CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Christmas Holiday

On Monday classes resumed their review of material covered that term.  Since Adam and Jamie had prepared diligently for each recitation as it came, neither really needed much review, but they drilled one another nonetheless, each wanting to make the highest marks possible.  In the library, between classes, they pushed their comrades, Adam taking Lucas in tow and Jamie helping the more receptive Marcus.  “I fear I shall shame the family by leading the class if you keep this up,” Lucas moaned.

“Shame the family,” Adam scoffed, thinking of the pride he hoped to give his father with what he achieved.  “They may die of shock, my spoopsey,” he said, adopting the college term for a silly fellow, “but scarcely of shame.”

“That’s the reason I don’t study,” Lucas stated with a grin.  “I don’t want to strain the poor old folks’ hearts.”

“You are consideration personified,” Adam said dryly.  “Now, back to work!”

The week passed quickly, and by its end the boys felt well prepared for the exams that would begin on the following Tuesday.  “I don’t see how we can fail,” Jamie moaned after their final recitation at noon on Saturday, “but I keep feeling as if I need to cram in just one more conjugation or proposition or algebraic equation.”

Adam hooted.  “One more and you’ll burst!  I intend to relax this weekend, enjoy the society meeting tonight and hit the books hard one last time on Monday.”

“It is a good plan,” Jamie admitted.  “What type of relaxing did you have in mind?”

“If the weather’s fair, I say let’s take a nice long hike, maybe to West Rock this time.  We haven’t been there yet.  Do you suppose your father would like to join us after chapel tomorrow?”

“Yes, I think so,” Jamie agreed.  “I’ve missed our walks.”

“So easy to bundle up with a warm cup of coffee, instead,” Adam chuckled.  “Dr. Cartwright has been slack about filling his own prescription, hasn’t he?”

Jamie grinned back.  “You haven’t heard the patient complain.”

“Lazy lad,” Adam chided playfully, knowing that there was no term less applicable to his friend.

“Not at the table!” Jamie laughed and started running toward the Vultures’ Nest.

“I didn’t need to work up an appetite!” Adam hollered, giving chase.

*****

            Stopping by the post office after the noon meal was a ritual rarely neglected, and

on this Saturday Adam was not disappointed.

“I thought it was time for another letter from home,” Jamie enthused.  “I’m

right, aren’t I?”

“Right as rain,” Adam concurred.  “Wind’s picking up, so let’s wait until we get home to read it.”

They set a sprightly pace back to George Street.  Once inside, Adam tossed his jacket to Jamie to hang up, while he broke the seal on the envelope.  Two rectangular slips of paper fell to the floor, and just by their shape, he knew what they had to be.  The first made him smile, but when he saw the inscription on the second draft, tears came to his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked urgently.  “Your father didn’t decide to let those people take Little Joe, after all?”

Adam grinned then.  ‘”No, it’s not bad news at all . . . just touching.  Pa’s sent me another draft . . . as a Christmas gift, he says.  He wanted to be sure it arrived in time, and weather back home is so unpredictable that he was afraid to chance waiting.”

“Why, that’s wonderful,” Jamie said, still puzzled by the tears.

Adam nodded.  “Yes.  Just hit me for a minute . . . all Pa’s doing for me.”  He brightened.  “And this means that I will be able to buy some small gifts for the boys, even if they probably won’t get them until after Christmas.”  He’d already posted a package with the stone pipe for Pa and a small sampling of Candy Sam’s divinity for his brothers, but now he could do a little better by them.

“Oh, yes!” Jamie cried.  “May I help you shop for that?  Let’s do it this afternoon!”

“We will,” Adam replied, “but first I have some good news that concerns you.”

He paused until he had Jamie’s expectant attention.  “Pa sent two drafts.”

“Not for me,” Jamie gasped.  “Oh, he shouldn’t have!”

“He didn’t,” Adam chuckled with a wicked wag of his eyebrows.  “It’s for your father.  I wrote Pa about his circumstances back when he first arrived and Pa sent this.”

Jamie gasped again when he saw the sum on the slip Adam handed to him.  “One hundred dollars.  Oh, Adam!”

“Not needed as much as when I wrote, of course, with his job at the arms company,” Adam said, “so you may well benefit from it.”

“Perhaps,” Jamie said, looking much more sober now.  “Oh, well, that is what Father will do, of course.  What did we ever do to deserve such parents, Adam?”

“No way to merit that,” Adam returned.  “A pure example of that grace you preacher types like to speak of.”

“It is that,” Jamie agreed with a good-natured grin.  “I can’t wait to tell Father tomorrow!”

“But now, my friend, get our coats back out of that wardrobe. We’re going shopping!”

*****

            Both Adam and Jamie were fidgety throughout the second chapel service the next day, both excited about conveying the draft to Jamie’s father.  “You don’t think he’ll be offended that I told Pa about his troubles, do you?” Adam had asked anxiously the afternoon before.

“No,” Jamie had assured him.  “He may not be willing to receive the money, but he’d never rebuke you for your charitable concern.”

As the final benediction was said, Adam found himself praying that Josiah would receive the gift in the spirit in which it had been intended.  Even with a steady job now, surely Josiah was finding it hard to make ends meet and still set aside something for his son’s continued schooling.  Many things here in the East were less expensive than back in Nevada, where shipping formed such a large part of the price, but people here seemed to require more of practically everything—food, clothes, entertainment, etc.—than had contented folks back home.

As was their custom, they met Josiah outside the chapel; as students, they had assigned seating, while the gallery was reserved for guests.  “I don’t know when I’ve seen the two of you look brighter,” Josiah said in greeting.  “Did you find the sermon particularly enlightening?”

“I’m sure it was,” the normally attentive Jamie said with an intriguing smile.

Josiah stroked his chin whiskers.  “Hmm, perhaps ‘bright’ is not the correct adjective.  Yes, I believe, now that I examine you more closely, there is definitely a cunning look about you two.”

“No cunning,” Adam insisted, his lips twitching like Jamie’s.  “We just have a surprise for you.”

“And I have one for you, as well,” Josiah laughed.  “Shall we exchange over coffee?  My treat.”

“Definitely your treat,” Adam said with an emphatic dip of his chin.

Josiah looked puzzled and then concerned.  Was his friend’s son running short of funds?  There was little he could do to help, of course, but the concern came almost as naturally as if Ben’s boy had been his own.  They walked to the eatery they generally frequented on Sunday afternoons and each ordered coffee.  Idle conversation filled the time until they were served; then Josiah ordered, “All right, spill the news.”

“Perhaps we should hear yours first,” Adam suggested with a mischievous wink at his roommate.  Having two little brothers, he was well acquainted with the look of curiosity about to burst.

“I think I’ll save mine,” Josiah said.  He sat back and folded his arms.  “Talk.”  The two boys exchanged a nod.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” Adam said, “but when you first arrived, I wrote Pa about your—your situation.”  He pulled his father’s bank draft from his pocket and handed it over.  “He sent this, in hopes it would help until things were better for you.”

“But. . . they are. . . better already,” Josiah stammered, seeing the amount.

“I know, and Pa hoped that would be true,” Adam said.  “The accompanying letter asks that you consider this a Christmas gift . . . or, if you insist, a loan; but either way, he wanted you to have it.”

Josiah waved the draft under Adam’s nose.  “Can he afford this?  He must be doing very well, indeed, if he can!”

“The latest cattle drive was successful,” Adam replied with confidence and pride in his father’s accomplishment, “and Californians pay very well for good beef.”

“Well, if you’re certain he won’t be depriving himself or you or your brothers . . .” Josiah swallowed the knot in his throat.  “I can never be the friend to your father that he has been to me.”

“Sir, he feels exactly the opposite,” Adam assured his former teacher.  “And who knows what the future holds?  He may one day be as much in need of your help.”

“I hope not, for his sake,” Josiah said with a warm smile, “but if he ever is, promise me you’ll be as faithful to write to me as you were to write to him.”

“It might earn me a trip over his knee,” Adam chuckled; then he sobered and made the promise.  “Will you accept the gift, sir?” he asked.

Josiah nodded.  “As a loan, I will, at least beyond what I deem a reasonable Christmas gift, provided I’m allowed to spend it any way I choose.”

“Of course,” Adam said slowly, surprised that the man would have thought any strings were attached.  “I’m sure Pa intended nothing less.”

“Now, Father, tell us your news,” Jamie urged.

Instead of complying, Josiah asked, “When does your term end?”

Adam sent Jamie a questioning look, as if to ask what his father was up to.  Then he answered, “The seventeenth.  That’s the last day of exams.”

“Then, that’s the day we leave,” Josiah stated.

“Leave?” Jamie asked.  Almost immediately, his shoulders slumped; then he gathered courage to face reality.  “Well, I had hoped for more than one term at Yale, but if you think—”

Josiah quickly reached for his son’s hand.  “No, son, you’re not leaving Yale—except on vacation.  That’s what I meant.  Your father’s generous gift, Adam, will make it possible for us all to spend several days away for the holiday.  I hope that suits you boys.”

“But . . . your job?” Jamie asked.  “Will they let you have that much time off?”

“I’ll resign, effective the seventeenth,” his father said with a quizzical smile.

“You can’t be serious!” Jamie gasped.  “Where will you find another?”

“In Springfield,” Josiah said, burying his smile in his coffee cup.

“Springfield?”  The son looked baffled, and then his eyes brightened.  “You have a teaching position!”

“I do, indeed.”  Josiah beamed.  “I begin January second, and like you boys, I’d appreciate a few days between assignments.”  He waved the check.  “This makes it possible.  What would you say to Christmas in . . . oh, let’s see, what would be interesting?  New York City?”

“That would be wonderful!” Jamie cried.  “I barely saw it, coming here, and it looked like a fascinating place.”

“Adam?” Josiah asked, for the other boy had grown suddenly quiet.

“I . . . can’t go,” Adam murmured, his disappointment obvious.  “I have an obligation here on the 22^nd.”

“The Christmas chapel concert,” Jamie said.  “I’d forgotten.  And I so wanted to hear it, too.  Oh, Adam!”

“It’s all right,” Adam assured his friend.  “Just—just enjoy yourself doubly for my sake.”

Reaching across the table, Josiah’s fingers closed comfortingly around Adam’s forearm.  “We wouldn’t think of going without you, son.”

Adam pulled back.  “And I wouldn’t think of depriving you of that grand trip.  Pa didn’t raise me to be that selfish!”

Josiah chuckled.  “My dear boy, you won’t deprive us of a thing.  We’ll simply delay our departure until after the concert, which I also very much wish to attend.  If we take the evening train that Sunday, we’ll still arrive in the city in time for any special Christmas programs, and if there’s more we care to do, we can stay after a few days.  I dare say, New Haven Arms would be happier if I left at the end of the week, anyway, and it’s better for me financially, as well.”

“It won’t inconvenience you in any way?”

“None whatsoever,” Josiah assured him, although it would somewhat shorten his time for the relocation to Springfield.  “In fact, your Christmas concert will provide the perfect opening to our holiday expedition.  Now, how does New York City suit you, young man?”

