# 'Way Down East; or, Portraitures of Yankee Life/Yankee Christmas

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Yankee Christmas
The autumnal holiday peculiar to New England is Thanksgiving; while in the middle and southern States the great domestic festival is more generally at Christmas or New Year's. Whether the following historical sketch, therefore, applies with more propriety to Christmas or Thanksgiving, must depend in some degree upon the latitude in which Mr. Solomon Briggs resides.
"Next Thursday is Christmas," said Mrs. Briggs, as she came bustling out of the kitchen into the long dining-room, and took her seat at the breakfast table, where her husband, Mr. Solomon Briggs, and all the children, being ten in number, were seated before her. If Mrs. Briggs was the last at the table, the circumstance must not be set down as an index to her character, for she was a restless, stirring body, and was never the last anywhere, without good cause. From childhood she had been taught to believe that the old adage, "the eye of the master does more work than both his hands," applied equally well to the mistress. Accordingly, she was ​in all parts of the house at once, not only working with her own hands, but overseeing everything that was done by others. Indeed, now that we have said thus much in favor of Mrs. Briggs, a due regard to impartial justice requires us to add, that Mr. Briggs himself, though a very quiet sort of a man, and not of so restless and mercurial a temperament as his wife, could hardly be said to be less industrious. His guiding motto through life had been—
And most literally had he been governed by the precept. He was, in short, an industrious, thriving New England farmer. His exact location it is not our purpose here to disclose. We give our fair readers, and unfair, if we have any, the whole range of New England, from the shore of Connecticut to the Green Mountains, and from Mount Hope to Moosehead Lake, to trace him out. But we shall not point to the spot, lest Mr. Solomon Briggs, seeing his own likeness brought home to his own door, might think us impertinent for meddling with family affairs.
To go back to our starting point—Mrs. Briggs, who had stopped in the kitchen till the last moment, ​in order to see the last dish properly prepared for breakfast, came herself at last to the table.
"Next Thursday is Christmas," said she, "and nothing done yet to prepare for it. I do wish we could ever have things in any sort of season."
At the mention of Christmas the children's eyes all brightened, from James, the eldest, who was twenty-one, down to Mary, who was but two years old, and who, of course, knew nothing about Christmas, but looked smiling and bright because all the rest did.
Mr. Briggs, however, who considered the last remark as having a little bearing upon himself, replied—"That he should think three days was time enough to get a Christmas dinner or a Christmas supper good enough for any common sort of folks."
"It would be time enough to get it," said Mrs. Briggs, "if we had anything to get it with; but we haven't a mite of flour in the house, nor no meat for the mince pies, and there aint no poultry killed yet, neither!"
"Well, well, mother," said Mr. Briggs, very moderately, and with a half smile, "just be patient a little, and you shall have as much Christmas as you want. There's a bushel of as good wheat as ever was ​ground, I put into a bag on Saturday; James can take a horse and carry it to mill this morning, and in two hours you may have a bushel of good flour. You've got butter enough and lard enough in the house, and if you want any plums or raisins, or any such sort of things, James may call at Haskall's store, as he comes home from mill, and get what you want. Then Mr. Butterfield is going to kill a beef critter this morning, and I'm going to have a quarter, so that before noon you can have a hundred weight of beef to make your mince pies of, and if that aint enough, I'll send to Mr. Butterfield's for another quarter. And then there is five heaping cart loads of large yellow punkins in the barn, and there is five cows that give a good mess of milk; and you've got spices and ginger, and molasses, and sugar enough in the house, so I don't see as there need be any difficulty but what we might have punkin pies enough for all hands. And as for the poultry, it'll be time enough to kill that to-morrow morning; and if two turkeys aint enough, I'll kill four, besides a bushel basket full of chickens. So now go on with your birds'-egging, and make your Christmas as fast as you please, and as much of it."
When this speech was ended, the children clapped ​their hands and laughed, and said, "never fear father—he always brings it out right at last."
From that hour forth, for three days, there was unusual hurry and bustle throughout the house of Solomon Briggs. In the kitchen particularly there was constant and great commotion. The oven was hot from morning till night, and almost from night till morning. There was baking of pound cake, and plum cake, and sponge cake, and Christmas cake, and New Year's cake, and all sorts of cake that could be found in the cook book. Then there were ovens full of mince pies, and apple pies, and custard pies, and all sorts of pies. The greatest display of pies, however, was of the pumpkin tribe. There were "punkin pies" baked on large platters for Christmas dinner, and others on large plates for breakfast and supper a month afterwards; and others still, in saucers, for each of the small children. In the next place, there was a pair of plum puddings, baked in the largest sized earthen pots, and Indian puddings and custard puddings to match. And then the roastings that were shown up on the morning of Christmas were in excellent keeping with the rest of the preparations. Besides a fine sirloin of beef, two fat turkeys were roasted, two geese, and a half a ​dozen chickens. And then another half dozen of chickens were made into an enormous chicken pie, and baked in a milk pan.
