke
of peace, domestic joys, and woman's influence.
Many were the bright sunshiny chambers in that cheerful home; but I will
describe one apartment only, the sitting-room, with which we are chiefly
concerned. The furniture is quaint and massive; but it is the rich
mellow light streaming through the room that principally attracts the
eye. Is it the western sun, tinted by the colored glass of the
bay-window, or is it the ruddy hickory fire? What a remarkable
chimney-place! few such can be seen now-a-days; they had gone out of
date a hundred years ago; but it was ancient John Wyndham's fancy, as
far as possible, to possess a fac-simile of the family mansion in
England, in which his childish days had been spent. What elaborate
carving upon the huge mantel-piece!--hunters with their guns and dogs;
shepherds and shepherdesses, with crooks and sheep; scriptural scenes
and rural incidents, afford endless amusement to the groups gathered
before the fire. Before, did I say? around, is the right expression; for
so large is the chimney, that while crackling up-piled logs blaze upon
the hearth, a number might be accommodated on the benches at the side,
as well as in front. It is the most sociable gathering-place in the
world, and the stiffest and most formal person would soon relax there;
while fingers are thawed, hearts are melted by that fire--warm and kind
affections are drawn out--sparkles of wit fly about the room, as if in
emulation of the good hickory: it is a chimney corner most provocative
of ancient legends, of frightful ghost-stories, of tales of
knight-errantry and romantic love, of dangers and of hair-breadth
escapes; in short, of all that can draw both old and young away from
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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