“Perfectly!” Adam exclaimed.  “Like Jamie, I didn’t see nearly enough of it my first time through.”

“Then, New York City it is,” Josiah declared.  “We’ll still have to watch our pennies of course, save back some funds for my move and for Jamie’s extra expenses for the next two terms, but I’m confident we can have a fine holiday with a splurge of extravagance here and there.  Now, shall we indulge in a second cup of coffee?”

“If you treat,” Adam teased.  “After all, you’re the wealthy man among us; all splurges of extravagance are on you!”

* * * * *

            The last recitation of the term took place after chapel on Tuesday and exams began that afternoon.  They followed a pattern unfamiliar to Adam, who was more accustomed to taking tests in his classroom during regular hours.  Here, however, the exams were held at odd hours throughout the week and lasted longer than the usual recitation period, as much as two hours for some subjects.  He and Jamie became ships passing in the night, for they were grouped in different sub-divisions of a dozen men each, he in the first and Jamie in the third, so while he was sweating over Latin conjugations, his friend was cramming in as many of Euclid’s propositions as possible.

Adam felt odd, entering his regular recitation room with no book in hand for his first exam, but he’d been told that whatever was needed would be supplied by the instructor.  He and the eleven students in his sub-division, which included Lucas, filed in and took their seats on the back bench.

Wilder Smith, their Latin tutor, began by calling two students to the front of the room.  They each drew a slip of paper from his hand and then sat on the front bench to consider their answers for about ten minutes.  Then the first man was called to recite.  Obviously nervous, he stammered through the translation he’d been assigned, but finally reached the end and hurried back to his place on the back bench.  A third student’s name was called; he came forward to draw his assignment, and then the second student was asked to recite.

Since Smith was taking the students in alphabetical order, Lucas was called before Adam.  Noticeably nervous, he stared glumly at the paper before him as he sat on the first bench; when he was called forward, he stammered worse and made more mistakes than the first man examined.  Adam winced, for his friend had all but butchered the closing line of the translation, with which he was familiar.  His own turn arrived soon after, but though he was nervous, he smiled with relief when he saw the material he would be required to translate.  He had studied diligently and had no qualms about giving his recitation when called.

When all twelve men had been examined, the process began again with a second round of questions.  After the first man finished this recitation, however, he was dismissed, so Adam knew that he had one more translation to complete, and then he’d be free.  As his name came late in the rotation, his exam endured almost the full two hours, but when he finished, he was certain that he had not only passed, but done exceedingly well.  Lucas, he was afraid, had barely squeaked through.  Back in his room, Adam shared all the information he had garnered about the examination procedure with Jamie, whose first session was not until the next day.

“I’m sorry to disrupt your study time,” he said as he drew an envelope from his pocket, “but I do have a certain enticement to dangle before your eyes.”

Jamie slammed Euclid’s Geometry shut.  “Consider me enticed,” he said.  “Those propositions are beginning to circle around in my head like a carousel, and I could use a chance to shake off the dizziness.  What’s the news from the Ponderosa?”

“I don’t know yet,” Adam chuckled,” and I’m just as eager as you to find out.”

“I can’t believe you waited this long!” Jamie exclaimed.  “You are all heart, chum.”

By now Adam had broken the seal and opened the letter.  Quickly scanning it, he began to laugh out loud.  “Oh, it’s just the sort of thing you enjoy most,” he told his friend.  “That Little Joe and his shenanigans!”  He read aloud Ben’s rueful account of a trip to town in which he’d somehow lost track of his youngest son while being subjected to a lecture on the proper management of children by a total stranger.

“It sounds as though Little Joe’s disappearance was the stranger’s fault, not your father’s,” Jamie, sitting cross-legged on his bed, decided.  “Still, he must have been frantic when he discovered the boy was gone.”

“Yes, Pa says he searched for hours and had just elicited the new sheriff’s help—hey, it’s Roy Coffee, the man who helped search for Little Joe when he went missing after Marie’s death.”  Adam laughed.  “Pa says Sheriff Coffee gave him no end of ribbing about losing the boy again.  They were just setting out to search for him when Little Joe showed up at the jail, brought in by none less than Julia Bulette.  And didn’t that give the sheriff something to tease Pa about!”

“I don’t understand,” Jamie said.

Adam stifled his laughter to a light titter.  “Miss Bulette is a—well, she lives on D Street.”

Jamie spread bewildered hands.  “So?”

“It’s—uh—the red light district of town.”

“Ooh,” Jamie said as he slowly understood what Adam was saying.  “She’s a—”

“A soiled dove, we call them,” Adam explained.

Jamie nodded.  “I’ve heard the term.  Fancy Little Joe ending up down there.  He must have made quite an exploration of town that afternoon!”

“Evidently,” Adam said dryly.  “Pa says he was chasing a kitty cat and lost his way.  Pa tried to stay angry, but by the time they got back to Will Cass’s store, Little Joe’d managed to charm himself out of a spanking and a penalty of only two cents’ worth of candy, instead of the five Pa’d originally planned to give him.  And he considers that discipline.”  Adam shook his head.  “Unbelievable.  I seem to remember Pa’s being much stricter with me when I was that age.”

“You wouldn’t really want him deprived of his candy, would you?” Jamie teased.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Adam snorted, looking almost serious.  “A full continent away that scamp still works his charm!”

“He took my mind off Euclid for a few minutes,” Jamie said.  “That’s worth two cents—or even five—of candy in my book.”

Adam pointed to the geometry text.  “That’s your book.  Back to it, chum, or not even Candy Sam’s divinity will raise your spirits after your exam tomorrow.”

Jamie moaned, but dutifully went back to his desk, opened the troublesome text and went over the next proposition for at least the third time since Sunday.

* * * * *

            In the midst of term exams, of all ridiculous times, the Brothers in Unity held their election of officers for the next term.  As thirty members were required for a quorum, the blue posters tacked to trees across campus urged the importance of everyone’s being there Wednesday night.  Though they knew no freshman was ever elected to society office, Adam, Jamie and Marcus dutifully attended.  Lucas did not, citing his need to study as reason for his absence.  “It’s not an excuse,” Adam told Jamie later.  “He didn’t do well in Latin, and his performance in algebra today was abysmal.  I’m worried about him.”

“You think he’ll be put on condition?” Jamie fretted.

“At best,” Adam replied soberly.  “I should have taken him in hand sooner.”

“Let’s invite him to a study session in Greek,” Jamie suggested.  “We all have that next week, and he’ll need to be sharp.  Old Had’s a brick, but he’s strict.”

“Good idea.  I’ll pass it on to Luke . . . and I won’t make it an invitation,” Adam said, his features severe.  “I’ll tell him his presence is required.”

“Or what?” Jamie asked.

“Or he’ll lose the pleasure of our company for a good six months, at least,” Adam grunted.

“If he’s rusticated, you mean.”  Jamie’s nose crinkled in distaste.  “I suppose that is what would happen if he failed badly.”

“Not that he’d really stay in the country and cram, as the faculty intends by that,” Adam said with a roll of his eyes, “so if he fails, we may as well bid our friend farewell for . . . well, possibly forever.  I won’t have that!”

“Nor will I,” Jamie said, laying his hand atop Adam’s in pledge.

* * * * *

            “You’d think they’d cancel these things during exams,” Adam groused as he and Jamie walked to the meeting of Sigma Episilon Saturday night.  “First Brothers and now Sigma Ep.  At least, they didn’t assign anyone to orate or debate this week.  That really would be an imposition on the students selected.”

Jamie blew on his chilled fingers.  “I wonder what the program will be, instead.  A guest speaker, perhaps?”

“Can’t imagine.”  Adam sighed.  “I suppose I should be grateful for any excuse to take a break, but it’s hard to convince myself that I can spare the time.”

“All we have left is Greek,” Jamie pointed out, “and you’ve given a dead rush in every recitation all term long.”

“Almost,” Adam admitted with a pleased smile.  His performance under Professor Hadley’s instruction had been almost perfect, a dead rush, indeed, as the college boys called it.  “Yours has been even more perfect.”

Jamie shrugged.  “I’m better at languages, but can’t compare with you in mathematics.”

“Well, here we are; now we’ll see what sort of affair our leaders feel appropriate to examination week.”  Adam opened the door to the society hall, and they entered . . . to almost pure pandemonium, but it was pandemonium of the merriest kind.  Spotting Lucas, Adam weaved his way over to him.  “What’s up?” he asked.

“Peanut bum!” Lucas proclaimed.  “That’s what my poor, aching head needs after all that Greek you and the preacher boy crammed in so ruthlessly.”

“Only aches because you used it so little during the term,” Adam chided.  “So, what’s a peanut bum?”

“Best part of society life,” Lucas enthused.  “My ever-so-secretive brother did tell me about this.  Oh, boy, here they come!”

“Here who comes?” Jamie demanded.

“Not who . . . what!” Lucas laughed.  “Get your pronouns straight, chum.  Just watch: you’ll catch on quick, smart as you are.”

Adam and Jamie both turned their attention to the center of the room, which had been cleared of its usual seating.  Into the large space remaining marched two of the officers, hefting between them a huge sack, which they upturned and dumped onto the floor.

“Come on!” Lucas yelled and, following his own advice, dove into the pile of peanuts.  It took Adam and Jamie only a second to join the scramble.  The rest of the evening was devoted to munching peanuts, crunching crisp apples and swilling down cocoa and coffee, while the students commiserated over the tough exams and celebrated the ones they were certain they had killed: a night of unadulterated relaxation for all the “poor, aching” heads crammed ruthlessly with Greek, Latin, geometry and algebra.

“So that’s a peanut bum,” Adam said with satisfaction as they laughingly left at its close.  “May all our exam weeks be graced with its like!”

* * * * *

            Adam addressed and sealed the envelope and carefully placed the letter to his father inside his coat pocket, along with one each to Billy and Ross, to be mailed on the way to supper later that afternoon.  There hadn’t been much news to tell, really, but since he had the room to himself and not much else to do, this had seemed like a good time to send a few words to his family.  Before exams started, he’d written to thank his father for the Christmas draft and to assure him that the additional funds would be well spent.  He’d also already shared the good news that Josiah had found a teaching position and promised to send his address as soon as Jamie got word of his new lodgings in Springfield.  Enthusiastically, he’d told Pa about Josiah’s plan to treat them all to a holiday trip to New York City, but said that he would be mindful not to impose on that generosity.

That left little for today’s letter except to report that he’d finished his exams.  He described how different they’d been from what he was accustomed to, but assured his father that he thought he’d done well.  In a separate note to Hoss and Little Joe, he’d described Saturday night’s peanut bum, knowing they’d both think that sounded like fun.  And he promised to write about all the fun in New York, too, to give them something to look forward to in his next letter.  “Be sure to tell me all about Christmas on the Ponderosa,” he directed, trusting Hoss, at least, to remember and set everything down on paper.

