Newspaper Page Text
6
AMA” said Gertrude Langley, looking up from the pretty Berlin wool
mats she was making as Christmas gifts, “Can’t we have a Christmas
house party —a kind of family reunion with a few of our young friends
added?”
. “Mrs. Langley looked at her husband. “What does your father say?”
M
she asked.
“Oh, father is willing. Aren’t you, daddy?”
He laid down his paper. “Yes,” he said, “let us gather those we love around
us for this Christmas. It may be the last time we can do it. The war cloud
is growing darker and more threatening every day. It is almost sure to burst
soon.”
“Oh, papa! don’t think of such a terrible thing. The Yankees would not dare.
They know they would be whipped. Let us think of the house party, and who
we will invite. Fred,” to her brother, “let’s make out the invitations and send
them right away. Christmas is only one week off."
“And I’ll send to the negro quarter for June and Mamm Judy to help Aunt
Dinah in the kitchen,” Mrs. Langley said.
Busy times ensued. The house was put in beautiful order, and in the kitchen
there were mysterious goings on, and delicious things to eat being evolved
through Aunt Dinah’s culinary skill. Gertrude, her mother, and Brother Fred
were busy tying up packages. There were presents for every one of the house
hold, not forgetting the negroes, for this was in slavery days, when every dar
key retainer of the home was remembered at Christmas, from the superan
nuated uncle or auntie of ninety, to the tiny pickaninny.
The morning before Christmas dawned bright and clear. Dick, the carriage
driver, with the assistance of Jack and Ned, stable boys, soon had the well
groomed horses and vehicles at the door. There was the old family carriage,
drawn by a pair of iron-grays, the two-seated landau, with bay ponies at
tached, and the roomy old-fashioned barouche. The drivers drew up in front of
the house, that their turnouts, might be inspected, then set out gayly trotting
for tlje railway station, at which the train was nearly due.
In a short time, the engine whistle announced the approach of the train, and
Gertrude and father and mother went out on the veranda and presently saw the
carriages returning, filled with their friends. In the first carriage were Mrs.
Langley’s brother, his wife and their son and daughter, Gerald and Mary,
from Virginia. In another carriage was one of Gertrude’s college chums, Alice
Mayhan, and two of Fred’s friends. Lastly, in the buggy, came Fred and Robert
Ray, his gifted classmate, who had spent a month of the summer in this hospit
able home, and had been a congenial comrade to Gertrude. .
A pretty blush rose to her cheeks as Robert held her hands in a warm clasp
and looked earnestly into her brown eyes.
While Gertrude was welcoming her guests, May White, a charming girl living
on an adjoining plantation, drove up in a pretty phaeton, making up the house
party.
Servants conducted the guests to their different apartments that they might
get ready for tea. Soon they were assembled in the large dining room, warmed
by a splendid wood fire and decorated with holly and wild ivy. Seated at the
tables, bright with fine glasses, old china and silver, they enjoyed the delicious
supper, then repaired to the library to decorate the Christmas tree.
Robert assisted Gertrude, and both had to stand the fire of sly teasing and in
sinuating jokes. Amid much laughter and jesting, the tree was dressed in its
glittering imitation of frost and ice and hung here and there with presents and
colored candles. Music and happy talk filled the house until bed time.
Bright and early Christmas morning the family and their friends were awak
ened by the plantation negroes crying, “Merry Christmas!” “Christmas gift!”—
calling each member of the family and each visitor by names.
Mr. Langley and 'his wife, followed by the young people, went out on the
veranda, where stood two big hamper baskets full of presents, each marked
with a name, and the girls of the party had the pleasure of distributing these to
the gratified negroes, receiving curtseys and bows in return. _
After breakfast, the household folk and their guests attended service in a little
white-painted Church, set among cedar and pine trees. Gertrude was organist,
and the singing of Christmas hymns by her Sunday School class showed careful
training. x ,
In the evening the floor was held by Santa Claus, grotesquely represented by
Fred Langley, who stood beside the Christmas tree and read the names on each
present as it was handed to him by a servant, then gave it to the owner with
some comical remark or apt quotation.