A query may arise, perhaps, in the mind of the reader, why such a profusion of food should be cooked up at once for a single family, and that family, too, not unreasonably large, though respectable in number, for it did not count over sixteen, including domestics, hired help and all. This is a very natural error for the reader to fall into, but it is an error nevertheless. This array of food was not prepared for a single family; but for a numerous company, to be made up from many families in the neighborhood. The truth was, Mr. Briggs was well to do in the world, a circumstance owing to his long course of patient industry and economical habits. Several of his children were now nearly men and women grown, full of life and fond of fun, as most young folks are. Mrs. Briggs also was very fond of society, and a little vain of her smart family of children, as well as of her good cooking. From these premises, a gathering of several of the neighbors at Mr. Briggs's house, to eat a Christmas dinner, and a still larger company of young folks towards night, to spend a Christmas evening would not be a very ​unnatural consequence. Such was the consequence, as we shall presently see.
We shall not stop to give a particular account of the dinner, as that was a transaction performed in the daytime, openly and above-board, and could be seen and understood by everybody; but the evening company, and the supper, and the frolic, as they were hid from the world by the darkness of the night, need more elucidation. We must not dismiss the dinner, however, without remarking that it fullfilled every expectation, and gave entire satisfaction to all parties. A table of extra length was spread in the long dining hall, which was graced by a goodly circle of elderly people, besides many of the middle-aged and the young. And when we state that the loin of beef was reduced to a skeleton; that two turkeys, one goose, and five chickens, vanished in the twinkling of a case-knife; that the large milk pan, containing the chicken-pie, was explored and cleared to the very bottom; and that three or four large puddings and a couple of acres of "punkin pie" were among the things lost in the dessert, we think it has been sufficiently shown that due respect was paid to Mrs. Briggs's dinner, and that her culinary skill should not be called in question.
​"Now, James, who's coming here to-night?" said Susan, the eldest daughter, a bright, blue-eyed girl of eighteen. "Who have you asked? Jest name 'em over, will you?"
"Oh, I can't name 'em over," said James; "jest wait an hour or two and you'll see for yourself. I've asked pretty much all the young folks within a mile or two; as much as twenty of 'em I guess."
"Well, have you asked Betsy Harlow?" said Susan.
"Yes, and Ivory too, if that's what you want to know," said James.
"Nobody said anything about Ivory," said Susan, as the color came to her cheek, and she turned to go out of the room.
"Here, Suky, come back here," said James, "I've got something to tell you."
"What is it?" said Susan, turning round at the door, and waiting.
"They say Ivory is waiting on Harriet Gibbs; what do you think of that?" said James.
"I don't believe a word of it," said Susan, coloring still more deeply.
"Well, Harriet will be here this evening," said James "and then may be you can judge for yourself."
"Is her brother coming with her?" said Susan.
​"George is coming," said James, "but whether she will come with him, or with Ivory Harlow, remains to be seen."
That Christmas was rather a cold day, and as night approached, it grew still colder.
"Pile on more wood," said Mr. Briggs, "get your rooms warm, so there shan't be no shiverin' or huddling about the fire this evening."
The boys were never more ready to start promptly at their father's bidding than they were on this occasion. The large fire-place in the long dining-room was piled full of round sticks of heavy wood almost up to the mantel; and the fires in the "fore room" and in the end room were renewed with equal bounty. By early candle-light, the company began to drop in one after another, and by twos and threes in pretty frequent succession. There were stout boys in round jackets, and stouter boys in long-tailed coats, and rosy-cheeked girls in shawls, and blankets, and cloaks, and muffs, and tippets. Some of the middle-aged and elderly people who had remained to pass the evening, sat in the "fore room" with Mr. and Mrs. Briggs, while the young folks were huddled into the end room, till the supper table should be spread in the long dining-hall.
​"There's Ivory Harlow's bells," said James, as a sleigh came with a merry gingle up to the door; and instantly the windows were crowded with heads looking out to see who had come with him. Ivory lived about a mile and a half distant and was the only one who came with a sleigh that evening, as most of the others lived considerably nearer.
