eggs as you want. Hens hain't laid well since Thanksgiving; now they do
nothing else."

Captain Weldon let one iron cool on the anvil, and his bellows sigh out
its last breath in the fire and burn the other iron, while he talked
with Aunt Kindly about it. The Captain was a widower, about fifty years
old, with his house full of sons and daughters. He liked it. Patty, his
oldest daughter, could help. There were two barrels of apples, three
or four dollars in money, and more if need be. "That is what I call the
democracy of Christianity," said the good man. "I shall see half the
people in the village; they'll be in here to get their horses corked
before the time comes, and I'll help the thing along a little. I'll
bring the old folks, and we'll sing some of the old tunes; all of us
will have a real old-fashioned good time." Almira, his daughter, about
eighteen years old, ran out to talk with Kindly, and offered to do all
sorts of work, if she would only tell her what. "Perhaps Edward
will come, too," said Kindly. "Do you want him?" asked Almira. "Oh,
certainly; want all the LOVERS," replied she,--not looking to see how
her face kindled, like a handsome morning in May.

One sour old man, who lived off the road, did not like it. 'Twas a
Popish custom; and said, "I always fast on Christmas." His family knew
_they_ did, and many a day besides; for he was so covetous that he
grudged the water which turned his own mill.

Mr. Toombs, a young minister, who had been settled six or seven years,
and loved the commandments of religion much better than the creed of
theology, entered into it at once, and promised to come, and not wear
his white cravat. His wife, Sally Wilkins that used to be, took to it
with all her might.