The May Flower, and Miscellaneous WritingsStowe, Harriet Beecher
General
The May Flower, and Miscellaneous Writings
Stowe, Harriet Beecher
United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
O, it was a fine thing to see the vigor and discipline with which he
managed the business; so that if, on a hot, drowsy Sunday, any part of
the choir hung back or sung sleepily on the first part of a verse, they
were obliged to bestir themselves in good earnest, and sing three times
as fast, in order to get through with the others. 'Kiah Morse was no
advocate for your dozy, drawling singing, that one may do at leisure,
between sleeping and waking, I assure you; indeed, he got entirely out
of the graces of Deacon Dundas and one or two other portly, leisurely
old gentlemen below, who had been used to throw back their heads, shut
up their eyes, and take the comfort of the psalm, by prolonging
indefinitely all the notes. The first Sunday after 'Kiah took the music
in hand, the old deacon really rubbed his eyes and looked about him; for
the psalm was sung off before he was ready to get his mouth opened, and
he really looked upon it as a most irreverent piece of business.
But the glory of 'Kiah's art consisted in the execution of those good
old billowy compositions called fuguing tunes, where the four parts that
compose the choir take up the song, and go racing around one after
another, each singing a different set of words, till, at length, by some
inexplicable magic, they all come together again, and sail smoothly out
into a rolling sea of song. I remember the wonder with which I used to
look from side to side when treble, tenor, counter, and bass were thus
roaring and foaming,--and it verily seemed to me as if the psalm was
going to pieces among the breakers,--and the delighted astonishment with
which I found that each particular verse did emerge whole and uninjured
from the storm.
But alas for the wonders of that old meeting house, how they are passed
away! Even the venerable building itself has been pulled down, and its
fragments scattered; yet still I retain enough of my childish feelings
to wonder whether any little boy was gratified by the possession of
those painted tulips and grape vines, which my childish eye used to
covet, and about the obtaining of which, in case the house should ever
be pulled down, I devised so many schemes during the long sermons and
services of summer days. I have visited the spot where it stood, but the
modern, fair-looking building that stands in its room bears no trace of
it; and of the various familiar faces that used to be seen inside, not
one remains. Verily, I must be growing old; and as old people are apt to
spin long stories, I check myself, and lay down my pen.
THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.
The sparkling ice and snow covered hill and valley--tree and bush were
glittering with diamonds--the broad, coarse rails of the fence shone
like bars of solid silver, while little fringes of icicles glittered
between each bar.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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