But we tolerate anything in
our good old parson. He was a youth when our old folks were young, and
as to us young folks, he remembers us longer than we do ourselves.
* * * * *
We were all home, and tea was over,--the early tea with substantials, as
is the custom in the primitive districts of New England on Sunday
afternoon. The double accumulation of dishes was disposed of; for at
noon we take a cold collation, doughnuts and cheese, and bread and
butter, and we never descend to servile employments till after tea. Then
many hands make light work. I suppose light work does not break the
Sabbath, especially as it is done in our Sunday best, with sleeves
tucked up, and an extra apron.
The laughing in church was the point upon which, as yet, we had obtained
no satisfaction. Jerusha and I, in an uncertain hope that we should find
out something in due time, were discussing the music. The particular
point in debate was, why village choirs _will_ astonish the people with
pieces of music in which nobody can join them. We did not settle it, nor
has anybody ever solved the riddle that I know of. We don't even know
whether it comes under the ontological or psychological departments.
(There, now! Haven't I brought in the famous words that our new
schoolmaster astonished us with at the teachers' meeting? He need not
think that Webster Unabridged is his particular field, in which nobody
else may hunt.
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