"Why, there's four of 'em, as true as I live," said Susan, as they crossed the stream of candle light, that poured from the windows and spread across the door yard. One of the younger boys had already opened the door, and in a moment more the new comers were ushered into the room, viz: Ivory Harlow and his sister Betsy, and Harriet Gibbs, and a strange gentleman, whom Ivory introduced to the company as Mr. Stephen Long, the gentleman who was engaged to keep the district school that winter. And then he turned and whispered to James, and told him that the master had arrived at their house that afternoon, as he was to begin the school the next day, so he thought he would bring him with him.
"That's jest right," said James, "I'm glad you did;" though at the same time his heart belied his words, for he felt afraid it would spoil half the fun of the evening. The boys and girls all at once put on ​long and sober faces, and sat and stood round the room as quiet as though they had been at a funeral. Presently Susan whispered to James and told him he ought to take the master into the "fore room," and introduce him to father and mother and the rest of the folks. "And I'd leave him there, if I was you," she added in a very suppressed whisper, lest she should be overheard.
James at once followed the suggestion of Susan, and took Mr. Stephen Long into the other room and introduced him to Mr. and Mrs. Briggs and the rest of the company, and a chair was of course set for Mr. Long, and he of course sat down in it and began to talk about the weather and other subjects of like interest, while James retreated back into the end room. The moment the master had left the room the boys and girls all began to breathe more freely, and to bustle about, and talk and laugh as merry as crickets. Not a few regrets were thrown out from one and another, that the school-master had been brought there to spend the evening, and some of them thought "Ive Harlow ought to a-known better, for he might know it would spoil half their play." But it seems they had not rightly estimated Mr. Stephen Long's social and youthful qualities, who, ​although two or three and twenty years old, was almost as much of a boy as any in the room. He had not been gone more than fifteen minutes before he came back into the room with the young folks again, much to the dismay of the whole company.
A cloud immediately settled upon their faces; all were whist as mice, and sober as deacons, till Mr. Stephen Long came across the room with an exceedingly droll expression of merriment upon his face, and gave James a hearty slap on the back, saying at the same time:
"Well, now, what's the order of the day here to-night? Dance, or forfeits, or blind man's bluff? I'm for improving the time."
At once the whole company burst out into a loud laugh, and several of the juniors, feeling such a burden suddenly removed from them, fell to pounding each other's shoulders, probably to prevent them in their lightness from flying of the handle.
"I guess we'll have something or other a going bime by," said James; "whatever the company likes best; but I guess we'll have supper first, for that's about ready."
The words were but just uttered when the call for supper was given, and the fore-room, and the end-​room poured out their respective companies into the long dining-hall. It was soon perceived that, long as the table was, they could not all be seated at once, and there began to be some canvassing to determine who should wait. The elderly people must of course sit down, and the school-master must of course sit at the first table, and then it was decided that the youngest of the young folks should sit down too, because the eldest of the young folks chose to wait and eat by themselves. To this last arrangement there was one exception; for Miss Harriet Gibbs, when she saw the school-master seated on one side of the table, had somehow or other, inadvertently of course, taken a seat on the other side directly opposite to him. And when, as the young folks were retiring from the room, Ivory Harlow looked at her and saw she had concluded to remain, Susan thought she saw considerable color come into Ivory's face.
When the first company at the table had eaten up two rows of pies clear round the board, including mince, apple and custard, and "punkin pies," of the largest class, together with a reasonable portion of various kinds of cakes and sweetmeats, and had given place to the second company at the table, who had gone through similar operations to a similar extent, ​the great dining-hall was speedily cleared of dishes, and chairs, and tables, and all such sorts of trumpery, that there might be nothing to impede the real business of the evening.
The elderly people were again seated in the fore-room, where a brisk fire was blazing so warmly that they could sit back comfortably clear to the walls; and around the hearth was a goodly array of mugs and pitchers of cider, and bowls heaped with mellow apples, red and yellow and green.
"Now, then, what shall we have to begin with?" said James.
"Blind man's buff," said George Gibbs.
"Suppose we have a quiet dance to begin with?" said Susan.
"Oh, I'd rather have something that has more life in it," said Harriet Gibbs; "let's have 'hunt the slipper,' or 'forfeits,' I don't care which.
"Oh get away with them small potatoes," said Bill Dingley; "let's go right into blind man's buff at once; that's the stuff for Christmas."
"You know we must please the ladies, Bill," said James Briggs, "I guess we'll have a sort of game at forfeits first, as Miss Gibbs proposed it."
"Well, agreed," said all hands.
