About eleven o’clock Uncle Hiram and Aunt Eliza and their five children arrived with loud and merry greetings.  Then came other aunts and uncles and cousins.  With what noisy good cheer the men entered the house after they had put up their horses!  I remember how they laid their hard, heavy hands on my head and shook it a little as they spoke of my “stretchin’ up” or gave me a playful slap on the shoulder—­an ancient token of good will—­the first form of the accolade, I fancy.  What joyful good humor there was in those simple men and women!—­enough to temper the woes of a city if it could have been applied to their relief.  They stood thick around the stove warming themselves and taking off its griddles and opening its doors and surveying it inside and out with much curiosity.

Suddenly Uncle Hiram tried to put Uncle Jabez in the wood-box while the others laughed noisily.  I remember that my aunts rallied me on my supposed liking for “that Dunkelberg girl.”

“Now for the Chris’mas tree,” said Uncle Peabody as he led the way into our best room, where a fire was burning in the old Franklin grate.  “Come on, boys an’ girls.”

What a wonderful sight was the Christmas tree—­the first we had had in our house—­a fine spreading balsam loaded with presents!  Uncle Hiram jumped into the air and clapped his feet together and shouted:  “Hold me, somebody, or I’ll grab the hull tree an’ run away with it.”

Uncle Jabez held one foot in both hands before him and joyfully hopped around the tree.

These relatives had brought their family gifts, some days before, to be hung on its branches.  The thing that caught my eye was a big silver watch hanging by a long golden chain to one of the boughs.  Uncle Peabody took it down and held it aloft by the chain, so that none should miss the sight, saying: 

“From Santa Claus for Bart!”

A murmur of admiration ran through the company which gathered around me as I held the treasure in my trembling hands.

“This is for Bart, too,” Uncle Peabody shouted as he took down a bolt of soft blue cloth and laid it in my arms.  “Now there’s somethin’ that’s jest about as slick as a kitten’s ear.  Feel of it.  It’s for a suit o’ clothes.  Come all the way from Burlington.”

“Good land o’ Goshen!  Don’t be in such a hurry,” said Aunt Deel.

“Sorry, but the stage can’t wait for nobody at all—­it’s due to leave right off,” Uncle Peabody remarked as he laid a stuffed stocking on top of the cloth and gave me a playful slap and shouted:  “Get-ap, there.  You’ve got yer load.”

I moved out of the way in a hurricane of merriment.  It was his one great day of pride and vanity.  He did not try to conceal them.

The other presents floated for a moment in this irresistible tide of laughing good will and found their owners.  I have never forgotten how Uncle Jabez chased Aunt Minerva around the house with a wooden snake cunningly carved and colored.  I observed there were many things on the tree which had not been taken down when we younger ones gathered up our wealth and repaired to Aunt Deel’s room to feast our eyes upon it and compare our good fortune.