C.
THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN THE HOUSE THAT THE JUDGE BUILT.
IT was on this wise that the present family came to live in theparsonage. The church had been without a pastor for several months, andthe people were tired of hearing Tom, Dick, and Harry in the pulpit. Butwhat was to be done? They had found no man that suited them. Oneminister was too young, and another too old. The first candidate had avery long neck, a sort of crane neck, and it made some of the ladiesnervous. The last candidate was fat, and everybody said he must be lazy.Several were so anxious to come that the congregation turned againstthem. There was always some reason why each man was not liked. So itbegan to look as if they might never get another minister.
The society finally asked the ladies their views upon the subject. Itwas one afternoon when the Dorcas Daughters were sewing for the poor.The president of the little band had been reading a missionary letter."Well," she said, "I have heard so much about filling the pulpit that Iam sick of it. I think it's about time that we filled the parsonage.Just see what kind of ministers we have had for the last thirty years.Two bachelors, and one married man without a chick or a child. I saythat it's time for us to call a man to fill the parsonage."
"Why, that's what I think!" remarked one of the mothers present. "It isa shame to have that great house given over to the rats and mice. And Iknow that not a minister has been in it for all these years that usedmore'n half or two-thirds of the room. But, dear me, it would take apretty big family to fill the parsonage! Let me see; there aretwenty-seven rooms and sixty closets, aren't there?"
"So they say," replied the president. "I never counted them. But thatwould just suit some folks."
"Where is that letter that you read us at the last meeting?" inquiredone of the sisters. "How many children did that man say he had? Iremember that we never sent another box like it to a home missionary inall the history of this church." "I've got the letter right here in myhand," said the president, "and I've had that man in mind for a week.He's got fifteen children,--eight of his own, and seven of his deceasedsister. I shouldn't wonder if he was the very one we want." One of theyounger women nodded. She was thinking of playmates for her boys andgirls. "And then if they overflowed the house," continued the president,"there is the little building in the yard. They might start a cottagesystem. You know that is the way they do in schools these days. Divideup the young folks, and set them in small companies. The minister mightdo it; and if the family expanded we might build two or three extracottages."
"Now, Mrs. President," said one of the ladies, "I fear you are makingfun. But I think that letter from the missionary with fifteen childrenin the family was the best we ever had. A man that could write such aletter must be very much of a man."
"He is," replied the president. "I have looked him up in the Year Book,and I have written to the secretary of the Missionary Society. He's avery good man. Nobody has done better work in that frontier country."
So the ladies said that they would ask the church to call this parsonwith the big family. When the meeting was held and everybody wastalking, one gentleman arose, and told the people that the ladies had acandidate. His name being proposed, the president of the Dorcas Societyexplained how she felt, that they ought to have a man to fill theparsonage, and this man whom they named was the one to do it; thereforethe meeting voted unanimously to call him.
"I think we had better charter a train to bring them from the West,"said one of the deacons. But it was finally decided to engage a car; soeverything was arranged, and in four weeks they came.
When the train stopped at the station, the church committee was on handwith three carryalls. It reminded one of an orphanage, or a company ofFresh-air children. But a hearty welcome was given; they were hurriedinto the carriages, and soon the whole family was in the parsonage.
A nice dinner had been prepared by the ladies of the parish. After thetravellers had washed and made some slight changes, they all sat down tothe feast.
It was a happy thing that the church and the Judge furnished theparsonage. This poor, large-hearted missionary brought nothing with himbut books and children; his library was really a very fine one, and ithad filled the small house in the West. His own family of children hadbeen increased by the seven orphans left when his sister and her husbanddied. There was nothing for him to do but adopt them; so they had beenpacked into the little home until one was reminded of a box of sardines.But this sort of kindness was like the good man. He was ready to sharethe last crust with any one who needed it.
"Why, what a big house it is!" exclaimed Grace. "Just see; I guess wecould put the whole of our Western house right here in the parlor." AndI think they could if they had only brought it along with them. Whendinner was over the children scattered all through the mansion and thegrounds.
What a delightful sense of freedom and importance they had. Could it bepossible that all these things belonged to them? Were the ten acres oflawn, garden, orchard, field, and pasture really for their use andpleasure? As parents and children wandered through the big rooms, andpeered into the sixty closets, and looked out of the numerous windows,it seemed to them like a dream. And yet the dreamy sensation soonpassed; for the parson and his wife, happening to look out of a frontwindow, were struck with the expression of alarm, amusement, or interestshown by several people going along the street. It was caused by the wayin which the family was showing its presence and possession. There werethree children on the front piazza standing in a row gazing at the sea;four of the younger ones were climbing in and out of the windows on thesecond floor, running along the tin roof of the piazza; two boys hadalready climbed a tree looking for birds' nests; three children hadhurried through the attic to the roof, and leaned against the bigchimneys that towered over the house. With curious interest they weretaking a general survey of the town and country, quite unconscious thattheir rashness attracted any attention. The other youngsters werehaving a frolic in the yard, walking along the top of the picket-fence,jumping from one gate-post to another, shouting with healthful lungs,and making the very welkin ring.
