The great events of the year were the Christmas holidays， the Fourth of July， and "general training，" as the review of the county militia was then called. The winter gala days are associated， in my memory， with hanging up stockings and with turkeys， mince pies， sweet cider， and sleighrides by moonlight. My earliest recollections of those happy days， when schools were closed， books laid aside， and unusual liberties allowed， center in that large cellar kitchen to which I have already referred. There we spent many winter evenings in uninterrupted enjoyment. A large fireplace with huge logs shed warmth and cheerfulness around. In one corner sat Peter salving his violin， while our youthful neighbors danced with us and played blindman's buff almost every evening during the vacation. The most interesting character in this game was a black boy called Jacob (Peter's lieutenant)， who made things lively for us by always keeping one eye open朼 wise precaution to guard himself from danger， and to keep us on the jump. Hickory nuts， sweet cider， and olie-koeks (a Dutch name for a fried cake with raisins inside) were our refreshments when there came a lull in the fun.
As St. Nicholas was supposed to come down the chimney， our stockings were pinned on a broomstick， laid across two chairs in front of the fireplace.
We retired on Christmas Eve with the most pleasing anticipations of what would be in our stockings next morning. The thermometer in that latitude was often twenty degrees below zero， yet， bright and early， we would run downstairs in our bare feet over the cold floors to carry stockings， broom， etc.， to the nursery. The gorgeous presents that St. Nicholas now distributes show that he， too， has been growing up with the country. The boys and girls of 1897 will laugh when they hear of the contents of our stockings in 1823.
There was a little paper of candy， one of raisins， another of nuts， a red apple， an olie-koek， and a bright silver quarter of a dollar in the toe. If a child had been guilty of any erratic performances during the year， which was often my case， a long stick would protrude from the stocking； if particularly good， an illustrated catechism or the New Testament would appear， showing that the St. Nicholas of that time held decided views on discipline and ethics.
During the day we would take a drive over the snow-clad hills and valleys in a long red lumber sleigh. All the children it could hold made the forests echo with their songs and laughter. The sleigh bells and Peter's fine tenor voice added to the chorus seemed to chant， as we passed， "Merry Christmas" to the farmers' children and to all we met on the highway.
Returning home， we were allowed， as a great Christmas treat， to watch all Peter's preparations for dinner. Attired in a white apron and turban， holding in his hand a tin candlestick the size of a dinner plate， containing a tallow candle， with stately step he marched into the spacious cellar， with Jacob and three little girls dressed in red flannel at his heels.
As the farmers paid the interest on their mortgages in barrels of pork， headcheese， poultry， eggs， and cider， the cellars were well crowded for the winter， making the master of an establishment quite indifferent to all questions of finance. We heard nothing in those days of greenbacks， silver coinage， or a gold basis. Laden with vegetables， butter， eggs， and a magnificent turkey， Peter and his followers returned to the kitchen.
There， seated on a big ironing table， we watched the dressing and roasting of the bird in a tin oven in front of the fire. Jacob peeled the vegetables， we all sang， and Peter told us marvelous stones. For tea he made flapjacks， baked in a pan with a long handle， which he turned by throwing the cake up and skillfully catching it descending.
