The Mason County journal. [volume] (Shelton, W.T.) 1886-1927, 1889-12-13

Uoacner gave HIUy Genus, ana one sister
a whole dollar, and so the little pile &C.
cumulated, and the chancellor got so ex-
cited and tremulOus that he had to get
girl in scarlet waist to help him count
it up at the last, and he gave the min
lister sly poke in under the fifth rib
and told him sit was just good enough
for him."
But the merriest, prettiest scene of
all was out in the long, low kitchen,
with the yellow pumpkins and rosy
apples piled in the corners, where the
lights were swaying lanterns hung high
against the ceiling, and where, inside
the row of deacons and brethren
standing with their backs against the
wall and the Pickering shadows dancing
across their grim, rugged faces, was
double, triple circle of the happy, hearty
country lads and lasses playing with
noisy enthusiasm and unconscious grace
the old game of ''chase the squirrel"
Have you forgotten the romping old
frolic so full of fun and kisses; forgot
ten how you sat in one chair in the
center and your best girl in another, and
how you kissed her when you began and
then held her chair close against your
own in the mad chase that follow ed
when William Merritt tried to catch and
kiss prim little Prudence Putnam? How
she flew around those chairs with lighter,
swifter steps than ever Jimmie Powers
tripped into his favorite minuet, darling
breathlessly in and out among the girls
and boys, and how his heavy boots
stamped and pounded the hard floor as
he pursued her and caught her at last,
painting in a corner, and for one brief,
blessed minute held her close and kissed
her, and how the pair in the chairs
kissed, too, for company, as they gave
their places up to the runners! There
were wall-fowers in the game, too, just
as there are at any ladies' reception, and
witching little lasses who were chosen
again and again, until they were too
tired to make the work of winning a
kiss long or wearisome. How old Aunt
Hannah rolled her huge corporosity out
of the ''frOnt room" and through the
crowd again and again to see if her Genie
were being chosen enough times. Poor
Genie, who never was chosen at all, and
whom boy wouldn't kiss for the world,
though she was most dutiful daughter
Now one little merry, daring maiden
comes up to the teacher, who is trying
to be dignified, and bids him catch
her, and another naughty, witching
little lassie with hair so yellow that
it would make Ada Rehan's imported
tresses look furnished, waylays the
deacon himself, and then keeps those
tossing curls of gold just out of his
reach for such forever while all the
other deacons slap their knees and
poke each others sides with delight,
and then they all join hands in ring
and play ''Going to Boston," with a
girl in the center blindfolded and all
the boys changing places continually
until she catches one and feels of his
head and face with her little brown
hands for clew to his identity. Have
you forgotten that game, too, and how
those little cool, futtering hands feel
against your hot face, and how you
tried to keep your very heart from
beating lest it betray you, and how
you kissed her when she said your
name; and don't you remember when
it was your turn to be blindfolded, and
you caught her, how you could see her
all the time, but still you lifted the
long brown braids, and smoothed their
shiny surface; you touched the warm,
white neck and dimpled cheek, and
felt for the little ring on her hand
that you put there yourself before you
would tell her name, and how hard
it was to say that name anyway before
all the people, and your changing
voice began in the lower register and
ran the gamut to high on the last
syllable?
And through all the uproar children's
voices in merry music rang out from the
ministers study, rising and falling to
the tune of
"The needles eye doth descry
The thread that runs so true;
There's many lass that I've let pass
Because wanted you
Truly-truly-truly-"
sang the low, sweet refrain, until in the
ring of little lads in roundabouts and
lasses in short skirts, winding slowly be-
meath an arch made by boy and girl
with clasped hands held high above their
heads, little maiden in scarlet frock
was chosen, whose wealth of brown curls
fell over the lads face as he kissed her.
And then the supper of "baked meat
and BEANS" and pumpkin pies in square
tins of which we all wanted the corner
piece, cake with candy hearts embedded
in the frosting, and cookies with raisins
in the center; and how the minister
lifted up his voice at the table in elo-
quent thanksgiving for being thus
''blessed in basket and store" while his
wife went down cellar after the butter,
which they had forgotten, and made the
tea out of the package the grocer's wife
brought, and put in some more out
of her own tea-caddy to make it
strong enough. And what quantities
of beans and pickles and frosted cake
there was left enough to save the min
ister's wife from baking up any thing
for couple of weeks. At ten o'clock
we all went home with the mOonbeams
dripping splendor over us and the mud
pulling off our overshoes at every step.
How each boy gallantly escorts five or
six girls home, and then takes his own
SWcoGHcdr1 GHrouSH CHo glory VI 6ne
moonlight all alone to her doorstep,
while the little stars laugh at the pretty
comedy, and the winds watt the old, old
story to the lonely pines, and the min
ister's wife scrapes up the pumpkin
and crumbs off her white floor and
cleans up the mud off her parlor carpet,
and wonders how she will ever get things
put to rights again, and the minister
searches for the notes of his Sunday