All through that memorable week the weather continued balmy and the sun
shone almost as in May. Rides, walks, rambles and outdoor games were en
joyed by the young folks at Maple Ridge, and every evening there was some
thing entertaining. Visitors came often and invitations to teas and dinners.
Once they drove eight miles to a party, returning between midnight and dawn.
A big ’possum hunt wound up the week’s enjoyment. Piloted by negroes with
torches, they scoured the hammock and the old fields grown up in persimmon
trees, and captured two of the wild denizens of the woods —“Sams,” as the dar
keys called them. Something else beside “Sams” was secured that night.
It was a promise from sweet Gertrude Langley to her lover. While most of the
others followed the dogs, Robert and Gertrude sat in the soft moonlight on
a fallen poplar tree, just above a singing brook. On the following day it was
known that they were engaged and that the marriage would take place in June.
But no bridal bells rang out in June. Instead, there were bullets ringing on
bloody battlefields. The war cloud had burst. The younger men had all gone
to the scene of strife, the women and the old men remained at home, working
to furnish food and clothes for the loved ones in the field. Christmas brought
no home-coming of Fred or his friends. Still another Christmas came and
went in dreary loneliness at the once happy homestead. It was a sad and
silent trio that sat at the fireside on a later Christmas eve. Gertrude’s lovely
face had grown pale; her father sat feebly, propped in his chair; her mother
looked aged and anxious. Both women were busy knitting socks; their
thoughts with those for whom they worked—the ragged, frost-bitten boys in
gray*
Where was their own boy tonight, the pride and darling of their hearts?
The old man lifted his dreamful eyes from the fire. “I thought I heard Fred’s
voice,” he said. “Seems to me he is somewhere close by tonight.”
And so he was. He was walking stealthily homewards through the woods,
nearby. He had begged for a furlough to come home for Christmas Day,
though he knew the visit would be perilous, for Federal soldiers were in the
neighborhood.
He had to pass the negro quarter and he saw one of the cabins —the home
of Aunt Dinah and Uncle Caleb—lighted brightly and heard the tingle of a banjo
issuing from it. ~ . .. . ...
He crept up cautiously. He did not know how the negroes felt towards him
K- s —? everything had changed. Peering through a crack in the log cabin he
Aunt Dinah as she was putting on the table a big dish containing a baked
sum, with browned sweet potatoes around it. How his hungry mouth wat-
The Golden Age for December 19, 1912.
THOSE CHRISTMAS DAYS
By ROSA ELLA CARTRIGHT.
ered! He heard Aunt Dinah says, “Now, if Marse Fred was here, how he would
injoy dis ’possum. I wish de poor chile had it all.”
At this- Fred made no further delay. He went round to the door and en
tered the cabin, where he was received with rapturous delight by the old co inle,
and their son, his childhood playmate. He was made to sit right down to the
table and helped bountifully to baked “’possum and taters,” corndodgers and rye
coffee. He enjoyed this, his first square meal in months, as only a half-starved
soldier could.
Not until he had finished the repast, did Aunt Dinah say gently, “De home
folks gwine cry for joy to see you, Marse Fred. Ise sho glad you come right
now, kase ole Marster is mighty poorly; he is.”
Fred made haste to bid his faithful negro friends good-bye, and make his way
to the old home on the hill. In a few minutes he had his arms around his
father and mother, while they cried for joy and thankfulness on his breast.
He brought Gertrude a letter from Ray and a gutta percha ring which Robert
had cut from one of his jacket buttons as he crouched behind breastworks in
front of the enemy. (She prized the ring more than if it had been a solitaire.
She wears it to this day.
The following day, Christmas, was the only one Fred could have at home. He
must rest and eat his mother said. He lay on the bed beside his father,
with the old man’s hand in his, talking to him about the battles and the pros
pects for peace, while his mother and sister and a negro seamstress were hard
at work all day, until way in the night, making clothes to take the place of
his faded rags. When he told them gocwl-bye that night, between midnight and
dawn, he had on a new uniform and good home-made shoes and socks —and he
carried a small bundle to give his mess comrades who were most in need.