Had a pack of wild Indians swooped down upon the house, they could nothave made themselves more evident, or excited any greater concern intown. It was clear that the minister who was called to fill theparsonage answered the purpose. He filled it; and the contents wereoverflowing from doors and windows on to piazzas and roofs, or into yardand trees and street. What a waking up for the rats and mice it was! Themere racket and clatter were enough to drive them out of their holes.But what a shaking up for the old town!
The house stood on the main street. It was an object of historicveneration. Everybody knew all about it, and had a sort of watch-careover it. Anything that went on in that house belonged to the wholeneighborhood. So that it was not long before all the people weretalking about the new arrivals. Men, women, and children felt an impulseto walk or ride by the parsonage on that eventful day. And it was astartling sight; for the minister's family seemed to think that thehouse really belonged to them, and they were to enjoy it just the waythey pleased. This running all through the many rooms, and popping outof the many windows upon the piazza, and climbing up to the roof, andplaying tag in the yard, and hunting for birds' nests, and walking onthe tops of the pickets along the fence, was their way of enjoying theplace.
"Let's nail the flag to the chimney," shouted Harry, the third boy. Theyhad carried the flag in hand all through their journey from the West."Yes," shouted the other boys, who were wildly patriotic. "Come on! comeon!" So they all came on except the youngest; and she finally came inthe arms of her father, who followed the mother, who followed thechildren, to see what was doing in the attic or on the roof. And just atthis time the most important man in the church and town drove by withhis family. Do you wonder that this important man and his family gazedwith surprise and alarm at the sight? There on the roof of the house wasthe whole family. Henry was nailing the flag to the tallest chimney. Butwhen the children saw this kind man pass along the street (he was one oft
he committee that met them at the station, and it was his horses thathad carried them to the parsonage), they waved their hands, and shooktheir handkerchiefs, and shouted "Hurrah! hurrah!" with such spirit thatthe gentleman must needs take off his hat, smile and bow, and turn tohis family with some pleasing remark. There was no doubt in his mind orin the mind of the passer-by that the town was captured. The West hadmade a sudden onset; and the standard of victory now floated from thechimney of the Judge's mansion. The only thing for the natives to do wasto submit and make the best of the situation.
As I said, the good people of the parish furnished the parsonage. Thecarpets were down, and the chairs, tables, sofas, bedsteads, stands,book-cases, and other things, were put in their places. All theminister's wife had to do was to unpack her trunks, and divide up theircontents among the closets. All the minister had to do was to unpack hisboxes, and arrange his books in the study. So they were settled in atrice.
Here is the picture of the children. You must know them in order tounderstand what happened in the house. Elizabeth was the oldest. Shemust have been seventeen or eighteen. She was ready for college. It washard for the mother to get along without her, since she had brought upall the younger ones, and given her mother a chance to go round with herfather in his work. Elizabeth was very mature, but she had all thefrankness and cordiality of a typical Westerner. She seemed almost toofree and easy in her manners for the slow East. But you couldn't helpliking her. A little Western gush does good in the town.
Samuel came next. He knew everything. He was ready for college too. Hewas slow, and not always just as agreeable as one would like to havehim. It has been said that somebody stepped on his toes when he was avery little child, and that he still has spells of being angry aboutit. Samuel was a mechanic. He kept things in order,--machines, carts,clocks, and like objects,--when he hadn't any girls to tease; for he wasan awful tease, and so was liked in a general way by all of them. Hismanner toward the younger members of the family was rather severe andoverbearing. But what would you expect from a big boy who knows so much,and has such a host of children to live with?
Helen was the third one. She was literary, and gave a great deal of timeto books. She hated to darn stockings above all things, and would oftenread a story to the children, or write one for them, if she could getsomebody to do her darning for her. I think she will make an author. Thefamily hadn't been in the house one day before she said that the closetsmust be named. Her mother or the children would never be able to keeptrack of them, unless they were reduced to a system, and properlynumbered like rooms in a hotel, or labelled like drugs in a store.