Checking his watch, he determined that Jamie would probably still be wrestling with Professor Hadley’s Greek exam for another half hour or so.  He was confident he’d done well on his own test because the professor had given him a wink and a smile when he’d finished his last translation.  Throwing himself down on the bed, he opened the latest issue of the Yale Literary Magazine.  Neither he nor Jamie had done more than glance at the table of contents after picking it up almost a week ago.  Studying for exams should come first, they both agreed, and even though Adam had finished his yesterday, he hadn’t opened the magazine’s covers until now.  With his letters dutifully written and time to kill, he decided he might as well read an article or two.

He read the prize essay, published in this month’s issue and was about halfway through the article evaluating whether boating or baseball was a better pursuit for most students when Jamie came bursting through the door.  “Done!” he cried.

“And you look satisfied with your performance,” Adam observed with a bright smile.  “Did Old Had wink at you?”

“He did!” Jamie exclaimed.  “After what you told me last night, I was looking for it, and while I was quite sure before that I’d done well, that wink was most reassuring.”  He flopped down on the bed next to Adam, glancing at the Lit. in his hands.  “Anything interesting?”

“I haven’t gotten into it much,” Adam said, laying aside the magazine.

Jamie lay back, folding his arms beneath his head.  “Odd, isn’t it?  We’ve been so rushed all week, cramming every minute with studying, and now it’s all over and nothing to do until Sunday.”

“For you, oh man of leisure,” Adam laughed.  “I, on the other hand, have extra rehearsals between now and then.”

“Do you have a solo?” Jamie inquired.  “I’ve been so occupied with Homer and Livy and propositions and equations that I haven’t thought to ask, but I assume they’ve been assigned by now.”

“Yes, but those all went to the juniors and seniors,” Adam snickered.  “Besides, I’m not really good enough for solo work.”

Jamie sat up.  “I disagree,” he said decidedly.

Adam shoved him back down on the bed.  “You, sir, are enormously biased.”  He lay back beside his friend, adopting the same posture.  “Honestly, I probably have the least trained voice of anyone in the choir.  I’m lucky Herr Stoeckel accepted me at all.”

“But you’re getting training now, and he sees your potential,” Jamie insisted.  “Add that to your natural talent—”

“And, maybe by the time I’m a senior, I might hope for a small solo part,” Adam finished with a chuckle.  He turned his head toward his companion.  “You want to take a walk before supper or just relax?”

“I want a good, old-fashioned nap,” Jamie said with a yawn, “and then I want to stack up my books and not open them once until we get back from New York.”

“Second the motion,” Adam said in fervent agreement.

* * * * *

            Meeting the two boys outside the chapel on the following Sunday, Josiah pumped Adam’s hand.  “Bravo, my boy!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.  “You sang beautifully.”

Adam’s smile had a slightly rueful cast.  “I hope that doesn’t mean my voice stuck out too much.  Herr Stoeckel keeps lecturing me—all of us, really—about blend.  I can’t seem to get it quite right, either too loud or too soft.”

Josiah patted his shoulder.  “I have scarcely heard tones so sweetly blended, so you must be doing something right.”  He chuckled.  “However, I did manage to pick out a certain fine baritone at rare intervals.”

“Well, as long as they were rare,” Adam returned with a grin.

“When does our train leave?” Jamie asked.  “Do we have time for a hot meal or will we need to purchase sandwiches and fruit from the train boy?”

“We have about two hours,” Josiah replied.  “Just about time enough to eat dinner, pick up our bags and get to the depot.

* * * * *

            Adam fastened the clasp of his carpetbag and set it beside the door, where Jamie’s already stood.  “Are you sure you packed everything?” he asked.  “You don’t want some light reading material—dear old Euclid, perhaps?”

“I shall cheerfully strangle you if you mention him once during this holiday,” Jamie vowed, though the twinkle in his eye belied the threat.  “If it’s light reading material you want, the ever-accommodating train boy can supply something better that that!”

Adam reached for his coat.  “Time we headed for the train, then.”  He took a quick look around the room.  Everything in order: textbooks neatly stacked on their desks, the clothes they wouldn’t need hung neatly in the wardrobe, bed tidily made up.  Not a single cause for Mrs. Wiggins to reproach them when she did her weekly cleaning.

Jamie wrapped a worn woolen scarf tightly around his neck, for the air outside was frosty.  Snatching up his bag and tucking their umbrella under his arm, he gave a hearty cheer.  “Let’s go!”

“New York City or bust!” Adam declared, adapting an old trail cry, as he hefted his carpetbag and followed Jamie out the door.

* * * * *

            Red-cheeked, their breath puffing out white in front of them, Adam and Jamie trotted onto the depot platform, spotted Josiah inside and hurried over.  “We made it in time, didn’t we?” Jamie asked, for when his father immediately stood to his feet, he feared that they might be running late.

“With about ten minutes to spare,” his father replied, affectionately cupping the young man’s wool-wrapped neck.

Adam dropped his carpetbag beside the older man.  “I’d better get over to the window and purchase my ticket.”

Josiah grabbed his arm.  “Already purchased, Adam.  This trip’s on me, remember?”

“That isn’t fair to you, sir,” Adam insisted, “and I can pay my own way.  Pa sent me a draft, too.”

“It’s my Christmas gift to you,” Josiah insisted.  He put an arm around his son’s slim shoulders.  “Jamie here may get a few more, but the train ticket, lodging and food will have to suffice for you, my boy.”

“It will suffice for me, too, Father,” Jamie said.  “I didn’t expect more . . . or even this, to be honest, knowing how things were.”

“Just needed things, Jamie,” his father said.  “You’re in sad need of a warmer winter coat, for instance, and I thought we’d pick one up while we’re in the city, as part of your Christmas.”

“You are generous beyond my hopes,” Jamie said tenderly.  “Uh-oh,” he added as a whistle blew outside.  “Is that our train already?”

“Running a bit early, evidently,” his father replied.  “Get your bags, boys, and let’s board!”

Three happy faces hurried aboard and settled into second-class seats, Josiah taking the one facing the two boys.  Within a few minutes the train departed and soon passed over an extensive flat meadow as they rolled toward West Haven.  The tracks lay near the shore, and all three travelers gazed out the window at the soothing sight of Long Island Sound on their left.  “If the weather had been more pleasant, we could have gone by boat,” Josiah said, “but I think this will be warmer.”

“I’m all for staying as warm as possible,” Adam said with a shiver.  “We picked a fine time for a pleasure trip, didn’t we?”

“Well, if that’s a complaint,” Josiah teased, “we can always turn back at the next station.”

“No complaints,” Adam said with a grin, “but I might be joining you in that quest for a warmer coat.  I’ve spent my most recent winters in Sacramento, and it doesn’t get much worse than rainy there.”

“A pity it’s Sunday,” Jamie observed.  “We could have purchased those warm coats right away.”

“Jamie, Jamie,” his father laughed.  “Even if it weren’t Sunday, we wouldn’t be doing any shopping.  By the time we find our hotel, settle in and have some supper, the stores will be closed, anyway.”

“I suppose so,” Jamie said with a chagrinned shrug.  “I tend not to think things through when I’m excited.”

“A failing common to man,” his father opined lightly.  “I thought we would just get acquainted with the city tomorrow and do some shopping, as well.”  He extended a copy of the New York Times.  “This is yesterday’s paper, but it details what’s available this next week.  If you’ll look on page four, you’ll find a list of theaters and other amusements, and there are fuller descriptions on page seven.  See what appeals to you.”

“Theater of any kind appeals to me,” Adam said with enthusiasm.  “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve seen a play.”

Adam and Jamie eagerly perused the newspaper column of amusements on offer.  “So many,” Jamie gasped.  “I scarcely know what to choose.”

“Anything but ‘The Wonders of the World,’” Adam said with a scowl at the newspaper.  “‘Monster child with two heads, four legs and three arms.’  It’s nothing but a freak show!”

“I’m glad that doesn’t appeal to you,” Josiah admitted.

“Not at all, despite how educational the advertisement touts it to be.”  Adam handed the newspaper back to Josiah.  “Honestly, sir, I think we’d both be pleased if you planned our itinerary.”  If from nothing but sheer courtesy, he felt he owed that much to his host, but in addition, he still held his old teacher in such esteem that he had confidence that any choice Josiah made would be both enjoyable and profitable.  He had noticed an advertisement for a production of Hamlet that was extremely enticing, but it was playing in Brooklyn.  Since he wasn’t familiar with New York City, he didn’t know whether the hotel they booked into would be close enough to make that a practical destination.

“I’ll give it good consideration, then,” Josiah replied.  “We’ll see something tomorrow evening and probably most evenings while we’re in town.”

“Oh, this will be the best holiday ever!” Jamie enthused, and Adam nodded his vigorous agreement.

*  * * * *

            The train ride was uneventful, except for the steady deterioration of the weather as they moved southward, from cold to cloudy to rainy to a drenching downpour by the time they reached the end of the line.  They immediately boarded the city cars down to Chatham Street, just past City Hall.  “I remember this,” Adam laughed.  “I trotted from the ferry to here at a most prodigious pace.”

“I stopped overnight here in New York, so I missed that opportunity to race through the streets,” Jamie chuckled as he opened the umbrella and held it over both their heads.  His father, fortunately, had one of his own.  “Evidently, we’re not staying at the St. James, as I did then.”

“Not this time, son,” Josiah replied.  “We’ll be in a more—well, economic—hotel on this trip.”  He smiled apologetically at the two boys.  “The quarters won’t be luxurious.”

“We’d have been disappointed if they were,” Adam quickly said.  “None of us wants to live above our means.”

“Oh, well, perhaps a bit above our means,” Josiah chuckled.  “We are on holiday, right?”

“Right!” both boys cried in unison.  They dodged puddles as best they could for the short walk that followed.

“Well, this is it,” Josiah announced, stopping in front of French’s Hotel.  After checking them in, he led the way to the room they would all share.

“I thought you said it wouldn’t be luxurious,” Adam teased as he set his carpetbag at the foot of one of the two beds.  “By western standards this is a palace.”

Josiah laughed as he dropped onto the other bed.  “I forget you boys have not been spoiled by the likes of the Astor House.  No, this is a sound businessman’s hotel that was recommended to me by my supervisor at New Haven Arms.  There are others closer to the attractions we wish to see, of course, but we’d pay for that convenience.”

“No need when we come equipped with strong sets of these.”  Adam slapped his right thigh.

“New York has a thorough network of city cars,” Josiah told him, “so if we need to go further than our legs will comfortably carry us, we can ride in style for only five cents.”  He nudged his carpetbag with his toe.  “We can unpack these when we return after supper,” he suggested.

Jamie immediately asked, “What are we doing now?  The stores are closed, remember?”

“Anyone hungry yet?” Josiah asked.

After a quick exchange of glances with Adam, Jamie replied, “Not yet.  We’d rather explore.”  Adam nodded his agreement.

“In the rain?” Josiah said with an unbelieving shake of his head.

“We won’t melt,” Jamie insisted.

“Let’s wait a bit and see if it clears off; then we can walk a few blocks up Broadway,” Josiah suggested, “and see what we find.  We won’t stay out long, however.  The temperature is dropping steadily.  Cold and wet is not a sensation I’d welcome.”