They saw him no more during the weary months that followed. Sad months
they were to Gertrude. In the summer her father died, and before the first
frost his heart-broken wife was laid by him. Gertrude was left alone. A
woman neighbor came to stay with her, 'but the sadness, the loneliness and sus
pense were more than the girl could bear. She determined to go to her aunt’s
home, which was in Virginia, and nearer to the seat of war.
Paying a good-bye visit to the graves of her dear ones, she went to the sta
tion, escorted by faithful Dinah and Caleb, and took the train, one gloomy day
in November.
She arrived at her aunt’s home on the eve of a battle. All day they heard
the roar of cannon and bursting of shells. Next day, the wounded began to be
brought into the little town. The Church was taken for a hospital; women
brought mattresses and blankets. Gertrude went at once and tendered her
services to the old surgeon, who was glad to have help.
They had ministered to several of the bleeding, suffering men, When they
came to one, whose bandaged and blood-stained head Gertrude did not recognize
until he spoke in answer to the doctor’s question. “Robert,” she exclaimed,
dropping on her knees beside the mattress. “Oh, Robert, are you badly hurt?”
He answered cheerfully, and the surgeon, after an examination, said the three
wounds would not be fatal, if he could be well cared for. Gertrude told her
aunt that Robert was badly wounded. Mrs. Kingsley said at once: “He must
come right here, where we can care for him. His mother was my best friend.”
He was brought there the following day, and Gertrude and her aunt gave him
every attention. He convalesced slowly, but by Christmas he was sitting up.
On Christmas Eve, Mrs. Kingsley, who had gone to the door to answer a knock,
came back and said: “It is a friend Os yours, Gertrude, but I dont think you
will recognize him.”
She stepped aside, and they saw a gaunt, ragged figure, splashed with mud
from head to foot. But Gertrude knew him, and crying, “It’s Fred! It’s Fred!”
she hugged him heartily despite the mud.
He had been taken prisoner, but had succeeded in making his escape and
had scrambled through swamps and marshes to evade capture.
A warm bath, clean clothes and a nice supper, restored his good looks, and
good spirits. He could only stay one day—Christmas—for men were
needed badly at the front. “Then you shall witness a wedding,” Mrs. Kingsley
said. “Your sister and Robert intend to get married, and the marriage may as
well take place tomorrow.”
It did take place, the bridegroom leaning heavily on the arm of his bride’s
brother. That night Fred left them and went to his command. But not for
long. In four months came the surrender. The trio went back to the old
home, and were glad to find it intact and some of the former slaves making a
crop. May White’s home was also spared, but her father had been killed at
Missionary Ridge. She married Fred. In the intervals of farming he studied
law, and became a successful barrister.
All these good people are grandfathers and grandmothers now, and this Christ
mas they will have a happy reunion at the same old homestead.
VOCAL LESSONS FREE
ONE FULL YEAR’S TRAINING FREE TO YOU
Under the world’s renowned vocalist, Prof. Gerard-Thiers.
Get us 175 yearly subscribers to The Golden Age at $1.50 each and we
will give you this full course. Your friends will help and you will find It
easy. Write for samples to work with, and get busy quick.
JaM GERARD-THIERS VOCAI COLLEGE
445 Piedmont Ave.
REGULAR FALL AND WINTER SEASON, COMMENCING SEPT. *
SPECIAL SUMMER TERM EIGHT WEEKS, COMMENCING JUNE IST.
DEPARTMENTS —Voice Production, Interpretation, Repertoire, Vocal Accom
paniment, Church Music.
COMPLETE SPECIAL COURSE FOR TEACHERS AND SINGERS.
CONCERT —Songs in French, German, Italian and English.
ORATORIO —Traditional renderings.
OPERA —Cadenzas from the greatest European authorities.
Normal Voice Production.
Technique of Musical Expression.
Diaphragmatic Breath Control. • •
Co-ordinate Development of the Physical and Mental.
Art of Song.
Special Course for Church Singer*.
PERSONAL INSTRUCTION ONLY.