​Accordingly the company arranged themselves in a circle round the large hall, holding the palms of their hands together, and James took a piece of money between his hands and passed round to each one of the company, and made the motion to drop the money into the hands of each.
"Button, button, who's got the button?" said James to the head one, when he had been round the circle.
"Harriet Gibbs," was the reply.
"Button, button, who's got the button?" said James to the next.
"Betsey Harlow," answered the next.
At last, when James had been clear round the circle and questioned each one in like manner, he called out,
"Them that's got it, rise."
At once up hopped Sam Nelson, a sly little redheaded fellow about a dozen years old, whom no one suspected of having it, and of course no one had guessed him. Every one of the company, therefore, had to pay a forfeit.
"I move we redeem, before we go any further," said Ivory Harlow.
The motion was seconded all round, and the forfeits were accordingly collected, and James selecting a couple, held them over Harriet Gibbs's head.
​"Whose two pawns are these?" said he, "and what shall he and she do to redeem them?"
"The lady shall kiss the schoolmaster," said Harriet, "and the gentleman shall go into the fore-room and kiss Mrs. Briggs.
"Miss Harriet Gibbs and Mr. Ivory Harlow go and do it," said James.
"Oh, la me! I shant do no sich thing," said Harriet with a half scream.
"Then you don't have your ring again," said James.
"Well, then, I suppose I must do it, or I shall be setting a bad example to the rest," said Harriet. And away she run across the room to Mr. Stephen Long, and at once gave the whole company audible evidence that she had fully redeemed her ring.
Ivory Harlow walked leisurely into the fore-room. What he did there the young people could not certainly say, but from the hearty laugh that came from the elderly people there assembled, they inferred that he did something, and on his return James gave him up his pawn.
James then selected two more of the forfeits, and held them over Bill Dingley's head.
"Whose two pawns are these, and what shall he and she do to redeem them?" said James. ​"They shall kiss each other through a chair back," said Bill.
"Miss Susan Briggs and Mr. Stephen Long have got to do it," said James.
Whereupon Mr. Stephen Long readily took a chair and approached Miss Susan Briggs. But Miss Susan, when she saw the school-master coming towards her, holding a chair up to his face, and his lips poking through the back of it, colored up to the eyes and turned away.
"Do it, do it!" cried half the company, "or you shan't have your hankerchief."
Mr. Stephen Long seemed bent upon redeeming his pawn at any rate, and he followed Miss Susan with the chair with an earnestness that showed he did not mean to be baffled. When Miss Susan found herself cornered, and could retreat no further, she kissed her hand and tossed it at the chair.
"That wont do," cried half a dozen voices.
"I had to redeem mine," said Harriet Gibbs, "and it's no more than fair that she should redeem hers."
"Well, you may redeem mine too, if you are a mind to," said Susan, pushing the chair from her with her hand.
When Mr. Stephen Long found he could not ​redeem his pawn through the chair, he declared he would redeem it without the chair. So setting the chair down, he commenced a fresh attack upon Miss Susan, who held both hands tightly over her face. After some violence, however, the company heard the appropriate signal of triumph, but whether the victory had been achieved upon cheek or hand, always remained matter of doubt.
In redeeming the rest of the pawns, the penalties were as various as the characters of the several persons who stood judges. One had to measure half a dozen yards of love ribbon. One had to hop across the room on one foot backwards. Another had to kneel to the prettiest, bow to the wittiest, and kiss the one he loved best. But when Bill Dingley stood as judge, he declared he wasn't in favor of any half-way punishments, and he accordingly adjudged the delinquents to kiss every lady and gentleman in the room; that is, the lady to kiss the gentlemen, and the gentleman to kiss the ladies, which penalties the aforesaid delinquents performed according to the best of their abilities.
When the game of pawns was over, the general vote seemed to be in favor of blind man's buff. James had to blind first, and he whirled about the ​room, and flew from side to side, and corner to corner, with as much ease and boldness as though he had nothing over his eyes; and he kept the company continually flying from one end of the hall to the other, like a flock of frightened pigeons. He, however, killed them off pretty fast, by catching one after another, and sending them into the end room. While they were running for their lives, this way and that, Ivory Harlow couldn't help noticing that, somehow or other, Harriet Gibbs most always blundered into the same corner where the school-master was; and sometimes she would run right against him before she saw him; and then sometimes she would almost fall down, and the school-master would have to catch hold of her to keep her from falling. More than once that evening, Ivory wished he had not brought her, and more than twice he wished Susan Briggs might forget that he did bring her.