Half an hour later the rain let up, and even though he personally would have preferred to stay in the warm hotel, Josiah gave in to the boys’ desire to see the big city.  Leaving the hotel with umbrellas firmly in hand, they crossed the park facing them and paused to examine more closely the marble edifice of City Hall.  “Imposing, eh, Adam?” Josiah said.

“Yes,” Adam agreed readily.  “It does stand out, as an official building should.  I wonder why they’re building a new one.”  He’d noticed the excavation for the new foundation behind the current building.

“It’s a growing city, and with growth comes the greater possibility of crime and, thus, the need for more courtrooms,” Josiah suggested.  “One of the things I thought we’d do this week is to visit some of the best examples of architectural design in the city,” he added.  “You’ve said that you might be interested in a career in that field.”

“Possibly,” Adam said, though he secretly wondered how he could manage an architectural career from the confines of the ranch.  He looked up at his host.  “But touring buildings surely can’t hold much interest for you or Jamie.”

“Actually, it does,” Jamie put in.  “I can appreciate beauty in a building, as well as in words.”

“Here’s Broadway,” Josiah said as they reached the end of the block.

“Which way?” Adam asked.  “North or south?”

Josiah chuckled.  “North, if you’re interested in retail stores.”

They’d traversed no more than two blocks before they stopped to gape at a large dry goods emporium, their eyes dazzled by the wide variety of goods available.

“I wish it were open,” Jamie sighed.

“It’s so close to our hotel that we can take it in any time,” Adam pointed out.  “I want to see what else Broadway has to offer.”

“All right,” Jamie, always eager to accommodate, murmured.  He had, however, a secret mission to fulfill and chafed at the delay of getting it underway.

Adam had a secret mission of his own, but wanted to see a wide spectrum of possibilities before making a final decision.  It was, after all, still two days until Christmas.  A bigger problem than what to buy, in his mind, was finding enough time alone to make certain purchases unseen.

They ambled up Broadway, pausing here and there to gaze in windows as something caught their eyes, but when they reached the 400-block, Josiah suggested that they turn around.  “I’m quite certain I felt some raindrops assault my poor beaver,” he said, referring to his hat.

“May we start here tomorrow?” Jamie begged, looking with longing into the window of D. Appleton and Company.

“Oh, you boys and your books,” Josiah snickered.

“I can’t imagine where we got that from, can you, Jamie?” Adam observed dryly with a wink at his friend.

Pressing an index finger to his lower lip, Jamie cocked his head in a studious attitude.  “I can’t imagine, either,” he said after a moment’s reflection.  “It certainly can’t be hereditary.”

“Or influenced by the present company, who appears to disdain entrance into a bookstore,” Adam said.  “Oddly enough, I seem to recall a different attitude in my first teacher.  So sad that it seems to have dissipated with age.”

“Highly discouraging,” Jamie concurred with a twinkle in his eye.

“All right, all right.”  Josiah lifted his palms in surrender.  “I confess: I’m the one who started you both on this path, so I might as well resign myself to visiting every bookstore in New York.”

“Oh, no, not the entire state,” Adam assured him merrily.  “Just the ones here in town—at least, the ones on Broadway.”

“That’ll be quite as much as we can handle, most likely,” Josiah said with a wry smile, “but to answer your question, Jamie . . . no, we will not be coming here first thing tomorrow.”  He pulled his son into a one-armed embrace.  “First stop will be a gentleman’s clothing store—a coat, remember?”  He frowned at the large puddle on the walk.  “And some rubbers, too, I’d say.”

With a shiver Jamie agreed.  “Where shall we eat?” he asked.

“Let’s just patronize the hotel restaurant tonight,” Josiah suggested.  “Then we’ll go upstairs, unpack and decide on our itinerary for tomorrow.”

* * * * *

            “Is Fulton Street nearby?” Jamie asked as his finger rested on an advertisement in the newspaper.

“I’ll see,” Adam, sitting cross-legged on the opposite bed, replied.  He peered intently at the street map loaned to them by the helpful clerk downstairs.  “Yes!  There it is, a few streets south and east of us.  Why?  What’s on Fulton Street?”

“Leggat Brothers,” Jamie reported, adding with a grin, “declaring itself to be the ‘cheapest bookstore in the world.’  Ten thousand books, many only twenty-five cents.”

“Definitely my preferred price,” Adam said, his eyes still resting on the map.  If he seemed less enthusiastic than Jamie had expected, it was only because he had also noticed that Fulton Street was marked as the departure point for the ferry to Brooklyn.  Not far at all, he was glad to note, although he still didn’t feel right voicing his desire to Mr. Edwards.

Between Adam’s lack of response and his father’s statement about where they’d be going first, Jamie set aside the paper with a sigh.  “I don’t suppose we can go there tomorrow, anyway.”

Josiah turned from the small table that served as a writing desk.  “Actually, Fulton Street is our first stop, son, so whichever store we come across first gets our business first . . . even if it’s books, instead of coats,” he finished, laughing at the sudden brightening of his son’s countenance.

“Truly?”  There’s a coat store on Fulton?”

Josiah rolled his eyes.  “If you’d looked past the advertisements for books, my boy, you’d already know that.  Find the one for Evans’ and you’ll see why we’re going there.”

“Oh, I see what you mean!” Jamie exclaimed when he’d found the column almost totally devoted to a list of offerings at Evans.  “The prices are good.  Only three dollars for an overcoat, Adam!”

“I shall definitely get one at that price,” Adam declared.

“If it’s of good quality,” Josiah reminded him.  “A bargain’s only as good as the merchandise itself.”

“Father, you’re neglecting your duty to plan our itinerary,” Jamie chided playfully.  “Personally, I could probably spend the day in that bookstore, but . . .”

“But you most certainly will not,” his father chuckled.  “And I need no admonition from you, boy, about my duty . . . since I’ve completed it.”

Both boys turned eager eyes on him.  When Josiah just continued to smile at them, Adam gave him a gentle prod.  “Well, then . . .”

Josiah laughed out loud.  “Leggat Brothers and Evans should take most of the morning.  Then lunch somewhere, and then we’ll shop our way up Broadway through the afternoon, have supper and clean up for the evening’s entertainment.”

“And what is that?” Jamie demanded.  “You know that’s what we’re most eager to know.  Sometimes you can be most provoking, Father.”

The words sounded disrespectful, but the tone definitely was not, and they brought a smile to the father’s face.  “The Brooklyn Academy of Music.”

“Hamlet,” Adam gasped, in awe that his unvoiced hopes were to be fulfilled.

“Of course, Hamlet,” Josiah said with a mirthful shake of his head.  “Don’t you think I know you boys that well?”

Jamie had bounced up from his bed at the announcement, and now his arms circled about his father.  “And we know you!  You’re as much a fan of Shakespeare as either of us.  I hated to mention it, though, as I didn’t know where Brooklyn was.”

“Nor did I,” Adam admitted.

“Nor I,” Josiah chimed.  “That’s why I sent you boys up to the room, so I could speak with the clerk in private.  He assured me that it’s just across the East River and said we should take the Fulton Street ferry across.”

“It’s on the map,” Adam said.  “I guess we’ll be spending quite a bit of time on Fulton tomorrow!”

* * * * *

            “Umm . . . luxury,” Adam murmured with satisfaction as he, Josiah and Jamie departed Evans’ and Company the next morning, each sporting a new overcoat.  Though only made from black cloth, not wool, they were warmly lined.  All three had also purchased fleece-lined gloves and rubber overshoes.  As tempting as the inventory of Leggat Brothers had been, however, they’d purchased little there.  Jamie and Adam had each indulged in a single novel for twenty-five cents, just in case the weather turned inclement and they were forced to spend the afternoon in the hotel.  The clouds above were definitely gray and gloomy with the portent of rain.

“Do you want to eat before we drop your books by the room?” Josiah asked.

“I am getting hungry,” Jamie said, “but I could wait if you have a place in mind on Broadway.”

“Nothing in mind,” his father admitted.

“That oyster saloon we passed between here and Leggat’s looked promising,” Adam suggested, “and it would be on our way back.”

“Oysters agreeable to you, son?” Josiah asked.

When Jamie said that they were, they walked the few blocks back to the establishment and ordered piping hot bowls of oyster stew with coffee.  Then, fortressed against the cold both inside and out, they returned to the hotel long enough to leave their packages from the morning’s shopping and then set out for the shops of Broadway.

They stopped first at the dry goods store they’d seen the night before and then went to a men’s clothing store further up the street.  It was hard to get excited about items as mundane as undershirts and drawers, but as the prices were low, everyone bought a set or two.  Adam spotted a table of ties, ranging in price from five to fifty cents.  “I’m feeling extravagant,” he said with a grin as he selected a couple for fifteen cents each.

“That dark crimson one will look elegant with your suit tonight,” Jamie suggested.

Adam held aloft a deep blue tie.  “Ideal for you, chum,” he told his friend.

“You have such good taste,” Jamie said admiringly as he handed the blue tie to the clerk.

“Ugh!  Raining again,” Adam groaned, opening their umbrella as they stalwartly set forth again.

They didn’t see much else of interest in that block, but when they reached the next, Jamie cried, “Now, here’s what I’ve been waiting for—Appleton’s!”

“Planning another trip soon, son?” Josiah asked playfully, referring to Appleton’s reputation as a publisher of travel guides.  “I thought this one would satisfy you for a long while.”

“It does,” Jamie replied, “but, Father . . . it’s Appleton’s.”

“Evidently, the epitome of publishers,” his father said dryly with a wink at Adam.

“One of the few I know by name,” Adam admitted.  “I would like to shop here, sir, if you don’t mind.”

“I never intended otherwise,” Josiah said with a companionable pat to the young man’s shoulder.  “Let’s go in.  At least, it’s not raining inside!”

Inside, long rows of European authors met their wondering gaze, as well as American fiction by such authors as Washington Irving and James Fennimore Cooper.  Both boys enthused over the beautifully bound works of Longfellow and Bryant, and Jamie picked up a volume of Emerson’s essays with a look of desire that Adam filed away for future reference.

“Anyone buying this afternoon?” Josiah asked as he reluctantly set down a book on natural history.

“Not yet,” Adam said.  “Prices might be better elsewhere.”  In fact, he knew books were cheaper at Leggat’s, though not so richly bound as those here.  As a gift for Jamie, he would consider the costlier purchase; the cheaper works at Leggat’s would have to do for him.

“Possibly,” Josiah conceded, “and we do have plenty of time to look.  We won’t be spending a great deal of time in our room, but even if you don’t finish those novels you bought this morning, I do think we should each treat ourselves to something new for the train trip home.”

“Oh, yes!” Jamie agreed heartily.  “And I know just what I’ll choose!”

Adam had a feeling he knew exactly what book his friend had in mind.  Scratch that idea off the list, he thought.

They kept walking north on Broadway, but made slow progress because there seemed to be at least one bookstore in every block.  If Adam had been willing to pass one up, Jamie certainly was not, but when five o’ clock came, the stores made the decision for them by closing.  “Time for supper now?” Josiah asked with a mischievous smirk.

“Past time,” Adam stated, “but I do hope we can come back another day.  I think I know what I want now.”

