Betty's Bright Idea; Deacon Pitkin's Farm; and the First Christmas of New England Part 11

Only one month of sweetness and perfume was that sweet rose to shed over the hard and troubled life of the pilgrims, for the saints and angels loved her, and were from day to day gently untying mortal bands to draw her to themselves. Yet was there nothing about her of mournfulness; on the contrary, she was ever alert and bright, with a ready tongue to cheer and a helpful hand to do; and, seeing the sadness that seemed stealing over Mary Winslow, she struck another key, and, catching little Love up in her arms, said cheerily,

"Come hither, pretty one, and Rose will sing thee a brave carol for Christmas. We won't be down-hearted, will we? Hark now to what the minstrels used to sing under my window when I was a little girl:

"I saw three s.h.i.+ps come sailing in On Christmas day, on Christmas day, I saw three s.h.i.+ps come sailing in On Christmas day in the morning.

"And what was in those s.h.i.+ps all three On Christmas day, on Christmas day, And what was in those s.h.i.+ps all three On Christmas day in the morning?

"Our Saviour Christ and his laydie, On Christmas day, on Christmas day, Our Saviour Christ and his laydie On Christmas day in the morning.

"Pray, whither sailed those s.h.i.+ps all three, On Christmas day, on Christmas day?

Oh, they sailed into Bethlehem, On Christmas day in the morning.

"And all the bells on earth shall ring On Christmas day, on Christmas day; And all the angels in heaven shall sing On Christmas day in the morning.

"Then let us all rejoice amain, On Christmas day, on Christmas day; Then let us all rejoice amain On Christmas day in the morning."

"Now, isn't that a brave ballad?" said Rose. "Yea, and thou singest like a real English robin," said Margery, "to do the heart good to hear thee."

CHAPTER IV.

ELDER BREWSTER'S CHRISTMAS SERMON.

Sunday morning found the little company gathered once more on the s.h.i.+p, with nothing to do but rest and remember their homes, temporal and spiritual--homes backward, in old England, and forward, in Heaven. They were, every man and woman of them, English to the back-bone. From Captain Jones who commanded the s.h.i.+p to Elder Brewster who ruled and guided in spiritual affairs, all alike were of that stock and breeding which made the Englishman of the days of Bacon and Shakespeare, and in those days Christmas was knit into the heart of every one of them by a thousand threads, which no after years could untie.

Christmas carols had been sung to them by nurses and mothers and grandmothers; the Christmas holly spoke to them from every berry and p.r.i.c.kly leaf, full of dearest household memories. Some of them had been men of substance among the English gentry, and in their prosperous days had held high festival in ancestral halls in the season of good cheer.

Elder Brewster himself had been a rising young diplomat in the court of Elizabeth, in the days when the Lord Keeper of the Seals led the revels of Christmas as Lord of Misrule.

So that, though this Sunday morning arose gray and lowering, with snow- flakes hovering through the air, there was Christmas in the thoughts of every man and woman among them--albeit it was the Christmas of wanderers and exiles in a wilderness looking back to bright home-fires across stormy waters.

The men had come back from their work on sh.o.r.e with branches of green pine and holly, and the women had, stuck them about the s.h.i.+p, not without tearful thoughts of old home-places, where their childhood fathers and mothers did the same.

Bits and s.n.a.t.c.hes of Christmas carols were floating all around the s.h.i.+p, like land-birds blown far out to sea. In the forecastle Master Coppin was singing:

"Come, bring with a noise, My merry boys, The Christmas log to the firing; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your hearts' desiring.

Drink now the strong beer, Cut the white loaf here.

The while the meat is shredding For the rare minced pie, And the plums stand by To fill the paste that's a-kneading."

"Ah, well-a-day, Master Jones, it is dull cheer to sing Christmas songs here in the woods, with only the owls and the bears for choristers. I wish I could hear the bells of merry England once more."

And down in the cabin Rose Standish was hus.h.i.+ng little Peregrine, the first American-born baby, with a Christmas lullaby:

"This winter's night I saw a sight-- A star as bright as day; And ever among A maiden sung, Lullay, by-by, lullay!

"This lovely laydie sat and sung, And to her child she said, My son, my brother, and my father dear, Why lyest thou thus in hayd?

My sweet bird, Tho' it betide Thou be not king veray; But nevertheless I will not cease To sing, by-by, lullay!

"The child then spake in his talking, And to his mother he said, It happeneth, mother, I am a king, In crib though I be laid, For angels bright Did down alight, Thou knowest it is no nay; And of that sight Thou may'st be light To sing, by-by, lullay!

"Now, sweet son, since thou art a king, Why art thou laid in stall?

Why not ordain thy bedding In some great king his hall?

We thinketh 'tis right That king or knight Should be in good array; And them among, It were no wrong To sing, by-by, lullay!

"Mary, mother, I am thy child, Tho' I be laid in stall; Lords and dukes shall wors.h.i.+p me, And so shall kinges all.

And ye shall see That kinges three Shall come on the twelfth day; For this behest Give me thy breast, And sing, by-by, lullay!"