The brisk running and bustle at blind man's buff drew the elderly people to the door of the fore room, where they stood and looked on. When James had caught about half the company, Mrs. Briggs could not stand it any longer. She slipped off her shoes, and in she went right among them, and joined in the game; and she ran about lighter and quicker than ​any girl there. So much upon the alert was she, and moved about with such noiseless and nimble footsteps, that she was in fact the very last to be taken. And when at last she was cornered and caught, James was a little puzzled to know who it was, for he felt almost sure he had caught all the large girls. But when he put his hand upon her head, and face, and neck, and shoulders, he exclaimed,
"Well done, mother; this is you. Now you shall blind."
"Oh, no, I can't do that, James," said Mrs. Briggs, retreating toward the fore-room.
"Yes, but you must," said James, "you are the last caught."
"Yes, yes, you must, you must," echoed the young folks from all sides.
"Well," said Mrs. Briggs at last, "if Mr. Briggs and the rest of 'em will come out and run, I'll blind."
The elderly people stood and looked at each other a minute, and at last they haw hawed right out, and then half a dozen of them came out upon the floor to join the game. The handkerchief was put upon Mrs. Briggs's eyes, and the old folks commenced running, and the old folks stepped heavy, and the young folks laughed loud, and there was a most decided racket. ​Mrs. Briggs, however, soon cleared the coast, for she was spry as a cat, and caught her prey as fast as that useful animal would do when shut up in a room with a flock of mice.
When this run was over, the play went back again exclusively into the hands of the young folks, and after several of them had been blinded, it came at last to Bill Dingley's turn. Bill went into it like a day's work. He leaped upon his prey like a tiger among sheep. He ran over one, and tripped up another, knocked one this way and another that, and caught three or four in his arms at once. He made very quick work of it, and caught them all off, but when he got through, two or three were rubbing the bruises on their heads, and one was bleeding at the nose. This wound up the blind man's buff.
Mrs. Briggs then came out and told Susan to get a table out in the middle of the room. She then brought forward a couple of nice little loaves of Christmas cake, and placed them on a couple of plates, and cut them up into as many slices as there were young folks present, men and women grown.
"Now," said Mrs. Briggs, "we'll see which of you is going to be married first. These two cakes have each of 'em a Christmas ring in them; and ​whicheveer gets the slice that has the ring in it, will be married before the year is out. So all the gals over sixteen years old stand up in a row on one side, and all the young men over eighteen stand up in a row on the other side, and I'll pass the cake round."
She carried it round to the young men first, and each took a slice and commenced eating to ascertain who had the ring.
"By jings, I haven't got it," said Billy Dingley, swallowing his cake at three mouthfuls.
"May be you've swallowed it," said George Gibbs.
"Well, them that's got it," said Mrs. Briggs, "please to keep quiet till we find out which of the gals has the other."
She then passed the cake round to the young ladies. When she came to Susan, Harriet Gibbs, who was standing by her side, said:
"It's no use for any of the rest of us to try, for Susan knows which slice 'tis in, and she'll get it."
"No, that isn't fair," said Mrs. Briggs; "I put the rings in myself, and nobody else knows anything about it."
The young ladies then took their slices, and Mrs. Briggs passed on to Sally Dingley, Bill's sister, who being on the wrong side of forty, did not stand in the ​row, and rather declined taking the cake. Mrs. Briggs urged her, and told her she must take some; when Bill suddenly called out:
"Take hold, Sal, take hold and try your luck; as long as there's life there's hope."
Miss Sally Dingley run across the room and boxed Bill's ears, and then came back and said she'd take a piece of cake.
"For who knows," said she, "but what I shall get the ring; and who knows but what I shall be married before any of you, now?"
After the young ladies had eaten their cake, Mrs. Briggs called upon them that had the rings to step forward into the floor. Upon which, Ivory Harlow stepped out on one side, and Harriet Gibbs on the other.
"Ah, that ain't fair; that's cheatin, that's cheatin," cried out little Sam Nelson.
"Why, what do you mean by that, Sam?" said Mrs. Briggs.
"Cause," said Sam, "I see Susan, when she was eating the cake, take the ring out of her mouth, and slip it into Harriet Gibbs's hand."
At this Susan blushed, Harriet looked angry, and the company laughed.
​By this time it was twelve o'clock, and the elderly people began to think it was time for them to be moving homeward. And as soon as they were gone, the young folks put on their shawls and cloaks and hats, and prepared to follow them. Before they went, however, Ivory Harlow got a chance to whisper to Susan Briggs, and tell her, that he supposed he should have to carry Harriet home this time, but it was the last time he should ever carry her anywhere, as long as his name was Ivory Harlow.