“We can come back tomorrow,” Josiah said.  “There’s one place in particular I want to take you then, but we should still have time for more shopping.”

“Where’s that, Father?” Jamie inquired.

“All in good time, my boy; all in good time.”

“Provoking chap, isn’t he?” Jamie said with a side glance at Adam.

“Not to me,” Adam chuckled.  “I’m quite used to that sort of behavior from a certain Benjamin Cartwright.”

“They must be a matched pair,” Jamie agreed.

“Takes one to know one,” his father observed dryly.

* * * * *

            With some reluctance Adam surrendered his overcoat to the cloakroom attendant.  Not that he was either cold or concerned for its safety, only somewhat embarrassed by the plainness of his apparel.  In his best suit and new tie, he had felt well dressed when he’d looked at himself in the hotel mirror and had thought Jamie looked even more handsome in the tie matching his eyes.  Here, among the rich gowns and furs of the ladies and the fashionably cut trousers of expensive fabric sported by the gentlemen, he felt . . . well, dowdy . . . as if his frugality shouted penury for all to see.  However, once they’d taken their seats in the family circle, where tickets went for only twenty-five cents, he relaxed.  The people around him in those seats were more plainly attired, and frankly, he and the two Edwards looked quite dashing next to some of them.  When the curtain rose, all such mundane worries fled, anyway.  Nothing matter except the perceptive interpretation of the immortal lines.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Jamie leaned close to Adam’s ear to whisper during a break between acts.

“Davenport?  One of the best I’ve seen,” Adam agreed.  He added with a self-deprecating grin, “Not that that’s saying a lot.  I like the way he plays Hamlet, so dreamy and wrapped in thought.”

“That’s it,” Jamie said, “just what I was feeling.  I saw Hamlet once in St. Louis, and the lead actor there played him so robustly that I couldn’t imagine he ever took pause for thought.”

Adam replied only with a nod, for the next act was beginning.  He watched, spellbound, until the final scene and reluctantly rose from his seat.

“Hate to see it end?” Josiah asked with a discerning cock of his head.

“I know I do,” Jamie exclaimed.  “How shall we ever sleep tonight with such scenes running rampant through our heads?”

His father laughed.  “Let’s stop somewhere for cake and coffee and see if that helps you relax.”

Retrieving their overcoats, they left the theater.  “Oh, dear,” Jamie sighed when he saw the sleet streaking down.

“There’s the horse car now,” Adam said, pointing ahead.  “Let’s hoof it!”

Dodging icy pellets, they sprinted up the block and rushed onto the Fulton Street car.  Jamie gasped for breath as he said, “Lucky for us the line comes direct to Montague Street from the ferry.”

“And back again,” Adam quipped, pointing out the more pertinent fact.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Josiah scolded playfully.  “Didn’t I tell you that New York had a well organized transportation system?”

“The best I’ve ever seen,” Adam replied.

“And how many have you seen, world traveler?” the older man chuckled.

“Not many,” Adam admitted with a shrug, “but between the railroads and the horse cars and the ferries, a man can go almost anywhere safe from the sleet.”

“And the snow.”  Jamie pointed out the window of the car.  Soft flakes were beginning to float down.

Josiah looked at the gentle flakes with apprehension.  “Maybe we should skip that cake and coffee and go straight back to the hotel.”

Though not afraid of cold weather on his own account, Adam immediately understood the father’s concern for a son who had always been prone to winter illness and had already endured excessive exposure on this chilly day.  “I think we should,” he agreed quickly.  “Perhaps the hotel restaurant would still be open for coffee.”

“Perhaps,” Josiah said, sounding doubtful, but looking at Adam with eyes of gratitude.

“The wind’s picking up,” Jamie sighed.  “I suppose we should get under cover as soon as possible.”

“And under the covers, too,” Adam snickered.

The cars took them straight to the ferry.  Fortunately, they only had to wait a few minutes for its arrival.  Once across the East River, however, they were on their own, and the turbulent wind blew them through the slick streets back to French’s Hotel.  The restaurant was closed, but the desk clerk did offer them coffee from the pot kept brewing through the night for his personal use.  They gladly accepted and repaid the kindness by describing the night at the theater to a man who rarely had opportunity to go.

The howling of the wind accompanied them to bed and sang a boisterous lullaby through the late-night hours into early morning.  Adam lay awake, listening, thinking of storms as fierce that he’d known back home and wondering if the weather would keep them trapped indoors tomorrow.  Even if all they gained from this trip, however, was this one wonderful night at the theater, he considered the holiday a success.  He had much to dream about as he finally drifted to sleep.

* * * * *

            The light was still soft when Adam slipped from his bed and slid silently to the window.  After their late night, he and the Edwards had decided to sleep in, like gentlemen of leisure, but the habit of years was strong, and Adam had awakened at his usual early hour.  A few snowflakes drifted through the morning air, but otherwise the skies were clear, giving promise of a fine day.  He dressed quietly, and leaving a note that he’d gone out for a paper, he left his friends still slumbering and stepped into the hall.  Making his way down the stairs, he said good morning to the desk clerk and asked where he might find a newspaper.

He was assured that the nearest corner would provide whichever he preferred, so he left, thankful for his warm new coat in the bracing cold that met him.  He smiled in its face, however, for crisp, cold air always reminded him of home.  He almost scolded himself for giving in to homesickness; then he realized that he always felt that way on Christmas Eve, having spent the past several separated from his family for the sake of his schooling.  His fondest memories, however, revolved around the simple ceremonies of his youth: decorating the tree, nibbling popcorn with Hoss while his father read A Christmas Carol, sharing a festive feast with friends.  And this Christmas, while so different from those back home, had in a sense brought him back to where it had all begun; for he was spending it with the same friends who had shared that first wonderful Christmas in St. Joseph, his earliest memory of any Christmas traditions for the Cartwrights.  Somehow, that seemed fitting.

He walked briskly down to the corner, purchased a copy of the New York Times and made his way back to the hotel.  Entering the restaurant, he ordered a cup of coffee and unfolded the newspaper.  He intended to turn immediately to the amusements column, but the bold-faced headline caught his eye.  “Oh, no,” he sighed and immediately searched for the accompanying article.

He’d read through several articles and carefully perused the advertisements by the time the Edwards joined him at the table.  “Taking over planning our activities, are you?” Josiah teased.

“Not at all,” Adam said.  “Just killing time until you sleepyheads chose to roll out of your warm beds.”

“I had no desire to,” Jamie admitted with a grin, “and even less desire to face the cold outside.”

“So you’ll be staying in the room while your father and I tour the city?” Adam asked with a wicked waggle of one eyebrow.

“Not on your life!” Jamie declared.  “I just wish the weather would cooperate.”

“I think it is,” Adam told him.  “It’s still cold, but not windy like last night.”

A waitress took their orders for breakfast, and then, nodding toward the newspaper, Josiah asked, “Any changes in the programs available, Adam?”

“I think they’re all the same.”  Adam handed the paper over.  “Perhaps you’d like to see the news, sir.  I’m afraid the lead story is a sad one.”  In response to Jamie’s quizzical look, he added, “Prince Albert has died.  Gastric fever, the paper says.  Nine children left behind.”  Though he didn’t say anything, Adam couldn’t help identifying with those children’s loss of a parent.  He, too, had lost one—three times over, in fact, and one recently enough that the pain was still fresh.

“Oh, no,” Jamie said, “and at Christmastime, too.”

“A good man,” his father said, “and, like you, son, I always associate him with Christmas, ever since the papers printed that picture of the royal family around the Christmas tree he introduced to the palace.”

Jamie exchanged a nostalgic smile with Adam.  “Remember our first Christmas together?  We told you mother—Inger, I mean—that we wanted a tree to shut Sterling Larrimore’s bragging mouth.”

“We didn’t say it that way!” Adam protested.  “We’d have gotten nothing in response to that, but I definitely did want to shut Stirpot’s mouth; all that boasting that his tree would be bigger than Queen Victoria’s made me sick . . . with pure envy.”

“Boys, boys,” Josiah chided.  “Of all the unworthy motives for Christmas décor . . .”

“I know,” Adam said sheepishly, “and Inger probably disapproved of our ‘unworthy motives,’ too, but she worked her magic on Pa, anyway, so we could have that tree.”

“Remember making all those ornaments from scrap shingles?” Jamie recalled.  “What fun we had painting them!  We still have them, you know.”  The light in his eyes faded.  “That is, we did.  I don’t know where they are now.”

“At Mr. Whitcomb’s,” his father said.  “At least, I hope they’re still there.  Once I get settled in Springfield, I’ll send for my belongings and see what the soldiers—Union and Confederate alike—saw fit to leave me.”

“Surely, they’d have no use for Christmas ornaments,” Jamie protested.

“Kindling?” his father suggested.  Seeing his son’s glum response, he added, “They probably had better sources for that, though.”

“I remember the cookie ornaments Inger baked,” Adam said fondly.  “We ate as many as we hung on the tree!”

“We should find some cookies somewhere today,” Jamie said, “and indulge for old times’ sake.”

“Any excuse will do,” his father said dryly, just as their breakfast plates arrived.

* * * * *

            This is the place,” Josiah said, holding open the door to 548 Broadway.  “Ideally, we should have taken this exhibit in yesterday, when the weather was so inclement, instead of being out in it so much, shopping, but youth must be served, I suppose.”

“I believe it was age that insisted on a clothing store being our first stop,” Adam quipped.

“I believe you are correct, my friend,” Jamie added with a saucy wink at his father.

Josiah gave an exaggerated sigh as he gave the attendant ten cents for each of them.  “I should know better than to trade wits with two college wiseacres.”

“This is a wonderful idea . . . for any day,” Adam said enthusiastically.

“And a wonderful benefit to the poor, young man,” the attendant said brightly.  “Thank you for your contribution.”

“Considering what you offer—an exhibit of over one hundred paintings—well worth the price,” Josiah assured the man.  Leading the boys toward the first painting, he said, “Now, I’m no more an art expert than either of you, so let’s just share whatever each of us notices about the paintings.”

“And triple the benefit,” Adam agreed.  He gazed intently at Niagara by Frederick Erwin Church.  “What I like most is the artist’s use of light.  It draws you right to the majestic falls.”

“And then leads you back to the foaming water in the foreground,” Jamie commented.

“And highlights the flat, brown rock there, too,” Josiah added.

“I wish it weren’t done in such dark colors, though,” Adam mused, “and the part of the falls done in green doesn’t seem as natural as the rest of the work.”

“Very observant, Adam,” Josiah praised.  “Shall we move on, then?  Here’s another view of Niagara.”

“Niagara in Winter by Gignoux,” Jamie read from the plate beside the artwork.  “This says it’s a companion piece to the work by Church.”

“I like this one better,” Adam said.  “The way the rising sun plays on the evergreens around the falls.”

Josiah gently massaged the young man’s shoulder.  “A touch of home, Adam?”

A little embarrassed by open expression of the sentiment, Adam just nodded.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Josiah said softly, “especially at this time of year.  I even feel a bit nostalgic about dear old St. Joe, when all I love best about Christmas is standing right here with me.”  His other arm moved to encircle Jamie in a loose embrace.