"See here," quoth Miles Standish, "when my Rose singeth, the children gather round her like bees round a flower. Come, let us all strike up a goodly carol together. Sing one, sing all, girls and boys, and get a bit of Old England's Christmas before to-morrow, when we must to our work on sh.o.r.e."

Thereat Rose struck up a familiar ballad-meter of a catching rhythm, and every voice of young and old was soon joining in it:

"Behold a silly,[1] tender Babe, In freezing winter night, In homely manger trembling lies; Alas! a piteous sight, The inns are full, no man will yield This little Pilgrim bed; But forced He is, with silly beasts In crib to shroud His head.

Despise Him not for lying there, First what He is inquire: An orient pearl is often found In depth of dirty mire.

"Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish, Nor beasts that by Him feed; Weigh not His mother's poor attire, Nor Joseph's simple weed.

This stable is a Prince's court, The crib His chair of state, The beasts are parcel of His pomp, The wooden dish His plate.

The persons in that poor attire His royal liveries wear; The Prince Himself is come from Heaven, This pomp is prized there.

With joy approach, O Christian wight, Do homage to thy King; And highly praise His humble pomp, Which He from Heaven doth bring."

[Footnote 1: Old English--simple.]

The cheerful sounds spread themselves through the s.h.i.+p like the flavor of some rare perfume, bringing softness of heart through a thousand tender memories.

Anon, the hour of Sabbath morning wors.h.i.+p drew on, and Elder Brewster read from the New Testament the whole story of the Nativity, and then gave a sort of Christmas homily from the words of St. Paul, in the eighth chapter of Romans, the sixth and seventh verses, which the Geneva version thus renders:

"For the wisdom of the flesh is death, but the wisdom of the spirit is life and peace.

"For the wisdom of the flesh is enmity against G.o.d, for it is not subject to the law of G.o.d, neither indeed can be."

"Ye know full well, dear brethren, what the wisdom of the flesh sayeth.

The wisdom of the flesh sayeth to each one, 'Take care of thyself; look after thyself, to get and to have and to hold and to enjoy.' The wisdom of the flesh sayeth, 'So thou art warm, full, and in good liking, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry, and care not how many go empty and be lacking.' But ye have seen in the Gospel this morning that this was not the wisdom of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, though he was Lord of all, became poorer than any, that we, through His poverty, might become rich.

When our Lord Jesus Christ came, the wisdom of the flesh despised Him; the wisdom of the flesh had no room for Him at the inn.

"There was room enough always for Herod and his concubines, for the wisdom of the flesh set great store by them; but a poor man and woman were thrust out to a stable; and _there_ was a poor baby born whom the wisdom of the flesh knew not, because the wisdom of the flesh is enmity against G.o.d.

"The wisdom of the flesh, brethren, ever despiseth the wisdom of G.o.d, because it knoweth it not. The wisdom of the flesh looketh at the thing that is great and strong and high; it looketh at riches, at kings'

courts, at fine clothes and fine jewels and fine feastings, and it despiseth the little and the poor and the weak.

"But the wisdom of the Spirit goeth to wors.h.i.+p the poor babe in the manger, and layeth gold and myrrh and frankincense at his feet while he lieth in weakness and poverty, as did the wise men who were taught of G.o.d.

"Now, forasmuch as our Saviour Christ left His riches and throne in glory and came in weakness and poverty to this world, that he might work out a mighty salvation that shall be to all people, how can we better keep Christmas than to follow in his steps? We be a little company who have forsaken houses and lands and possessions, and come here unto the wilderness that we may prepare a resting-place whereto others shall come to reap what we shall sow. And to-morrow we shall keep our first Christmas, not in flesh-pleasing, and in reveling and in fullness of bread, but in small beginning and great weakness, as our Lord Christ kept it when He was born in a stable and lay in a manger.

"To-morrow, G.o.d willing, we will all go forth to do good, honest Christian work, and begin the first house-building in this our New England--it may be roughly fas.h.i.+oned, but as good a house, I'll warrant me, as our Lord Christ had on the Christmas Day we wot of. And let us not faint in heart because the wisdom of the world despiseth what we do.

Though Sanballat the Horonite, and Tobias the Ammonite, and Geshem the Arabian make scorn of us, and say, 'What do these weak Jews? If a fox go up, he shall break down their stone wall;' yet the Lord our G.o.d is with us, and He can cause our work to prosper.

"The wisdom of the Spirit seeth the grain of mustard-seed, that is the least of all seeds, how it shall become a great tree, and the fowls of heaven shall lodge in its branches. Let us, then, lift up the hands that hang down and the feeble knees, and let us hope that, like as great salvation to all people came out of small beginnings of Bethlehem, so the work which we shall begin to-morrow shall be for the good of many nations.

"It is a custom on this Christmas Day to give love-presents. What love- gift giveth our Lord Jesus on this day? Brethren, it is a great one and a precious; as St. Paul said to the Philippians: 'For unto you it is given for Christ, not only that ye should believe on Him, but also that ye should suffer for His sake;' and St. Peter also saith, 'Behold, we count them blessed which endure.' And the holy Apostles rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer rebuke for the name of Jesus.