The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-04-03
THE NATIONAL ERA.
WASHINGTON, MARCH 81, 1851.
By MARY IRVING.
cHRusTMas on THE PRAIRIE.

There is one festival, almost universal anon
the nations peopling Europe, which the Puritan
left or tried to leave blhind them, when the.
pushed from the dock of Leydeu. II was no mat
ter for wonder that, prosecuted as they had bee
by church which they looked upon as young
er sister of her who stitch upon her seve
hills" they should have thrown away the shado'
with the substance of its organization. With tn
creed and liturgy, they stroye to bury all thos
harmless forms and festivals that had sprung u
around them. They would pluck no flowers Of
the breast of volcano threatening to blight ant
engulph their faith and fortunes Better, ha'
no fiery stone y from the heart of that volcano
been reserved I" to cast" at brethren whose error
in judgment and practice were but the fruit o
the same honest enthusiasm that had nerved then
to tread higher path
"Christs mass was of course particularly OBJ
noxious to these well-meaning, though stern, re
formers of faith and customs. "Heroes in hear
and hand" indeed were they; let the few blem
ishes upon their .strong, upright characters b
botted out by tear from that charity which
"hideth multitude" of unwecome memories.
II was not thus with all there were many com
munities who chung to the associations of child
hood in -" old England" where the "yule log
had blazed so merrily against the high-backed
chimney, lighting up their young hearts with &
new delight every year. But the stanchest o.
the sect sought to supplant the holyday, with it,
heather usages," by the New England born
New England cherished festival-Thanksgivine
Day.
In the little village of my childhoods home
Christmas was scarcely honored by a notice il
passing indeed had nearly graduated from thu
ace of sugar candies before learned to echo tn,
note of Merry Christmasw or late years, how
ever the good old Christmas time" has striver
to renew its sway and the Yankee children o
this generation pay most delighted allegiance
70 Santa Claus,n prime minister Of it's impor
tant opening ceremonies.
But It is not of Christmas in Puritan land tina
have promised you sketch. Come, then, OF
the wing of Imagination from the home Of m.
fathers to my prairie home. Prairie de la Fleu
scarcely speaks its own name now the frost flow
ers are all that are left to gem and fasten it
suow-veil But the whistling winds have chosel
it for their hall of revelry. Hark! how the.
raveand shrek along the aisles Of the woodland
then burst forth like unclaimed maniscs to fl,
over the unbroken race-course of miles on miles
bowling to ones fearful fancy the death-dirge o
some benighted, lost traveller.
You need not stand to be stiffened into
Niobe-like statue in their bitter breath. Hastei
along with the cloud.shadows that sweep acros
this ftfully moon-lighted track-past the ghost
like misunderstanding its gaunt, bare arms, ant
cracking ominously to the cold evening storm.
Far down that glen is the frame Of prospect
i've house, looming up in the cloudiness of tn
night 1t promises deal Of roomy comfort il
time for its occupants, whoever they may be
Peeping through the chinks Of its beams is tn
hearth-fre of low log cabin, snugly ensconced il
the hollow behind it. 1t offers you shelter from
the bleak basts-and merry greeting, too, fo
it is the night before Christmas, and all through
the house " laughter is loudly ringing.
On the corner of the cracked hearth-stone sit
good Farmer Rathburn, putting his pipe slowly
and looking into the Goals as though he read I
lesson of contentment in every one Of their spark
ling faces. No dream castle-builder he he il
thinking Of his Alleghanian wheat stacks and o
the prospective "shingle palace" that is 70 grow
out of their profits His hands" are clustered
IN the opposite corner, cracking rough jokes and
hickory nuts together, and shaking the brown
raters with their uproarous merriment. TIL
gude-wife, like quiet lueen-bee, is stepping il
and out, and all about" "righting upD matter
ana things, with special eye to her Christina
CAKE, whose unshapen sweetness is basking warm
~ INSIDE the chimney corner. Davie. her onl
child, sits on log stool, rectifyineD his skate
iOr the morrow, and whistling low, puzzled &C
compartment to the higher notes. He is a ger
une slip of Yankee land, surely
But there is fair, serious face behind IN
irohcksome group Jessie, the sweet Scotc
daughter by adoption to the good couple, is viii,
eng her wool-wheel in the duskiest corne,
dreaming her own undisturbed dreams. See no,
her dark eyes dilate as they fix on the point @
her dIa2y spindle, over which the even thread
hurrying tirelessly. If Jessie were spinning GU
s Wv Unread Of her own destiny around that spin
u''' She could not watch it more eagerly and ab
'r'c'edly, nor with deeper flush OF emotie
"'''ea up from her heart ever and anon to he
'"eek'' All! Jessie's memories and fances ar
'"n'hllating time and space tonight.
Listen-the laughter on the hearth.stope ha
''Sed The men have suddenly xed themselve
u Their various positions one with his chat
.Pped at an angle Of forty Ave degrees, and hi
''e' braeed against the broiling end Of the hug
oaek-og" another crouched upon the hearth
1.S chin resting in his hands, and his elbows OF
a,s knees; but all their eyes were Axed upol
"''hael. German with face like withere,
''Sset apple, surmounted where the stem shout,
y" ny red flannel cap. Michael is telling, o.
'"ner chanting, a story of Christmas Eve in tn
4'ar blessed old Germany Of his childhood. Tn
~y'terious evergreen tree that used TO bear sucl
precious fruit springs up in fancy before them
Iuog with lamps, and with the gif,so the Christ
.""d Then the family gathering around it
Grandfather, grandmother, parents and children
S ~u Michael, growing sarrulous in the rstin
Ing warmth Of his heart, forgets to translate
" German soliloquy intelligibly.
'sHS'e huns her wheel slowly, and yet more
~. 70 catch every anecdote strung along
~, ''read OF the story; and when he stops q,
,a binding tear falls from her still open sy,
Nv ' hand, and quivering Sigh is pressed bach
l0. Ae' suddenly-clossd lips. Poor girl! sh,
,n., what gin her hearts hope would hang or
chu, "r'S'mas-tree-what the boon Of the Christ
'a,ld to her should h!
4, VINE o'clock strikes the Yankee horn clock on
du.d $50 shelf; And, rousias thsmsslv~ to sub.
AA'''A0oshtful laughter, the workmsu, one