Henry and Miriam were twins. They were just about as unlike as you couldmake them,--one light and the other dark; the first lean and the secondfat; he quick and she slow. And so we might go through a long list ofthings, and find that one was opposite to the other. For this reasonthey got along well together and were very happy.
Then came cousin George, who was fond of music and could sing like alark; and Theodora, who was born to be a lady, and always took the partof Mrs. Rothschild or Mrs. Astor in their plays; and cousin Herbert, whowill be a doctor, and who was so ingenious about getting into mischiefthat I think he will be able to invent enough bad doses to cure the veryworst sicknesses; and cousin Ethel, the pink of propriety, who never gota spot on her dress, and always said, "Will you please give me this orthat?" or "Thank you," when she took anything; and cousin Grace, thedemure and quiet puss who had a wonderful faculty for stirring up thewhole family, and yet freeing herself from trouble; and cousin Susie,who is always sweet and good-tempered, and loves everybody; and cousinWilliam, the precocious (I mean very smart), who will be president ofthe United States; and cousin Nathaniel, who was said by his brothersand sisters and cousins to be "just too cute for anything," flyinghither and thither like a humming-bird, never two minutes in one placeexcept when his aunt got him into his nest at night. How many does thatmake? Let me count them up. Have I mentioned them all but Ruth? Ruth wasseven years old. She could ask more questions in five minutes than anylawyer in cross-examining witnesses. And when she was tired of askingquestions she would tease for more things in a second five minutes thanany twenty children rolled into one. And not only would she ask the samequestion seventeen times at once, or tease for the same thing thirteentimes without stopping, but she did it in just the same unvarying,shrill tone of voice; so that it was like the monotonous rasping of asaw, and had a tendency to drive a sensitive person out of his head. Howmany times did the older members of the family run from her as thoughshe had a contagious disease, so that they might get relief from thatendless asking and teasing? And yet she had many good traits, and wascertainly very bright. If there had been some comfortable way of puttinga muzzle upon talkative and tedious children, her parents would probablyhave done it; but they simply used all the powers of restraint that theyhad and let it go at that. Ruth was evidently cut out for a poet or awoman's rights speaker; for she was all the time getting up rhymes, ortalking in a high key and impulsive way to such members of the family aswould listen to her.
When the baby came everybody said that he must be called "The LittleJudge," in honor of the good man who gave the house to the church forthe minister.
No sooner was the family really settled than the children began to askabout this famous Judge. They had never lived in an old, historic housebefore, and they were interested. They knew how the Judge and his wifelooked, for their portraits hung in the east parlor. What fine oldpeople they must have been! If those oil paintings did them justice theywere about as nice-looking as anybody that you see preserved in oil inthe great galleries of the world.
Whenever the children stood before the pictures, they asked questions:Who was the Judge? what did he do? how much of a family did he have? didhe like children? when did he die? who attended the funeral? where washe buried? what became of his things? and a hundred other questions. Sothe minister began to read about the Judge and his work. And the more heread, the more he admired and loved. The enthusiasm which the ministershowed in his attempts to learn all he could about the generous giver ofthe parsonage excited the curiosity of the children to such an extentthat they begged their father and uncle to write a book about him.Helen herself talked about doing something of the kind.
"I've found out more things in the life of the Judge," the ministerwould say; and then all the children gathered around him just aftersupper, as the fire burned gayly on the hearth in his study, and hewould tell them some fresh incident, and add a few lines to his penportrait of the man. So the months chased each other; and the Judge andhis wife made not only the most common topic of conversation, but theybecame as real to the young people in the parsonage as the boys andgirls they met on the street. I suppose it was because they thought andtalked so much about them that the strange things which I am to relatehappened (or didn't happen) in the house.
They had not lived many weeks in the house before they got into allsorts of trouble about the closets. They kept losing something, orlosing themselves, or losing the closets.
"We'll number them," suggested Herbert.
"No; let's name them," cried William. They had all met to talk thematter over; so it was decided to do both. When names run out they wouldfall back on numbers.
"I feel like Adam when he named all the cattle and the fowls and thebeasts," exclaimed Helen.
"We'll hang a plan of the house on each floor, and then we can refer toit without running up-and down-stairs." This was Samuel's remark. He wasalways for saving steps. So names were suggested, plans were drawn,every closet was given its dues, and the atmosphere was thick withChampagne, Darkest Africa, Turpentine, Leghorn, Daisy, Pansy, Violet,Rose, Panama, China, Greece, Dublin, Clementine, Serpentine, Argentine,Morocco, and other appropriate names.
The House With Sixty Closets: A Christmas Story for Young Folks and Old Children Page 7