“What about this one, Adam?” Jamie asked when they moved on to the next painting.  “Does it remind you of the Ponderosa?”

Adam made a careful appraisal of Bierstadt’s Rocky Mountains.  “Not really,” he said.  “We have snow-covered mountains, too, of course, but the trees are different, and that Indian camp in the foreground definitely does not belong to the Paiutes.”

“How can you tell?” Jamie scoffed.  “The figures are too small to show tribal detail.”

Adam shrugged.  “True, but the Paiutes don’t live in tepees; their karnees are dome-shaped.”

“Draw me one sometime,” Jamie suggested.  “I remember how you used to send me sketches of animals you saw along the trail.”

“I’m no artist,” Adam protested.

Josiah smiled.  “It’s an architectural structure, isn’t it?  Should be right down your alley, Adam.”

Adam laughed.  “The karnee I can draw, so long as you don’t expect more than stick figures to represent the Paiutes.”

“Now, there’s something more than a stick figure!” Jamie exclaimed, moving rapidly toward a sculpture of a barely clad young man stretched on his back over a rock.  “I almost expect to see him take a breath,” he whispered.

“The Dead Pearl Diver by Benjamin Paul Akers,” his father read from the accompanying plate.  “A magnificent piece.”

“Very lifelike,” Adam agreed.  “I haven’t seen much sculpture before—well, nothing at all like this.  To be able to see with such a sensitive eye and to reproduce life so believably—it’s a true gift.”

“As is the eye to see its worth,” Josiah, ever the teacher, observed.

They moved from one piece to another, each as absorbing as its neighbor, throughout the morning.  Since it was nearly noon when they finished, they selected a small eatery nearby and dug into steaming plates of roast beef, potatoes and carrots.  “Did you boys have any more shopping to do?” Josiah asked.  “I intend to stop by Hegeman’s drug store for some of that camphor ice with glycerin they’ve been advertising for chapped lips and hands, but otherwise, I’m done.”

“Just Appleton’s for me,” Jamie replied.  “I want that book of Emerson’s essays.”

“Adam?”

Adam bit his lip.  “Well, perhaps a bit more, but I wouldn’t want to keep you out in the cold.  Don’t think I haven’t heard that cough you keep trying to hide, Jamie.  You could go on back to the hotel, and I could meet you there, if that doesn’t interfere with other plans you’ve made.”  Seeing that Josiah looked torn between his concern for his son’s health and uneasiness about leaving his other charge alone in such a large city, Adam smiled.  “I can take care of myself, you know, and I don’t expect to stray off Broadway.”

“Yes, of course, you can,” Josiah chuckled.  “I seem to forget that I’m dealing with young men now, not little boys.  As you say, if you stay on Broadway, you should have no problems.  Just keep a sharp lookout for pickpockets.”

“I will,” Adam promised.  “I don’t have enough to share with the likes of them!”

“Don’t stay out too long,” Jamie urged.  “You’ll want to rest before we go out tonight.”

“Not long,” Adam assured him.

With further admonishments to keep safe and keep warm, the party separated, Jamie leaving the umbrella with Adam, since he could share his father’s.  Adam headed directly to the store whose advertisement he’d seen in the morning paper.  E. Anthony’s ad had finally sparked just the right idea for a gift for Jamie, something even more certain to please, Adam was sure, than those Emerson essays he’d first contemplated.  With the assistance of a clerk, he found exactly what he wanted and was so pleased with its appearance that he purchased an identical one for himself.  Then his eye spotted a display of cartes de visite, small cards portraying everything from works of art to photos of celebrities.

“Very popular collector’s item,” the clerk urged persuasively.  “Perhaps for a young lady friend?”

Adam chuckled.  “I was thinking more of my little brother.”  He picked up the card depicting Whittier’s “Barefoot Boy.”  The picture of the happy-faced boy reminded him of Hoss, as did the portion of the poem printed on the back.  “I’ll take this one,” he told the clerk.

“Just the one?” the man pressed.

“Well, perhaps this one, as well,” Adam replied, picking up a card of “The Little Match Girl.”  It wouldn’t do, after all, to send a token of his New York visit to Hoss without sending one to Little Joe, as well; prisoners had been tossed in the stocks for lesser offenses, he thought with a grin as he paid for his purchases.

He’d pondered long and hard about a gift for Josiah.  The only other older man he’d ever purchased for was his own father, whom he, of course, knew much better.  Casting back over his memories of Jamie’s father, however, he recalled one incident that gave him the perfect idea.  Concerned that the book-loving Edwards might have dawdled at Appleton’s, he chose Miller’s Bookstore, instead, and found a nicely bound copy of the book he wanted.  Then, satisfied with a mission accomplished, he turned his steps toward the hotel.  Along the way, however, he passed Snow’s Confectionery and, recalling their breakfast discussion about cookies, went in and purchased a tin.  There’d be no tree for them this year, other than the one in the hotel lobby, but they could, at least, enjoy this sweet reminder of more traditional Christmases.

* * * * *

            Juggling packages as he came into the room, Adam laughed at the sight that met his eyes.  Jamie and Josiah were both bundled up under the bed covers, each deep in a new book.  “You’re quite the pair,” he announced.

“Guilty as charged,” Josiah chuckled, closing his book with his index finger in place as bookmark.

“And you’re quite the shopper,” Jamie declared.  “What did you buy?”

“Oh, I’ll show you later,” Adam said, placing the packages on the table.  “I know your book is Emerson, but what is yours, sir?”  He was relieved when Josiah lifted the cover so he could read its title.  Not the one he’d just purchased—good!  “So, is this what we’re doing for Christmas Eve?” he teased.  “And not a seasonal story in the lot!”

“You’ll get your seasonal story tonight at the theater,” Josiah said, barely glancing up from the book to which he had returned.

Jamie looked up brightly.  “Does this mean that you are, at last, going to reveal our plans for the evening?”

His father’s mouth twitched with mischief.  “Goodness, no!  You should be able to figure them out from what I’ve just said.”

“I can,” Adam assured him and cocked his head inquiringly at Jamie.

Jamie pursed his lips in thought and then shook his head.  “Surely you don’t mean that Bower of Beauty nonsense playing at Barnum’s.”

Both Adam and Josiah hooted.  “That’s your idea of seasonal?” Adam scoffed.  He turned to Josiah with a wink.  “You’d better keep an eye on this one, sir,” he said with a tilt of his head in Jamie’s direction.  “I think he has his mind on those forty beautiful young ladies who are supposed to cavort around that stage in the garb of fairies.”

Josiah chuckled.  “Let’s see . . . how did the paper this morning describe the piece?  ‘A great deal for the eye and little for the mind’—does that sound like the sort of entertainment I’d encourage?”

“Well . . . when you put it that way . . . no,” a flushing Jamie replied.  “I didn’t have time to read the review this morning,” he added in his own defense.

Adam concluded that it was time to put his friend out of his evident misery.  “We’re going to Laura Keene’s Theater, of course.”

Jamie looked just as perplexed as before.  “Robinson Crusoe?  That’s your idea of seasonal?”

Adam laughed.  “That’s the afterpiece, Spoopsie.  The seasonal part of the program is Little Tom or, A Christmas Carol.  I suppose it’s an adaptation of Dickens’ work.”

“Presumably,” Josiah said.  “Meet with your approval, boys?”

“Absolutely!” Jamie cried.  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Perfect for me,” Adam agreed.  “Pa always reads that story to us on Christmas Eve.”

Josiah smiled.  “Then I’m doubly glad I chose it.  In the meantime, Adam, snuggle up with one of your new books.  We’ll have an early supper and then dress for the theater.”

As Adam lifted a book from the table, he also picked up one of the packages he’d brought in.  Tearing off the paper, he extended the tin to his friends.  “I suppose we shouldn’t indulge much, in light of that early supper, but I picked these up at Snow’s.”

“Cookies!” Jamie cried, prying off the lid.  “I’d forgotten about them, but this is perfect.”

“Cookies in bed and a new book.”  Adam shook his head in pretended patronization.  “Easy to please, isn’t he?”

“Always was,” Josiah said with a smile.

“As if you were any different,” Jamie scolded.

“Never denied it,” Adam chuckled, reaching for a cookie.

* * * * *

            Adam was surprised to see several theatergoers leave before the afterpiece was finished.  He had to admit the production hadn’t met his expectations; in fact, even the limited resources of the far West had often given him more enjoyable evenings than this special holiday presentation.  Still, to walk out seemed a breach of manners, so he sat quietly and watched Robinson Crusoe to its bitter end and, like the remaining audience, greeted it with polite, though halfhearted applause.

“I’m sorry, boys,” Josiah said as they waited for the crowd in the aisles to pass.  “This was a mistake.”

‘Oh, no,” Adam said, trying to reassure his host.  “It was . . .”

“Dull,” Jamie supplied when Adam appeared at a loss for words.  Unlike his friend, he had no concern that his father would be hurt by complete honesty.

“Incoherent,” Josiah amended.  “I suppose I should have realized something was amiss when the play was called ‘Little Tom,’ instead of Tiny Tim, but I assumed it was a typographical error.”

Adam smiled wryly.  “I’ll admit I had a difficult time recognizing this version as Dickens’ Christmas Carol.”

“Robinson Crusoe was a little better,” Jamie offered as they made their way up the aisle toward the exit.

“Except that it was supposed to be a comedy,” Adam pointed out.

“The laughs were few and far between,” Josiah admitted.  “Again, I apologize for not knowing—”

“What you couldn’t possibly have known,” Adam insisted.  “It was still an enjoyable evening because of the company.”

“Well, you’re a good sport,” Josiah said.  “Live and learn, eh, boys?”

“Right!” Jamie affirmed.  “And now, I’m for returning to the room . . . and that marvelous tin of cookies.”

* * * * *

            Adam found it difficult to fall asleep that night, and he wasn’t really sure why.  He hadn’t shared a Christmas at home with his family in years because he’d been at school in Sacramento.  It was no different this year, but for some reason, perhaps the strangeness of his surroundings or the greater distance from home, he found himself missing them more than ever.  Maybe seeing that butchered version of A Christmas Carol was to blame.  He kept wishing he could hear Pa’s rich cello voice read the story, instead.  It had always seemed so much more alive that way, as he and Hoss sat together, munching popcorn and listening, wide-eyed, to poor Scrooge’s visits from the three ghosts.  I’m trapped in Christmas Past, he realized but he didn’t try to escape.  The memories were like a warm blanket, wrapping him in the security of his family’s love.

As he was lying there quietly, trying not to disturb his friends in the next bed, he saw a stealthy figure slip from under the covers and tiptoe across the room to the window.  Recognizing Josiah by its size, he started to ask if it was snowing again, but then he saw that the man was hanging something in the window.  Obviously, it was intended to be a Christmas morning surprise, so Adam kept his mouth shut and feigned sleep until Josiah was back in bed.  He stared a long time at the dark, dangling shape, but the light wasn’t strong enough for him to identify it.  Between puzzling about what it might be and wondering how Pa, Hoss and Little Joe were celebrating this Christmas, he finally fell asleep, and visions of sugarplums, stored in a tin from Snow’s Confectionery, danced in his head.

