pies, and cookies, and all manner of creature
comforts. The German who worked for the cabinet-maker decorated the
hall, just as he had done in Wittenberg often before; for he was an
exile from the town where Martin Luther sleeps, and his Katherine, under
the same slab. There were branches of Holly with their red berries,
Wintergreen and Pine boughs, and Hemlock and Laurel, and such other
handsome things as New England can afford even in winter. Besides,
Captain Weldon brought a great Orange-tree, which he and Susan had
planted the day after their marriage, nearly thirty years before. "Like
Christmas itself," as he said,--"it is a history and a prophecy; full of
fruit and flowers, both." Roses, and Geraniums, and Chrysanthemums, and
Oleanders were there, adding to the beauty.

All the children in the village were there. Sally Bright wore the medal
she won the last quarter at the Union School. Sip Tidy's six children
were there; and all the girls and boys from the poor-house. The Widow
Wheeler and her children thought no more of the railroad accident.
Captain Weldon, Deacon Jackson and his wife, and the Minister were
there; all the Selectmen, and the Town Clerk, and the Schoolmasters and
Schoolma'ams, and the Know-nothing Representative from the South Parish;
great, broad-shouldered farmers came in, with Baldwin apples in their
cheeks as well as in their cellars at home, and their trim tidy wives.
Eight or ten Irish children came also,--Bridget, Rosanna, Patrick, and
Michael, and Mr. And Mrs. O'Brien themselves. Aunt Kindly had her piano
there, and played and sung.

Didn't they all have a good time? Old Joe Roe, the black fiddler, from
Beaver Brook, Mill Village, was over there; and how he did play! how
they did dance! Commonly, as the young folks said, he could play only
one tune, "Joe Roe and I;" for it is true that his sleepy violin did
always seem to whine out, "_Joe Roe and I, Joe Roe and I, Joe Roe and
I_." But now the old fiddle was wide awake. He cut capers on it; and
made it laugh, and cry, and whistle, and snort, and scream. He held it
close to his ear, and rolled up the whites of his eyes, and laughed a
great, loud, rollicking laugh; and he made his fiddle laugh, too, right
out.

The young people had their games. Boston, Puss in the Corner, Stir
you must, Hunt the Squirrel round the Woods, Blind Man's Buff, and
Jerusalem. Mr. Atkins, who built the hall, and was a strict Orthodox man
a Know-nothing, got them