How Deacon Tubman and Parson Whitney Kept New Year's: And Other StoriesMurray, W. H. H. (William Henry Harrison)
General
How Deacon Tubman and Parson Whitney Kept New Year's: And Other Stories
Murray, W. H. H. (William Henry Harrison)
Fiction; Short stories
"I tell ye, Henry," said the old man, as he transferred a duck to his
plate and proceeded to carve it with the aptness of one who had
practical knowledge of its anatomy, "I tell ye, Henry, the birds be
gittin' fat; and I sartinly hope the flight this fall will be a good un.
Don't be bashful, Lad, in yer eatin'," he continued, as he transferred
half of the bird to his companion's plate, "ye haven't got the size of
some about the waist, but yer length is in yer favor, and if ye will
only straighten up, and Henry don't gin' out, there'll be leetle left on
this eend of the table when we have satisfied our hunger. I don't know
when the cravin' of natur' has been stronger within me then it is this
minit; and if nothin' happens, and ye stand by me, the Saranacers will
remember our visit for days after we be gone. It isn't often that I feed
in the settlements, or get a taste of their cookin', but the man who
basted these birds knowed what he was doin', and the fire has given
them jest the right tech; and the morsels actilly melt in yer mouth."
The Trapper's feelings were evidently not peculiar to himself. And the
spirit of feasting was abroad. The eating was such as would astonish the
dwellers in cities. Wit flashed across the table in answer to wit. Mirth
rippled from end to end of the room. Laughter roared and rollicked adown
the hall. Jokes were cracked. Fun exploded. Plates rattled. Cups and
glasses touched and rang. Even the waiters, as they came and went in
their happy service, caught the infection of the surrounding happiness,
and their laughter mingled with that of the guests.
The great pine branches and the evergreens nailed against the corner
posts and wreathed into festoons along the walls shook and trembled in
the uproar as to the passage of winds along their native hills. And the
huge buck's heads, whose antlers were tied with rosettes and streaming
ribbons, lost the staring look of their great artificial eyes and seemed
as they gazed out through the interlacing boughs of cedar and balsam as
if life had returned to them, and they once more were animate.
In about an hour the company streamed back into the parlor, with a mood
even livelier than that which had characterized the early hours of the
occasion. Their minds were in the state of highest action, and their
bodies needed but the opportunity for rapid motion. Even the Lad had
caught the infection of the surrounding liveliness, for his eyes and
face glowed with the light of quickened animation.
"Have ye got any jigs in that fiddle, Lad?" said the Trapper; "Can ye
twist any thing out of yer instrument that will set the feet travellin'?
It seems to me that the young folks here want shakin' up a leetle; and a
leetle of the old-fashioned dancin' will help 'em settle the vittles.
Can ye liven up, Lad, and give 'em a tune that will set 'em whirlin'?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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