Christmas Day (part 2)

Jennie Juneiana: Talks on Women’s Topics by Jennie June (Boston: Lee and Shepard, 1864)

Christmas Day (part 2)

The end of all this business brings us to the morning of the day before Christmas, when the gifts should be completed and in readiness, and when a perfect avalanche of boxes and bundles arrive from grandmamma, aunt Mary, and aunt Eliza, containing smoking-caps, dressing-cases, and India-rubber toys, including Barnum’s fat boy, the old lady that lived in her shoe with her numerous children, Little Red Riding Hood, and other specimens too numerous to mention. There is also a nice wadded flannel gown for grandmamma; worsted mats and “Sontags;” and embroidered cravat for papa, and a beautiful bracelet for Lucy. Besides these, there are lots of confections, crystallized fruits, and artificial roses from Lucy, to help ornament the tree.

Decorating the tree, which has previously been sent home by papa from Washington Market, falls to the lot of mamma and aunt Eliza, who comes to help, and this occupies the entire afternoon. In the mean time the house is put in order, and preparations made for the company and grand exhibition of the evening. The children have to be dressed, and are in a state of extreme excitement. Of course the details have been kept secret from them, so far as they relate to themselves; by they are aware that something is going on, and have contributed their small quota, in the way of gifts, to the general fund.

By and by papa comes home, and tries to coax mamma into permission to see the tree in its glory; but the doors of the back parlor are locked, and must not be opened on any account, except for lighting up, and so papa has to resort to Louisa, who promises to smuggle in a handsome silk dress (papa’s gift to mamma) without being discovered, in the confusion of opening the door.

Of course, the children cannot eat a mouthful of dinner. Even mamma is sufficiently excited to heighten her color; and when, just after dark, a ring is heard at the bell, a simultaneous rush is made up stairs, and a terrible buzzing and kissing follows the eruption of uncle George, with a crowd of cousins, followed, soon after, by grandmamma, aunt Mary, and aunty Eliza, with their offspring, and carrying various minor matters in satchels and reticules, such as always come in as finalities. Mamma and aunt Eliza, as private council, disappear in a mysterious manner, while the rest, talking and laughing in what on any other but Christmas eve would be called boisterous fashion, divest themselves of cloaks and hoods, and guess, and wonder, and make jokes, which, though not perhaps equal to the best in Punch, are still highly appreciated, and occasion the most astonishing peals of laughter.

Their patience is not subjected to a very lengthened trial. The performance is to open early on account of the little ones; and, by and by, when aunt Eliza appears, with smiles perfectly illuminiating her still beautiful face, and says, “Come, children, and every body; come into the front parlor!” there is a great rush, and expectation is on tiptoe. A moment more, and the folding-doors fly open as if by magic, and there stands the beautiful Christmas tree, radiant with wonderful, dazzling splendor, glittering with lights and shining ornaments, loaded from the topmost twig to its broad base with holiday gifts for young and old. The children raise a great shout – grandmamma wipes her eyes – mamma calls off the names of the happy possessors of the rare fruit which grows on the magic tree – and there we leave them, without waiting for the conclusion of the entertainment, which our readers may fill up the suit themselves. We only invited them to a glimpse of our Christmas tree, and hope they have enjoyed it well enough to induce them to try one on their own account.