Adam still woke before anyone else.  With a yawn and a stretch he met the morning and happened to glance toward the window.  He smiled in fond remembrance at the star shape hanging in the window.  The single ornament, one of those that he and Jamie had crafted together back in St. Joseph, brightened his Christmas morning as much as an entire tree of them.  The tall pine on the Ponderosa beneath which his little brothers would soon be tearing into gifts, would dance with identical ones, and the little star somehow made him feel as though they were all together.  “Merry Christmas, Pa . . . Hoss . . . Little Joe,” he whispered, trusting that somehow the spirit of Christmas would transmit the message on the wind blowing west.  Closing his eyes, he imagined the same wind blowing their Christmas greeting back to him.

Making a sudden decision, he slipped quietly out of bed and tiptoed across the room in his stocking feet.  He took two packages from the table and brought them over to the window, carefully propping them on the windowsill below the simple yellow star, as if it truly did perch atop a Christmas tree.  Then, for warmth’s sake, he hurried back under the blankets to await the awakening of the Edwards, father and son.

“About time,” he chuckled when Jamie finally cracked open an eye.

With a wide yawn Jamie scooted up in bed and, propped up on his elbows, looked across at Adam.  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” he said chidingly.

“Merry Christmas,” Adam replied.  “Santa came while you were snoozing.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed quizzically.  “Santa?”

Adam cocked his head toward the window.  “Pickings are a bit slim, but the old boy didn’t forget you.”

Jamie’s mouth gaped open.  “But . . . but how?”

Adam scratched his head.  “I don’t know.  Not a chimney in sight, and I’m sure he’s much too plump to come down the stovepipe,” he said with a nod at the pot-bellied heater in the corner.

“Oh, you are infuriating,” Jamie scolded as he hopped out of bed and hurried to the window.  His eyes lighted as they fell on the star, and he turned to look at Adam.  “How did you . . .?”

“Not me,” Adam said.  “That’s your father’s doing.”

“To think of his bringing that all the way from St. Joe!”  Jamie snatched up the packages and scurried back to his bed.  Toes tucked beneath the covers, he turned the packages over and over in his hands.  “No tags,” he finally said.  “No way to tell who Santa meant them for.”  He gave Adam a mildly reproachful look.

Adam grinned.  “The larger one is yours, the smaller your father’s.”

Josiah rolled over.  “What’s this?  I thought there weren’t to be any gifts this morning.”

“Someone forgot to tell Santa,” Adam snickered.

Jamie, meantime, had torn the paper away from his gift to reveal an album of blue velvet, trimmed in silver.  “It’s beautiful,” he murmured in evident awe.

“For your memorabilia,” Adam explained, “in the colors of the Brothers in Unity.  I thought you’d like that best, and I bought one just like it for myself.”

“But I have nothing nearly as grand for you,” Jamie murmured.

“Nor have I,” Josiah said, accepting his package from his son’s hand.

Adam waved off their protests.  “You’ve given me the riches of Hamlet and . . .”

“Little Tom?” Josiah suggested with a wry grin.

“Well, not exactly riches there,” Adam laughed, “but a good time nonetheless . . . and then there’s that.”  He smiled, dreamy-eyed, at the little star in the window.  “The gift of memories is the best of all.”

“I just brought the one with me,” Josiah said.  “Like your journals to Jamie and the daguerreotype of my wife, a treasure too precious to leave behind.  As you say, a memory of the pleasantest Christmas we ever spent.”

“Dear Inger made it so,” Jamie put in wistfully.

Misty-eyed, Adam nodded his agreement.  “You haven’t opened your gift,” he reminded his former teacher.

“An omission I shall correct forthwith,” Josiah replied as he exuberantly tore away the brown wrapping paper.  “Don Quixote!” he exclaimed, reading the gilt title on the book’s maroon cover.

“To replace the copy you donated to the Sanitary Commission,” Adam explained.

Lifting the book, Josiah waved it toward Adam.  “Ah, but this is a much finer copy than the one I gave.”

With his palms out, Adam waved both hands in negation.  “It cost little, I assure you.  I wish it could have been of fine Morocco leather, but this was what I could afford.”

“The words will be the same,” Josiah returned with a smile, “and I will treasure every one as a reminder of you.”

“Any resemblance between me and Sancho Panza is—”

“Nonexistent,” Jamie interrupted to supply, and all three laughed.  Jamie slipped out of bed, scooted over to a pile of packages sitting on the desk and pulled out a small rectangular one.  “It isn’t much, but I wanted to give you something on my own,” he said, handing the package to Adam and then climbing onto the bed to tuck his toes beneath the covers.

Adam eagerly tore the paper away to reveal a copy of Two Years Before the Mast.

“It’s only a cheap copy, but I hope you’ll enjoy it,” Jamie said.  “I thought it might be similar to your father’s adventures at sea and describe what California was like before you first saw it.”

“Thanks!” Adam said, turning at once to the first page.

“Here now, don’t start that,” Josiah scolded.  “If we hope to have breakfast before church, we’d best get out of bed now,” he added, immediately taking his own advice.

Adam and Jamie followed suit, and they were soon enjoying hot biscuits, ham and eggs downstairs in the hotel dining room.  After discussing their options for the day, they decided to attend services at Trinity on Broadway.  Since it was considered the most beautiful and magnificent church building in America, Josiah suggested that Adam would find its architecture interesting.  “I’ve also heard that it’s the only church in New York where no distinction is made between rich and poor,” he added, “which makes it ideally suitable for visitors like us.”

Breakfast finished, they walked down to Broadway and Rector, grateful for the clear sunshine that kept the frosty air bracing, rather than chilling, and when they arrived, spent some time simply looking at the cathedral-like brownstone.  As they were early, they also toured the graveyard.  While they didn’t have time to cover the entire two acres, they did find the plain obelisk honoring Alexander Hamilton at its southern extreme.

They were welcomed into the chapel, which was lavishly decorated with flowers and evergreens, and conducted to excellent seats by the usher.  The room was well heated and so crowded by the time the choir of young boys began the opening carol that the cold outside became a mere memory.  Adam listened with awe to the soaring music that seemed to lift his soul toward heaven.  The solos to the carols were sung by a twelve-year-old with an enviable upper range, and he was supported by a number of other fine, young soprano voices.  Dr. Vinton’s sermon, whose text was Genesis 28:12, was blessedly brief, especially since Adam couldn’t discern what Jacob’s ladder had to do with Christmas.

Church bells rang across the city as they exited and walked back to the hotel.  The kitchen had outdone itself for Christmas dinner, and while it didn’t match Adam’s memories of feasts back home, he and the Edwards had all they could comfortably hold of turkey with dressing, ham and potatoes and a variety of pies, including apple, cranberry and mince.

They took an hour’s rest in their room afterwards; then, in accordance with their plan, they proceeded to Central Park.  Cold as it was, the ice still wasn’t firm enough for skating, as the cries of disappointed youngsters clearly announced while the visitors strolled through the snowy grounds.  “Much pleasanter in summer, I’m sure,” Josiah observed, his breath condensing in white clouds before his lips.

“It’s wonderful that they have a place like this, though,” Adam said.  “Unexpected in so large a city—and so well arranged.”

“Not finished yet, of course,” Josiah remarked.  “It really will be a wonder when it is.”

“Perhaps we could come back at a more timely season,” Jamie suggested.

“This summer?  Perhaps,” his father said, “although we will need to set aside funds for your second year at Yale, son.”

“Yes, I know,” Jamie sighed.  “Do you suppose we’ll ever see the day that we don’t worry about money?”

Adam laughed aloud.  “Not unless you change your intended profession, my chum.  Most preachers I know have very ill-padded pockets.”

“Ah, but my Jamie may aspire to the pinnacle of the profession, perhaps as successor to Dr. Vinton,” Josiah boasted with a twinkle in his eye.

“Keep it up and I shall practice my sermonizing on the two of you!” Jamie snorted.  “I have no such aspirations, as you well know, Father.  I just want to serve wherever the Lord leads.”

“To the wilds of Nevada, perhaps?” Adam suggested with a teasing smile.

“If you’re any example, the need is great,” Jamie teased right back.

“All right, my boy,” Josiah laughed, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders.  “We confess ourselves duly chastised for our mischief and beg your forgiveness.”

“Granted,” Jamie replied with a quick grin.  “Pleasant as the park is, I’ve seen enough of it until the sun shines more warmly.  I vote to return to the hotel.”

“I agree,” Adam said, adding, “unless you had other plans, sir.”

“I do,” Josiah chuckled, “although I’m willing to abandon them if you two conservatory flowers need to huddle by the stove.”

“What plans?” Jamie asked.  “You didn’t mention anything else at breakfast.”

“I just thought we might give Adam a chance to see some of the prominent buildings and homes of New York,” Josiah explained.  “We needn’t stay out any longer than either of you desires.”

“Oh, I would like that!” Adam cried.  He looked at Jamie with concern.  “Unless the cold is bothering you.”

“No, I’m fine,” Jamie assured him.  “I just didn’t want to stay out to no purpose, but advancing your intended profession is as good a purpose as we could desire.”

“I won’t keep you out all afternoon,” Adam promised.

The temptation was great, however, as they made their way up Fifth Avenue toward the residential areas of the rich.  “And you thought the Ponderosa was a mansion!”  Jamie jabbed an elbow into Adam’s ribs.

“It is,” Adam assured him with a forbearing smile.  “None better, in my opinion.  I’ve seen grander houses, like the Larrimores’ in San Francisco, of course, but these homes would make even Camilla’s eyes pop out.”

“As I recall,” Josiah observed dryly, “it didn’t take much to cause that!”

After sharing a hearty laugh at Camilla Larrimore’s expense, they headed back downtown, pausing to examine a number of prominent buildings whose structure Adam considered interesting.  “So many styles,” the budding architect sighed, “and I know so little about them.  I’ve read books, of course, enough to know Corinthian from Doric, but I scarcely know how to proceed.  I mean, I love Yale, of course, and wouldn’t want to miss that training in the classics, but how to translate that to the real world of building is still a mystery.”

“Why not make some inquiries at architectural offices while we’re here in New York?” Josiah suggested.  “Perhaps they could, at least, suggest a line of individual study that would prepare you to take up the career after graduation.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Adam said with enthusiasm.  “If it wouldn’t interfere with your plans, perhaps I could do that tomorrow.”

“I have no plans beyond today,” Josiah chuckled.  “Oh, we’ll probably indulge in some sort of entertainment tomorrow night, but you can do as you like all day tomorrow.”

“I’d like to go down and see the Battery,” Jamie said.  “Perhaps we could do that while you’re visiting architects’ offices, and we could meet somewhere for lunch.”

“That sounds fine,” Adam agreed.

“That being settled, I suggest we return to the room and rest until supper,” Josiah said.  “We have another big night out and will want to be fresh for that.”

“Yes, indeed!” Adam cried, for he’d earlier seen Josiah purchase tickets for tonight’s performance of Handel’s Messiah.  The Beethoven Society had included the “Hallelujah Chorus” in its Christmas concert, and he couldn’t wait to hear the entire, stirring work.

* * * * *

            A wry smile lifted one side of Adam’s mouth as he read the name etched into the glass panels in the door of the imposing brownstone trimmed in creamy marble.  Bracebridge, Harwood and Associates certainly seemed like an appropriate name for an architectural firm, but he had small hope that he would be more successful here than he had at the three previous offices he’d visited.  The secretary in the first had bluntly stated that they had no time for schoolboys and sent him packing, and while the architects in the other two had received him cordially, their advice had been minimal.  One suggested that he take some drawing courses, and the other stated unequivocally that he’d be better off enrolling in Sheffield Scientific School than pothering around with Greek and Latin.  Both had hinted that his best bet would be to seek an apprenticeship with some respected builder and forget college altogether.  He figured he’d get more of the same here, but he had time for one more attempt before meeting the Edwards.  With a gusty exhale, he gathered his determination and opened the door.

Stating his purpose to the secretary seated behind the plain maple desk, he took the seat shown to him and rhythmically tapped his heels on the floor as he waited.  The secretary soon ushered him into an inner office, where a lean-limbed man of about forty rose to grasp his hand across a massive mahogany desk.  “Addison Bracebridge,” he said in introduction, “and you are . . . ?”

Adam gasped at the last name.  Surely, this couldn’t be the Mr. Bracebridge, the senior partner of the firm who had agreed to see him.  In all the other offices he’d been dealt with either by a clerk or an apprentice or, at best, a junior partner.  No, this must be a son or younger brother or—Adam pulled himself together enough to stammer out his name.

Mr. Bracebridge didn’t seem disturbed by the sudden appearance of a blathering schoolboy in his office.  “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Cartwright?” he said, gesturing toward a captain’s chair.

Thanking him, Adam sat down, but the young man who had so eloquently stated his case in the other architects’ offices couldn’t seem to find his tongue in this one.

“How may I help you, young man?” Bracebridge asked as he again sat down in his padded leather chair.

Adam swallowed with difficulty, due to his suddenly dry throat.  “Sir, I—I have hopes of one day becoming an architect.”

“Excellent!” Bracebridge declared with completely believable enthusiasm.  “The field can certainly use fine young minds.”

Encouraged, Adam moved to the edge of his seat.  “I know that practical training is desirable, of course, but I do wish to complete my college education, as well.  I mean, I know that Latin and Greek seem to have little to do with . . . the field,” he said, borrowing Bracebridge’s term.  His voice trailed off in uncertainty.

Bracebridge shrugged.  “Not directly, but I personally hold education in high esteem.”  His gaze took on a distant dreaminess.  “Once I, too, dreamed of attending college, but my father felt it was wiser to see me apprenticed early.  I can’t argue with his wisdom, as it has brought me far, but I still think I might have made just as good an architect—perhaps a better one—if I had taken those college courses.”

“Then . . . you understand,” Adam murmured.  “You don’t think it’s foolish to try to do both?”

Bracebridge chuckled.  “Who’ve you been talking to, son?”

Adam winced.  “Other architects.”

Bracebridge laughed aloud.  “Ah!  So Bracebridge, Harwood and Associates was not your first choice.  I had flattered myself that you’d seen our work and been impressed.”

Adam smiled, though weakly.  “Sir, I’m so ignorant I don’t even know how to find out who is the architect of a given site.  The clerk at our hotel showed me a city registry, and I jotted down a few names with addresses I was sure I could find.  Then I just started from there and made my way south, stopping at any promising places to seek advice on . . . well, how to even begin to prepare myself for the field of architecture.”  He added quickly, “I know about Sheffield Scientific School, of course, but I’m enrolled in the academic department.”

“Sheffield’s a fine school,” Bracebridge acknowledged, “but I don’t see it as the only path to a career in architecture.  Tell me a little more about yourself, Mr. Cartwright, and I’ll see what suggestions I might offer.”

With occasional questions from Mr. Bracebridge, Adam filled in his background, talking about how the building of the Ponderosa and his small part in drawing the plans for it had birthed his dream of becoming an architect.  He spoke of his longing for an education and how, against seemingly insurmountable odds, the door for that had opened.

“So you’ve come all the way from Nevada in pursuit of your dream?” Mr. Bracebridge asked.  “That shows determination.  You say you’ve only completed your first term, so you probably don’t know exactly where you stand in your class, but you should have some idea.”

“Near the top, I think,” Adam said, flushing modestly.

Bracebridge smiled.  “I thought that might be the case.”  Hands loosely folded, he leaned across the desk.  “Here’s what I want you to do, young man.  Ask my clerk for some drawing paper and to show you to a drawing table.  Then I’d like you to sketch, from memory, any building you’ve seen here in New York that particularly attracted your attention.  Just a quick sketch.  When you’ve finished, return here and let’s talk about it.”

“You mean now?” Adam asked, incredulous.  “I’ve taken so much of your time already, sir.”

Bracebridge chuckled.  “The day after Christmas is one of our slower days of the year, Mr. Cartwright.  If you have the time, I do.”

“Yes, sir; thank you, sir,” Adam said eagerly as he stood.

Soon he was seated at a drawing table, sketching busily.  He wished he could spend hours, perfecting his work, but in addition to his concern about overtaxing Mr. Bracebridge’s generosity, he was due to meet the Edwards soon.  Doing the best he could in the time available, he returned to the architect’s office and showed him the completed drawing.  He nibbled his lower lip while Bracebridge studied it.  “Does it show any potential for success as an architect?” he asked hesitantly after a few minutes.

“Quite a bit,” Bracebridge acknowledged.  “It’s certainly recognizable as Trinity Church, and I’ve seen many first attempts that were barely recognizable as structures.  You’ve had no training whatsoever, not even a drawing course?”

“No, sir,” Adam admitted.  “Is that what I should do first, take a drawing course?”

“I’d recommend it,” the architect said.  “I’m certain they have such courses at Sheffield, and although that’s not the path you’re pursuing, perhaps they might permit you to take a course as an elective.  I suggest you look into that.”

“I will,” Adam said, rising from his chair.  “Thank you for your time, sir.”

“Not so fast,” Bracebridge scolded gently.  “I have one more question for you.”

“Oh, of course, sir,” Adam said, lowering himself again.  “I just didn’t want to abuse your generosity.”

“Much appreciated,” Bracebridge said.  “Now, my final question to you is this: would you like a job?”

Somehow, Adam managed to catch his jaw before it struck the floor.  “A job?”

“For the summer,” Bracebridge said quickly.  “I don’t want you leaving school, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Adam replied, his mind and heart still racing at the sudden development.  “But . . . well, shouldn’t you check with your father?”

Bracebridge looked totally puzzled.  “My father?”

“Or older brother?” Adam amended quickly.  “The senior Mr. Bracebridge, I mean.  Shouldn’t you consult him before offering a job to—”

A loud laugh interrupted him.  “What a compliment to my youthful appearance!  No, my boy, I’m the senior Mr. Bracebridge of the firm—well, the only one of that name, to be precise.”  He laughed again at the chagrinned look on Adam’s face.

Adam tried to stammer out an explanation for his misapprehension, but Bracebridge, still chuckling, waved it aside.  “I think you have great potential, Adam Cartwright, and I’d like to play a part in nurturing it.  So I want you to send me regular sketches of buildings in New Haven, whether on campus or the State House or those three marvelous churches on the Green.  If at all possible, take a drawing course as an elective, although the college may not approve, since you’re still a freshman.  Then come to me during your summer break, and we’ll see if we can’t add some practical training.  Does that sound acceptable?”

“Acceptable?” Adam cried.  “It’s so much more than I hoped for when I came, sir!”

Bracebridge stood and extended his hand.  “Fine.  Get my mailing address from the secretary and a full pad of drawing paper, and I’ll look forward to hearing from you soon.

* * * * *

            “Oh, there he is!” Jamie cried.  He stood and waved toward Adam, who hurried to join them at the table.  “We were afraid you’d gotten lost.”

“No, the directions were clear,” Adam assured the Edwards as he sank into the seat, catercorner to his friend.  “My last stop took longer than expected . . . and ended more profitably, too.”

Josiah studied the beaming face opposite him.  “You found a helpful architect, I presume.”

“Helpful, indeed!” Adam exclaimed.  “I found a job . . . for the summer,” he quickly added.

“Adam, that’s wonderful!” Jamie cried.  “Tell us all about it.”

“As soon as we order,” Adam promised.  He ordered a large bowl of oyster stew, as did the others, and then told them everything, beginning with his disappointment at his first few attempts to discuss his future with professional architects.  As the meal was served and eaten, he described in detail his visit with Mr. Bracebridge.  “I’m to send him sketches of New Haven architecture,” he concluded, showing them the pad of drawing paper he’d been given for the purpose.

“Adam, it sounds as though Providence has directed you to exactly the right man,” Josiah observed.

“Yes,” Adam agreed, “and I have you to thank for that, sir.  Without your suggestion of visiting architects, I would never have met Mr. Bracebridge.”

“This calls for a celebration,” Jamie decreed.  “Apple brown betty for me.”

“Adam?” Josiah queried as he lifted a hand to signal the waitress.

“I’ll have the same,” Adam said.

* * * * *

            Knowing that trains left for New Haven at least every thirty minutes, the travelers slept in the following morning.  They’d kept their entertainment close at hand and inexpensive the previous night, attending a lecture at Hope Chapel by Captain Williams on his voyage to the South Seas.  Still, they’d been out somewhat late and granted themselves the luxury of a late start on their final day in New York City.

After an uneventful trip they debarked at the depot in New Haven and went their separate ways.  Jamie wanted to spend the night with his father, who would be leaving for Springfield, Massachusetts, the next day, so Adam returned to their George Street lodgings alone and spent the afternoon and evening writing long letters describing his trip to family and friends.  He was especially excited to write to his father about the on-the-job training he would receive the next summer under Mr. Addison Bracebridge.

On Saturday he and Jamie saw Mr. Edwards off at the depot, and that afternoon Adam took his sketch pad to the Green to begin his first drawing of local architecture, choosing the State House as his subject.  He wanted to complete it and ship it off to New York before the second term, with all its busyness, began on Thursday.

~ ~ Notes ~ ~

Some of the art that Adam saw at the gallery may be viewed online:

Niagara –http://www.nflibrary.ca/LocationsHours/VictoriaAvenueLibrary/NiagarabyFrederickEdwinChurch1857/tabid/117/Default.aspx

Gignoux’s Niagara Falls in Winter – https://www.art-prints-on-demand.com/a/gignoux-regis-francis/niagara-falls-in-winter.html

Bierstadt’s Rocky Mountains – http://gardenofpraise.com/art35.htm

The Dead Pearl Diver by Akers – http://iamsarge.tumblr.com/post/3111031646/the-dead-pearl-diver-benjamin-paul-akers-1858

Prince Albert, much respected in the United States, died on December 14, 1861, as reported in the New York Times of December 24, 1861.  The entertainments our travelers attended, as well as a description of the Christmas service at Trinity Church, were also found in issues of the Times from that week.